[WFRP2e] The Power of One - Part 1 - "In Sterquiliniis Invenitur"

[MrAbdiel]

The elder woman's eyes flare with surprise. "A troll? In Bella Collina's hills? The bloody creatures are a kind of vermin; they crop up even in places they ought never to be found. Did you manage to drive it off?"

With her body language and gestures, she leads you inside, closes the door behind you and Rocco, and clears space on a humble dining room table to lay Hurcio, who remains placid in his acceptance of death. With her words, she asks about the encounter with the troll, and she listens along as you sketch the details for her.

"Well, I am glad no one was hurt - no one but this little soldier. The troll, we will have to deal with very soon; for now, let us see if we can save your little friend."

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

I felt it would be cheap not to roll the heal check, after all this; but she rolled a 38, needing a 68 or less; so that's a good success.

What proceeds is an hour of quite intense medical service rendered to this stricken chicken. The bloody handkercheif over the stump has done good work; the bird has lost blood, but not so much it has no chance to live. She makes a tourniquet out of string, and with surprising efficiency, crushes some saltlike crystals with water into a smoking paste that, wafted under the chicken's beak, renders it delerious, and barely concious; insensible to pain. And just as well; because the Madre goes as far as to stitch shut Hurcio's slashes, and to clean the stump back to the knee by paring away the remnants of the ruined lower leg. She instructs you to hold this, to press on that, to thread this needle, to wash this off in the basin, to put these leaves in the bowl and grind it with this until it produces a milky fluid then strain that off... And at the end of the procedure, Hurcio is still less than concious... but the Madre seems confident he will persist. She offers a little prayer to the gods represented in the box outside her house, and on her pendant, and in Gaulfredo and Ariana's kitchen: Ishea and Karnos; the mother of farms, and hearths, and villages, and the father of wild places, her husband.

"The solution you mixed should guard against infection. I will keep him here in the house for a few days, so that I can respond to infection if it occurs; but I think you might have saved his life. With his wings, he'll learn to balance on the one leg, fine enough; and he'll scoot around your yard with only a little loss of speed. But they are not particularly cheap ingredients. I wonder..."

You help her clean up after the surgery; and she asks: "You've worked as an assistant before, I think. Most people can't help but fail to help, when they try; but you're not underfoot at all. I know you've just taken up responsibilities of your own, on that farm. Mother Ishea would forbid be to demand payment for a plea like yours coming to my door - but if you were interested in paying an old woman back for a kindness, after receiving the first for free, then you might learn a thing or two."

How wild your luck, that what began as a tragedy has turned into a job offer. Do the gods hate you, or love you? It's unclear. But spending time assisting Madre Angeletta will take up some of your time; atleast a couple of days, in the week. You'll need to rely on Gaulfredo's family to care for your animals, while you are attending such a responsibility away from the farm. But the chance to learn is there - and a chance to pay back a kindness paid to you.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia


Taalia smiled prettily when she was let in, her towering form and younger visage contrasting with the shorter, older Madre and the skills she quickly demonstrated. The ensuing 'surgery', such as it was, was fascinating to Taalia, as she observed the various combinations of liquids, water, herbs and plants that were used to create balms, draughts and solutions that were employed to both docile the injured animal and restore his injured flesh.

Though an outside observer might think it absurd that such effort be taken for a creature that could be so easily replaced, Taalia could acknowledge the cold calculus of inefficiency while siding with the sentimentality that this animal had earned this service.

And so, when Madre went about her craft, Taalia watched. She helped as best she could which, ultimately, proved more than capable of what one might expect. She did not get in the way, she did not clumsily spill this solution or incorrectly stir this or that. Instead, the years of toiling within the Skavens workshop and the fierce drilling they demanded had paid off in the teenager proving to be a suitable, if amateur, assistant to Madres work.

""You've worked as an assistant before, I think. Most people can't help but fail to help, when they try; but you're not underfoot at all."

Taalia pursed her lips and nodded. Were it anyone else, she would have smiled and deflected. But with Madre, she was someone Taalia looked up to. Alone with her at this hour in her cottage, the rooster recuperating and the crackling of the fire in the cosy dwelling, Taalia nodded, her voice soft.

"I served my former...owners, as best I could. Not out of loyalty, but necessity. Those who failed to pay attention or adhere to protocol, lost fingers, limbs, or worse. I am only here in whole because I learned from others mistakes."

It was a confession she had not provided to anyone, not even Gaulfredo and Ariana since having learned the ability to fluently speak in the local language. Madre was the only one she trusted with an insight into her bleak past.

"I know you've just taken up responsibilities of your own, on that farm. Mother Ishea would forbid be to demand payment for a plea like yours coming to my door - but if you were interested in paying an old woman back for a kindness, after receiving the first for free, then you might learn a thing or two.""

Taalia considered what the older woman was offering, her eyes widening slightly. She recalled back to her wonder at how she had treated the wound of her arm, and how it had come along nicely, clean of infection and almost finished in recuperation. She also had witnessed and assisted in her work for treating the injured rooster. But even more than that, Taalia recalled how Madre was respected in the community. Mentally she rembered the market: when Madre spoke, she did so quietly and yet people listened.

She remembered Rashabang, a rat of a very different inclination and mind and how he had shown her favour. That patronage, though not official and only minor compared to genuine apprenticeships, had been enough to preserve Taalia's life.

This was the calculus and sentimentality that went into the girls mind as she stood before the older woman, the warm quiet of the cottage lingering in that pregnant pause as Madre waited patiently for a response from the towering girl before her.

"I have duties, yes, on Gaulfredo's farm. I owe everything to him and Ariana," she smiled, her voice tempered and gentle, "I dread to think where I would be in the world today had I not encountered Gauldredo's bravery in weeks past in the forest. I hope to build something here, so I think I can agree, yes..."

She nodded, looking Madre in her face, "I will, yes," she smiled.

[MrAbdiel]

Hurcio remains in the Madre's care for now; and charged with new trust and purpose, you hoof your way home with Rocco; flinging a stick ahead of you for him to chase, and bring back; pausing to make a night snack of the meal Ariana scrambled together for you. It's not unlike the last time you travelled this road late at night; though that time you were dragging the cart with Gaulfredo, appreciating the engineering of the road that curved along the gentle hillsides rather than insisting on going over them, retaining its relative flatness. You are wary for the troll as you pass where you know its lair to be; but no sign comes of it; and you come home to find that Vittorio and Gaulfredo have long gone to bed, but Ariana reclines on one of the low and lazy chairs at the front of the house, with a blanket over herself and a candle burning on an upturned wooden bucket beside her. She gets the update on Hurcio, and is surprised that he'll make it; but not upset at the fruition of your instinct. "Well. Good on you, Taalia, for having faith in him then. Gaulfredo knows a joke about a one-legged chicken; you should ask him about it, sometime." She gives you a hug spontaneously, the most natural, mothering gesture in the world, and tells you to get some rest. The troll hasn't come around; all the animals are now accounted for; and the gods know you need it. Corvo sleeps with his brother in Vittorio's room for the night; but Rocco is well accustomed to boarding with you in the barn, and sleep claims you as soon as your head hits the folded blanket that serves as a pillow.

* * * * *

It's close to midday the next day when you are roused by Corvo licking at your face, demanding attention. Vittorio, very pleased with this deployment, squirms in place with delight at his mischief at the door to the barn, before scuttling off as though his haste could make you un-see him.

More importantly, it turns out as you rise that he had been send to wake you; Corvo was merely a means to an end. Bertuccio is here; his white charger nuzzling with the faintest remnants of interest at the leaves of an unfruitful orange tree at the front of the farmhouse. Ariana, Gaulfredo, and Bertuccio are inside, apparently waiting for you; though Ariana rises to fix you some eggs to eat, while you talk with the gentlemen.

"Taalia. Buongiorno. The Madre Angeletta told me about your brush with the troll; Gaulfredo has told me that some weeks ago, when you first met him, you fought off some goblins on the road to Bella Collina." With that report, you catch his eyes flicking over you briefly. Assessing the likelihood of such a fight taking place in the way it was described, and your physical capacity to take part in it. Perhaps he's seeing you for the first time as something other than a foreign curio; but his countenance remains calm, and professional; defying his youth. "I had hoped you could tell me everything you remember about those goblins. Nine times out of ten, trolls and greenskins find each other for mischeif. And this troll, I've come to beleive, is responsible for the loss of a handful of sheep and cattle, on other farms closer to town. Up until now, folk were blaming the elf that passed through. But a troll... well. What do you remember?"

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

When Arianna hugged her, Taalia at first froze from the gesture, as it was not a physical connection she was used to. No one, ever, in the past ten years had huggedher. The encirclement of the other womans arms, her tone, the warm affection she displayed...it was all alien to the ex-slave, even as ingratiated to surface life as she had become.

But, that instinctual longing within her responded. Taalia looked to Madre like an elderly mother figure, whether maternal or grandmotherly...the lines were blurred. But Ariana was a figure she drew inspiration and warmth from, and so when those arms came around her and her initial apprehensive wore off, Taalia put her surprisingly strong, long arms around the Tilean woman and hugged her back.

oOo

The next morning, or afternoon, Taalia awoke to about the best sensation one could hope for: an adorable puppy licking their face. Her mind drawn out of deep slumber with giggles and smiles, she drew open her heterochromia eyes to see the little dog lapping at her, at which point she brought up one hand to scoop the little dog up and affectionately nuzzle her mouth/face against its belly and elicit the little playful yelps she so adored.

When she was brought to the kitchen, Taalia didn't seem to care that Bertuccio was there. The teenager looked like one might imagine a teenager to appear after having just been woken up after an adventurous night: dishevelled, still getting a grip on the world around her and sometimes closing one or both eyes as the grains within her lids pressured her eyeballs.

If Bertuccio's handsome, rugged youthful visage had once won sway within Taalia's heart, it was now a distant memory. The ditching of that hussy and amends would need to be paid to rekindle any of that potential.

"The troll was one of the first living things I encountered after departing the cave, and my former owner," she stated plainly, using language and brusque revelations about her past that she had not yet shown to Gaulfredo and Ariana.

"It was...several weeks ago..." she thought to herself, lips and eyelids pursed, "the gutter runners had attacked Rashabang and I in the depths of the Under Empire. My owner, he had thought himself gaining prominence and a higher station within Skaven society. His ambition was met with the knives of the assassins sent to slay us. Ironically, he...saved my life. Though I don't think he did it out of any sense of devotion, rather just preserving a valued pet..." she shrugged, speaking matter of factly, her emotions well hidden.

"Like with Hermes and the troll," she stated, gesturing in the direction of the sheep-pen.

"I distracted the Troll and rushed to lead him away from it. Not because I value his companionship, or think highly of him as a fellow soul or love him or anything...but because he's valuable to me, to us, and what he can do for us. It was the same with Rashabang and I: he didn't love or value me, I was just very useful to him. He only had to show me the work to be done once, I didn't cause problems, I could talk to and keep the other slaves in line...."

Taalia trailed off, pursing her lips, her eyes staring into the distance as if remembering things she'd rather not before suppressing it all and continuing.

"We fled up a tunnel. Up, that is a specific word. One of the assassins tried throwing their knife at me, but their range was too far. That's how I gained the weapon Gaulfredo spotted..." she gestured to the man, reminding him of that small knife she was equiped with when she had charged the goblins in a hunger-starved furor. To emphasise the point, she tilted her head to the side, reached up to push down her collar and reveal the light scar across her trapezium muscle to validate her words.

"When we emerged onto the surface, into the daylight..." she swallowed, her eyes a little wide as her vision drifted back and forth, not focused on anyone in particular.

"I think it had been a decade...I was taken by the Norscans when I was....I don't even remember..." she said, pursing her lips, swallowing, holding back a tear now that she recognised just how long a time that had been and how much of her formative years had been stolen.

"A decade since I had seen the sun. The assassins were no longer a threat, but my owner, or rather...not owner, more like temporary holder, Rashabang...he was getting old. He was brilliant. I worked in his workshop, but I knew he wouldn't make it. But before I had the chance to...put him out of his misery..." she uttered, revealing perhaps a murderous streak to her past, "...he keeled over. An assassins knife had caught him after all"

The ex-slave paused. It was clear this was an...emotionally charged topic for her, her mind and memories separated from the world by the most passive visage she could muster that was betrayed only by the 1,000 yard stare worn by her eyes.

"Anyway..." she redrew herself, "I buried him. But later I coudln't find him. That's another story..." she shook her head, still wondering whether he had been reclaimed by the gutterrunners - who were unbelievably mercifully enough to let her live - or if he himself had recovered and ventured off on his own.

"But I travelled down along the stream. In the Under Empire their cities and towns are always near streams. The Skaven have to drink too. So I speculated that if I was going to encounter other surface dwellers, they'd be by a river.

I came across a cave-entrance in a river embankment. I hoped to find shelter for the night but it stank! The scent of putrid, rotting flesh..." she hissed, eyes half closed as she shook her head.

"I went inside anyway, thinking maybe an animal died. That's where I saw it. That troll..."

She allowed a pause to linger in the air before continuing.

"It was asleep. Thank whatever Gods are looking over me right now, it was asleep. I'd have come out of its arse weeks ago if it wasn't..." she said, her crude words contrasting with how casually she said it.

"It had all these bones littered around its den, and a few things that glittered. There was a risky part of my brain that prompted me to try and pick a few things up, but I knew better. I backed out and ran as fast as I could.

Heading into the forest, but sticking to the river, I came across a clearing. It was a campsite, as much as one could be. I rummaged through it, careful not to put anything out of place. That's where I got all of the..." she gestured generally to the slipbag, among other things.

"And the chest," she said. "Gaulfredo knows that part. Originally, the goblins had all these fish heads strewn about the camp site. I knew they were goblins, as I climbed up a tree where I could watch, wanting to see who came back. When I saw it was them - and I knew what type of creatures they were, I had had to share space with them in the slave pits of the Skaven - I knew what nasty little things they were. I waited for them to leave once again, at which point I shifted some coins on them to fake a robbery, and I used some of their fish heads to try and create a lure for the troll to come and kill them, and hopefully smash open the chest. But nothing came of it. Hours passed, day turned to night, and eventually the four goblins returned, this time with a horse in tow..."

She trailed off again, knowing Gaulfredo knew what was coming next. Mercifully, Taalia spared him the details.

"One of the goblins seem to act...out of order. He ended the horses life, but the other goblins were clearly not happy about it. They berated him, they abused him, but they put the..." she wanted to be sensitive, but she coulnd't, "they made the best of the carcass as they could."

It had been the first thing she'd eaten on the surface.

"As time went on, I was watching from a tree, knowing the troll had not taken the bait. The next thing I know, Gaulfredo," she gestured to the man, "emerges out of the darkness with the bravery of ten men and whacks one of them over the head. I clambered down and joined in. I didn't know if he was ultimately friend or foe, I just saw a fellow human, and I was so hungry I was willing to take the risk. The rest, as they say, is history."

[MrAbdiel]

Bertuccio and Gaulfredo listen; Ariana joins to listen about halfway through, setting a bowl of scrambled egg, with halves of cherry tomatos and pepper scattered through it. She does not, however, insist you stop speaking to eat it, as she might have under another circumstance; the gravity of it all is not lost on her.

The roadwarden listens, glances at the farmers, and back to you, and thinks for a long moment.

"...Well. Trolls aren't expecially native to the area; river trolls like that usually hide by larger rivers than the little stream running parallel to the village road. They wouldn't bring a river troll over the mountains; the beast would eat its handlers out of desperation. It probably walked in with the last greenskin raiding force to hit Monte Castello, and fled without much direction after the attack force was broken four months ago. My guess is that those goblins were keeping it as a pet, or weapon. That's why it hasn't wandered out looking for food sooner."

The guess makes sense, even out of details you hadn't shared. The set-aside horse's legs; one for each goblin to carry the next day, to the cave. Likely, why the three reacted badly to the one's slaying of the horse. It's easier to walk an animal to slaughter and carry off the choice cuts than to butcher it in the field and then haul the dead carcass to the meat market. And perhaps that's why the troll hadn't reacted to your clever fish-head bait trap, but had apparently stalked almost all the way to your farm; back then, the goblins were regularly feeding it, so it wasn't hungry enough to bother. Now, the goblins dead and gone by your and Gaulfredo's efforts, the troll must be forced to hunt and roam again. Have you set this monster upon the region, by killing its handlers? No, not likely. The goblins didn't strike you as responsible wardens of such a thing - perhaps, if you hadn't killed them, they'd have been driving it into Bella Collina as their wrecking ball, and carrying off their spoils.

"We're going to have to kill it. I'll put together a banda di caccia. We'll have to set a trap to lure it out of the cave, probably to the road, so we can put archers on it. I've been part of a troll hunt once; I know how it's done. But I don't want to lose anyone; so I'd like to plan with some precision.
Can I trouble you to show me where the cave is? If you're due to retreive your, er... injured chicken from the village, I'll be back this way tomorrow morning heading back to Bella Collina."

"I'll get in some practice with my bow, then." Gaulfredo remarks, with phlegmatic resignation.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Bertuccio could use your help locating the troll cave. Additionally, if you had a specific pitch about how to manage your farm projects while you're doing your part-time medicine woman learning, you could pitch that to Gaulfredo and Ariana. Right now, while it's just collecting eggs, and walking sheep to grass and back again, the farming routine is simple enough that a child could do it. You're many months off full dairy/textile/poultry operations!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Perhaps it was her deeply buried, scornful hormones within her that felt slightly tilted that Bertuccio didn't show her any sympathy after hearing her story...but the pragmatist she was quickly staved off any such distractions.

Though again, this 'pragmatist' had to be replaced by another as she battled the excitement of the idea of asking for, and receiving, the chance to use a gun.

Instead, Taalia simply nodded in response to his request to lead him and his troupe to the beasts lair.

"I stumbled across it once, and deliberately visited it a second time. I know where it is. I cannot guarantee it will be there when I show you, but I can at least lead you to its dwelling," she said, her command of Tilean improving out of sight since last she spoke to the Roadwarden.

Thinking again to her most recent encounter, Taalia spoke once more.

"I managed to distract it last time with the lantern," she said, "I threw it at the monsters feet and the fire spilled forth. It was so consumed with attention towards the flames that I managed to retrieve my flock without harassment."

Just further advice that could be helpful.

[MrAbdiel]

An easy day and night tick by with no disasters on the farm. Gaulfredo pauses his work plowing for the planting of the corn to spend the afternoon stringing and practicing with a plain looking yew bow; dragging a dusty archer butte out from under the farmhouse and sinking arrows into it from range with reasonably, if unimpressive accuracy. Vittorio is keen to graduate from dog-minding to sheep and chook minding. Your suggestion, that you might teach him to read while you are learning, is amazing to him. He has never read anything, or recognized a visual word; the notion of being able to hear someone's words long after they have spoken them is a fantastical idea, but one he's willing to take part in.

The day after, Gaulfredo rigs up Tomas and the cart, so you needn't walk; and so that you can pick up a few things from the village. A small sack of flour, and whatever vegetables are at the trading post that you can pick up with the rest of the money Ariana gives you; plus Gaulfredo gives you a quiver of arrows he would like you to take to old Signore Cestié's workshop, to have their heads sharpened. Since you're heading into town, it seems like a simple enough matter to accomplish. And Corvo now reliable toddles back to you when you call him, so it's a good adventure for the pup too. True to his word, Bertuccio shows up that morning and rides along side your cart, as you obey the limited driving instinct that you have picked up so far.

He's not remarkably conversational; but as the light scatter of trees turns into the loose forest that runs the length of the road to the village, it occurs to the road warden to ask you, in departure from the bland small-talk that had been the heartbeat of the journey. "...Taalia. The name. Imperial? Are you from Sigmar's Lands?"

The familiar set of trees that leads to the former camp of the goblins, and therefore the way to the troll lair, is coming up on your right.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia watched as Gaulfredo retrieved his weapon and started to practice, his accuracy on point but...against a stationary target, it didn't particularly inspire confidence in her. Though Taalia was not some veteran of war, she had been in plenty of fights and seen even more in the pits and slave pens, and she knew the unexpected speed at which monsters could move when they were truly motivated. A part of her wanted to pull him aside, ask him to set his bow aside with reassurances that he had more than proven his valor and that all it would take it was one mistake and Ariana would be a widow and his son would grow up without a father. Unless he had a horse upon which to ride and use to keep a good distance from the trolls wicked claws, she did not like the idea of him entering the fray at all.

She decided she would try to bring it up later. She knew he was not an insecure, boastful nor arrogant man, but he was a proud one, compelled by duty to protect family and hearth. She admired it, but she worried that he might end up paying the price.

oOo

Walking alongside the ox, with Bertuccio on his horse beside them and Corvo in his sling - a source of great enjoyment for Taalia - the day seemed a fine one to simply walk along the road to town. The sun was out, the breeze gentle, it was as picturesque as she had ever known, and a sight of which she'd never grow tired.

"...Taalia. The name. Imperial? Are you from Sigmar's Lands?"

Taalia turned her head to look up at the roadwarden, her face impassive as he tried to make conversation.

Had he not lsitened to a word I'd said yesterday? She asked herself, having explained quite clearly she had been living underground for almost ten years, taken at an early age. She didn't know where she was from! Mentally she filed it away, ticking a little box in her head. Externally, she just offered a small smile.

"I don't know where I am from," she answered. Now that she was relatively fluent and able to speak with the musical flow of the Tilean language, instead of the jilted, bumbling clumsiness of before, she had a smooth, sonorous and smoky voice.

"The Norscans raided my town when I was very little. We lived on a coast, with apple trees. My house collapsed in on me. That's how I got this," she turned and ran a finger down the scar on her face.

"Taalia is what Gaulfredo and Ariana called me. I rather like it, I have much to be thankful for."

When she noticed the on-coming familiar landmarks, Taalia would point to them.

"The goblin camp was down in that direction. Which means that the trolls lair was..." she draws her finger along the tree lines, mentally pivoting the georgraphy to recall the route she took 3 times to go from the camp to the vile abode of that dreadful thing, "...that way, in a large embankment underneath a tree. But I would not venture there close, not now, with Tommaso and the little one," she gestures to the sling around her shoulders with Corvo inside.

[MrAbdiel]

Bertuccio's eyebrows lift a little at her answer; and he offers a minimal nod as she answers both his question, and the next three or four questions he might have intended to ask; plundering his vault of polite interest and leaving him quiet and thoughtful instead of forcedly chatty. He takes special note of the stretch of treeline when you point it out. "Right. Well, I'll double back to look it over after we see you safe to town; and compose a plan. You're, ah. Very brave, to have come through all that."

It's a lame compliment; awkwardly given. Perhaps that's just the ceiling of his social cunning, however handsome and mysterious he might first have appeared? And with no natural opportunity arising in which he could offer her the recreational use of his long gun, his virtues seem to be diminishing by the moment.

He bids you farewell, at the edge of Bella Collina; wheeling back around the way you came to do some investigations. You check on Hurcio; he is alert, laying on his side in a basket, chirping is slow processing distress from his amputation; but healthy enough in the Madre's care. Madre Angeletta releases him, basket and all, back into your care; and recommends keeping him seperated from the other chickens until he has figured out how to hop around under his own power in his new condition.

Shopping for the flour and vegetables is a quick, anodyne experience with a pair of middle aged spinsters who run the town's trading post, where sundries like this are sold by locals and bought by locals with the post's owners taking a cut. You're likely to rely on this place to move your quickly spoiling goods; though wool, and lambs for slaughter, can be marketed more leisurely with no fear of turning.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Now you can make me a gossip check! Both to make a positive impression on this gossipy new pair, and to harvest scuttlebutt.

Delivering the arrows to Signore Cestié's workshop is much more rewarding. You know it as the place he pointed out to you during the rumpus of the Flicker-Tide celebration; well sized, with a tradesman's shingle hanging from its front. Inside, the smells and sights strike you at once with purified nostalgia; the grease and shaved metal and smoke smells of Rashabang's workshop without the all penetrating rat musks and the nose-searing ozone tang of warpstone. He has many interesting benches and tools; some which seem loosely familiar to you. This one clamps something for rotating while it is carved with a pointed tool; this one revolves a rough and porous tone for grinding tools to shape and blades to edge; and so on. Most of those in Rashabang's lair ran on labor one steppe removed - rat slaves, or sometimes straight up rats, running in wheels or pushing or pumping. These seem to be almost entirely arranged with a set of stirrups for the feet next to an operator's chair; and perhaps kicking one's feet in the stirrups does the work of whatever rotating or spinning force is needed for the great tool. A couple of wooden cabinets on the walls display unusual brass and steel tools, doodads, and stuff - though no guns, you notice.

You haven't see Signore Cestié since Flicker-Tide, so he is both pleased to see you and amazed at how rapidly you have grappled with the language; though he still speaks slowly, and about 10% louder than he needs to, as an affectation of character common to older gentlemen. "Taalia, Taalia, you are so smart! You have learned so much, ah? Eh? Gaulfredo wants his bodkins sharpened? Little good it will do him - if it's a troll hunt, Bertuccio will no doubt have a heap of arrows of his own supple, and a channel of burning pitch to dip them in. Nasty creatures, trolls; they heal in moments, and if you get to close, they -throw up their acid guts- all over you! Terrible, terrible. Though I should like to get my hands on a troll's stomach, some time; just to see what I might make of it."

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

It was a bit revelatory walking to town with Bertuccio this way, as he was one of the few outside of Gaulfredo and Ariana she had spent any length of time with. She admittedly felt a bit silly for her earlier school girl crush, taken in by the handsome, rugged authority figure who was both brave and protective, and she could still see it. But talking to him tempered her opinion somewhat, as he was clearly not a man of many words. Which was fine, in his own right. That didn't make him bad or anything, he did a noble job for the community after all. But it did suggest to her that perhaps she wasn't interesting to him, or nights with him were not particularly conversive affairs.

"Right. Well, I'll double back to look it over after we see you safe to town; and compose a plan. You're, ah. Very brave, to have come through all that."

She smiled plainly. "Thank you Signore Beruccio, I would like to assist with the troll's demise in whatever way I can, if weapons are spare," she returned as she looked up at him, "and if you were willing and after the threat of the troll has passed, I would sincerely appreciate it if you could teach me how to use a firearm!" she brightened up, her smile genuine and a spark of excitement in her eyes, as she gestured to the stock of the weapon that poked out of its holster on the horses side.

oOo

In town at the trading post, Taalia made small-talk where she could. She had pleasant smiles and listened more than she spoke. After all, this was the first time she could actually understand the flow of information and conversation being spoken about her. The last time it was all just melody to her, but now she knew what it all meant. People talking had a certain rhythm, a way of speaking and giving information via what they did say and what they didn't say. Gaulfredo, Ariana and Madre were quite open and honest with her, but the people about town? They had no reason not to employ the usual little social ritual of chitter chatter with her.

However, something Taalia did find particularly interesting were the notices of trade and sources of material goods. The Skaven had their trade networks in their Under Empire, and humans had them on the surface. That tax collector who had bought her mirror was going to sell the item for a larger profit in the 'big city', where ever that was. Food, goods, material, it all went into the big city and gold crowns came out.

Of particular interest to Taalia and her current expertise, such as it was, were the prices for the different type of animals, how much people were wanting, how much they were willing to pay or negotiate, and where such husbandry was to be directed. This was of considerable interest as numbers started to crunch inside her mind, raising her hand to stroke her chin delicately as she considered her own future here and what she could make of herself if she could master her own niche in this network. Wouldn't that be a dream come true? In a decades time to own her own rural house, acres, flocks and herds, and raising her own children while directing her hired labourers. Why not? She could be the maser of her own destiny here - she wasn't a slave anymore.

oOo

Taalia smiled brightly at seeing Signore Cestié' again. He had not played a particularly big role in her surface life so far, but she appreciated his trade work and his grandfatherly mien had the same elderly appeal to her as Madre's did - though if she understood it correctly, Madre was several decades younger. It also helped that the scent and sounds of the workshop were homely in how familiar she found them.

"Signore Cestié'!" the girl beamed, receiving his astonished compliments as she held her skirt and pivoted on the spot before facing him again, almost like a girl visiting their grandfather before heading off to their debut ball. It was amazing how wonderful an 'atta girl! compliment felt coming from a learned elder of a town.

"They are!" she concurred with hits words on the troll, her expression darkening.

"It almost ate me twice!" she exclaimed, "my ram and sheep!" she exclaimed, "it clawed off my roosters leg! Pah!" she hissed softly, shaking her head.

"I would very much like to be part of its demise," she nodded, before Signore Cestié' made his curiosity known.

"Would you?" she asked, a coy smile crossing her pretty, scarred face, her eyelids narrowing slightly as she sensed opportunity.

"What would you offer if I could provide it?" she asked, her tone on that edge of 'serious if you mean it but just joking if you don't'.

[MrAbdiel]

Bertuccio keeps a reserved and cautious look, when you indicate your interest in the longarm. It's either a precious instrument to him, or he holds some quiet reservation about teaching you (or anyone) to use it. But he doesn't flatly shoot down the idea (haha); just puts a perquisite in front of his consideration. "Well. We'll see how you fare with a crossbow, first." Come to think of it, it's the only firearm you've seen since you last saw Rashabang's weapons. Perhaps they are rarer for men, than they are for rats. Perhaps it's the most expensive thing in the village surrounds...

* * * * *

You chat amiably with the two spinsters at the trading post; Amalia and Amadea. Or you try; they're impressed at how quickly you have adopted the local tongue, but apparently they think that means you have become a superhuman linguist; because when they start nattering to each other, glancing to you periodically with smiles as they do, they chatter at such a clip you feel like the conversational equivalent of a toddler, one hand held by grown siblings either side; dangling in the air as you are rushed on without your feet more than brushing the ground. The pair of them seem friendly clever, and good humoured; though how quickly they resort to talking about other villagers or farmers, you expect they are not to be trusted with secrets.

"...And this troll business; that's no good at all. I hope the boys give it a hiding; I really do. What mischeif. It's been eating whole cows, and all."
"Oh, I hope they just chase it offer. I shouldn't like to see killing, when we don't need it; even if it is an ugly old troll."
"Speaking of trolls - the young Rampollo Damio rolled in, this morning."
"Did he now? Good for him. And did he bring his would-be-bride from the Blues?"
"No, the marriage has fallen through, as you said."
"Didn't I say?"
"Say, you did."
"I did say. Can't hardly trust the Blue families to follow through on an honest contract. That's why they've been pecked to the bottom of the pile."
"I'm sure it won't take long before young Damio has a new fancy; though an honest Yellow family, this time if you please."
"If you please, yes."

Damio must be the ruler of the village, or the region, for whom Polo works; Rampollo some kind of minor title. But what kind of ruler spends so much time away from their land, pursuing what sounds like flimsy marriage proposals?

* * * * *

"Pah!" Signore Cestié agrees, flaring his hands in the air sympathetically when you exclaim, delightedly. Exclaiming, and hand-talking, seems to be a big part of the Tilean language. The rats had something distantly similar - a style of cypher language they used to lie to each other, where furtive hand gestures performed while talking suggested the listener should invert the meaning of certain parts of a queekish claim. That rattish cryptograph you never were able to pierce; but the Tilean version seems less like telling two stories, one of which is a lie; and more like telling one story, but needing to express about a hundred and fifty percent of its real emotional impact for anyone to take it seriously.

"Part of its demise, ah? You might just be. We'd be fools to muster only the minimum for the banda di caccia, when dealing with monsters. They take quite some killing! But I'm afraid there won't be much stomach left. They'll put it all to the torch right away - as well they should. Really, you need specialist hunters to claim parts of creatures like that. Called in from the major cities; dwarves and such. But I think I could make a leather sheath for a shield, our of a troll stomach; if I can figure out to tan it. Those would sell nicely - a troll's gut is about the only thing a troll's vomit won't burn through. It would be big! Big enough that they can eat a calf in one hungry sitting, and house it all. And it would need to be slit open to let the gore and acid out, and so forth. Even if you could get it out, the whole banda would want a cut of whatever I'd pay you, since they'd all have fought to take it down. But here - if you can bring me just a scrap of its stomach wall, enough I can toy with different tanning solutions on it..." He makes a gesture with his hands; maybe a dinner-plate sized 'scrap'. "Why, I'd pay you ten gold for it, and no one need gripe."

[BananaPhone]

Taalia


Though Taalia felt like she was barely able to keep her head above the waves of the spinsters words, she also knew that this was invaluable to her. Where else could she learn to be completely, 100% fluent, than by talking regularly with these two? If talking with her foster family and others was learning how to swim, this was testing oneself against the currents, without the threat of drowning of course.

And so, though much of it went over her head, she smiled and learned what she could, sometimes mimicking the hand-purse gestures the women made. Sometimes she could follow along just by seeing how their hands moved, as they told a story all on their own!

"This Rampollo Damio," Taalia asked when a break in the conversation was present.

"Forgive me, but who is he?" she asked with adorable innocence.

oOo

Taalia listened to Signore Cestié's explanation, her eyes widening a little at how much he'd be willing to give for what. By now, Taalia was gaining a sense of scale for money, pennies, silver and gold, and she knew that ten gold crowns was a lot of money.

Nodding, but her eyes glittering with opportunity, "I'll see if it can be done, Signore Cestié," she said with her smoky voice.

"Of course, the death of the creature and preservation of our lives takes priority. I don't want a house-hold losing a member for the sake of some currency," she confided.

oOo

Taalia moved along in the town, her quarter staff in one hand, pack over her back with items, sling around her front with her puppy. She looked around as she went, people talking in their days around her no longer feeling so foreign to her, as the barrier of language had largely been removed. A month ago she had felt out of place, a clear interloper who had no idea what was going on around her. Now? A big difference just a month made.

However, she spotted something she had not observed in her prior trip: the tavern.

It was a fascinating place, not one that would have normally been on her radar. She had dwellings, food and her own duties, but there was something that Gaulfredo and Ariana enjoyed with their dinner, wine, that piqued Taalia's interest: alcohol.

She had her own money now. She had already decided she was going to give 5 silver to Madre when she went over to her house tomorrow, to get ahead by a couple of weeks on her first month of agreed payment for items she had given her. Another coin she had set aside as well, never to be spent, for it held a...sentimental value to her that could not be financially evaluated. That left two silver and 8 pennies, until next weekend. All her other needs for the week were met. She should save half of that, and the other half?

Within several minutes, Taalia had entered the tavern, her eyes peering around the insides and taking in the sights and sounds, even of this small-town tavern during the middle of the day.

Approaching the front desk, the bartender eyeing her curiously, Taalia would flash the man with a bright smile, reaching into her sling to pat her puppy as she did so.

"Good afternoon Signore," she said politely, her eyes at the bottles arranged across the back wall.

Moments later, she was departing the tavern, 1 silver poorer, but grasping a bottle of beautiful, amber-copper liquid in her hands that she stared at with the fascinated love a mother might have for their newborn. It was called Whiskey - she couldn't wait to show Gaulfredo and Ariana!

[MrAbdiel]

Amalia and Amadea are more than happy to inform you. What begins as an immediate answer to your question becomes, rapidly, a double commentary on the politics of the region. You catch most of it, because of the way they seem to enjoy repeating themselves to each other, which gives you a chance to catch up.

You are in a region called the Republic of Verezzo. Republic, you grasp, means that it does not have a king, like the Norscan tribes did; but a series of representatives who jockey and bicker to make decisions collectively. Most of Tilea is ruled by one merchant Prince or another, as a family dynasty they try to pass down; but the doughty citizens of Verezzo threw down their Prince many years ago after he attempted to sell the great city's grain stores in famine back to the farmers who filled them in times of plenty, at extortionate rates. Tileans do not like kings and rulers, and Verezzans perhaps least of all; a square of land to raise one's family and agreeable neighbours for times of crisis is the dream (or so these rural gossips tell you).

Verezzo is governed by a senate of forty-nine merchants. To be eligable to be a senatore, a merchant must have a personal worth ten thousand duro with a yearly income of one tenth of that figure. To cast a vote to elect such a cantidate to the senate, a merchant (or otherwise wealthy citizen) must have a personal worth of one thousand duro, and a yearly income of one tenth of that. Thus, golden chains bind Verezzans together; the senators must court wealthy trading partners, but must also seek the votes of lesser merchants and so will fan our their interests across the countryside to find such men and women to wring a vote out of. The lesser merchants are only eligible for this courtship with considerable wealth themselves, so they are strongly driven to marry inheriting children to those of other similarly middle-wealthy families, and also to strive to maximize their business with small operators in villages and farms. Independant farmers and land owners may dream of becoming a elettore merchant one day; but in the meantime, someone closer to that dream or having attained it already will earnestly seek their business both for profit and to prevent someone else from using it to elevate themselves. All these numerical facts - the incomes, the net worths, the trade values - are scrupulously audited by the corporazione degli impiegati: the guild of clerks. They take on themselves the duties of bean-counting with the gravity of a religious order. It is certainly not irreligious - they take vows before gods named Scripsisti and Mercopio to engage in this duty in the spirit it is given to them; and sometimes, they even follow through. One who has become a member of the Clerk's guild can never vote for a senator or become one themselves, nor can their children.

Thus, the lawmakers and the voters are merchants of varying levels, but everyone who seeks power is incentivised to create their own elettore; and it is assumed that the major churches, mercenary paymasters, artisan guildsmen and presumably even the clerks themselves cultivate and promote the fortunes of promising landowners and entrepreneurs.

This is all to prepare you for the understanding that the senate of Verezzo is divided into four factions, which are coalitions of senatore and the noble families to which they are attached. Allegiances are waxy; firm most of the time, but fluid when heat is applied. The sitting senatori denote their allegiance with color themes: red, blue, green, yellow. City events tend to be colorful swirls where senatori, their prospective elettori and connected attendants, servants, guests, courtesans and even animals are marked in some way with their faction colors. Further from the city, where towns and villages are more dominated by the interests of individual senatori and elettori, the color themes become more singular. The yellow you've seen around - the yellow dress on the girl, the sash on Bertuccio, even Gaulfredo's handkercheifs - are visual identifiers that they are, at their various places in the chain, connected or devoted to the yellow faction.

And finally, after explaining all this, the ladies are able to answer your question. A rampollo is an individual who is openly seeking to become an elettore, and has received a kind of tacit sponsorship from a faction to do so. Damio, they explain, acts then both as a representative for the village's interest with wider Verezzo, and also personally seeks to promote the growth and financial wellbeing of Bella Collina and her sattelite farms. Perhaps, over time when the village's power to produce has grown, he will make enough money as a merchant connecting village to city; or close enough, making up the difference by marrying well. That seems not to be happening yet, though; a hope to poach a bride from a stalwart Blue family has not been successful.

"Politici!" they exclaim together in theatrical disgust, throwing their hands in the air.

* * * * *

Signore Cestié seems really to enjoy your youthful company, now that he can understand you; and is excited by your prospective acquisition of some troll matter, as much as he is pleased you're taking the threat seriously. Before you go, he insists on giving you a gift - it's a fist sized brass bell on a woven hemp collar, to put on Hermes' neck. That way, if he takes off again, he'll be a little easier to find before he ends up facing off against such dangers!

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Make me a +20 Perception test.

After that, the tavern draws your eye - a quaint little watering hole with a few rooms upstairs for travellers to board if they have nowhere in town to be. In the small village, it serves multiple functions - drinking venue, dining hall, caterering and libations, meeting place, and recovery ward. In the heart of the day when you are there, a few villagers taking early breaks from their labors partake in a morning drink and a small bowl of soup. The tavernkeeper, a thin if handsome middle aged man with with ash blond hair and a moustage in the curled imperial style not common in Tilea, is named Gheradino. He's happy to serve you your bottle - and, perhaps seeking repeat custom, knocks a silver off the price for you. His two children are some of those you played with, during Flicker-Tide. The girl, Perusia, is about Vittorio's age; the boy, Rubeus, is a little younger, and is the one who first discerned the value of your height. He spots you from the common room balcony which leads from the boarding rooms, and zooms down the stairs to meet you; and lifts his arms high in hopes you'll hoist him up so he can touch the bottom of the balcony.

But with that sidestop done, you are clear to make your way home. You give Tomasso a little more time to drink from the trough outside the tavern, and then you're on the road back to the farm - though the Madre is sitting on her porch waiting for you to pass, and flags you down as you go by. She lifts a sack up to you where you sit on the cart. "Here - keep these with you, Taalia. I will show you more about them, as you learn - but it's best to have them on you. They'll do you no good, if you need them, and they're here with me!"

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

You make add 5 bandages, 1 vial of healing poultice, 1 antitoxin kit, and 1 healing draught to your trappings, as per your loan-and-repayment arrangement with the Madre. The bandages are free; she makes them herself, and they're just boiled rags!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia


Taalia found her mind racing at the explanation of the political system on the surface, it's complexity both interesting but also a little staggering. The Ratmen had been pretty straight forward and simple: the strongest killed and ate his successor to achieve power over a clan, and everyone heeded the words of the Council of Thirteen.

Still, the amount of money required to stand for office was enormous. Here Taalia was dreaming of a hundred gold crowns one day, when such a thing was a yearly generation at minimum. To have such wealth in one life-time! Could she create such a fortune?

oOo

Taalia smiled at the presentation of a gift, her mouth smiling wide and her eyes glittering in both excitement and appreciation. It was a cute little bell, and it certainly would have come in handy during Hermes' mad dash for freedom that almost saw him devoured by a troll.

However, it was also the fact that Signore Cestié had thought of her trouble and made her something to help prevent further chaos, that touched her so. Holding that bell in her hands, she looked over to the elder, smiled genuinely and gave him a light hug. No kiss on the cheek this time! Just a hands on shoulders hug, before she drew back. It was becoming clear to those around her, that as Taalia came out of her shell and ingratiated into the local life, she was quite a physically affectionate person.

"Thank you Signore Cestié! I'll affix it around his neck as soon as I get back!"

However, as she was departing the shop, she spotted that brass oddity. Halting her advance, pausing and double-taking, she perked an eyebrow as she pivoted on the spot and went back into the shop.

"Signore Cestié?" she asked, looking for him.

"May I trouble you a minute longer? Something caught my eye," she asked, drawing him over to the spot in this area where those other oddities were.

"But what are they?" she pointed.

oOo

In the tavern, Taalia smirked down at the youngster who had hurriedly approached her, arms out-stretched with his request.

Tiling her head back and forth, mouth slightly bent downwards as she pretended to be on the fence about it, she smiled and reached down, hands under his arms and hoisting him up with curious ease.

"Here you are you little devil!" she grinned, smiling along with him as she held him up assuredly, arms stretched out, easily bringing the youngster in range of the bottom of the balcony he so desperately wanted to touch.

When the innkeeper gave her a discount - essentially giving her the bottle for free - Taalia's eyes widened a little, her mouth agape.

"No, no, let me give you something in exchange, surely Signore!" she requested, having already adopted into the give-refuse ceremony of gift-giving.

Perhaps it was because she had made his boy laugh and seemed a sweet soul, or maybe he saw value in making a good first impression by hooking his establishment into her feelings of genoristy. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take it, participating in the little ritual with her until she was nodding with a bright smile and many thanks.

Taking note of the name of the whiskey bottle and then of the others arrayed on the shelves, Taalia mentioned that she would like to try a new one every couple of months. With that, the Innkeepers cunning ploy had worked.

oOo

Having departed the town, quarter staff in hand and goods about her, Taalia had stopped momentarily to let Corvo have a run around on the side of the road and in the grass, both for enjoyment and to relieve himself at some point. Feeling good about how the day went and scooping her baby dog back up into her sling, she continued on, until being flagged down by Madre.

Approaching with a wave and usual courtesies of small talk, greetings and warm sentiments, Taalia's eyes curiously watched the procession of items that Madre handed over to her. Immediately, the girl recognised what each one was and what it did, having been instructed in their properties and use over the past couple of weeks. She also knew what she could accomplish with such items, and how the ability to dispense pain relief and healing to stricken bodies might draw neighbors and such close to Gaulfredo's farm to approach her and request such assistance.

"Thank you Madre, you have taught me so much!" the towering girl exclaimed, before a 'oh!' look shot across her face.

"Before I forget, as promised!" and her hands went straight to her purse - producing the five silver monthly payment, two weeks ahead of schedule, and handing it over to the older woman. Though this could be interpreted in a negative way...paying money to a greedy woman, Taalia certainly felt no such sentiment. Madre was teaching her invaluable skills. To read and write? To heal the sick? Taalia did not know what she had done to deserve such an educator, but her regular repayments was a sign of discipline and devotion to the older woman's education, as the girl smiled as she handed the coinage over.

"I have learned so much from you Signora Madre," she said, that smoky voice quite distinct, "it is a privilege," she smiled and nodded.

[MrAbdiel]

The old tinker looks where you are pointing, reaches to pluck one of the brass cylinders off the shelf, and lifts it in the air before you. It most resembles to you some kind of battery the skaven might use for their horrible machines; perhaps a vessel full of corrosive fluid, or a plain, simple bomb.

Signore Cestié turns the cylinder so is curved face is vertical, and its flat faces are up and down. With a simple enough turn of the wrist, he disengages whatever locking mechanism the device has on its top; and the brass cap comes away. He repeats the process from the bottom - but nothing falls out. Then he turns it upside down - and three smaller brass cylinders smoothly slide out from within the tube, each a little smaller than the one before, settling into place with a click until what the tinker is holding is not a brass cylinder, but four interlocked brass cylinders tapering downward in size. It flares slightlyat the narrow end, and as he turns it to hand it to you, you see at once that it has glass lenses in the narrow and wide ends. Wordless, preparing to soak up your wonderment, he offers it to you to hold again, and mimics the act of holding it up to your eye, and points then our his door to the village square of Bella Collina, and the snatches of green countryside far beyond.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

The Brass Oddity is, infact, a Telescope.

With this done, all your business in town concludes smoothly. Nothing remains but the now familiar trip back home, with your chicken and your pup and your ox.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Roll a d100, unmodified, to see if you have an encounter on the road. Roll less than an 80, and it's an uneventful trip.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

If Signore Cestié was hoping for a youthful, amazed reaction, he got it. Taalia's eyes widened as she gasped with a soft "amazing...".

It was a useful device that wasn't for maiming, burning or destruction!

"May I, Signore?" she asked, holding her hands out, as she received the telescope and brought it to her eye to peer around with its magnification. Seeing the world so up-close made her laugh gently, as she spun herself around and stared up at Cestie himself, his enormous, blurred face filling up her fish-eye view as she giggled happily.

Compacting the device once again and returning it to Cestie, Taalia looked quite happy.

She also remembered the one she had back at home.

"Signore Cestie, how much do you sell these for, may I ask?"

oOo

Her meeting with Madre completed, the one woman zoo headed home across the well-travelled road. Staff in hand, puppy in her sling, rooster resting in a saddlebag, and spare hand holding Tomaso's collar, and humming a little tune to herself.

[MrAbdiel]

One hundred gold crowns.

That's the sum he settled on, after some hemming and hawing; and the absurdity of that value rattles in your head all the way home. They are neat devices, but uses importantly on ships to spot enemy vessels and distant shores; and by generals in the field to witness troop movements with some detail. But the price came not in the brass, but the glass; fine, clear, high quality lenses that produced a clear, magnified image. Of the two the old tinker has, one has a cracked lens; but he keeps it in case the other cracks a lens, and then he'll atleast be able to make one functional unit out of two broken ones.

"The lenscrafting masters in Miragliano are very skilled, Taalia. I was born there; lived there for many years. There are skilled artisans of many, many kinds who will command very high prices for their work; and I am lucky to have these two here, even with one damaged. My family has a long history of craftsmanship; and I would like to think, in another life, I might have been skilled enough to make something as fantastical as this. If I'd taken the time. Something they'd see, in Miragliano, and be amazed; something they would want to replicate... in Nuln."

He became a little emotional, as he spoke of it; talking of this far Nuln like a fantasy. He clearly wishes to have seen that place; but he is an old man, now; perhaps more than seventy years old. But he does have his spyglasses, and as he recaps them and places them back on the shelf, you see in him a man who is content with managing a long life with moderate success, even if all his desires had not manifested.

You check your own brass cylinder when you got home - and just as you hoped, the ends which you had instinctively thought were caps to contain and shape a blast can be screwed off and a slender, finely made spyglass slides out from within. You play around with it and figure out the focusing of the lenses; it seems unbroken, and perfectly functional. How did the goblins get it? Certainly their small band did not kill a general or a ship's captain. But it's better in your hands, than theirs; that much, you can know.

Your hosts are glad to see you back, and to know all went well enough; and after the appropriate amount of feigned refusal, they concede the kindness you have displayed in buying your first bottle of spirits. "It looks very good, Taalia!" This, Gaulfredo announces based on his examination of the whisky's color. Ariana seems unimpressed with this method of discernment, but chooses not to cut his legs out as he projects expertise. "Very fine, I think. We will open it together after the troll is slain, ah? Vengeance for Hurcio's leg!"

* * * * *

A day later, many of Bella Collina's villagers attend a meeting called by Bertuccio. It's mostly men, from young to old; with a number of village women and farmer's wives crammed into the common room of the village tavern. Gheradino has run out of chairs for the occasion; folk sit on the hardwood floor on blankets, and on the tables, as Bertuccio explains the situation, and the plan.

"The beast is a troll - they call it a river roll, though this one seems not to have waters deep enough for its liking. It's foul, big, dangerous and dumb - but if we are cunning, we can destroy it without any more harm being done."

"We could burn off the trees near its lair - that'd get it moving. My uncle in Pavona did so once, and it drove the creature clear out of the county when it had less of a place to hide!" Amadea chimes in, with her brand of 'help'. Bertuccio shakes his head quickly.

"No no, lady; if we drive it away, it just becomes the problem of another village. It may only be up here because it's because everyone in Luccini was too lazy or afraid to kill it directly, and chased it up to us."

This produces an assenting grumble from the crowd. If there's one thing they knew, it's that other Tileans from other states were probably to blame. It had the ring of truth.

You sit beside Gaulfredo on a blanket on the wood floor, as the road warden lays out his plan.

The troll was too dangerous to fight in melee, for obvious reasons. That was a task for a company of knights with lances to pierce its heart. Without spending a fortune to incentivise the action of a company of mercenaries (and waiting, hoping it doesn't kill and eat anyone in the meantime), the options to fight and kill the troll were more limited. Fire is important - trolls hate fire, and wounds not inflicted with flaming weapons rapidly close and heal on their bodies. But they are easily confused and distracted. So the plan is determined thus:

Bertuccio would lure the troll out of the cover of the trees, over the road, and into the empty paddock on the other side of the road. Once a cattle pen, the farmer (whose name is Alberto and who listens intently with worry, since his home is so close to the lair) had vacated it after the fence broke and two of his cows went missing... now presumed eaten. On the far side of that paddock, the villagers will be waiting with their bows, arrows with pitch-cloth heads, and a trench of lit pitch infront of them. They would light an arrow, aim, and fire in volleys as called by the dwarf Nogrom. If the troll survived long enough to start to close with the archers, they were to fall back behind a second line of pitch while the Troll was delayed with a distration - two of Adolpho's war dog, if Bertuccio and Gheradino on horseback were not distraction enough for it.

Once they were successful dragging it back toward the road, another few volleys would resume from the arrows and, with Mymidia's blessing, it would go down. Then it would be on Bertuccio or Gherardino to close in, draw the heavy axes they'd be carrying, and take off its head before it could possibly recover. Then the body could covered in a pyre and immolated once and for all.

"If the worst happens, don't fight it close. It'll kill you dead with its claws and teeth, if you're lucky. If you're not, he'll heave up a gutful of burning poison that will make you wish you got the teeth. But just the same, you can't outrun a beast with legs that long. Sad as it is, if it gets close, we have to put the dogs on it and run. But we shouldn't need to do that." He gives Adolpho a mildly apologetic look. The dog-breeder gives a little nod back - well accustomed to this kind of sacrifice as part of the dogs' duty.

"We'll meet at Alberto's farmhouse, where all the supply will be waiting, shortly after dawn tomorrow. Bring your bows. We'll take care of this, and we'll be ready for Spring Planting the day after. The Rampollo says, the closest arrow to the beast's heart wins a pig."

This feels like a hollow offer for such a dangerous task, and everyone knows it. But still...

Free pig is free pig.

The mood is tense, optimistic, concerned. Bertuccio waits, to see if there are any questions.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia had an affection for Cestie, that much was clear. He was a knowledgeable, grandfatherly figure in her life. Much like Madre, this was a presence for which she was deprived during her apprehension within the slave pens of the ratmen.

With that being said, she felt...unusual about the mention of how much the telescope was valued. On one hand a part of her wanted to celebrate. 100 gold crowns! What a fortune! That was twice the value of the mirror - and look what she had put that currency towards? From what she understood of the local economy, she could rent a couple of acres and start her own pig farm with that kind of money. Assuming she managed to sell it, that is.

But that was also what bothered her: if she managed to sell it to a passer-through.

Because you see, if she did that, then Cestié could not. That was a sale of his that was lost to a rival, which is what she would become if she entered this business, if even for a single item. The idea of depriving the older man, who had been so kind to her, in his twilight years did not sit well with the girl. Was there some sort of compromise to be reached? It was no secret among her circle that Taalia was an ambitious girl. Having been given a taste of the financial rewards one could accrue in an open market of trade, her labour had so far yielded silver from her chickens but would yield larger sums of gold from her sheep. What could she do with a further 100 gold crowns? Establish a family farming dynasty that would became prominent members of the local community, she'd wager, if fate brought a good husband and children into her life. If she could even dream so far, perhaps even hope a son of hers would become eligible to one day cast a vote in the Senatore elections? Or, Myrmidia willing, maybe even far enough down the line run in such processes.

But she was daydreaming. She would dwell upon it and see what she could come up with.

But then she could also see how keen he was to see this 'Nuln', wherever that was.

It was interesting, in it's own way. Her becoming excited over what could be, and Cestié reminiscing on what had not been. They were almost at opposite ends of their lives.

"If I can help you to see this Nuln, if even for a day, I will try!" she beamed. It was likely that Cestié, with his wisdom of years, could tell this was just the overly optimistic and affectionate boasting of youth. How could this girl actually help him see that famed city anyway?

"If someone had of told me four months ago that today I would be where I am now, I would have laughed at them. But had I not been where I was in the forest, at that specific time, Gaulfredo would have thrown himself into the spears of goblins and would have perished, Ariana now a widow and Vorotio without a father. Yet, had I not assisted him and gone on some other path after my escape, where would I be now?" she said sincerely, her voice low.

"I thought that it was my fate to die in labour to the vile and evil. Yet today, here I am, blessed and lucky and happy. I have received help from Gaulfredo and Ariana, Madre and yourself - your actions setting me on courses for the better, and through my help to others, your kindness plants trees whose shade in which you will not sit - but others will. We're all connected in some way, I think," she smiled.

From the mouth of babes?

oOo

Taalia sat next to Gaulfredo as she listened to the plan set forth by Bertuccio. She was no grand strategist or tactical genius, so to her the plan seemed sound. Lure the troll out, distract it, burn it, kill it, and do so while keeping a maximum distance.

At first, Taalia thought of suggesting a plan that revolved around trapping it within its lair. Collapsing its entrance somehow, or filling it with pitch and setting it alight to either smoke it out or suffocate it? However, Bertuccio had the experience here, and she did not. All she had was her own imaginative speculations, while Bertuccio had actual experience. Both were valuable in their own way, but experience here would hopefully preserve all the lives of those involved.

When Bertuccio went quiet awaiting questions or suggestions, Taalia looked around the crowd. Seeing no one speaking up, she raised her hand to speak.

"Gaulfredo and I encountered the Troll in the forest, where we prevented it from eating my sheep," she spoke, her smoky voice projecting well enough that all could hear from the 'newcomer'.

"I threw a lantern at its feet which drew in its mind. I wonder if those sparkle bags during the festival could have the same effect if used sparingly?"

[MrAbdiel]

Bertuccio listens, and lifts his eyebrows, and nods. "I wish we had kept some. I have been told they are afraid of fire, but I do not think that's quite it. Fire kills them; but they are just distractable. And the spark-bags are very distracting. Would that we kept some, instead of burning them all - but if you have some, keep them on hand. Lighting them off a fire trench and throwing them might make the difference."

Signore Cestié smiles a little, at your ingenuity; he attends, even if he won't be part of the warparty. Too old, too slow, too likely to cause a complication. When you look back at him, he lifts his skinny hand and gives you a thumbs-up; a gesture you have never seen before but which is self evidently approving.

You can only hope that little bag won't be the difference between life, and death. You've lived your life close enough to death as is; dealing with this at a bowshot distance would be just fine.

* * * * *

After spending the evening practising with Gaulfredo's bow, you have the hang of it; you're not that great of a shot with just one night of practise, but Gaulfredo reassures you. "None of us will be good shots. We'd all like to win the pig, but we are not sharpshooters. But this is why we fire in volley; a wall of arrows is more accurate than any sharpshooter might be on his own."

A 'wall' is a generous descriptor. With a bow loaned to you from Gerardhino the innkeeper (he has a shortbow of his own he prefers to use from horseback, which he will employ), you stand with the little Bella Collina militia. Gaulfredo the farmer, Polo the clerk, the dwarf Nogrom; these, you know. There's also the violist from Flicker-Tide, whose name turns out to be Emio; the red haired brothers who sold you your ox, too - Ernesto and Istuccio - and the owner of the land you're going to fight on, Alberto. Adolpho, with two large, black hounds politely waiting for the command to bite and kill, stands on one end of the line; on the other end stands the only other woman in the group. The yellow dressed girl, Bella. She is still annoyingly pretty today, without the lighting and her fine dress; a linen skirt knotted at one side to reveal her calves, so she won't risk tripping on it if she has to run; and to get a little distance of the fabric from the now crackling trench of burning pitch in front of you. Why is she here? Clearly there is no expectation for women to fight as men do, here. The answer does not come forth naturally, as you wait in the tension of the cool morning air; waiting, and waiting. You glance over to the farmhouse of Alberto's property; a small shape from here, but you can see the Madre Angeletta and Alberto's wife over there, with a basket of bandages and medical unguents; preparing, waiting. Waiting.

A gunshot rings out, in the woods across the road.

Waiting.

And finally, two horses burst from the treeline; Bertuccio on his charger, and Gheradino riding high in the saddle of a chestnut mare. After them, crashing through the trees, comes the Troll of Bella Collina; as big, and ugly as it was when you saw it last. A ripple of dismay goes through your little line of archers, from those seeing in the first time. It makes the horses and riders look small, by comparison.

"Light up! Light up!" The militia sergeant, Nogrom, calls the group back to attention, and the milita light up the arrows they are holding from the trench. The troll chases Bertuccio, whose horse, heroic in its own courage, rounds and runs parallel to your archery line, at a distance of about forty five yards.

"Aim! Take aim!" Trembling hands try to steady their bows, and draw their strings. Ahead, Gherardino takes a shot from the saddle with his shortbow; it plugs into the back of the troll's shoulder, doing no damage you can see - but it wheels to this new sensation, and runs back sideways across the field towards him. The chestnut mare takes off, building the speed to keep away from the troll, vaulting a spar of broken fence as it goes.

"Loose!"

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Combat begins. Roll initiative. Also, technically a troll has Fear. But at this range, while it's not immediately charging at you, I'm going to treat it as Unsettling; so make a Willpower check, or take a -10% to WS and BS until you 'save it off' at the end of a subsequent turn. And then, having taken a full aim action 'off screen', you can make a shot with a bow! It's -20% at this range, +10% for aiming, and another -10% if you are Unsettled.

Your co-combatants are:

1. Gaulfredo Nerve - (1d100)[20]
2. Polo Nerve - (1d100)[91] (Unnerved!)
3. Nogrom Nerve - (1d100)[18]
4. Emio Nerve - (1d100)[28]
5. Istuccio Nerve - (1d100)[38] (Unnerved!)
6. Alberto Nerve - (1d100)[97] (Unnerved!)
7. Adolpho Nerve - (1d100)[55] (Unnerved!)
8. Bella Nerve - (1d100)[36] (Unnerved!)

also,

9. Bertuccio, riding Fiammo Nerve - (1d100)[92] (Unnerved!)
10. Gherardino, riding Diletto Nerve - (1d100)[7]

and finally

11. Oscar (Wardog) Nerve - (1d100)[91] (Unnerved!)
12. Pierre (Wardog) Nerve - (1d100)[81] (Unnerved!)

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Having seen psychotic and frenzied rat-ogres before in their cages, and having to feed them at risk to her personal safety, the trolls size and menacing demeanour was nothing for the ex-slave.

Steely eyed, she drew the string back on her short-bow and....nothing.

The arrow sailed high, but fell short, Taalia's judgement off by several yards.

Hissing under her breath, she got down onto one knee, notched another arrow and drew the string back to take aim once more.

[MrAbdiel]

Of the archers, only Gaulfredo, Nogrom and Emio seem to hold their cool well, like you have; the others' hands tremble and as they watch the troll snatch up a huge post from the broken fence and swing it mid stride such that it bats Gheradino's horse's tail, just shy of its legs.

The volley flies, and scatters around the troll; a single arrow from the lot sticking into its hide and holding, with its little circle of burning pitch persisting and smoking away.

It's not a strong volley; but the weakness of it seems, atleast, not to have taken the beast's attention toward the vulnerable archers. Bertuccio hastilly finishes packing powder into his longgun, while Gheradino tears across the stretch of low-grazed field.

"Light up!" Nogrom calls again, as more of the archers get their bearings. "Aim... Loose!"

Spoiler: OOC!

Show

Troll, shockingly, did not beat your maximum initiative; so it hasn't gotten any kind of incremental approach benefit. All the good guys will go immediately after you; then troll, then you again. So...

You - 14
Good boys and girls - 13
Troll - 9

You spend one turn picking up an arrow from the piles on the ground and lighting it, and a second turn aiming and fire it; that's a full volley.
So all the scardies get two more chances each to recover from Unnerving; one before, and one after the volley to come. If it ends up charging down on you all, it'll trigger an actual fear test - but we'll see if that comes up!

So far it has taken... smol damage. But the volley was always, literally, a long shot at this range! Time to go again and hope it remains horse-hungry.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

On one knee, keeping her cool with practiced steeliness, Taalia knocked another arrow, drew the string back and took aim. Narrowing one eye, she kept her nerves to aim where she thought the Troll was going, not where it was.

Releasing the flaming arrow, she watched as it scythed through the air and struck the hideous creature right in its ugly head.

[MrAbdiel]

Only Istuccio and Alberto haven't regained their nerve by the second volley; and this round of arrows is much better. Three of them stick into the warty, blue-brown hide of the monster; burning pitch sizzling around the wounds they do. Now two hang from its chest, one from its left thigh, and one pokes out of the top of its brow - you're pretty sure that one was yours - and the unlit one from Gheradino's shortbow from its back. Now, your militia volley is doing more damage than the riders, and the troll turns its huge, bloodshot and yellow eyes in your direction. And it yells.

"Bahz ho nu kAAAAHHHhhh? Nu kaaaAAAH?"

Its voice is as ugly and rough as its exterior; its language thankfully lost on you, though it sounds like the same jabbering argot the goblins conversed in while you watched them from your perch that night. But it sounds angry - angry as hell.

Suddenly disinterested in the horses and riders, it breaks into a loping run toward you and your fellow archers. The steps become longer with each bound, and the speed with which it closes the distance - from forty yards, to twenty, and barrelling on - is shocking. An intrusive memory leaps to mind - you remember the little bones, in its cave - the ones too small for it to chew.

Bertuccio and Gheradino give chase at once, and Nogrom gives his shout - though the quaver of alarm in his voice is hard not to hear.

"Fall back! Back to the second line! Back and reform for close fire!"

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

You've done some damage, now! Damage enough to be noticed. And the troll is closing the gap. While the action in world is happening simultaneously, he's technically run from 46 yards away to 10 yards away from you, this turn.

The plan, the order, is to run back to the second line of pitch and prepare to fire again. That'll put you and the others within 20 yards - short range for the bows, dramatically increasing your accuracy. They are hoping the dogs, and riders, can turn it back to linger within this range so it can be put down in another volley or two.

But that IS going to mean it's within charge range the whole time, so the time has come for Fear tests! We'll see who is running to the line, and who is gripped by panic.

So make a Willpower Test. You can have +10, because of the reassuring presence of the (apparently competent?) Nogrom, who is giving commands.

Strictly, failing a fear test means one freezes in place. I'm going to modify it in this case and say failing this fear test means one does not stop running at the line 12 yards behind, but keeps running their full run distance!

So the fear test, and then your turn (either running to the line or defying that command in some way); and we'll see if the dogs and riders can hold the troll on their turn after yours.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

It was a small hint of satisfaction as her arrow Thwacked! into the beasts ugly head, but as it turned to face them and roar its fury, Taalia knew things were going to get dicey.

Hearing that command, her resolve still unshaken, the girl turned and fled to the designated lines, her long legs carrying her at a swifter pace than those around them as she moved with the quickness of an elf or a skaven.

Taalia stuck to the plan. She didn't pull any cowboy manure and try to be a hero, she knew that if anyone went off script it could be disastrous.

[MrAbdiel]

"Geet'em! Geet'em!"

Adolpho commands his dogs as the group falls back to the second line. The larger of the wardogs, Oscar, responds with fearless fury; barking and snarling and tearing forward, snapping out at the troll's ankles in such a display of aggression that the hulking beast arrests his charge against the archers. The other dog, Pierre, does not move. It stands in place as Oscar charges forward and his handler Adolpho dashes back; vexed with confusion and trepidation at the sight of the huge enemy, and lets out a pitiful whine while shrinking to a low, submissive crouch.

At the next line most of the group halts; but not all. Adolpho, and the lanky clerk Polo, overshoot the line two fold; both pause at the this and falter, seeming to want to return to the bowline but hesitant to approach the creature at all. The riders circle wide to the flanks of the monster, waiting for Adolpho's call to pull the dogs back and open the beast to another unobstructed round of attack.

It is admirable, and frightening, to see Oscar facing the troll toe to toe; the dog is outmatched by orders of magnitude, but bounds and hops around, darting in to threaten an ankle and out again. The Troll's fence post slams down, but the slippery black hound shunts to one side and barks his defiant warning.

Spoiler: OOC: End of the Retreat Round

Show

Amazingly, most of the NPC's passed with an average WP of 30. No less than three because of Nogrom's dwarfliness.

At the end of this round, 6 archers and yourself are at the firing line; two have fled beyond it in fear.

With the troll halted at twenty yards, the militia take up new arrows, and light them from the pitch.

"Get back up here, ye bloody cowards! You can't shoot him with yer tears!", Nogrom implores with exasperation. But Polo and Adolpho are frozen with the dueling interests of survival and duty. Pierre, less valorous than his counterpart Oscar, lets loose a sudden, involuntary stream of canine urine beneath himself; visibly quaking as the troll's blows crack against the ground where the other dog was, moments before. Adolpho retains the semblance of mind to command his animal, atleast. "Geer'round! Geer'round!"

And with the command, Oscar changes from snarling direct engagement to sprinting little circles around the troll; his speed and canine agility making him a considerably hard target. The speed might have saved his life; but not completely. With a wide sweeping swing of the fence post, the troll catches Oscar under the legs; knocking him up and in the air with a bloodfreezing yelp of animal pain before he hits the ground and skitters back to his feet - though his left rear leg drags limply behind him, and his threatening barks are all interspersed with spikes of agonized yelping. Apallingly, the troll's injuries are ceasing to ooze the dark blood they flowed at first - is the fire weakness a myth? Or not very pronounced? Is it possible to keep it hurt at this run-and-fire pace?

Spoiler: OOC: End of Reload Round

Show

Archers take up an arrow and light them this turn. Riders take aim. Oscar uses his trained trick, "Geer'round" (Full Defense), but the Troll still hits him, and he fails to dodge. 11 Wounds puts him at a -1 Critical to the leg, rolled up as "Leg Incapacitated until medical attention received".

"Skiddim! Oscar! Skiddim!" The peril of his animal seeming to unfreeze Adolpho's blood, his resolve finally hardens and he abandons Polo frozen at the rear, rushing back to the arrow line. Oscar, at the command, turns and runs from the combat at a bobbling limp, toward Bertuccio to the left of the bowline. The troll looks ready to give chase - but not before the archers have had their say, point blank!

Spoiler: Start of the next round!

Show

The troll has regenerated some - its vulnerability is to damage dealt by fire, not quite to arrows with a fire chaser. I've chosen to say that 2 of each arrow's damage is 'fire' and the rest is arrow damage, so with four hits, but sustained regeneration, it's taken 8 wounds it's unable to heal.

Now, atleast, you can take a good shot, though. At this range, it's your ballistic skill, +10% for aiming; no negative penalties. Same for the other shooters!

After the shots, it's the troll's turn. With any luck, it won't be much able to act.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia watched with wide-eyed amazement at the value the war dog brought to the fight. She knew that Skaven hated dogs, and witnessing the trained skill, valor and cunning of the war-hound before her, Taalia could now see why. And when Oscar yelped in pain from the blow it received from the Troll, her whole body flinched up as maternal instincts drew her mind to Corvo.

But she had to push those grim portents aside. The girl knew they had to down the savage beast before more paid with their limbs or lives.

Drawing her bow up again, pushing the riser forward with her left arm and pulling the string back with her right, Taalia took aim once more and let a burning arrow loose.

[MrAbdiel]

Another good volley - your arrow, and three others (one you're quite sure is Gaulfredo's) pepper the troll, and now it's close enough that the rank smell of its skin and flesh is mixed with the fragrance of burning hair and oil. Bertuccio's longgun cracks and the bullet strikes the troll's head so hard you think for a moment that it's done the job; but no, like your arrow, it's simply gotten wedged in the creature's skull. But it's clearly wounded now, laboring and grunting, even though the perverse healing of its body squirts free the bullet from its head with an audible 'pop'. With Oscar disengaged, and the horses having crept close enough to take point blank shots, the troll's big, awful eyes swivel quickly to the maker of the loudest noise - Bertuccio, and his smoking gun. Another charge so fast it makes your stomach ache to see, closing the distance and leaping to slash with clawed hands so close they shear Bertuccio's cloak off his shoulders, and cause the horse Fiamma to scream in panic.

"Load and light!" Nogrom calls again, taking up another pitch arrow and lighting it while Bertuccio takes the aggression load of the monster. "We've almost got it! Boy, get yer backside clear! NOW!"

Spoiler: OOC: End of firing round!

Show

Wham bam! The troll goes up to 14 Fire Damage and 12 Physical damage, putting it within 1 wound of crits... then regenerates 10 wounds like an absolute savage. He charges Bertuccio, but rolls poorly; lucky for the road warden.

Nogrom's giving the order to prepare another volley, but considering the peril of the moment and Taalia's earlier question during the meeting, I figure I'll give you the chance to decide if you to load and light, or load and fire (into melee with a -20% penalty), or do something else.

But the archers (minus Polo, still afeard) are loading and lighting, counting on Bertuccio getting clear so they can fire.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

That mix of anger and despair rushed through Taalia's body as she watched the Troll stagger, lumber back and forth...but the wounds slowly close up and the bullets and arrow ejected from its tough hide.

Myrmidia's tits! These things were tough to bring down! A rat-ogre would have succumbed to its wounds by now, curling over and passing into whatever black hell awaited its putrid soul. But these Trolls just recuperated swiftly and continued fighting.

One part of her wanted to rush over to Oscar and comfort the dog, rewarding his bravery with kisses, pats and medical attention. Another part of her, still brewing from her initial entrance into the community, saw Bertuccio's close brush with death and wanted to scream and cover her mouth in a loud begging pray for his safe preservation.

But the survivor within her knew the truth: the danger would only pass if the troll was dead.

And how would it die?

More arrows.

Pursing her lips, exhaling, Taalia touched her arrow to the flame, took aim and loosed once more...

[MrAbdiel]

The archer line lights, and fires; seven strong now, with Polo struck lame by the sight of the creature hoving chunks of ground out of the field with each claw swing and improvised club blow. Bertuccio has little choice but to withdraw - he won't last long in melee with the creature - but neither can he tear off at full pace, for fear of then giving the troll no good choice but to charge the defenseless archers. So he steers Fiamma into a short dash away from the troll, just enough to open distance to force it to charge again; hoping to survive that charge and pull back again so the archers can fire.

But he need not endure it. Pierre, quickened at last by either Adolpho's encouragement or Oscar's persistant, suffering yips, finds his courage and rushes the beast, snapping at the ankles and barking with the same furious gusto as Oscar before; if a little more tentative, and nervous.

The punishment for heroism is swift in coming. The troll does not charge after the horse, but wheels around with a downward slap of the open hand. Pierre is not quick enough to escape; and when he comes up from under the palm, he is teetering drunkenly, whining, pained; blood coming from the dog's mouth, and nose, and ears.

Spoiler: OOC: End of Loading Round.

Show

Bertuccio and Fiamma withdraw. Pierre recovers from fear, finally, and charges the Troll. He misses, but engages the troll all the same, so it does not charge Bertuccio. Instead, it attacks Pierre three times, hits once, and does 13 wounds, soaking 3 for dawg toughness and reducing Pierre to exactly 0 - just shy of a crit. Polo, true to form, does not recover from fear. Everyone else loads and lights.

The troll recovers another damn 10 wounds - but only 2 of them are physical, the rest are fire based, so he recovers 2 net.

"Pierre! Skiddi! Skiddi, Pierre!" Adolpho's voice is pitched and frantic. Raising dogs to fight requires a certain emotional distance from the beasts that normal pet owners and farmers with working dogs do not have; but to see such noble and obedient creatures executing their commands only to be brutalized by a monster like this would be compelling for all but the most jaded individuals. Pierre scuttles away from the combat toward Oscar, who now lingers back behind the lines near Polo, whose feet remain frozen to the ground.

You draw and loose. It should have been a killing volley; but the troll takes a leaping, instinctive step after the fleeing hound, and most of the arrows go wide. You arrow thunks into the creature's chest - closest to the heart, and therefor the pig, not that you would think of it at that moment; Emio's into the meat of the monster's thigh again; and Adolpho redeems his earlier hesitation with shot that bites deep into the troll's arm and causes a huge jet of dark blood to ooze forcefully from the curling bicep as it crunches the arrow's shaft between its fibres.

It lets out a whimper. It totters a step. Everyone holds their breath.

Spoiler: Suspense Spoiler...

Show

...And then it lets loose a furious, agonized roar that washes you with warm stinking breath, and stinging spittle even ten yards away. Wild, bleeding, hurting, its great ears flap in idiot desperation for some special sound or sign to direct it; but Bertuccio is reloading, and cannot fire another shot that might draw the monster's attention. So it surges forth on instinct, rushing towards the girl on the end of the bow line - Bella.

What was she doing here, anyway? Had she come to impress Bertuccio with her courage? Did she fancy herself a robust adventurer, and not just an effortless dancer? There is no grace in her steps as the huge club, a fencepost like the ones you dug for hours to sink to make your sheep pen, comes crashing down, barely missing her in her fumbling withdrawal; her scream of mortal peril piercing the morning air almost as starkly as the troll's roar.

The arrows had failed to stop it, and now it was upon you. Even on the brink of death, the miasma of its foulness and the heavy metal taste of its blood in the air choke up your senses.

"All in! All in!", Nogrom calls.

All In wasn't part of the plan you discussed; it's a desperate adaptation as things go bad. Bertuccio is white as a sheet, hands fumbling to find his sword; Gheradino steers his horse toward the combat and tosses down his bow, going for his handaxe. Nogrom looks ready to charge in, too. Everyone else is startled and bewildered, unprepared for combat with the undying wrecking machine; looking for a chance to withdraw without losing their lives.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

What a cliffhanger. I want to go to bed, but I'm not going anywhere until this is resolved!

Pierre withdraws. Everyone except Bertuccio (reloading) and Polo (frightened) fires at the troll eight yards away.
Three arrows hit. The troll is at 20 Fire wounds, and 9 Physical wounds... from a total of 29 wounds; one shy of a crit, just like the dog a moment before! It only regenerates 2 of them on its turn, but it's still trucking.

I randomized the charge between you, the seven archers, and the two riders in range - and Bella was the target. Poetic, in a certain way. But she's lucky - he missed his charge attack. If he was in melee already, he could attack three times (like he has at the dogs) or just puke acid all over her. Who's gonna be prettiest then?

The plan is coming apart and the troll isn't dying. You have your club, I assume; Gaulfredo beside you has a knife, and Nogrom has a small axe, but most of these guys are utterly unprepared for close quarters with this thing.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Human communal feelings were a weird and unusual thing. Just a month or so ago during that festival, and Taalia would have laughed and cheered if that troll had hoisted Bella up and stuffed the hussy into its ugly mouth to chew and swallow her down. But now, today, a surge of protectiveness blasted through the teenagers body as her muscles reacted to rush forward and help the stupid girl, to save her from the grisly fate her silly actions had put her before. Is that what grown men felt when throwing themselves into the fire to protect a pretty girl or a child? Perhaps.

Lurching forward, her mind blank and her body acting on instinct, Taalia had dropped her bow and simply charging forward "AHHHHH!!!!!" her banshee-scream accompanying the surprisingly strong fist-swings across the ugly thing.