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

[MrAbdiel]

"Mutants?!" Nogrom shouts back, disgusted by their nature as much as he is outraged by their intention to rob the convoy. "T'arms! T'arms!"

Gaulfredo gives you a look; it's all the time he really to communicate, as he fumbles for his staff and to clamber off the wagon, trying to get ahead of it a little so the combat to ensue won't spook the horses. Some part of you might have preferred he run, to be safe; but no part of you would credibly think he would flee - this man, who made a suicidal charge at the goblins who killed his horse. How then would he abandon all these horses, and these folks - much less you, whom he has come to think of as a kind of daughter, as much you think of him as a kind of father? He stands beside you with his staff out, as all along the line the lads dismount from their steeds and wagons, pulling their cudgels, and knives. The red haired brothers at the back of the line seem the best armed of the lot of you; one produces a bearded axe in both hands, while his brother keeps infront of him with shield, and knife. Rocco isn't a combat dog; but he is protective, and his hackles are up as he tries to take in the rapidly escalating tensions. Corvo, on the back of the cart, just starts barking, and barking, and barking. He has never been in a real fight; he doesn't understand if this is threat, or play, but he is scared, and letting out the yipping, confused noises that you normally have to cuddle to soothe, in thunderstorms.

The mutants come on, then. There are eleven of them, including their leader; all uniformly skinny, and desperate looking... if only that were the worst of their looks. Some are almost human - a man with eggshell white skin and pale, watery eyes seems to be more discolored than anything, though he is badly sunburned up his arms. Another seems to have no mutation at all, even if his wild and sadistic grin on yellowed teeth suggests a mind twisted and depraved. But there are plenty of horrors that emerge from the trees. A man with a jet black eyeball and thick purple veins radiating from it under his skin stands at the back, preferring not to charge, swinging his awful gaze around the combat. A cretin with a weasel's muzzle pushing out of his face where a normal jaw should be looses a chittering bark as he rushes on with a crude spear. A man with some deformity worth hiding behind a hood could pass as normal, except for that covering; another with a third ear growing from the middle of his forehead is certainly unsettling, if not horrific. But another weilds a grain flail in hands whose fingers have been replaced with short purple tentacles. Another dirty, shirtless man has an array of extra arms sporting bone shivs - an extra left and right below the main arms, and a third right arm, small and flopping with vestigial impotance just above his hip. A woman with no head at all charges in with a boat hook lashed to a pole, a grimace on her miserable features mounted now between her free-swinging breasts. And perhaps worst of all, coming straight at you, is a panting, glassy eyed oaf of a man with a second mouth - grinning on his abdoment, with the belly button flaring like a perverse nostril above it. The mouth wails and chatters, and threatens you as he rushes in, club in hand:

"AAAAHHhahahah, stronza, cazzo di puttana! Ti ucciderò, ti mangerò gli occhi! Ti mangerò gli occhi! Ahahaha!

You've played with the throwing knife before; and you think you've gotten alright at handling it, though that was throwing it at a stationary wall. At this moving, howling monster-man, your fling goes wide into the grass; and it's all you can do to prepare to engage him up close....

Spoiler: OOC:

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Your turn! I recommend charging mister belly mouth, or taking a parry stance, or taking a defensive stance. Or charging to attack, and spending your last fate point for a new half action to take a parry stance; but that's a final fate point for the day, it's a big deal to spend.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia steeled herself as the mutants poured forth from the treeline like a disgusting wave, the grotesque spectacles of their aberrations and anomalous bodies, once a source of pity, now the impetus behind her revulsion as they sought to steal everything from Taalia that she had sought to build. Had she escaped the Skaven enslavement, braved the goblins, risked death by troll three times and months of rearing and caring for her own flock, just to hand all the proceeds over to this scum? Over her dead body.

Gripping her quarterstaff, observing that clumps were forming, she hurled herself forward at the closest mutant, bringing her weapon about in an arch and smacking the disgusting thing across its right arm.

[MrAbdiel]

The Battle of Silo Road

Combat is joined. The mutants come loping down the sloping treeline, and the Bella Collinans move out to meet them; bodies and weapons colliding all down the line. Belly-Mouth swings at you, but you dart to one side and bring your staff cracking down on his arm with bone jarring force. The mouth on his face cries out in pain; the mouth on his guy continues gabbling on its vulgarities, unphased. Along side you, Gaulfredo raises his staff horizontal and catches the downward swing of the Headless woman, the hook on her pole snaring around the staff and fouling his attempt to get any blow of his own to land. Rocco makes up his mind and throws himself forward, doing what he knows and circling the enemies attacking you both, barking and nipping at heels; Gaulfredo tells him to go to Nogrom's side, but without being free to point and gesture to give the command shape, Rocco cannot yet interpret his master's will.

At the head of the column, Nogrom and Insolente Aldo circle each other, before Nogrom lunges in, defending his beer. Too hasty; his handaxe misses the mark, and the mutant gang leader scores a trivial, knicking blow to the dwarf's thigh with a gleaming, steel longsword - the only weapon of quality the mutants have brought to bear.

The troublemaker boys, in their first real fight ever, make their best efforts. Tesifonte, Ansaldo and Cremenzio wrestle back and forth with the grinning man and Tentacle Fingers, between them defending themselves and scoring a light cut to the Tenty-Finger's scalp; but Enrico, the fourth and the best influence on the other three, catches a cudgel to the stomach so fierce from the Hooded One that he throws up on the spot, red faced and agonized, wheezing as his friends try to defend him.

At the far end of the column, Ernesto and Istuccio rush into their many opponents, Ernesto making a nuisance of himself with his shield while Istucchio tries in with his axe. But they are dangerously outmatched; the man with four arms is almost two opponents in himself, and between him and weaselface bashing on the shield, Extra Ear slips around and drops a vicious, painful looking strike onto his back, eliciting a howl of pain from him and distress from his brother, whose own blow glances off the Albino's blocking spear!

Meanwhile, the man with the tainted eye fixates his stare on poor battered Ernesto. A strange obsession with no visible cause to effect; but all the same Ernesto spits up a mouthful of blood...

Spoiler: Round 1

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Round 1's been pretty rough for the farmers.
I've added wounds taken (after toughness) to the initiative track. One of the boys and one of the brothers have taken serious hits, And of the mutants, only the one you just struck have taken serious damage. But the mutants had a lot of charge bonuses this round, as most of the farmers elected to be defensive; now the average mutant weapon skill of 25 will kick in a little more. Round 2, you're up!

With Belly Mouth quite hurt, you have a real decision between just swinging and taking a defensive stance; or All Out Attacking for +20 to hit,trying to really land a blow. Up to you!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia hissed under her breath, hearing the shouts of others from the column as she brings her staff around with its prior momentum...

[MrAbdiel]

The battle rages on.

With a vicious blow cracking into Bellymoth's side, he spits blood (from the top mouth) and wheezes (also from that mouth), his clumsy reprisal to you going to the side. Gaulfredo manages to turn aside the Headless woman's boat hook, as Rocco bites onto her ankle and tugs with enough force to distract, at least. Seeing this opening, and the progress you've made on your foe, Gaulfredo jabs out hard with the butt of his staff and cracks Bellymouth in the temple, and the monstrosity sags to the ground. The body doesn't move; but the profane second mouth continues to blather its garbage:

"Oh, stronza! Tu succosa cagna! Vieni qui e metti il tuo piede nella mia bocca, ahahaha!"

But with the defeat of this foe and Rocco finding his in, your duel has gone from two on two to three verse one - much better odds indeed.

Nogrom and Insolente Aldo duel on; the dwarf so far unable to land a blow, but atleast able to turn aside a swing that might have cloven his head wide open, if he were less attentive to parry it.

The troublemaker boys hold there own. Enrico manages to muster enough strength to backstep away from the Hooded man's blows, while the boys grow more savage in defense of their wounded friend; Cremenzio howling and scoring such a tremendous strike that the Tentacle-Fingered man's right arm is left dangling and ruined, causing him to drop his weapon and stumble back in pain and fear.

But the combat looks much worse, at the far end of the line. The red haired brothers can't get any luck at all - the four enemies swarm over them, Ernesto doing his valiant best to hold them off so Istuccio can swing; but his brother is unable to land a blow. But one of the cretins is: the pale skinned albino man, swinging a wooden mallet into the small of the shield-brother's back hard enough that even from where you are, you can hear something in the poor fellow's back crack and break, and he goes down to the ground, hard.

Grinning manicly, the man with the tainted eye turns his gaze next on battered Enrico, who starts to hack and cough uncontrollably.

Spoiler: Round 2

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Things tightening up for you and Gaulfredo winning your combat, the troublemaker boys making gains in theirs, but at the far end the red haired brothers are gettin' it. You're up!

You now outnumber your enemy 3:1, which is a +20 bonus to hit, which would do well on its own or stack nicely to +40 with an all out attack. If you wanted to break from the combat - say, charge either to help the troublemakers up from you, or maybe up to Norgom (who seems to be holding his own), Headless would get a free swing at you as you go.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia wasted no time. She knew the other boys at the end of their column needed their help, and she had to get there as quickly as possible!

Stepping to the side, she brought her staff about in an arch against the headless woman...

[MrAbdiel]

Fighting this headless woman is frustrating, not least because your first blow whiffs right where the head would have been; but your return stroke cracks down on her collar bone as Gaulfredo menaces from the side, and Rocco from behind. Outnumbered, surrounded, personally doomed and with none of the hearty loyalty to kin that is possessed by her opponents, she lets out a mournful scream and tries to run; and you knock her ankles out as she turns, buying you and Gaulfredo a moment to beat her senseless with big overhead blows from your staves. Freed from combat, Gaulfredo scans about, spotting the unengaged creeper at the back. Knowing you will be more value to the combats in progress than he, the farmer and his dog charge up the hill toward the mutant. "Help the boys!" He calls to you, as Rocco rounds to threaten the mutant voyeur, and Gaulfredo himself lands a charging blow that batters and numbs the mutant's arm!

The Hooded Man tries to finish off teetering Enrico, whose defenses are hampered by his hacking cough and suffering; but his lads are with him, at least; and their threat is enough to prevent the attacker landing his killing strike. What's more, the man with the mangled arm and tentacle fingers, now denuded of his weapon, ducks defensively away from the brawl and turns to lope back towards the trees; abandoning the grinning degenerate to the vengeful lads and giving him reasons not to grin as he is savagely clubbed and cut, staggering under the assault.

Nogrom and Insolente Aldo continue their protracted duel; Nogrom the superior warrior, but unable to find an opening against the reach of his enemy's weapon; stubby dwarven legs not made for swift manoeuvring and footwork.

At the far end of the melee, the situation continues to erode. One of the many-armed man's shivs makes it past Istuccio's guard, poking him in the side and letting blood flow freely down his body as he tries to defend his fallen, groaning brother. It's all Istuccio can do to defend; he whirls his unbloodied axe around himself defensively, trying to create a field of threat the enemies cannot penetrate, but penetrate it they do - Weasel Face dancing in, feignting with his knife and then boxing him hard over one ear with a clawed hand, raking his cheek with claw marks and leaving him stunned, and reeling. Disoriented, ournumbered four to one, his situation is grim.

Spoiler: Round 3

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Nogrom and Aldo continue to spar and circle. You landed a decent blow on Headless. She acts before Gaulfredo, and decided to try her luck running; I took the liberty of rolling you and Gaulfredo's attacks on her back, and you both did 9 damage - she's toast, and that freed up Gaulfredo to charge the tainted eye man with Rocco. He even hit! But his hope is to free you to roll up the combat elsewhere; he's seen what you can do when you get going. This turn, you can charge to help Nogrom, or to help the Troublemaker boys. Those boys are, right now, fighting one badly wounded man and the hooded man; but if that combat resolves quickly, it will free the boys up to move to help the red hair brothers, who are having the worst day at the far end of the line, too far for you to charge this turn.
If you wanted, you could just run, which would put you in line to charge those ganging up on the red hair brothers next turn; but if they down Istuccio, there'd be nothing stopping them from charging you, instead. Your call!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Turning and seeing the plight of the red-headed boys, Taalia screamed and hurled herself forward, charging the nearest mutant from behind and swinging madly.

[MrAbdiel]

Seeing the situation get worse at the far end of the fight, you leave Gaulfredo and Nogrom to their duels, and rush to help the mass in the middle. You collide with the scrum at speed, knocking the battered degenerate out of the group and then follow through with your staff so fiercely the blow breaks his femer and pushes a shard of bone through the skin so that arterial blood can wash out as he collapses. This is the first man you have killed - the first with no visual deformity, at least. The mutants you stepped over to get here were monstrous, but as the light fades from this cretin's eyes, he goes still as a bloody, battered, normal looking man; if dishevelled, and worse for wear. But he was trying to kill you and your people; that does not engender much pity.

Nogrom and Aldo Insolente become more agitated with each other, both striking blows that might kill, but parrying each other so the ring of steel on steel echoes over the battlefield where the muddier clashes take place.

The tainted eye man wards himself with a his knife, trying to keep back Gaulfredo and his barking companion; staring malifically into Gaulfredo's face as he comes on, causing him to stumble and blink as blood begins to ooze from his tear ducts. But this isn't enough to stop his momentum. Grasping his staff from its base, he swings it hard and wide, and it catches the mutant in the shoulder with a crack, driving him to the ground where a few more vicious thumps and kicks do the same job on Tainted Eye that the once did on the goblins, in your first fight on the surface.

In the middle brawl, your dispatch of the degenerate frees the rest of the boys to crowd on the hooded man. Even Enrico seems to find a second wind, and gets a lick in; they surround him, kicking and striking, none landing a telling blow but all getting a touch, and the mutant begins to howl in distress... with a weird, familiar pitch to his voice. It's the last sound that Tentacle Fingers hears, as he bleeds out in retreat.

At the bloody rear of the fight, Istuccio flails in defense of himself. The many bone shives of the Many-Armed man are forced back by dazed, clumsy swings of his axe; but the man with an extra ear on his forehead gets in a vicious blow with a warped sword that carves into the meat of Istuccio's forarm, and forces him to drop his axe. He totters, vulnerable, disarmed, trying to guess the angle death with take him from. But the other two in that gang - Weasel Fae, and Albino - hear the Hooded Man's plaintive cry, and charge away from the redhaired brothers to join the mass combat; confident their two kin behind them have that situation handled.

Confused, not wanting to be left out, Corvo leaps from the wagon where he has waited so patiently, and tears off towards the most interesting part of the combat his canine brain has arbitrarilly chosen - the monstrous mutant with five arms, at whom he begins to bark from close by; bidding for play. Play does not seem forthcoming.

Spoiler: OOC: Round 4

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The combat has simplified a little.
With more mutants going down (and tentacle fingers bleeding out), the ground is shifting. I'll put the breakdown more clearly in the OOC thread. But you're up, when you're next able!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia sneers as she draws up her staff to take a good, hard whack at hooded man...

[MrAbdiel]

Crack! Your staff slams into the side of the hood, and down he goes like a sack of potatoes. You don't think he's dead - not yet, and you're tempted to make sure right now. But the hood is partially shifted with your blow, revealing a corner of jaw that is...

Familiar. The face of someone you know?

But the battle does not pause for you to meditate. To halt now, either to kill the Hooded Man or to unmask him, would be to give up your focus on the lethal swirl around you. Fortunately, Myrmidia Blessing, your felling of another mutant still seems to correspond with a shift in the tide of the melee back in your favor. Weasel Face and Albino have crashed into the melee with the troublemaker boys - these chaps, who mocked you when they first met you but then gave an admittedly coerced apology and proved themselves, atleast, hard and honest workers who did not deserve to be killed by mutants on the road, give their all to the fight. Enrico, the one of the four 'Troublemakers' who was not part of the group when they teased you, leans and spits blood, but two of his friends, Cremenzio and Tesifonte, are at his side with wild swings of their clubs, battering the Albino and then thumping him so hard in the solar plexus he loses his breath and seems to struggle to get it back again. The fourth boy, Ansaldo, occupies Weasel Face; his own haymaker blow with his mallet cracking into the mutant's rodent muzzle and throwing a loose tooth across the field. Now it's five verse two, in the midfield; and it's the mutants making tentative jabs and defending themselves while the rallying goodly folk put the wild swings and punishment on them.

At the end of the field, driven to one knee and facing two enemies who have robbed him of the use of his hand and thus the ability to wield his axe, Istuccio looks up protectively, sorrowfully, from his brother's body. An ally from an unexpected place intervenes, for him - Corvo, having leapt from the cart and zoomed to the far combat, barks and hops behind Many Arms, trying to break into what seems to him to be an exciting, if violent game. A pup of another breed would warrant no attention; but Many Arms does not dare expose himself to this new enemy, turning and swiping two of his bone knives at the couragious if foolish pup. Canine agility wins through, and he dances back from the swings; his barking ceasing with a confused whine as the mutant's snarl and aggression impress upon the pup that oh, this is not a game at all.

But with his most impressive ally against him distracted for a moment, Istuccio takes the window to rally; pulling the shield from his fallen brother's arm and slipping his own blood-slicked, bleeding right arm into its loops, grabbing the dropped dagger with his left, and raising both just in time to catch, and successfully deflect, a life-taking blow from Extra-Ear. At the sound of Corvo's yapping, Gaulfredo - fresh from his own recent victor - calls out to the pup in alarm, and charges to the dog's side, Rocco in tow to the defence of his reckless son. Rocco's barks as he charges in are rough, deep, almost feral with paternal fury, snapping at Many Arm's heels and forcing the mutant to shove him away with one foot. Gaulfredo's own staff blow comes soaring in hard, but the five-armed freak has the free dexterity to strike it aside. That combat, at the end of the convoy, is still dire; but it is not over, and now, atleast, the red headed brothers are not alone.

Spoiler: Round 5!

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Woo! Good guys get some wins! These troublemaker boys are all out attacking and having some big wins. Both Weasel Face and Albino are hurt; and you dropped the Hooded Man. You can spend your turn finishing him off, or unmasking him; but he's out cold, for now; and that my or may not be wise. Nogrom and Aldo continue to fail at each other. Corvo distracts Many Arms and is missed by two attacks One of which would absolutely have hit and killed Istuccio, but didn't. With the purchased time, Istuccio used two ready actions for the weapons of his brother (the critical result he is suffering, Arm 6, specifies that he drops anything except a shield, so he's able to still wield that in his main hand and the dagger in his off. That combo gives him a free parry, which he uses to avoid a death blow from Extra Ear. Woo! And he even doesn't bleed out this turn, which is a 20% chance each round!

It's Taalia, turn 6!

[MrAbdiel]

Nogrom finally lets out a barking, cathartic laugh as he manages a cut on Insolente Aldo's chest; the mutant hissing and failing to get in a reprisal blow. His focus on this protracted duel has taken his ability to discern how badly his side is losing, down the line - he is unlikely to realise until it's too late.

In the great middle melee, what's good for one mutant is good for another - you bring your staff around and its very tip catches Weasel Face on the chin, smashing him to the ground where he lies unconcious. Now there's five of you and one of them, in that mix - bad odds, for the Albino who already seems to be realizing this and panicking. It's Enrico, who nearly perished to the first blows of the right, who gets some pride back; swinging his club into the face of the pale skinned mutant, mashing his features, leaving him wrecked on the ground with blood pouring out of his warped jaw.

Five versus Zero.

Only Extra Ear, Many-Arms, and Aldo himself persist upright. Extra Ear hammers on Istuccio's shield, as he defends himself and his fallen brother with his final gasps; blood running down his forearm and over the shield's hardwood rim, flowing from his smashed hand. Many-Arms finds himself menaced by two dogs, and a staff wielding farmer in a straw hat; insensible with frustration, he strikes out at both Corvo and Rocco, but both dogs are quick enough to weave back from the short bone knives. Finally, Gaulfredo manages to get a good strike in; cracking his staff down on the crown of Many-Arm's skull and draw his focus exclusively, eliciting a pained yowl and hiss from the emaciated brute. Then come the boys; Cremenzio, Tesifonte and Ansaldo, freed now from the victorious central melee to charge into this penultimate holdown. Cremenzio joins Gaulfredo swinging at Many-Arms, catching only air but establishing his threat; Tesifonte and Ansaldo fall on Extra Ear and begin bullying him away from the suffering Istuccio. Mallet and cudgel in hand, they come in swinging but then drop their shoulders and bodily shove the mutant back, isolating him from the melee.

"Taalia..!"

It's Istuccio's croaking voice; diminished with weakness now, far from its basso warmth when he bargained with Gaulfredo about the price for your ox so long ago now. He calls out to you. And why shouldn't he? He knows the cold crawling into him as the blood flows out, and that you have been apprenticing under the Madre Angeletta. And he knows how you threw yourself into melee with the troll, while he was a few feet away and sure he was going to die. Now he calls to you, glassy eyed and afraid; perhaps thirty years old and kneeling over the body of his still and unmoving brother, as the blood slicks away from him. The boys, and the dogs, have managed to peel the attackers back to provide a minimum of room to attend him, even as the battle continues. It may be wiser to commit your considerable strength to the combat, to finish these mutants off and tend to the wounded after - but the difference in time may be the difference between the red haired ox trader bleeding out, or surviving with just his shattered hand.

Spoiler: Round 6!

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Woo! You're a mutant staffin' machine. Now it's just the two near the redhead brothers, and Aldo, who appears to finally be taking damage from Nogrom. Istuccio is rolling a 20% chance to die of blood loss every round, so he's close to his number being up. On your turn, you can either rush over and attack one of the muties, or rush over, drop your staff, and try to staunch the bleeding. This isn't the full "heal check" you might make after the combat; just an action to stop bleeding, so it'd be a flat heal roll - if you fail, he'll check to bleed out before you can keep trying.

[MrAbdiel]

At the front of the convoy, Aldo gets his chance - with a twist of the wrist, he sends Nogrom's axe spinning from his hands. "Och! Ye wee baggar!" Quick as a flash, the dwarf throws himself into a roll to recover it, and the mutant's blade scythes over his head, barely missing him.

Enrico charges into the fray, wobbly as he is; but neither he, nor Tesifonte or Ansaldo can land a blow on Extra Ear, proving to be the stealth-threat of the brawl. The audibly enhanced mutant swings a reply at Tesifonte and catches him on the cheek, his badly forged and warped sword cutting a bleeding slice in the teen's face and leaving a searing pain and awareness of the disfigurment to come that you're all too familiar with. By contrast, Extra-Arm's luck seems to have run out; Gaulfredo is able to fend off his shivving assault by turning his staff longwise and stabbing it like a spear, keeping reach as his advantage and jabbing the many-armed freak in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind from him. Rocco, furious and instinctively defensive for the threat to Corvo, latches on to the mutant's right ankle, and holds tight; he staggers with the dead-weight of the dog, the hound's teeth wriggling and tearing with the shaking of his head.

As this carries on, you slide to your knee beside Istuccio, help him quickly trade the shield to the other hand, and get to work using the techniques you have learned in your first real, critical test of the Madre's training. His hand and wrist have been badly hacked. They might have to come off, later, depending on how bad it is on a more careful examination. You touch the healing draught at your hip, but remember your training:

"I can't imagine how many soldiers have died choking on a draught when they should be applying pressure to a wound or tying it off. A healing draught is a gift from Shallya, a wonderful thing; it'll see to the rapid restoration of many bruises, and contusions, and even small breaks of bones if they haven't shifted far. But a body can't derive nourishment from a draught when it's fighting for its life. It's a sad irony - the more heavilly wounded a body, the less effective a draught will be. If it's a deep wound to an organ, or an artery, then potions won't save you - and if you don't have a pocket full of miracles, then all you can do is try the old crude ways: holding them together with needle and thread, and bandages, and your own two hands, if you can."

...And so you snatch one of the braided rawhide straps the Madre has made you carry as part of your training, wrap it around Istucchio's forearm just below the elbow and pull it tight enough that he grunts in pain. The bloodflow slows to a trickle- hopefully because of your good work, and not because he's running out; and you make him put his own good hand over the bleed, and apply pressure. If he doesn't get struck again, he is likely to survive the fight. As for Ernesto... There's nothing you can do for him, right now. His brother kept him from the coup de grace. That's all he has going for him, until the combat is over and you can inspect the damage.

Spoiler: Round 7!

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You have halted Istuccio's bleeding! Next turn, you are free to pick up your staff and stand guard over him; or, if you don't want to spend a half action picking up your staff, you can perform the Taalia Maneuver and charge bare fisted into melee to get a swing with your Natural Weapons talent.

[MrAbdiel]

You hear Nogrom wince in pain, at the other end of the convoy the mutant leader has pulled a reversal and delivered a superficial, but psychologically important cut to the dwarf's arm, while suffering no blow in response.

But you can't afford to think about that, now - if this doesn't end soon, more of these good people are going to suffer and die; all it takes is an unlucky blow and they could be beyond your limited medical skills. So you throw yourself with another banshee scream into Many-Arms, hammering your fist into his stomach and catching him so off guard he tumbles to the ground, vulnerable to the tender mercies of your companions. Ansaldo's mallet rocks Extra Ear's forehead, tearing and smearing that extra ear across his countenance. Soon, they're both on the ground; the combat turned into a mob desolation; Enrico stomping on Extra Ear's head, to finish him; Rocco latching on to Many-Arm's neck when he falls and biting, wriggling, refusing to let go while the many hands are beaten and stomped and prevented from detaching the vengeful canine father.

Once they cease to move, and quiet falls over the scene, the sound that dominates the area is the dwarf and the mutant leader going back and forth at the other end of the field.

"Go." Istuccio implores, giving you a nod with some confidence that he's alright now. As one, your mob of righteous rurals surge down the line of mangled mutant bodies to the last of their number. Nogrom scores another hit, a good one, before you arrive; but any hope Insolente Aldo had of turning this thing around is washed away in a swam of cudgels, and staves, and sandaled heel stomps.

When he lies still, Nogrom tips the hood back form his face and immediately grimaces, as does everyone near by. The killing effort has dislodged what was apparently a fake beard. The chin beneath is clean shaven, beneath a normal mouth - but there is no eyes, brows, nose, or ears on this man's head. Instead, growing from the blank flesh slate of the foreskull, a tiny humanoid torso the size of two balled fists had sprouted, with its own awful little arms and neck and face. This, it seems, is who was doing the talking.

As you work your way through the aftermath, you head to the bodies of the mutants you knew you knocked out, but might not have killed. The boys are putting them out of their misery pretty actively; but you're standing by when one of them tips the hood back from the masked mutant you knocked out earlier on.

"Bertuccio?" Gaulfredo breathes, disbeleiving.

A nauseating, headache inducing clash of visual information and what you know otherwise boils behind your eyes. There, lying unconcious with the concussion you gave him and the bruises and cuts of from the boys ganging up on him, is Bertuccio. His face cannot be mistaken. Can it? Can it be a... lost twin? A wild coincidence? You didn't see him this morning, passing through Bella Collina... but he doesn't patrol the larger Silo Road that goes into town. His territory are the other three smaller roads that connect Bella Collina to its outlying farms and other distant villages. So is it possible? Your eyes make it hard to say no.

"It's a trick. Some dark magic trick, to confuse!" Nogrom announces with brash certainty, reaching down to tug at the man's hair and nose and ears hoping they come loose to reveal a disguise. They do not. "...Dark magic, indeed!" He repeats, perhaps mostly for himself, and hoists his axe, preparing to cut off the 'road warden''s head.

Spoiler: OOC Combat Over!

Show

I rolled the attacks for the mutants, and neither of them scored a hit; but I also rolled the attacks of the boys and yeah, they're both toast this turn whether or not you splat or not; so I assumed you'd just join in the curb party. I ran two turns of Nogrom and Aldo in case something dramatic happened while the mob surged over there, but Nogrom just got in a pride-saving hit before you guys all descended on him and certainly kicked him to death.

Everything is medically stable; there will be a bunch of medical rolls soon, but before that... check the OOC for next step!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

The battle was over and the day was won! But where the matter with the troll had been resolved without injury, this time blood had been paid to rid the region of 11 mutants.

Well...10, at least.

After tending to her dog, Corvo, holding her little man by his huge head and rubbing it, kissing his forehead and tending to the wounded, Taalia moved over to the gathering as the Hooded One's identity was revealed. Along with everyone else, Taalia gasped in disbelief. Her hand up to her mouth, shaking her head, she couldn't believe what she saw.

Bertuccio?! Impossible!

Taalia could not believe that the Roadwarden, who had been brave and strategically minded, was secretly a mutant preying upon travellers with a band of outlaws, and being a mere follower of such a group rather than its leader. If this had truly been Bertuccio, he would have recognised them all, surely, and knew the danger they posed to a hungry and desperate band of mutants, so much so that he would have wisely hung around the back until the outcome seemed certain, at which point he would either take flight or join in to leave no witnesses.

And besides - if this band were so desperate and badly equipped, what were they doing with the equivalent of the local highest ranking law man among their number?! Bertuccio would have had access to livestock, weapons, money, clothes, all manner of goods that he could have ensured 'disappeared' along the road and into the coffers of these degenerates.

The more Taalia thought about it the less sense it made to her that the...creature laying before her was indeed the real Bertuccio.

But that nagging doubt...what if it was?

It was certainly odd that a group of bandits, and mutant bandits at that, this large could operate in this region without any of them hearing about it, or the group being detected and scourged from the region by the local Roadwardens.

What if the local, highest ranking Roadwarden really did moonlight - or sunlighting in this case - as a mutant bandit?

"Wait!" Taalia reached up to hold Nograms axe.

Standing over the downed "Bertuccio", Taalia thought for a second and then continued.

"The preservation of your life depends on answering four questions," she started.

"When you first came to visit me, whose farm was I on, and what other two prominent members of Bella Collina were there?"

The answer was Gaulfredo's, and Singora Madre and Singore Cestie.

"Second: what weapon did you allow me to use after we defeated what creature?"

The answer was his firearm after they defeated the troll.

"Third: what part of the creature came off as a result of my practice that I took as a trophy?"

The answer was the trolls tooth nestled away from eyesight, strung on a strip of leather and hanging between her concealed cleavage.

"Fourth: what's your name and profession?"

The last question was known by all present, but only Bertuccio and Taalia knew all the answers to the first three. (except Gaulfredo for the first, of course)

[MrAbdiel]

When "Bertuccio" comes to, groggy and alarmed, it tames him a moment to focus on you and your questions. Even as he listens and stares, you see no recognition of you in his eyes; familiar eyes though they may be. But after you have finished asking, he puts something together. He answers none of your questions - only gives more more confusing information.

"...You... know... me?" Bertuccio's voice cracks; chokes with emotion. "You know who this is?!" He gestures to his face, now streaming with tears as his face lights up with the ecstatic joy of revelation. "Tell me! Tell me who I AM! TELL ME WHO I AM! TELL ME WHO I AM!"

Tearful joy becomes terrified, desperate, screamed repetition. He moves with serpent speed suddenly, not to attack, but to wrap his arms around your let and grab on to you with desperation; perhaps, with fear you will leave without fulfilling his demand. Corvo, at this grab, begins flipping out and barking madly. Right now, it's just you, Nogrom, Gaulfredo and Enrico standing around watching this spectacle; the rest of the boys are rounding up the cattle and the wagons, the beasts having drifted away from the fight in nervous distress; and the red haired brothers being in no condition to round up their own oxen.

Nogrom grows rapidly alarmed. "Oath, Taalia; it's mad and cursed! Get away from it so I can bloody put it down before it infects us all with this howling!"

[MrAbdiel]

Once Bertuccio is secured, gagged - and hooded again, for good measure - you and the less injured boys search the immediate treeline, as well as the bodies of the mutants.

Chipped and broken knives. Warped, irredeemably swords. Crude clubs. Rags. Filthy, blood-sodden foot wraps. These mutants were hoping desperately for a score to change their fortune; but it's obvious they haven't been at this very long. How could they? They've accumulated only very poor weapons and, importantly, you know what happens when there's a threat in rural Verezzo - people get wind and round up a militia and take care of it. This couldn't be happening very long - especially if Bertuccio is wrapped up in it, unless he really is moonlighting.

None of the crap they are carrying is salable beyond a few leather belts that the group agrees to hock at Paesa di Silo to recoup the costs of your bandages and medical bits and bobs. There is one item of worth, from the mess - Insolente Aldo's sword.

Nogrom looks it over, with you; gives it a rap with his knuckles; points out the features of it, with his dwarven affinity for such things. The blade is strong, currently has a dinged and deflected edge (mostly from parrying Nogrom's axe), and has no marks or engravings beyond some scratching on one side, just above the hilt on the ricasso. Someone has attempted an engraving, probably with a knife, but given up quickly when it seemed too hard, having formed nothing approximating a word or symbol. It has a practical guard, a curved, leather-bound grip, and a mushroom-shaped pommel; a well balanced sword with two edges, fit for use in either hand. The scabbard is made of some light local wood with bronze banding over dark grey leather.

"It's yer's, Taalia. I saw ye out here, today; ye're a treasure, and no lie about it." Nogrom grumbles. He has no use for the blade; and he might have liked to have felt like he 'won' it in a fair duel, but in truth the conflict could have gone either way and it would have been foolish delaying the end of it that came. After a little back and forth refusing the gift, Nogrom flares with agitation and insists it ought to be yours; or he's going to pitch it into the next river he sees. That's probably the end of that.

Istuccio speaks to you, quietly, as you bandage his hand. His left scratches Corvo's shin; the pup unaware how he has earned this attention, but revelling in it. "...We're alive, Taalia; again, because of you, I think. You and this pup. Rotten luck that these bastards picked us; but a blessing there were just enough of us, and that you were one of them. Everyone fought; but you're different. Everyone knows it." He looks down at Ernesto, then back up to his bandaged hand. His hand is painful; it's deeply cut, and as it heals, he might feel pain in it his whole life. But Istuccio took a blow to the back, and hasn't woken up; hasn't moved. You're quite sure, based on your ginger examination, that something is broken. Madre Angeletta says backs are the worst; there's next to nothing you can do about them. You just wait, and see. Istuccio, clearly, is seeing in his debilitated brother the possibly reshaping of their whole lives. Eyes red with sequested emotion, he rubs his face with one hand, and then pushes his shield toward you. It's a classic round shield, of hard wood with a hammered iron rim; but clearly solid construction and marked with age and use. The barest remnant of an Ox-head motif is discernible on its face, now chipped and scuffed away to a ghost of its glory. It has not, however, broken; which is what you want in a shield... even if this one's lower rim is now stained with the previous user's blood.

"Will you take this? It belonged to our father. I don't know what this means for my brother and I, yet; but we might yet sell our whole herd to cover expenses. You deserve a proper reward; but I'd be honored if that shield saved your life someday, like you saved ours today."

A little later, one of the boys discovers something in the treeline, right where you'd told them to search: another paid of bodies. A slain riding horse, and its rider - in the soft leather regalia with the branded quiver for his crossbow that marks him as a road warden. He's been dead for only a couple of hours - the mutants must have dragged him off the road and resolved to sort out his loot later, to prevent squabbling; his hand axe, his crossbow, and his various pouches of useful items are still on him. He's older than Bertuccio; clearly a more senior warden, with short cropped back hair and a stubbly beard, balding on top; but with the glassy eyed sameness that corpses seem to take, after a few hours.

"Damn." Gaulfredo sighs, taking off his hat, rubbing his curling hair. "A damn shame. Karnas take him. We ought to take him, and the saddle, back to Paesa di Silo. The town militia will have to patrol this road until they have a new warden."

With that, you load up the wagons with grim cargo. The body of the poor warden in one; bound and sobbing Bertuccio in another; and Ernesto, silent and comatose on a bed of corn sacks in the other, with Istuccio sitting with him all the way. Two of the boys take the brother's horses and keep the oxen in order; and you carry on your way. Fortunately, there is no repeat calamity; and before nightfall, you are passing by the stockyards of Paesa di Silo.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

You gain 1 * Hand Weapon (Sword!); and 1 * Shield. Both are normal quality. The road warden has stuff - but unless you suddenly develop stick fingers, it's to be turned in to the town.

You can also gain 200XP for this wildly close and dangerous combat, and
encountering new mysteries!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia


It was only Taalia's apprehension at the dopplegangers true identity that stayed Nograms hand. When the madman had clutched at her leg, she swiftly knelt down, bringing a knee between his shoulder blades and pinning him to the ground so that his limbs could be restrained and the hood placed back upon him.

Soon, Taalia felt vindicated in her actions. The discovery of the dead Roadwarden lent further credence to the idea that Bertuccio was indeed among them, but he had come under some form of wicked spell of mesmerisation. She could still remember the evil-eye of that lone mutant that Rocco and Gaulfredo had attacked, and she mentioned as such during their discussion. It was entirely possible that Bertuccio had come under the sway of such a creature, his senses soon to return to him over time now that he was free from the wretched influence and sanity could slowly return.

To the injured fellows, Taalia did her best, but she was still a novice. She patched up all who needed it, while those more gravely injured at least had their bleeding stopped. She could 'heal' one, allowing him some re-vitalisation enough that he could move, but Ernesto and Istuccio would unfortunately have to wait. She had ceased the bleeding, which had saved their lives, but they were in critical condition and she knew it. She could try again tomorrow once they were in safer conditions and their own bodies had recuperated some degree of health, but the important thing was that they were alive. The back injury worried the ex-slave though, as she went over in her head all the words of education that Madre had given her on the subject. The boy was older than she, and he was fortunate enough to still have a family to support him if the worst came to physical worst, but...well, they would see.

To the providing of goods, Taalia at first tried to refuse. She really did. To accept the gifts while the boys had suffered such grevious injuries...she didn't feel right about it. Perhaps sell them both and give the proceeds to the Ox-rearing brothers? But they wouldn't have it. Though Taalia did not feel like any hero, they all apparently thought otherwise: she'd swung her staff around like a madwoman, smacking heads and bodies, but when the time had come to preserve life instead of take it, she had been the only one capable of rescuing those near-death from departing the mortal coil and taking the next journey all souls travelled. Maybe she did deserve it after all? Though all contributed heroically, she had both taken life and saved it, so perhaps her actions warranted the individual reward? After all, the lineage of the Ox brothers, the importance of which was signified by that bulls-head sigil upon her shield, would have been eradicated and ended had she not plied the skills imparted upon her by Madre. A family's line gone, finished, were it not for her. In that way, hundreds of children across dozens of generations owed their future existence to her.

Maybe.

Still, after tending to the wounds, gathering the fallen items, and putting a torch to the gathered mutant bodies and their clothes to prevent the spread of their putrid contamination - after gathering proof of death of each one, of course - Taalia was one of the last to clamber back into the cart before the bruised and battered convoy continued on to Paesa di Silo.

Maybe there was a bounty for bandits? Or mutants? Or both? Perhaps, Taalia thought to herself, if there was, she could ease her conscience by donating a good chunk of whatever credit was to be gained to the Ox brothers to help buttress the potential loss of an able-bodied son in their business, while splitting the rest with everyone else.

It had been a knife-edge encounter, with adrenaline pumping, hearts racing and wounds opened and blood spilt. All of them had fought and bled together, that type of bonding is not long lost, as even the boys who had once made crude jokes about her figure had suddenly gained an elevated position of respect and consideration in Taalia's eyes.

But if the bound and currently-still image of "Bertuccio" and the injured image of the brothers were anything to contend with, it was not yet over.

[MrAbdiel]

You pass by many pens and fenced gates full of livestock as you roll into town; with the dregs of day staff handing over to night watchmen and handlers. Caesa di Silo is only a very small town - a few hundred permanent occupants - but it was a southern hub and receiving point for many villages and independent farms. These extra pens exterior to a low but impassable masonry wall caught the overflow when this trading season came through; oxen and swine and sheep all purchased up by middlemen to sell to slaughterbarons in Verezzo or further afield. The red haired brothers, with their fifty head of cattle, were doing quite well for themselves, in village life; but you see a team of four men on horses driving a herd of what must be a hundred oxen into a pen where great stacks of straw are layed out for their feasting.

If each of those oxen is healthy, that herd might be worth three thousand gold pieces, your instinct tells you. That's how someone becomes a Senator of Verezzo.

As you approach the gate surrounding the town, Gaulfredo hops down and jogs to the head of the convoy; smoothing his tunic and preparing his wheelin' dealin' skills. Before long, he has harried a portly, bespectacled cattle clerk into working a little later than he intended, taking note of your stock to be penned for sale tomorrow - five oxen, three lambs - your cost being a princely total of five pennies for the care and feeding of the lambs overnight. Since you won't be permitted to bring your lambs into a hired room for the night and the watchmen will probably chase you off if you try to set up your own little camp next to the pens outside of town, your alternative options are very few.

Spoiler: OOC: Cost of Doing Business

Show

Pay 5p to stable your lambs, for sale tomorrow!

The horses and wagons, Gaulfredo tells you, will be stabled inside the walls; most good inns have a stable attached, just not one that can handle every animal brought in for spring trading. So then it's you, the dogs and horses, and your assembled boys who check in with the watchmen at the gate.

There are two kinds of warrior minding the gate, you notice. There are the watchmen, and the militiamen. The watchmen have brimmed metal helmets that seem designed both to keep blows to their crown from killing them, but also to keep the sun from their eyes; held on with chin straps, over leather skullcaps. They have leather jerkins, shields on their backs and short spears in hand; and tabards featuring a blue and white quartered field and an embroidered design that, generously, is meant to be a wreath of grain. But these watchmen seem to be few and far between; there is only one at this gate checking you, where there are four militia men. The militiamen are much less formal; they have leather skull caps and unrimmed wooden shields, as well as clubs on leather straps; and a motley array of their own clothes brought from presumably their own homes. Each wears a blue scarf, somewhere on their person; usually tied around the forehead, sometimes tucked into the shirt; and all look to the watchmen deferentially.

"In for trading, southers? Pulling in late, are we not?"

The watchman, whose thick and curled moustache may be his greatest contribution to mankind, probes as he approaches the wagons. Gaulfredo is quick to intercept, to explain, rather than let things be discovered.

"Late, yes; because were were struck on the road by mutants - behold, my cleaved comrades! Here, let me show you..."

Gaulfredo throws back the blanket covering the dead roadwarden, and the watchman gives a wince. "Aw, no; poor bloody Gabrello. His wife'll be gutted. Mutants, you say? Normally we'd send the warden to go check your claim, but the harvest-marshall will have to figure out what to do. You can speak with him tomorrow, but you'd better get your wounded to bed and poor Gabrello there to Morr's man, left here against the interior wall. I'll waive the gate fee, since I'm inclined to beleive you; but if I find there was no mutants, I'll come find you to discuss, aye? The watch-sergeant is over that way, too, to help you with your, ah... prisoner."

So you're through, to the interior of the town. Paesa di Silo is the largest colony you've seen. Possibly excepting the rat warrens, though their interconnected sprawl was hardly a 'city' or 'town', but was much more like a stain that spreads from its middle outward. But there are dozens of buildings, within these walls! A large circular road around the interior of the wall is flanked by two concentric rings of buildings, broken up by alleys and lanes that lead into a town centre that is several times larger than the village square of Bella Collina. Not only that, but the buildings here are of a different character; much less in the way of log and whole wood constructions, more masonry foundations and rough-plastered exteriors with baked tile rooves. Some buildings are three stories tall, here; such as the Leaping Vixen House, the inn to which Nogrom and Gaulfredo lead your party. The innkeeper Mia is the fattest woman you have ever seen - that is to say, moderately fat, given your upbringing; but is raucously good natured when receiving you, only settling to regular positivity when you have to start bringing in the wounded. Gaulfredo pays for rooms for the brothers, and the boys, and you and he; Nogrom pays for himself, predictably; and with care you help the others carry stricken Ernesto upstairs and into a bed, where Istuccio lays nearby to watch him. Enrico, too, is hustled off to rest; leaving three of the troublemakers, Nogrom and Gaulfredo with you. "Best we sort out this body and our prisoner quickly, so there's still room for all these horses in the Vixen's stables."

That's certainly what you try to do. The first stop is a shrine to Morr; a quarried stone building exactly where you were told it was, consisting of a small chapel like interior and two patches of white roses flanking the door. The cloaked, hooded figure depicted in the icon above the door is mysterious to you, still; Morr is acknowledged by the people of Bella Collina, and apparently throught the whole world; but he does not have the focus that Karnas and Ishea do, nor a statue put aside like Myrmidia in that place - just a rough woodenbox with a skull in it, set up as a small fane near Bella Collina's graveyard. But this is a more elaborate worship for Morr, whom legends say is Myrmidia and Shallya's father. And the acolyte to receives you looks exactly like you would expect - pale, thin, bald, ambiguously old. Gaulfredo gives him the story, as you and the boys offload the road warden's body onto a slab inside the shrine. "Gabrello has been a warden on the Silo road for twelve years. A shame this would happen; but mutants always flare up in the months after the Mystery night. The wicked moon calls them up; but you have done good to bring him here. He will be properly interred. Here, permit me to call the watch sergeant, to be witness."

The watch sergeant, whose moustache pales to his inferior you met earlier but whose dagger-sharp beard compensates strongly, comes around with six militamen in tow who must range from fifteen to twenty years of age; barely more than children, much like the troublemaker lads. Watch sergeant Alonzo is of a much more suspicious caste than the fellow at the gate, however; and he receives word of the warden's death with annoyance, and bluster.

"Mutants? Damn. Mutants killed him? Strange; he's been driving off the odd mutant for years. Strange they'd catch him now. How'd they manage it? Is this one of them?" He gestures to your prisoner, bound, sleeping off his concussion. "He doesn't look mutated. Is it his face?"

Gaulfredo tries to explain. "N-no. No, we don't think he is one of them; just that , ah, he was caught up with them. Ensorcelled, perhaps. We need him only contained for a day; we will take him back to Bella Collina tomorrow, and he will be no problem to you. But we dreaded to simply carry a bound man into the inn, and to be misunderstood."

Without waiting for an invitation, the watch sergeant presumtuously pulls off the hood from your prisoner. Unfortunately, as the sleeper startles and groans, the sergeant, even a couple of the militia men, shift in recognition. "Sacred Myrmidia - that's Bertuccio, from the south roads."

Hearing this, Bertuccio's mind clears rapidly. Through his gag, he slurs with that manic animation again. "Mmm... Mrrmmmcuoo? Mmm mrrmrcimoo?"

The militia men heed some subtle signal, moving closer to you and the boys; you feel in the slave-survival core of your brain the sense of being cornered, surrounded, as the watch sergeant pulls off the prisoner's gag.

"I'm... Bertuccio? From the south roads?!" Comes the sobbing, hysterical query from the prisoner.

The sergeant, bamboozled by the oddity of the situation, responds quite naturally. "Yes, yes! You're Bertuccio! A bloody road warden! What's happened to you? What's wrong with you?"

"I'm Bertuccio? I'm Bertuccio! Warden of the south roads! I'm..." And then he peals off into sobbing laughter, relief and grief all together - madness plain enough that the sergeant can't stand it, and roughly gags him again. He turns on you with fury and confusion reddening his face, the acolyte of Morr, having not anticipated all of this, withdrawing tightly to the doorframe of his chapel.

"You've come into town with one road warden dead and another gone mad, in the back of your wagon! And you say, what - that mutants did this? Where are the mutants?"

With a sinking feeling in your gut, you remember the corpse pyre your group set up before you left. It seemed like the right way to deal with the bodies of such damned men - but you wonder if someone sifting through the ash and bone will find the mutations as obvious as they were when you could see which arms belonged to whom, and whose fingers were tentacles.

Nogrom is ready to argue at the implication, and Gaulfredo has his hands up, palms forward, trying to physically suppress a spectre of escalation as he tries to explain. It does, in retrospect, look bad.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

I hadn't anticipated this, but it's an age old WFRP tradition of being falsely accused of murder when you were just defending yourself.

I'm going to ask for some kind of check here, for Taalia to plead her innocence, and to try to make the account convincing. It's probably charm, unless you can think of something more appropriate; and it's a flat roll, because ... well, this is a very challenging scenario!

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia had remained in quiet contemplation for the rest of the trip, simply watching and listening as Gaulfredo took to being the convoy's face. Hers was perhaps prettier, her winning smile a charming heart-arrow, but Gaulfredo was far more familiar with the ways of the people of this town than she was, so she deemed it wiser to remain quiet.

Helping with the lambs and oxen, and then with the two badly injured boys into their room, Taalia enjoyed rubber-necking in the town as they passed through it on their way to the Temple of Morr. Something about the plastered, masonry-founded architecture really appealed to the girl, the simple beauty of the buildings that felt homely alongside the rural farmhouses she had enjoyed so far. Smiling to herself, the girl felt that brightness of hope sell within her chest that she could make a great life here in this region of the world, perhaps building a nice manor like this out in the countryside near her friends and, hopefully, future family.

That sense of hope was temporarily suppressed, however, as the watch sergeant dialled the tension up to eleven with his accusation. Fire was in his eyes, lips tight in a snarl as the emotions roiling within him wanted to seek vengeance for his fallen friend and brother in arms. Seeing the other militiamen start to spread out, Taalia felt that Fight of Flight part of her brain start to tick, her muscles tense as she tried to spot the available exits - but she knew it would do no good. Where would she go if she fled? She didnt know anyone, and the town was walled. There'd be no escape, and flight would only make her look even more guilty.

Ah, but!

"Singore, you have misread the situation," Taalia spoke up, her snorous, smoky voice coming fourth during a single second of silence.

"Bertuccio is a friend and comrade of ours. We slew a troll together," she started, reaching into her top to retrieve the trolls tooth trinket that hung around her neck to display it.

"Why would we then stricken him with madness and bring him here? And murder a roadwarden along the way? We have even brought Singore Gabrello's equipment with him, his weapons, clothes and valuables. Why would we bring such things here if we had murdered the man along the road?"

She allowed a pregnant pause to linger as she unsling the slingbag that hung around her shoulder.

"We have two badly wounded boys in the local tavern, one of them has a back wound consistent with a mallet that we have also brought - but had been wielded by one of the mutants, and my companions all carry wounds consistent with the crude weapons we have brought. There were 11 in total, including Bertuccio, so we burned 10 bodies on the side of the road to stop the spread of their contamination.

Here, proof of their deaths..."

She produced from that bag the 'proof' she had taken from the mutants she had hoped would secure some type of bounty, but now would seem to preserve their freedom.

[MrAbdiel]

It's a lot of obscuring questions, and not a lot of answers. Any manner of Why-Would-We used to argue against guilt, after all, can be answered "To Avoid Suspicion of Guilt", and the Watch Sergeant seems to be the kind of mean who comes with his suspicion musket pre-powdered, wadded, and just waiting the ball.

But it's the bag - the bag full of tentacle fingers, and tiny deformed face-growth-bodies, and weasel lips, and albino thumbs, that seals the deal.

"...Alright. Alright, fine. Ten, you say?" The Watch Sergeant offers, simmering down.

"Eleven." Nogrom corrects, sharply. "Ten plus Insolente Aldo. That's... that one." He points to the tiny head, in the bag. The watchman snaps the bag closed, disgusted; disappointed, even. "Alright. Well... We'll send out a squad of militiamen to escort your group back to Bella Collina, tomorrow; you'll show them where all this happened, so atleast we have some witness to the terrain and all. I'll try to arrange a bounty, but normally that's road warden work." He signals to his militia underlings, and they scoop Bertuccio out of the cart, sagging as he is drag-walked away. The Watch Sergeant tips his helmet's brim to your group, finally satisfied, and takes the bag of mutant-trimmings. "Hope your mate walks, again; Shallya be kind."

And you're let loose, at that; free to return to the Vixen after, your horses are stabled and cart and wagons parked beside a militia checkpoint with a couple of Gualfredo's silver appreciatively in the hands of the militiamen watching them.

The lads share rooms; you're given one to yourself, on account of some discretionary allowance to your femininity. But it does mean that you're the last to wake, today; one of the gents woke, and woke others, and when you emerge from the small but comfortable room afforded you, you pass by a couple of the troublemaker boys bringing up bowls of hot milk-and-oat mash with dried fruit, up to the red haired brothers' room. They let you know in passing. "It's no good, Taalia. Ernesto's up, but can't feel his legs. Can't wiggle his toes, or nought."

Maybe the Madre can imagine a tonic or something that helps. Maybe, over a couple of months, or years, he'll heal enough to find his feet again. For now, though, Shallya has not been kind; perhaps there's just not enough kindness to go around.

* * * * *

The trading in the morning is a different experience from the half-dozen market tables in the town square, asking the same score of people to trade or barter goods. The whole town centre is given over to tents and pavilions; hundreds of locals and visitors moving through and haggling over goods while the squads of extra militiamen pulled together for this season watch on. Outside the gate, the livestock trading happens outside the gate; Gaulfredo takes on the responsibility of making a sale for the brothers' oxen, and so you're left to talk to the handful of traders with ovine interests, to try to offload your lambs, and fleeces...

[MrAbdiel]

Most of the traders are men, at the exterior market with the livestock; but they've heard of you, and your pluck and precocious nature mark you as the girl who, as they heard it, choked a troll to death with her great long legs. It's not right, but it's a place to start; and you easily get a laugh out of them. That's Gaulfredo's secret.

"I call it 'the Fool's Riddle'. But it's simple enough - when you're making a deal, the fastest way to get someone to take you seriously is to make them laugh. Once they laugh, they're paying attention, and that's the war mostly won."

Not only that, but you're able to show off the prime lamb's young teeth, and comment on his elevated haunches that mark him like his father, who must have some mountain ram in him which is good for the wool bulk.

You look down into the pouch you borrowed back off Gaulfredo. It is stuffed with fifty seven gold coins, and can barely close. It's very heavy, infact, and the only sensible thing to do is go and spend some of it in the interior market, after you say goodbye to your lambs.

Corvo stares up at you with his tongue lolling and eyes bright; undoubtedly impressed in your growth as a saleswoman, too.

In the inner ring, you come upon a stall manned by a skilled leatherworker's son. His name is Marco. He's eighteen years old tomorrow. He's been learning his father's trade and he intends to take over shop when his father retires; maybe move it to the big city and sell fashion goods more than practical stuff. He went to Bella Collina one time and liked it a lot. He bought a sausage roll there, during a local festival. He thought it was really good, but his mother doesn't cook them. Not that he'd need her to - he does a lot of his own cooking, now. He might even get his own place, soon. He likes Corvo. He's always wanted a dog but never had one. He has a cat. The cat's name is Gregori.

You know all this because he tells you, almost needfully; the information coming out of him with minimal prompting like the tumble of snow from a fragile drift - the a moon-eyed snowdrift that is so immediately enamoured with you that, even though he's not allowed to go down in prices, he upgrades two of your pouches to better ones, just between the two of you.

Spoiler: OOC: Marco

Show

You spend 4g8 silver for a leather jerkin, belt, pouches, waterskin, and backpack. Two of the pouches are best quality - one is lockable with a clever little brass toggle you have to twist in a puzzly fashion to open, making it hard to steal from. The other is mostly waterproof, using a draw string to tighten the 'lid' top of the pouch to its bowl.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia
Clearing the "misreading" up with the Watch Sergeant was gratifying, to say the least. It wasn't enjoyable to open up a slingbag full of disgusting mutant parts, 10 unique ones in all, within a sacred site to validate their story, but what had to be done had to be done, unfortunately. Nevertheless, it was worthwhile, as the sergeants visible righteous fury rescinded when confronted with irrefutable evidence for their claim, and his anger turned towards consolation. Good.

oOo

The next day in the sale yards, Taalia felt born again. The collective chorus of humanity haggling and trading at hundreds of different tents, stalls and pavilions was wonderful to the ex-slave, her smile from ear to ear as she hummed to herself while leading the cart to her designated area among the exterior markets.

The girl with long, asphysiating legs?

Once Taalia might have scrunched up her face at such a typically vulgar tale passed between rough and tough men eager for a snicker at her expense. But having learned well from the Trading post spinsters, the boys in her employ and by eavesdropping on other farmers and male workers, Taalia had come to see that this was just how they talked to each other. It was nothing personal. It was just words. Indeed, gentle insults and mild ribbing showed that one was accepted and a part of the group, for any man who was so thin-skinned that he couldn't laugh at himself, and so witless he couldn't parry and thrust a verbal insult, wasn't worth having around.

"I didn't strangle him with my legs," Taalia corrected one such farmer-trader, holding up her right hand to form a gripping motion with her fist.

"It's obvious: I learned how to turn my legs into scissors - I snipped its head clean off!"

This elicited at least a snicker and a grin, and the recognition that the girl could at least laugh at herself and not get offended.

What they might not have been prepared for was how the Spinster Sisters and Gaulfredo's trading lessons had also filtered down to the girl. But they sure soon felt it as the new girl sold fleece after fleece at premium prices, providing beautifully large sheets of fleece from a fine new flock from a novice shepherd.

Through this process Taalia discovered something new. She had once considered the sun rising in the morning, peeking its warm gaze across the farm and eliciting the chorus of animals, birds and gentle insects to sing at its arrival, to be the most beautiful sound she had ever encountered. But now, she had a new favourite: the metallic clink! of gold coins falling against each other as they collectively tumbled into her waiting hands or open purse.

Fifty seven gold pieces. What a score! That was more than she had acquired during her first trade from that mirror, and only about half the proceeds of that had only been spent on her flock and pen. Now she had even more after just six months! And it could all be put back into her growing enterprise.

Already the cogs were moving within Taalia's ambitious mind. Expanding her flock to 20-30 sheep. Renting the deed to 3-4 acres. A small, but prosperous pig farm. Hiring a lad or two as permanent employees. From beaten down slave to card-carrying member of the bourgeois in just half a year, that was quite something.

oOo

Taalia enjoyed Marco's attention, though it was foggy whether she was returning his interest or not. Her smile was genuine, he was above average in looks, though shorter than her...but then again, almost everyone was. But he enjoyed cooking, and seemed to have his own ambitions in mind - a go-getter with dreams pursuant to his passions.

Flattered and performing the reject-reject-reject-accept ritual of receiving superior quality goods for the same amount of coin, Taalia's pried into Marco's mind a little more, as she saw an opportunity to get a bit of a lay of the land.

"I am actually travelling to Verazzo in a day or two," she said, "I plan to stay there for approximately 2-3 days, business depending. I am looking for a good pair of riding boots, something comfortable and sturdy, that will retain their integrity for some time to come. Who would you recommend?"

oOo

Taalia wanted to be in a good mood when she arrived back to the inn, but she knew there was one grim portent that she had to face. Though today had been a date she would long celebrate as her ascension into a higher social and productive class, something else bleak weighed upon her mind.

Holding her hand on the door, rapping upon it, Taalia waited until access was verbally granted, and gently eased open the door to Ernesto's room.

"Ernesto, how have you progressed?" she asked, her smoky voice carrying a gentle and warm maternal concern as she closed the door behind her.

In her hands she had her medical supplies, clearly here to visit and try her hand once again.

[MrAbdiel]

"Oh, boots? Well, if you want boots that won't wear out, you want hobnailed boots, and dwarves make the best for sure - but you pay for them, that's no lie. Who has thirty duro for a pair of boots? A mercenary who never wants to buy boots again in their life, I suppose. I made a pair of shoes once - hey, here-"

He lifts his left foot up and , while hopping, holds his left ankle to show the profoundly mediocre shoe there, before he drops it town to avoid topping. "Thought it would be easier. Came out okay, all things considering. But cobblering is a whole art alongside leatherwork; so it'll be a while before I get good. There's a lot of middle ground between bad shoes and the best shoes in the world, though. In Verezzo, you'll find great cobblers. If you want something good - custom, even - then you're probably best finding a barker. The barkers have carts of goods and roll around the Market District selling them; but if you have the spare coin to get boots made for you particularly, the barker will be able to point you to their supplier. For a silver, they might point you to a competitor, even."

* * * * *

Ernesto calls you in; Istuccio sitting on a chair beside his bed. The latter's arm is still in the sling you put it in, mostly to keep the injured hand out of trouble with reflexive use. The former lies on his stomach on the bed; the purple-black mass of bruising on his lower back exposed as a grotesque blotch under his skin with one conspicious right-angle corner from the mallet's shape. He looks miserable, as he should; but he gives you the faint, emancipating smile of the suffering that tells you that he removes from you the burden of needing to operate at that level if misery for his benefit.

"It hurts." He offers, unsure of what else to say. "Everything above it hurts; but that's all. I think I'll be okay, after the swelling goes down." This is baseless hope; denial, even. But he can hardly be blamed; and there's not much you can do but offer positivity in a general sense.

The Madre has told you that, at some point, you'll want a set of physicians tools if you ever have to do something as dramatic as removing a bullet; or worse, a lodged arrow head. A bag full of fine cutting blades, metal clamps, and the alchemically brewed tonics that can't be made from wildnerness herbs is key to advanced procedures. If Istuccio's hand had been more badly cloven, you'd have needed such then; but he was lucky. On the other hand, with Ernesto's injury being internal and within the bones and tissue of his back, there's not much you can do one way or the other. But you supervise some of the boys moving Ernesto very carefully to make him more comfortable in as much as is possible; you impress on them the need to keep his back as straight and unmoved as possible, in his healing process. You squash a plan Enrico was concocting to get Ernesto blackout drunk to help with the pain - the pain is bad, but there's nothing medically useful drink does for the body when taken orally, and he needs every edge he can get. Gaulfredo stops in, to drop off the money from their sale - an eye popping 150 duro for the sale of the five oxen, the slaughter of which will feed many mouths for a long time. They had intended to spend that money on dairy cattle, moving into the uplands near the mountains somewhere with consistently colder weather where they could make a cheese cave - but that plan is coming apart, due to recent events.

Istuccio takes you aside.

"Taalia, you're going on to Verezzo, yes? I wonder if, when you're there, you can hire on a physician for us - someone who can come and be on hand for Ernesto in the next few months, as specialized in such injuries as you can find. And lead them back to Bella Collina? We have enough money, certainly. And I appreciate all you've done, and everything the Madre will no doubt offer, back home, but..." He grimaces, obviously guilt ridden at the niggling sense he is somehow shaming Madre Angeletta by appealing to schooled expertise from the 'big city'. "...But you understand, yes?"

He gives you twenty five duro which, to Gaulfredo's estimation, should cover a very fine specialists wages for two standard twenty-five day months.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia


Taalia smiled at the helpful advice, her position on the boy ambiguous.

"Thank you Marco," she smiled, nodding.

"I have never owned a pair of boots before, actually this is my first venture into the world of livestock sales," she laughs gently, "but I walk often, and a good pair of boots seems more cost effective than getting a horse and learning how to ride it!"

oOo

Taalia looked sombrely at Ernesto from the doorframe, Istuccio having just made his private request. Fortunately for him, Taalia didn't have professional pride enough yet that the suggestion that she was inadequate would stin g her. Still considering herself a novice in all things, she understood the desire for the best care one could get, and if that was not from her hands, then she would rather the more experienced practitioner take over and potentially rescue the boy from invalidity than satiate her own ego.

Nodding softly, discretely receiving the pouch of money, "I will Istuccio..." she answered quietly, giving his elbow an affectionate and reassuring squeeze.

When Gaulfredo approached her, she leaned to the side, so that the two were speaking just outside of the door.

"I think that perhaps we should get Polo to teach Ernesto how to read and write..." she out-and-out suggested, looking back in the direction of the downed boy.

It wasn't just that he had acquired that injruy while fighting alongside them. No no, for almost all of Taalia's life she had witnessed only 1 end to 'slaves' who were no longer physical able to do their jobs: death. Or worse, fodder for the beasts. As such, the idea that she had 'failed' the boy and he was now upon infirmity and decrepitude's door because of her lack of ability ate away at her central nervous system as she desperately thought of ways the young man could find purpose in his life if he was not able to regain the function of his legs.

"Where I am from..." she said, veritably whispering in Gaulfredo's ear so as not to be overhead, "those...well..." she trailed off, not wanting to get into details. But, Gaulfredo knew enough of her stories and the character of the ratmen to guess where she was going.

"Or the fiddler in the town, I cannot remember his name, he plays at each festival. If Ernesto can still keep a ledger and records, perhaps even produce music, I think that would go along way in helping him here and here..." and she gestured first to her head, and then over the area of her chest where her heart would be. Though currently unable to articulate precisely what she meant, the meaning was clear: young men without a purpose who felt like a burden could sink into despair and madness, but if he received new training and skills, he could find new purpose and enjoyment in life.

[MrAbdiel]

You leave Marco smiling, but cursing himself for blowing his chance inside, and not one step closer to understanding what women want.

* * * * *

Gaulfredo nods. He's made a point not to pry about the specifics of your slavery; but he seems to get it. "You mean Emio. Both are... good suggestions. I don't think it's quite settled in for him, yet. He might need some time to just... grasp it all, before we begin giving him that kind of help. It's a crying shame. Those two lads held off twice their number long enough that we could ultimately win; but what a price." He calls them lads though the red haired brothers are not remarkably younger than Gaulfredo; the farmer himself in his early thirties, the red headed ox traders perhaps not quite into, or just on the other side of, that decade delineation.

"I know we haven't done much riding work with you... but did you want to take one of the horses? Not to sell, just to take the weight off your feet. You'll have trouble if you had to gallop from something, but anything you need to run from you're better off on a horse than on foot. Trolls come to mind, eh? And it's a long way to Verezzo. You'll have to stay at a coaching inn on the way. There's no regular coach runs from Caesa de Silo to Verezzo, since it's just a farming region; but there's a stop there for folks taking wagons and carts back and forth. If you don't want a horse, you can probably get a life with one of the wagon trains heading in to the city."

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia didn't leave Marco completely at a loss. Unsure how to reapond to such interest, she offered a genuine, warm smile, "Thank you, Marco.".

oOo

Taalia heeded Gaulfredo's concern and concedes to them. It would be premature to being forth the 'alternatives to active life' brochure. It might even harm his chances. It was best to let him...adapt first. The girl made a mental note to visit the brothers in the future.

At the suggestion of a horse Taalia smiled.

"Me? Ride a horse?" She asked in gentle disbelief, her heterochromia eyes lightening up at the sheer idea she would be atop one of the beautiful animals.

"Yes!" she exclaimed with a bright grin. "Yes, I would love that!" both of her hands came together as excited fists before her as she oscillated in joyous anticipation.

[MrAbdiel]

Gaulfredo confers with you and Istuccio, and it's agreed to loan you Istuccio's horse; a rust colored mare named Jezzabella. By a certain dark logic, Ernesto could be said to need his horse less, from now on; but that mare, Clarabella, may be a familiar comfort to be around him. So Jezzabella it is; and while the day has crept on from all the shopping and dealing, Gaulfredo spends a few hours with you trotting around the ground next to the stable, leading Jezzabella by her reins while you ride; then walking alongside; then simply supervising as you get the hang of it. She's an easily led beast; and as long as you're not required to go flat out, you can manage to control her just fine. Plus, her saddlebags spare you some trouble carrying everything you have now - backpack, slingbag, sword, shield, staff, pistol box, waterskin, heaving pouch of coins...

"You ought to buy some rations for the road, too. Two or three days, in case it comes in handy; and the good kind will keep for quite a while. We can get them for you on the way out, tomorrow. Oh - and if you're planning on doing any more camping out, you might consider a tent, and a bedroll. I know you have that goblin wreck stashed in the barn... but it's filthy and it'll let rain on you; and it would make Ariana so happy if we could throw it out."

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

If you choose to follow through on any of those, a small tent for you and Corvo would be 15s, easilly enough acquired in Verezzo later. A bed roll is a hefty 15gc - being lined with furs, it's a pricy way to camp; but it's much more comfortable than just a blanket on the ground and more insulating to the cold by far.

Rations you can buy on the way out of town. Rations are 6s per day.

Incidentally, a horse needs 5p of fodder per day, and Corvo probably goes through 5p of food a day, too. So if you wanted to carry 3 days food for everyone involved, that would be 1gc 6p.

* * * * *

The next day, you say farewell to your companions and head around the big semicircle of road to the gate leading out of town. As you approach the checkpoint and the squad of militiamen there, you spot a stranger coming alongside as you carefully steer Jezzabella. "Off already, are we my lady? Well you are, then; well you are. Back to the city!"

This declaration comes confidently, with a little too much volume to be just for your benefit, or his. He's well dressed on first glance; though as he starts strutting along parallel to you, you can see the fair looking clothes are frayed at the corners, and have seen hard work removing old stains. The feather in his cap is splinted with a twig to hold up its wilting stem. He gives you the smallest glance as you regard him, his eyes pleading, his forehead sweating, as you make your way toward the guard checkpoint.

[BananaPhone]

Taalia

Taalia felt confident in the saddle, her smile bright and large. She had new clothes that she bought. New leather wares thst she bought. A fat purse filled with coin that she earned. And now she was upon a horse lent to her ao she could travek to Verezzo for further business.

If only she could send messages back in time to her old self when things looked darkest during her enslavement. How things had changed!

"Off already, are we my lady? Well you are, then; well you are. Back to the city!"

Taalia turned her head to regard the newcomer, warning sirens screaming in the back of her head...warnings that had been long honed during her enslavement.

"How do you know I'm from the city?" Taalia asked tersely slowing her horse down so that thr stranger would gently ovetake her and encounter the checkpont first.

[MrAbdiel]

"Ahah! How you jest, my lady." He offers, tightly. "I know because we came from there together; though certainly you have such servants I would not blame you for mixing us up." He claps a little, celebrating your 'good humor', laughing nervously as he slows to match your pace so he does not encounter the check point before you. The militiamen at the check point begin to look at you, as you approach; but it's not obvious they can make out your conversation clearly when he's not announcing it loudly. "But I am your hardworking and faithful manservant Blasio, of course. Whose service to you, you must agree, has been rewarding."

He gives you a smile as tight as desperate as might be offered by a man holding on to life by his teeth.