OK...many of you have read my groups other session posts. Well, we are finished with Gathering Storm and now I'm getting a chance to explore my own adventures. All of the characters, other than Wilhelm, are entering their 3rd careers soon...
Vladimir Wulfgardt (Bright Order Acolyte), Rolf Zaeschmar (bounty hunter), Thorsten Udermann (explorer), Aemilius “Burk” Burkhard (Initiate of Sigmar) , Wilhelm “The Shadow of Altdorf” (thief-burglar)
Chapter Eighteen: Trial and Error
Journey with us now … Journey with Rolf Zaeschmar, bounty hunter, now that storms have settled what now for the intrepid bounty hunter. Is there a new mark to capture or a new innocent to defend? Who has been following him since his return to Altdorf? Questions many, but will he find answers? The streets of Altdorf seem different since he has returned. Has surviving horrific events in the Ubersreik changed him forever? Will the empty eyes of Crixus and the terrors in the cave leave him or are they now a permanent addition to the character of Rolf Zaeschmar?
Wander the old world with Thorsten Udermann. With the Holtz children relocated and given a new lease on life, Thorsten finds one oath fulfilled, so what does the future hold for this Reiklander? The plush halls of his youth are but a distant memory since joining up with this band of adventurers. Now that he has delivered the Stromdorf artifacts to the Altdorf museum is the open road calling him or does some new cause need agitating?
Burn in the fires of Aqshy with Vladimir Wulfgardt, acolyte of the Bright Order, a trial awaits the young and talented mystic in the Quorum of the Colleges of Magic. Will he need all his nerve and resolve to stand before the heads of all the colleges and answer for his actions? It is said Rafael Julevno, master of the Celestial College holds a grudge like no other. Will he try to make an example of Vladimir just to save the reputation of the Celestial College?
Fight chaos with Aemilius “Burk” Burkhard, initiate of Sigmar, at long last he has clues to the mysterious map left to him by his friend Saratoga Belmont. The symbols of the corrupted Araby artifact match those on his two maps, can a translation be a clue as to the whereabouts of the unknown treasure? Somehow the will and spirit of adventure that Saratoga possessed is creeping itself into the mind of the stalwart Burk. Will this lead initiate in search of lost treasure or will it only lead to his ultimate doom?
Slip thorough the shadows with Wilhelm the Shadow of Altdorf, always on the lookout for the perfect score Wilhelm returns to the city of his birth seeking riches he never had as a child. Will his new companions steer him towards unknown treasures and wealth or Wilhelm merely drift into the shadows of Altdorf never to be seen again?
Five companions thrust into the grime world of perilous adventure!
Within an ornate yet mysterious meeting hall, walled in marble and polished wood. Eight large banners hang representing each of the Winds and Colleges of Magic; one white with a bold lined circle with four thin criss-crossed spoke lines inside and a broad arrowhead outside the circle pointing upwards, one gold with a similar bold circle and arrowhead but with a single bold line descending from the arrowhead and ending in the center of the circle, one green with a thin circle then a smaller thin circle within then a still smaller thin circle within that but all touching a bold stroked line moving up from the edge of the smallest circle intersecting the other two circles and ending well above the three circles, a blue banner with a tall narrow broad-lined capital A with an equally broad-lined lower case O confined within the lower section of the A, a banner in grey with a broadstroke symbol of a spear and shaft pointing upwards, one purple with a stylised symbol similar in shape to a boat hook curved dexter upwards instead of downwards, one red a small bold line circle topped with a upward sinister curved boat hook and finally a mustard (brown) banner with a broadhead and wide fletched narrow-shafted arrow pointing upwards. The respective Colleges are the Light Order (Hysh Rune), the Gold Order (Chamon Rune), the Jade Order (Ghyran Rune), the Celestial Order (Azyr Rune), the Grey Order (Ulgu Rune), the Amethyst Order (Shyish Rune), the Bright Order (Aqshy Rune) and the Amber Order (Ghur Rune).
In the center of the chamber a table with eight master wizards, all heads of their respective orders, one looking austere in dark robes like the night sky—deep blue-black with flashes of brilliant white and silver. He is seated under the Celestial Order banner with the Azyr rune upon it, to his right under the Aqshy banner in red is Thyrus Gormann, the patriarch of the Bright Order. The masters before us are impressive in presence and position: Desparian Kant Light Order, Balthasar Gelt (hidden by a golden mask) Gold Order, Totker Gruenfeld (woman) Jade Order, Rafael Julevno Celestial Order, Reiner Stark Grey Order, Vigel Hexenthrone Amethyst Order, Thyrus Gormann (glowing tattoos and bright orange hair) Bright Order, Sitanus Lovas (with his cat eyes, hair groomed to give him an almost bestial appearance) Amber Order. If I had to guess the Supreme Patriarch it would be Master Gelt but then again Master Gormann commands the chamber with conviction and familiarity.
Upon a modest short back chair sits Vladimir Wulfgardt, ‘mere’ acolyte among powerful and wizen gerents. On polished benches in a cold chamber behind our friend Vladimir, the four of us sit two scheduled to give testimony; initiate of Sigmar Burk and I have agreed to speak on his behalf. Thorsten and our recent companion Wilhelm are there for moral support. The air is bristling with power, the hairs upon my arms and the back of my neck stand on end, it is not just mystic it also authoritarian in nature. A heavy hand gavel brings the proceedings to order and begins the inquest, the sound of solid wood slamming wood echoes. My palms are sweating and my mouth dry yet I am not the one accused of transgression. Master Julevno challenges Acolyte Wulfgardt to come forth to meet the gaze of the collegiate pedagogue. He pronounces the offense against the Celestial College as the murder of Nicholaus Schulman by the fiery magicks of Wulfgardt. Almost immediately Wilhelm brings attention to himself and me as Master Julevno must silence his whisperings to me.
Vladimir is given time for an opening statement after Master Julevno recounts the omens and portents foretelling the death of his student. He gives a full and solid accounting noting he too feels the loss of one of his brethren, that prior to the slaying of Schulman he harboured no resentment or malice towards his fellow magick wielder. Master Gormann then gives Burk an opportunity to speak his testimony, he corroborates Vlad’s description of the incident adding more detailed specifics including the murder of the two town guards and sequence of particular events. As he speaks fervently his manner is more controlled and his words well chosen, certainly not the uncultivated rambling zealot I first encountered but a few months past. As he concludes he stands behind the accused acolyte in a gesture of true support. I am next to speak but my words are not as pronounced and confident, I am too humbled in the presence of these masters. I offer up my personal journal as full evidence but then verbally give my account true and accurate but I am not concise and straightforward losing their attention and I fear possibly condemning my cohort.
During my testimony Wilhelm again spoke out of turn and was properly chastised. I then, in all good conscience and with earnest conviction, declared it was my blunderbuss shot that struck Schulman mortally. I am interrupted by Master Julevno after he becomes inpatient at my long-winded statement. That then sets off the squire who speaks out of turn and without prompting to castigate and disparage the Celestial master. “For a man who speaks by the winds of foretelling, I can’t believe the YOU of all people did not foresee this coming,” rants Thorston.
Master Gormann, stands almost ablaze with fury at Master Julevno’s and Mister Udermann’s interruptions, he demands those of us invited be allowed time to give our testimony. I still do not understand why Thorsten and Wilhelm are here in attendance. The other masters seem more upset that the squire spoke out of turn and uninvited, there gaze is palpable. Wilhelm ignores their scrutiny and pipes up about them being ‘all powerful’ to know Vladimir’s testimony is true. I do not know where his courage comes from at times.
Then in typical zealot fashion Burk pleads Vlad’s case of innocence based on the acolyte’s association with himself, a self-professed initiate of Sigmar as if that lower position within church is equal to an Arch-Lector or even the Grand Theogonist, himself. His arrogant fervour has no bounds, he obviously is oblivious to the politics at hand and the power those before us, under the banners, wield. It is then that Burkhard attempts his time-tested stare of steely determination but Master Julevno's own glare matches the mere initiate’s and seems to repulse and spurn the stalwart Sigmarian.
I turn my comments toward the convened council as a whole to remind them of their own parliamentary procedures and I have given proper testimony and evidence under their guidelines and request, that they abide by their own processes as I have. If my words are insufficient then my journal should act a timely record of events. I make my point of order argument too well I think and they are not pleased with my knowledge of their formal measures.
Master Gormann is insistent that Master Julevno’s disruptions are a ploy or serving another agenda and if he doesn’t abide by the ‘rules’ of the council the matter may need to be settled in ‘the arena’. That seems to make more of an impression on the other council masters instead of its intended mark. The accused Wulfgardt takes his master’s lead to turn the tables on Celestial master but recounting young Rafael’s own indiscretions and missteps early in his own career. Many of the pedagogues seem surprised by the young Vlad’s recollections and begin to truly question the genuine point of this inquest. Again I see my friend’s private knowledge of other serves him well, for I recall when he whispered in Burgher Belmont’s ear to reverse his railing upon us. Vlad takes a dangerous path in publicly embarrassing Master Julevno in front of his own peers and seemingly using the power of the Azyr Rune against its own padrone (as the Tileans might say).
It is Udermann who tries to argue logic over passion in vain as his comments were some of first impassioned words. Burk speaks generally of past precedence of good men and wizards succumbing to power and corruption which allows me to recall a couple of specific occurrences, again I appear to ramble too much but my point or rather Burk’s point is well taken. Master Gormann beseeches his fellows to drop the indictment, a few more remarks back and forth before the pronouncement is made by Master Gelt.
After the formal hearing is dismissed in favour of our good travelling companion Vladimir Wulfgardt, Acolyte of the Bright Order we retire midday to Three-Leg Pete. Our first drink is to Crixus and our second is to Vlad. We discuss what comes next for some us, Burk asks if I will seek out another bounty but before I can respond as I was in mid-gulp of the low grade ale Thorsten declares he wishes to fulfill his promise to return Crixus’ belonging to his homeland. My frustration at the manqué squire grows, he was dismissive of my idea to help Crixus or return his axe to the Grey Mountains when we are in Stromdorf, mere miles from the site but once he is given distance, temporal or scope, he is freshly renewed with purpose.
I again am stunted in my response as Burk asks first, why we did not do that earlier. I take this moment to re-question the squire about his last night there; his march from the Holtz farm with mongrels in tow, his volunteer aid at the tavern and then his ‘midnight stroll’ outside of the walls. Again he is evasive in response, not recalling such events clearly. For all their enigmatic histories, I seem to understand Aemilius’ paranoia, Vladimir’s impulsive nature, and Wilhelm’s motives but the dilettante still eludes me, his manner positive and engaging one moment then embittered and provocative the next. It is as though he is two people.
Wilhelm is more interested in gambling he produces some leaden dice and removes himself to find those keen on losing their well earned wages. Burk asks if I am familiar with any locale cartographers, I chuckle as there are many in Altdorf it being the capital and major hub of shipping. Thorsten begs his leave to go walking again, I am beginning to believe he uses that phrase euphemistically; either at the Shallyan orphan asylum or the college libraries of Verena word can be left if he is needed. I recommend to Burk a man I know well Emmerich who is versed in foreign languages and cartography for if he cannot discern a map’s meaning he would know others with such knowledge. Emmerich confirms the language of Araby and that the parchment is very old but he cannot translate so he gives us the name of another, one Jahrid Fahrrad a scribe in the foreign quarter of town.
We make the short trek to Little Araby, ever present is the stench of squalor the multitudes of lines of clothes hanging from narrow alley window and the bustle of many people in a confined space, the difference is the odors are strange and sometimes compelling, the cloth drying above is bright and frail, and the bodies whirling around us dark or olive skinned. We find the first floor doorway above another shop and knock upon a loose wood door inked in foreign symbols or writings along with small scribbles of paper tacked to it. A elderly hunched man dressed light coloured robes, a wrap of cloth around his white hair, a long full beard of white angling at an odd measure answers and offers us entrance, his small abode is covered with metal orbs, sextants of strange construction and other pieces of copper or brass machines, some with gears or cogs others with beads or odd cylinders. Papers, parchments, open scrolls, maps, brilliant tapestries and stacked books abound, it flashes to my memory a scene similar to Schulman’s room in Stromdorf but the symbols and writing are less block and more fluid, the images more definitive and exact yet unfamiliar to me. Several inkwells sit open, some in colours such as green or indigo. Incents burn in oddly shaped braziers or open plates hanging from small chains, it is almost too much to take in. I am at odds, uniquely intrigued and strangely warded off somehow; the conflicting elements of my mind and this room fight and dance at once.
The old man before us, Fahrrad has knarled boney fingers with long nails, he puts on a pair of odd spectacles before inspecting the map that Burk produces. He claims the writing is ancient and he will need time to study and understand its meaning. He charges only a couple of shillings so Burk pays one and will pay the balance in a day or two when the old finishes. I am sent out as the initiate has further business, private business. I spy through the weathered slats of the door as my secretive companion produces a tube, perhaps a map case adored with several symbols, I can’t make them out. He also gives the old Arabyan the ring he inherited from the late Saratoga Belmont, a dove of Shallya, if I remember correctly. I see a glint of light off the case, it almost glows. It must have some metal or even glass on it. Before he leaves, the foreign cartographer lights another incent and waves it over Burk chanting some strange tongue, Burk no doubts thinks the old man is blessing him rather it is probably a perfume of sorts to mask the odor of the Reiklander. I feign tossing pebbles down the wooden steps. Burk excuses himself to seek out advice and guidance from his order and we agree to meet at TLP the next evening.
I check the streets for news, gossip and possible employment, the latest edition of the Altdorf Correspondent is not out yet. Heading to the Königplatz, a stranger calls my name as though we are acquaintances. I don’t recognise him but he engages me claiming I am ‘running my slanderous mouth’, he motions to several other men about the crowd. It is not larceny in his eyes but there is malice so I make a pre-emptive shift, I manouevre behind him quickly, draw and point my main-gauche into his lower back so his five or six friends don’t get the drop on me. They draw cudgels and truncheons, yet I don’t think it was in defense of the agitator rather I think it was to intimidate or coerce my compliance with their desires. It becomes obvious these are less reputable agents of Herr Belmont who is less than pleased that I have spread the word on the street of his less than honourable dealings. I stand my ground against his threats until he mentions Jochen’s name. They are there to ‘teach me a lesson’ and I cannot stop them not if they can get to my imprisoned father. I take a beating – the bruises, bloody nose and minor lacerations are no stranger to me but one of them managed to crack one or more bones in my rib cage. It is a good quarter hour or more before someone helps me to stand and I manage to get to my rented room. I will need to retract my charges critical of Burgher Belmont in the next few days if I am to safeguard pater’s well-being.
[ Though a prodigy, Vladimir is warned about advancing too quickly within the Bright Order as the lack of experience and study can leave one open to corruption. Perhaps a lesson is learned from Schulman. He is given a series of tests to reveal his resistance or exposure to various elements of corruption, chaos and even the sanity of his mind.]
[ Wilhelm, not a guild member within the ranks of Ranald’s followers seeks out a proper disguise kit to help his passage through Altdorf unnoticed. He finds a member of the thieves’ guild willing to sell him goods and even invite him into the guild of thieves, should Wilhelm desire. Three days hence Wilhelm needs to be a specified place and time. He returns to his residence, his mother’s room in a well-to-do house as she is the head cook of a man of importance. There he tries his hand to create a false moustache as part of a new disguise for him. He completes his new visage with minor accoutrements: glasses, cane, hat, etc.]
[ Thorsten goes to visit the Holtz children, as their ‘honorary uncle’ they are ecstatic to see him. They are learning for the first time in their lives. After, he stops by his tobacconist Rory McFadden, to let him know that Thorsten will be travelling again to the Ubersreik area of the Empire or even to the Grey Mountains. He needs to deliver some Dwarven items: a runeaxe, a pair of cestuses, a spiked leather axe harness, and other sundry items including Dwarf-made jewelry; being a slayer Crixus had no shield or armour.]
[ In the moments before entering the Great Temple of Sigmar, Burk rethinks his decision to seek advice from this elders or betters as he and Saratoga made a pact not to reveal the tube to anyone at the church. Thus he honours his dead friend’s wishes and turns away at the last moment to retire to the barracks. While in Altdorf he must perform the regular duties of all initiates though many of his peers are envious, jealous or in awe of him, calling him the Warrior Priest Initiate. He finds an opportunity to speak with his mentor Damien Hertzel who at this time has no icon or item of significance to be sought out.]
The next morning rumours upon our next return to Three-Leg Pete’s tell of Wilhelm’s success at dice through the previous evening yet at one point a professional gambler questioned his dice as being tricked. Henri, a Bretonnian tall and stout is suspicious but before he can expose any guile on Wilhelm’s part the Shadow flees to merge with the dark alleys outside. Accusations of cheating are flung as well as Bretonnian expletives. Henri did not catch his name only his general appearance. Wilhelm in a rather obvious change of costume, at least to me and the squire, approaches our table, we have all gathered to decide if we wish to continue venturing together or go our separate ways.
The cuts and bruises are obvious upon my face, Burk asks after me but in my terse reply I tell them my history has caught up to me. The ribald Thorsten asks if it is to do with my bastard son. He cannot know of Gunnar yet I react poorly and ashamedly. His was a general jibbing remark and not specific to my son. I deflect any further inquiries. Again Thorsten brings up returning to the Ubersreik and passing into the Grey Mountains to find the Dwarven city of Karak Azgaraz to return Crixus’ possessions, mainly his great axe Kileri (I think that is what I heard him once refer to it as). I notice no mention is made of visiting Crixus, which is a shame. The trip seems a popular consideration so we all agree.
The squire has investments to look into and then some research that will take him to the Halls of Verena. The acolyte too intends to hit the Library of Learning as well for research of his own. The last two at the table, Wilhelm asks me to accompany him to a secret meeting in a couple of days, he fears it may be a trap so he would appreciate some support. He mistook our venture into the Stew Pot tavern as a caper of like-minded larceny but my intrusion was made to recoup some of my losses from Belmont at Cobblepot’s own thievery. I ask if my time is worth anything to him and he is immediately offended that I am out to rob him, he does not see my point. Other than taking advantage our relationship, is my service of value? If so what price? I am too frustrated to deal with his petty insecurities; my head is pounding, my broken rib is cutting into my side, Thorsten has inadvertently reminded me of Gunnar, I have my father’s safety to consider and Belmont has gotten the better of me yet again. An exasperated Wilhelm leaves abruptly and with no further comment. It takes a good minute before I can muster the will to stand and leave on my own.
[ Burk takes Vlad aside as they leave the tavern and confides in him. “You have known Saratoga longer than any of us. I feel that you can be trusted to keep a secret for me, it was in fact Saratoga’s secret that we together kept. I feel the events of late are such that I should reveal his secret to someone else. Long ago we were adventuring together and got caught up in the corruption of another initiate of Sigmar up in Wolfenburg {capital of The Grand Principality of Ostland along the eastern edge of the Middle Mountains, some 300 miles up the Talabec River}. We had recovered a treasure together, each keeping a piece. I have a decorative metal tube bearing symbols of the good gods of humanity. Along with that we recovered a ring of Shallya, bearing her mark of the dove.” Burk presents the pantheon-laidened tube, each god’s mark is upon a rotating band, and then the burdened confessor then places the dove ring upon his finger. As the ring of Shallya and the cylinder come together, the tube starts to glow. Continuing his account, “It was Saratoga’s and my belief that the map inscribed upon his back leads to more relics such as this.” Burk explains Vladimir that he took the map to an Araby scribe who said the map had markings, similar to the necromantic medallion, that are ancient Arabyan but they worship other gods and not those represented on the cylinder. Vlad tries to determine the magical quality but cannot discern its properties other than to say it is divine magicks. The Sigmarian asks his Bright Order friend to do additional research while at the library on this tube. Burk is hoping to pick up the map that evening and then ‘compare’ notes with Vlad the next morning. He also reiterates that this was Saratoga’s secret so any information found should be kept secret in honour of his memory.]
As I leave the tavern I spy Wilhelm duck into a little used alley up the street, just out of curiosity I hurry to catch him. I feel bad about being so abrupt when he asked for my help, I owe him an apology. I catch sight of him passing through the market stalls, he looks at various items but doesn’t seem interested in any. He is more noticing his surrounding and looking for people who might stand out. Out of instinct I dip down so as not to be seen, my side throbs with pain as I audibly wince. Finally the Shadow moves into a shop of fancy dress costumes and theatre regalia. As I wait outside I begin to wonder if he did spot me and somehow snuck out the back unnoticed. Alas he comes out with a small parcel under arm, a somewhat pointed parcel. Again I hold back so as not to be noticed as Wilhelm continues down another row of shops and walks into a clockmaker shop with an apartment above of all things. Standing outside the storefront is a slouched man smoking, squinting behind some rather thick spectacles, he is somewhat jittery or even nervous. Wilhelm leaves the clock store then wanders around it taking his time and moving all about but always coming back to the shop. After half an hour Wilhelm leaves this market street and heads down to the merchant residence section of Altdorf. He is moving faster with purpose so he looks to be heading to a familiar haunt, perhaps even his home yet I find it nearly impossible to believe he could afford to live in that neighbourhood. Could he be the son of a wealthy merchant? A dilettante himself? As I lose sight of him the voice of an old man gets my attention, from behind me, “Excuse me young man.” There is Wilhelm still in disguise, “Rolf, my man it is not nice to follow people.” I confess my rudeness and beg his pardon. In his forgiveness he gives me the time and place to meet so I can aid him in clandestine rendezvous.
[ Upon entering the study halls, Vlad meets a grey clothed initiate bearing scales upon his robes beckoning him in. Statues and symbols of Verena abound: scales of justice, tomes of learning and the sword of law and order. There at a table near the entrance is Thorsten, maps and books of the Empire around him as he researches Karak Azgaraz. The acolyte asks the Verenian initiate for materials relating to divinely created magical items or artifacts with Araby influences. Helmgard is unsure of the request so leaves for a moment returning with his priest Verenous; there is some discussion on the gods of the empire versus those of Araby, divine magick of one would not cross over to the other. Thorsten greets Vlad as another initiate Anton brings him some more materials. They remain there for quite some time. Thorsten leaves the library after seeing Vladimir doze off a couple times. He finds a place to turn his talents into coin and a free meal with wine, he tells a tale, sings a song and breaks some ladies’ hearts before dawn.]
[ Later that same evening a visitor returns to the clockmaker’s shop, the locks are simple enough as the Shadow of Altdorf enters to loot any loose cash and small portable valuables. A small cash box heavy with coin is within hand quickly so he makes his way to egress just as easily and quietly as he entered. As is the fortune of Wilhelm, he stumbles over a large clock laying on its back open for repairs, a loud crash is heard. He is up and out rushing through the avenues and alleyways cloaked and masked, his cat-burglar garb includes a long-beaked mask or what doctor’s used during the plague. His haul for a night’s work plus an afternoon of casing and skulking around – 1 crown, 16 shillings, and 25 pennies.]
[ The next morning a warm breakfast roll and steaming cup of coffee greets wizard prodigy. Helmgard, along with Anton and Gregor all brothers in vocation and blood, all initiates of Verena question Vladimir on his work last night and the wonders of the of being a wizard. Like all Verenians they are inquisitive.]
I rewrap my torso before retiring early and awake with less pain as the internal wound is well on the mend. The investment in poultices, salves and healing teas was not in vain. I meet the others to breakfast on this warm and glorious morning. Not a cloud in sight, birds chirping and melodious sounds of commerce make the morning walk a true pleasure. Vlad is not in attendance evidently he and the squire spent most of the day yesterday at the Halls of Verena and Thorsten left him there asleep, ‘best leave sleeping fire mages lie lest ye in the attempt fry’ to coin a phrase from Burk. I need to find employment as I don’t have family money or the temple/college to support my endeavours. I need to visit the bounty boards about town to find my next quarry. So I will not be joining Burk as he revisits the Araby scribe, but Herr Udermann volunteers to accompany him.
[ As the pair pay a visit to Fahrrad they hear a scuffle of noise and muffled voices within the rooms. Then after a couple of knocks on the door they hear in a Reikland accent, “No one is here. We’re closed!” Drawing weapons they barge in sensing menace within and fearing harm to Jahrid. Two men seem to be ransacking the Araby quarters, as one of the thugs actually has the old man in hand. With a cane in one hand and the Burk’s map in his other Jahrid feebly attempts to beat off his assailant.
“Unhand that man or I shall strike you down where your stand,” yells the Sigmarian as he readies his hammer. They don’t seem intimidated by the initiate or dilettante. An attempt to steal the map fails as Thorsten levels his blunderbuss trying to hit the villainous duo even as each is engaged with his own allies. Fahrrad is so startled he nearly faints and drops Aemilius’ parchment, the far windowed-wall opposite of the squire explodes in shards. Burk disengages to snag the map off the floor as his attacker strikes him. Thorsten’s goon wrestles him to the floor amongst all the clutter with a solid thud. Sigmar’s hammer swings upwards as the ruffian attempts to parry the heavy-headed weapon to no effect as Burk hits a solid blow upon his target’s mouth sending loose teeth flying. The heavy on Thorsten tried to stab him with a large knife but Thorsten draws his own dagger in defense and is able to counterstrike injuring the brute.
Within a few more moments the intruders are subdued, the scribe is shaken but safe and Burk tries to understand how they could have learned of the map. The old man is very grateful and assured Burk he did not reveal tell anyone of the map. But he did discover something of interest, at the bottom is a symbol or word that translates to Quetza; it is not an Araby word and he has never heard of it nor has any idea what it means. The only other person who should have know Jahrid Fahrrad had it was Rolf. Burk is quick to come to the conclusion that he has been betrayed by the unbeliever. He then asks after the dead body left after the skirmish, Fahrrad has neighbours that will assist him in disposing of it. The initiate of Sigmar is confused by the scribe’s findings but is appreciative thus give him an additional shilling over the agreed upon price. He is also sorry to bring this misfortune to Jahrid’s home. The Arabyan is understanding and refuses the third silver piece.
Thorsten took out the second live thug named Ziggy and bartered his life for information, he discovers the men were sent by Ludwig the Mace from a seedy tavern called the Shark’s Bite. Once at the bar all three men from the old man’s apartment go into the back to speak with a tall imposing man, thick in girth and manners called Ludwig. As Thorsten draws his blunderbuss other occupants draw their weapons too: knives, cudgels and powder weapons of their own. Burk goes to sit and talk with Ludwig, he inquires how the stranger and obvious criminal knew of the map. A mysterious cloaked man hired him, say Ludwig a bit nervously. There was something off about the cloaked stranger, something odd or wrong. Burk remembers the odd the man we met back at Oberslecht near Stromdorf. All Ludwig can say for sure is that he smelled bad and moved oddly. Thorsten throws money at the bartender for drinks but is quickly at odds with him as they bicker back and forth. Burks wards Ludwig off the map and leaves on good terms. The bartender screams at the pair as the squire takes two bottles off the bar when they exit the Shark’s Bite.
Thorsten says he can spread some rumours about Ludwig but Burk suggests they not seek out enemies. The initiate then asks how the dilettante knew Saratoga, they were to travel to some vineyards in Bretonnia but they soon split ways. After Saratoga continued on Thorsten then met Crixus but this was all after Aemilius knew the young Belmont. They chat some more as they head to the Halls of Verena, he tells the squire of his adventures with Saratoga dealing with this map that resulted in the death of some friends by fire and the corruption of an initiate of Sigmar.
[ Vladimir is still ‘hitting the books’ lost in study, he looks exhausted as the pair join him. Verenous greets Burk, an initiate of Sigmar and then notices Thorsten. The three young initiates of Verena have struck up a friendship with Vlad as they have been assisting over the multitude of hours. The priest offers all of them some bread, soup and wine. Once alone with the acolyte Burk reveals the dangers he and Thorsten dealt with earlier. Burk then lays out his accusation of Rolf as the turncoat, sighting the former agent had been roughed up and beaten, most likely for the information of the map or his purpose in visiting the Arabyan scribe. Burk then adds the three of them were all good friends with Saratoga but Rolf was merely a servant in the Belmont household and may have had grudge. Thorsten reminds them Rolf seemingly left the Belmont’s employ under poor circumstances and possibly with malice towards the family. Vladimir listens to their concerns and understands their perspective but believes Rolf to be an honourable man who would not betray them. He suggests they confront him openly to give his own explanation.
Wulfgardt’s research revealed much, firstly the sealed cylinder is most likely very old, back around the time of the first Grand Theogonist perhaps, over 2500 years ago. Looking at the symbols: a wolf, a raven, a dove, etc., it is a key to a secret, a finger ring probably exists for each of the gods. They may need all the rings to unlock the tube. The food and wine arrive, Verenous is questioned about Quetza. He believes it may be from an ancient city of gold and gems in the far off land of Lustria. Countless explorers have tried to discover its riches which are reputed to be vast but few have returned. A brief lesson in world geography and history is given as the wine is finished and food is consumed. Vladimir notices Helmgard’s hand is shaking as he continues to clear the dinner. The three researching adventures and the priest succumb to poison within the foodstuffs, all begin to hallucinate and lose any sense of focus and presence. Vlad and Thorsten seem more rattled and unable to do anything. They all collapse upon the table they ate from.]
In searching for new bounties I found a new poster for a clock shop robbery, it seems petty but the reward is a full two crowns. A sketch of a cloaked pointy nose figure is given. Another poster for a cutthroat Reinhart Heckel thought to be in or heading towards Ubersreik, two crowns alive and fifty shillings dead. I take both and slip them into my belt. I then wander the streets again checking in with known contacts looking for leads or gossip, also recanting my negative opinion of Frederich Belmont in an effort to protect my father from any harm.
Before I know it I am back at Three-Leg Pete. I am not a fan of the establishment, its crowd runs courser than I prefer but it seems to be the de facto meeting ground. I took an early dinner in my rooms as I cannot afford to squander my monies on the squalled fair they call food here. They do have a decent house wine, watered-down and spiced of course but that is to be expected. It is cheap and quenches the thirst. It is currently King’s Day or Konigstag, the day new wanted posters are billed, contracts are signed and all manner of official business is conducted. Tomorrow the ninth of Vorgeheim and we are past the summer solstice already. Claudia and Anna-Marie take notice of me but I am not really in a good position, financially speaking, to put either of them in a good position, doggy-style is preferred by Anna-Marie. Everyone is late and I have been nursing my first goblet of piment for some time when I notice Wilhelm’s old man sitting at the end of the bar hoping I haven’t seen through his crude moustache and odd clothing. I invite him over as Pete the proprietor of the tavern comes by to check on us. Wilhelm introduces himself as Ivan Voshelger of Kislev though his accent and Kislev knowledge is weaker than my second spiced wine.
Just as I am about ready to give up on the rest of the group, the bar goes still and quiet. The bustle and loud murmurs wanes quickly and noticeably. My back is to the door but I recognise the signature of a Witch Hunter entrance. Wilhelm, or rather Ivan per his nom de plume double checks to see his Witch Hunter’s signet acquired from Cobblepot’s hostel is securely in his pouch. “I am looking for Rolf Zaeschmar. Rolf Zaeschmar and friends. Step forward or feel the wrath of Sigmar.” So I stand and turn to face he who calls my name aloud. As I meet his gaze it should be noted he is truly a Witch Hunter by manner and mien; standing tall in buckled wide-brimmed slouch hat, a long black leather coat, weathered and worn travelling clothes, experienced twin pistols, a sharp rapier, and the ever present medallion of a brazen twin-tailed comet in red and yellow. I almost mirror his appearance, I lack some twenty-plus pounds of muscle, several facial scars and wrinkles, plus the icon proclaiming his office and profession. Other minor differences include his coat versus my heavy cloth cloak, both my brim and buckle are small and fashionable, my trappings contain no religious fetishes or charm, and I am merely unshaven where he has a full face of hair. He is flanked by a brace of associates. He glares at me, up and down obvious not pleased with my similar look, almost as though I mock him and his kind.
I announce my friends are not present. He makes it known he is Kleinfeld Brenner. He refused my gesture of a seat and demands I follow him into kitchen. Once there one of his men stands at the entrance and the kitchen staff flee in panic of a Witch Hunter. He accuses me of being involved in drugs and insists I empty my possessions on the chop block in the middle of the kitchen: my rapier, main-gauche, two pistols, my gloves, my purse, two slips of paper (wanted posters), belted powder horn, and pouch with bullet wads. I noted ‘Ivan’ move closer to the kitchen after he deserted me from my table. In searching my ammunition pouch, a folded leather strap is found, it is not mine but Brenner insists I roll it open. Inside are slivers or thin slices of some green iridescent root. The Witch Hunter draws his rapier as though challenged and rests the tip of his blade at my neck backing me into the corner, “Just as I suspected. Just as I was told—wyrd root.” He deflects my pleas of innocence as I challenge his suspicion of my guilt. He produces a note written poorly – Rolfe + frends R selin the weerd-Root !
I make my pronouncement that neither I nor they have anything to do with illicit drugs. I travel in the good company of an Initiate of Sigmar, personal protégé of Master Damien Hertzel and an Acolyte of the Bright Order, currently in favour with the colleges for preventing a rogue wizard from releasing chaotic evil down in Stromdorf. We discuss the timing and circumstance of the accusational note, my voice is strong and honest in the face of his allegations; I speak truthfully but my confidence is sheer bravado, so I think he begins to question his own information thus believing my words. Performing his duties, he informs me my name and likeness will be distributed to all the gates and ports preventing me from leaving Altdorf until my character can be validated by Lector Hertzel and others. I announce my profession and intention on returning to Ubersreik to make my living, again my self-assurance impresses him but he still warns that any deception or vile intent will see me either burning at the stake or hanging from a stiff rope. I drop Master Thyrus Gormann name without success and mention I was accosted by agents provocateur of Burgher Belmont as we have had a recent falling out; I reiterate I make no indictment on a pillar of society as I know my place yet he does have a certain influence. Brenner will continue his investigation so I had best be prepared to meet him again, he then questions my manner of dress. When he realises I am not ‘making a statement’ he releases me and leaves. I take a moment yet cannot help but retch. It took all I had to stand up to him but it took its toll as well.
Wilhelm comes in immediately after the encounter to check on me, I am splashing cold water on my face and pushing the bucket with my puke aside with my foot. He then alludes that I might be a purveyor of illegal drugs so I shoot back that only a cut-purse could have planted it upon me. His plan is to discover who is buying the wyrd root then he could see who might be planting it. I ask after the others who are still absent, so I suggest heading to the Halls of Verena to at least find Vlad or Thorsten.
[ Verenous is lying on the floor semi-conscious, Burk stands to confront the three young initiates thinking they have drugged him and the others. He challenges them slurring his words professing the drug has failed and he will prevail. Helmgard, Anton and Gregor armed with bludgeons move towards their counter-initiate but fail to get a solid hit. Thorsten blasts his blunderbuss blindly into the mass of initiates as he sees the image of Sigmar standing in front of Burk as if to protect him. The halls echo with a thunderous explosion, blood and paper fly everywhere. Vlad mutters and gestures to quick cast his Glamour of Fire but his words slur and his movements imprecise. Burk lifts his small bench against the two standing aggressors who appear to be reaching for something instead of hitting anyone, one actually grabs the velum map out of Burk’s satchel. Thorsten yells at the top of his lungs the acolytes are starting everything on fire. FIRE! FIRE! He then swings the butt of his blunderbuss at one of the five figures he sees stealing from his friend. Vlad is able to focus well enough to cast his Glamour.
As the Bright Order acolyte begins to shimmer in flame and his tattoos glow with fury, he challenges those who would assault he or his friends and to know fear from his fiery rage. Master Verenous tries to stager to his feet fearing all the tomes of his precious library are on fire, he manages a cry for help and invokes his goddess name. The initiates are startled by Vlad’s words and the action of their own master and stumble about unsure of themselves. The small enclosed metal god-encrusted tube falls to the floor. Gregor still on the ground stands and reaches for the loose tube but stumbles over his retreating brother. Burk breaks the bench as he swings it at Gregor knocking him unconscious, the bench continues, breaking apart as it hit a solid bookcase. This throws the Sigmarian off balance and he falls. Thorsten manages to snap up the Burk’s loose map and hide it under his shirt. Burk shifts and tries to get to his feet once more, Anton almost in tears cries out, “Give us the map, our mother’s life depends on it.” Helmgard is able to tackle the squire and Anton moves to attack warrior initiate but only manages to slam against the mighty hammer Burk carries.
Trying to cool down and regain control of the skirmish, Vlad offers Helmgard assistance if his mother is truly in danger. They can all work together to protect her and safeguard the metal roll. The young brothers admit they were forced to drug everyone and steal the map else their mother who was taken would suffer their failure. Vlad works to understand their situation and reassure them their failure will not cause their mother’s demise. Burk with a clear voice even swears upon the benevolence of Sigmar that their mother will be saved. The brothers yield. Vladimir tells Anton to run to Three-Leg Pete’s to retrieve a man named Rolf. Burk helps Master Verenous and the unconscious Gregor to recover. Anton screams as he makes it to the door, “They are here, they’re here, we are all done for.”]
Wilhelm and I begin to knock on the locked door when they open, a young lad of fifteen or so goes wide-eyed not expecting to see us outside. He screams a warning to those inside. Wilhelm is first to rush in seeing our companions flush with battle, red-eyed and groggy from being drugged and ready with weapons in hand to do battle. He jokes at their expense they started the fun without us. I enter and close the door behind me then lead the library initiate back into the main chamber. Toppled chairs and benches, scattered papers and fragments litter the floor. A splintered bench lies in a pile. Some blood is obvious as all the boys seem to be bleeding from pellet shot. The scene is a mess. Somehow Wilhelm and I are not truly surprised.
Vlad states they have been all been poisoned as Burk squints our direction, “Are these the men that hired you?” The boys are nervous at the sight of a hooded Wilhelm while Burk is certain in his charge as he blames me for their state and the endangerment of the brother’s mother. Before Burk, acting more like the zealot I found in the streets than the initiate I have come to know, takes three steps towards me the Shadow produces a knife from nowhere and flings it at the floor pinning Burk’s boot and pant leg to the floorboards.
Wilhelm tries to talk Burk down from his rantings, Vladimir claims they have been drugged and are suffering some hallucinations and without warning or cause Thorsten makes for the door franticly running outside screaming FIRE. Burk is still under the effects of some brainstorm seeing me as the enemy, he blames me for beguiling his friendship and sensibilities then goes into one of his classic rages; I can’t say if it was me or Wilhelm’s knife that sent him over the edge, by Ranald the good bet is on me. My only hope is to render him unconscious by striking him down with the pappenheimer of my main-gauche. Vlad follows Wilhelm’s lead and reminds the Sigmar initiate they are under the effects of the poison then asks me to put away my small blade and see to the issue of the brother’s mother. Burk looks to Vlad and after a sigh drops his hammer.
The discussion that follows goes back and forth, point and counter-points are made. I finally suggest one of the boys retrieve some cooking oil for those poisoned to drink to cause them to vomit up their poison. Burk tries to argue his belief that I somehow betrayed his friendship, endangered the mother of the initiates of Verena or spoke of the map taken to the Araby quarter for only I knew where the map was. He speaks of having to kill someone in defense of the map, of meeting a criminal named Ludwig the Mace. Vladimir counters the dialogue should be focused on how to save the mother and discover who compelled their involvement to poison everyone and steal the map. I try in vain to argue my innocence through ignorance but even if the former zealot were not under the effects of the poison he still would not be rational to my perspective with his inbred dogmatic paranoid. I tell them my bruises were from a beating inflicted by Belmont’s thugs not by someone looking for the map. Wilhelm just wants to make sure no one is going to kill anyone inside our group then asks about the focal point of our discussion – the map, which he is ignorant of.
Helmgard shows the vile of poison he was given to administer and explains the circumstance of how he and his two brothers were conscripted into this dastardly plan. I grab the vile and give it quick glance then fidget with it in my left hand. A nervous habit I gained after learning the main-gauche. The eldest brother then shows a crude map of his own depicting a rendezvous point just outside the North Gate of Altdorf, the writing is too similar to the note given to the Witch Hunter Brenner to be ignored. I point out the similarities as I explain another plot was schemed to get me out of the way, not by poison but by imprisonment. Wilhelm verifies the events at Three-Leg Pete. I use the vile as a pointer showing the route to the meeting point.
Thorsten finally returns with a couple of the town watch and is still seething, he sees the sick all over the floor and believes his fellows are in the final throws of dying. The squire then goes into a tirade that the young initiates of Verena poisoned everyone. It doesn’t take much to convince the guards Thorsten had been drink too much and the soup for dinner was off causing everyone to get sick. No fire, everyone is alive and no one is in imminent danger. They leave soon after. Burk is on the floor still retching and looking for the missing cylinder. Once Thorsten is force feed the oil and as he begins to hurl the hidden map under his shirt is obvious, so I pull it out of the way so he does get it messed up.
We form a plan and use an old piece of parchment as a decoy, per Vladimir’s suggestion I scribble – You will soon be aflame – upon it. Helmgard will deliver the decoy map and the rest of us will follow in the shadows. It is suggested we exit out a secluded egress so as not to be seen if the library is being surveilled, Wilhelm is very gifted and helpful in keeping to the shadows as we leave through the kitchen area of an adjacent building. I double check my pistols to make sure they are loaded and ready to use, Thorsten follows suit with his blunderbuss. No one seems to listen to the Shadow’s secrets on moving quickly and quietly through the streets and alleys of the city except for me, even Wilhelm gets distracted by all the noise everyone make to the point he stumbles over small clutter in the streets too.
We approached the North Gate sentry station from the west travelling along the Nordenmauer Strecke. Stopped by the night watch and asked our name we all responded, Wilhelm stating he was a farmer. I gave my name not thinking Witch Hunter Brenner could have conveyed my name and likeness so quickly but I began to panic when one of the men searched through a book. The other seemed to question Vladimir, Burk and Thorsten; Vlad admitted to drink too much, Burk claimed to have drunk much if any and Thorsten just got sick all over the road. Two more guards stood in the background. A summer breeze passed over us as we stood waiting to exit Altdorf. The man with the book came back over and asked if I was Rolf Zaeschmar, I slouched a bit and lowered my voice adding a bit mumble to it then proclaimed my name was Dolfs Aschmark. He swore he heard me say Rolf Zaeschmar. That’s when the squire tried to act more sober then his drugged state would dictate. He pronounced me Rolf Zaeschmar. This went back and forth several more times with me acting more drunk and irritated demanding I was Dolfs Aschmark. The guard turned to the others with Wilhelm coming to my aid immediately and Vladimir and Burk coming around slowly. Helmgard did not know how to respond other than to say he did not know me. Thorsten was still insistent about my true identity so I played the stupid and drunk card once more with the town militia that night. I pointed to Udermann with vomit soiling his shirt and swabbing his boots, had the guard take a good whiff which confirmed the dilettante had been drinking. It was he, Udermann who took some other guards this very evening to the Halls of Verena claiming books were on fire, but he was tetched in the head. It took a little more convincing but eventually the guards let us all pass through.
Just outside I sensed our burglar friend is uneasy about something else and hear the acolyte mutter he had seen someone in the shadows along the rooftop following us to the North Gate. I, on the other hand, was disconcerted about the refugees and their make-shift camps; those trying to gain entrance to the capital but unable to, eye peering from the darkness and muted whispers. I had not heard the quarter hour chimes strike before we exited so it was just after the eight o’clock hour. I was still fidgeting with the empty vile of potion not even realising it. We moved awkwardly at first as the lights of the city were not available outside so we only had the Mannslieb’s light to guide us. Others were on the road heading into the city. Who is to say whether they would make in tonight or have to set up a camp of their own?
Then it happened, the squire got a burr in pants and wouldn’t keep quiet. He pestered me about the Witch Hunter. At first I was dismissive then explained I would talk of it later but covertness was our main goal at this point. We should be focused on the task of rescuing the initiates’ mother first and foremost. He continued to harass me until the others shushed him into quiet submission. Mannslieb was full and held a red haze around it indicating it would most likely rain the next morning or day but with its light I saw in Burk’s eye a sorrow. My first thought was he had spent the day in remembrance of Saratoga but it seemed more than that, could he be upset about the man killed earlier in the Araby quarter? He had killed before, Aemilius Burkhard had killed vicious men in the past without the taint of chaos. Was the man killed today different? I don’t know but it is not my place to ask, at least not now. We travelled far enough out and found the point to leave the main access and head to a small farm with field and orchards.
Helmgard moved off the road and out of sight so we move to close the distance. Soon we are on the edge of a crop field some one hundred yards abreast, to the left a small farm house with no interior lights and to the right a grove of trees. Helmgard is moving through the field towards the copse of trees, I shifted further right to run along a hedge row. Vladimir follows me. Thorsten and Burk follow the Helmgard’s path across the center of the field. All of us are moving towards the cluster of trees dividing this crop field from another. I glance over and on the far left moving towards the house I see Wilhelm, or what I hope is him. Breaking the silence is a blood-curdling scream, “Nooo! Aghhh.”
Vlad and Thorsten stop and take a hard look around to understand the meaning of the scream while Burk, Wilhelm and myself dash to the small mass of trees and Helmgard. In the middle of the trees is tiny clearing where the acolyte and squire see a few figures, Vlad sees three lined up from his vantage point. As Burk reaches the arborous cluster he begins to radiate a soft light, energies from his ‘dogmatic’ winds of magic. It is the Verenian initiate who is shrieking. Thorsten makes his own dash to be right next to Burk and Helmgard as he notices the three figures lined up are human scarecrows near death staked on large poles. The squire begins to hyperventilate and loses his breath. Two men and a woman have been torturously mounted upon vertical wood timbers. It appears the woman here is mother we seek; Helmgard has lost all sense of understanding in this horrific sight before him. Eviscerated, scarred and wounded by some vile ritual or ceremony they are victims to someone’s demonic mentalities.
“Look to the trees,” yells Vlad from behind me still mid-way along the hedge row. I catch a glimpse of him glowing and igniting the top of his wizard’s staff. I can hear movement in the branches of the tree tops so I draw my pistols and point up towards to rustling sound. A small hooded and cloaked form drops down onto the center post, standing on the small flat circular surface. Thorsten shots his blunderbuss hoping to hit the shape but swift figure rockets back into the treetops. Wilhelm finally joins us in the clearing under the trees and becomes panicked by the sight of the three sacrificial persons. A muttering and hissing rasp utters out of the foliage above us, a green sour-smelling hazy mist rises around the human scarecrows and the wailing Helmgard. Trapped within the mystic enclosure next to the lad we came to help are Burk, Wilhelm and Thorsten. Only Vladimir and I escaped malefic incarceration.
“Show yourself fiend and stand in judgment for what you have done this night,” commands our Sigmarian initiate. I cannot see the demonic shape perched above the cylindrical wall but I hear its fetid response, “I shall return to feast upon your corpses.” Followed by a flutter of leaves and branches, with the raspy words spoken Vladimir alights the entire copse of trees as crepuscular shafts of light shooting out at every angle creating a brilliant beacon in the night sky.
Now Wilhelm is breathing erratically and shifts on his knees to move away from the black leather cloaked creature far above him. He is trapped within the green mist as it thickens and becomes difficult to see through. I fire both pistols in unison with the powder flash and heavy smoke blinding me momentarily. I cannot tell if I hit the foul target resting in branches or not. The lusus naturæ drops from above landing within feet of me still cloaked and hidden, it stands erect but only to five feet in height then it suddenly tosses down a pellet or poultice bag which explodes into thick, acrid smoke causing me to shift my body protecting my face and it is gone. It disappears literally in a puff of smoke.
The ground encircled by the yellow-green barrier of magick energy begins to shake and bubble as a small eruption of dirt and grass spews up some four or five feet, a mound begins to grow and spread. A horde of small rats flows from the puncture in the soil, they swarm in the compact space and begin to fill its void. Burk, Wilhelm, Thorsten and Helmgard are all trapped inside and suffer the gnawing and clawing of the endless rodents. Wilhelm and Burk both push to pass through the obstruction without success, Burk is actually knocked down to the ground, he shouts they are confined by the fence of Tzeentch. This seems more like the actions of Lord of Pestilence and Decay instead of the Changer of Ways, but who am I to give the initiate a lesson in Nurgle versus Tzeentch.
Thorsten begins to load his blunderbuss as Aemilius swings his mighty hammer, the mallet of Sigmar does no damage and shakes in his hands as it vibrates from the concussive force. I release my brace of pistols then draw my rapier and main-gauche, cutting into the thick chartreuse hedge of power I do nothing so I drop them as well. Thorsten tries to climb the hill of dirt and spilling rats but it only shifts slightly, he then moves back to the barrier and tries to dig under. Vlad sees this and moves opposite of the squire. Wilhelm begins to dig as well but is not really close enough to the mist wall. Burk swats and pushes the ever increasing rats off himself and Willie. Thorsten has clarity of mind to realise and announce the digging will not be swift enough to avoid the attacks of the rats, he finishes loading his black powder shotgun and blasts down the rat hole. Burk seems to be the focal point of the rats as they topple and swarm him more than any other. Wilhelm and Helmgard are still on the ground batting away the gnawing teeth of the rodents. The squire yells to the acolyte to lob a fireball up and over the top of the thick green wall.
Wilhelm and Thorsten both attempt to climb the partition. The squire cannot find a solid hand hold and slides back down. I flip the end of my cloak over yelling at Willie to grab hold of it. Helmgard also sees the cloak and pushes the Shadow away hoping to grab it himself but is tripped up by the swarm of rats at his feet. Vlad finds a solid tree to climb giving him a better vantage point to assist. Thorsten takes advantage of the cloak and grabs it as I pull him up and over the ochre-green divider. The burglar is able to grab the branch lowered by the Bright Order member the Vlad repositions himself over and hurls a ball of molten fire. Burk is still inundated by the rodents and caught in fiery explosion.
Burk throws his hammer and shield over the entrapping cylinder. Helmgard is lost under a cluster of rats. Wilhelm shimmies down the tree and remembers he has a rope in his small rucksack. I fling my cloak over to help Burk but it rips in half preventing his escape. Thorsten finds his blunderbuss and reloads. Vladimir’s whole essence is aglow, the tips of his hair shimmers like fire embers, his tattoos radiate light as if from beneath his skin, his eyes grow black yet exude the Aqshy within. The interior of the ensnaring green energy is enveloped in a massive burst of flaming power yet Helmgard and Burk are not consumed. Willie pitches over his found rope hitting the exhausted and diminished initiate of Sigmar. I ascend tree nearby in hopes of reaching Burk to assist his climb out. Burk instead ties off near unconscious Helmgard as Wilhelm and Thorsten tug hard to pull the lad out.
From my vantage point I see Burk losing his vigour and ability to fend off the horde of rodents, they are too much for anyone to overcome. He closes his eyes and whispers, a prayer to his patron no doubt asking for strength or will to free himself. His god does not hear his plea nor is there any elevated power that can assist him so I let go the tree limb and fall into the mounting numbers of vermin to help my friend. He plagues me with accusations of betrayal and charges of corruption, he banishes my logic and belief in the natural philosophies to his netherworld of superstition but he has saved my life more than once so I must replay his spirit and courage with some of my own.
I snag the rope’s end to ensnare and tie off both Burk and myself as the rats begin to devour my legs. Burk is too weak to assist but he continues to mumble. The men on the outside position themselves to pull with everything they can muster to yank us out with Thorsten jumping up to use his weight to help. I complete the knot but I am not a sailor. With a mighty heave the group outside tows the line lifting myself and Burk out but the knot slips and I continue without the man of god; a light shines in his eyes as though he knew only one of would make it out and he opted for me. Not allowing him to martyr himself to his warrior god I call upon my god of natural laws and the reflexes of my training to reposition my direction and grab his hand. The rope sustains my motion and I use that power to pull Burk, he too has found some strength and holds on to the very end of the unknotted rope. We tumble to the ground outside the evil trap of massing vermin.
From the ground I sense everyone shares the same thought, the rats will overflow the barrier and spill out to continue their swarming rampage so Burk takes up his hammer and Vlad wraps his fist in fiery power. I do not see the cause but the rodents recede into their fissure disappearing into the ground. The green wall weakens and shrinks following the diseased creatures into nothingness. A sigh of relief and appreciation is heaved by all. “You have earned yourself my eternal gratitude Rolf, I shall never again doubt your friendship.”
It is Thorsten who looks to the scarecrowed bodies, nearly disposed by the rats yet he spies other wounds and odd marks of torture and sacrifice. He looks to the center figure, the woman and mother of the library initiates. One wound in particular seems to be festering before his eyes. It is misshapen and opens forming a mouth-like orifice. “Help me. Help me. Where’s my son?” as it wails a pitiful cry. The rest of us hear the manic voice in this grim world of perilous adventure. Out of fear or instinct, the squire fires his blunderbuss at the breach of the flesh ripping open the remnants of the body and falls back from the recoil. Curling into the fetal position he remains for a moment whimpering on the ground. Burk moves over him to protect him against an unseen danger. I gather my pistols and begin to reload. Vladimir channels Aqshy once more ready to banish any incoming evil. Wilhelm repositions his stance ready for any eventuality, yet unfairly I presume he is ready to run away at any hint of peril. Helmgard has already run off into the darkness.
Once the squire regains his senses he babbles that ‘the wound’ was talking, that a gaping cavity in her breast the woman begged for her son. Wilhelm finds the thought disgusting and retches on the spot. I point my loaded brace of pistol towards the field we traverse looking for an enemy. Burk and Vlad can see the wound that looks somewhat like a mouth. All the non-rat wounds have a green iridescent powder all around them, the dilettante’s scholarly training leads him to believe it may be Wærp Dust. This mixed with the Wyrd Root makes it a powerful narcotic leaving one exposed to the influences of chaos.
We will come to discover pestilence has overcome Thorsten, Burk and Wilhelm. Burks has Ghoulpox, pallid skin, gaunt eyes, and he constantly looks weary. Wilhelm has Stenchfoot, his feet have hardened and turn blackish with rot, as he walks or moves his leg aches. Thorston has Yellow Skull Fever, constant fever and diminished mental acuity. This concludes my tale thus far; I shall endeavour to continue the narrative in my next journal entry.
Your faithful servant,
Rolf Zaeschmar