Many nights have passed since your last incursion and you find yourself wondering what the next adventure will reveal. The lack of activity in Absalom has you concerned that it might be a while before you see any new opportunities. With a small glimmer of hope, you recall seeing Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin pacing in the Lodge’s main office. It looked as if he had something concerning on his mind. You find yourself enjoying the comfort of the room with the hope that an assignment may be brewing. Almost on que, the Captain walks through the door.
While calmly brushing a hand over his well-kept beard, the Venture-Captain turns to you with a formidable look in his eye. “I want you to head down to the Master of Spells study and wait for me for there. I have a mission of importance for you to undertake. Unfortunately many of our more experienced members are engaged elsewhere, so I’m going to have to entrust that you have the skill to complete this mission in their absence.”
The Venture-Captain’s thoughts seem elsewhere and his mannerism appears slightly off as he walks out of the room and down the hall.
Quickly you gather your things and head down to the Master of Spells study, where you run into five other Pathfinders.
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Brunhilde was about to boast about her skills and abilities but the Venture Captain walks out of the door before she can even say a word.
The large woman straightens herself and looks around the room an uncomfortable smile on her face. Despite her imposing stature and wicked suite of spiked armor she is actually quite delicate and pretty much like a princess.
My name is Brunhilde! Brunhilde Olafsdottir daughter of King Olaf of Dragendord and a rightful princess in the lands. But you may simply adress me as Brunhilde!
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A tall elf with weathered skin and rugged clothing enters the room, immediately followed by a deadly-looking wolf, her gray fur bristling around her neck. She offers a low growl before the elf pats her on the head before making his way over to a chair. He sets his longbow and longsword against it and sits down, while the wolf curls up at his feet.
"Otieno," he offers in a voice that's not far in tone and volume from the growl of his wolf companion. "Good to meet you."
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Hangust, brimming with his usual energy, runs into the room and nearly collides with one of his fellow Pathfinders, but his small stature allows him to weave between their feet and get out from under foot.
Looking sheepishly at the rest of the group he rubs the back of his head and laughs. "Sorry about that, I always get ahead of myself!"
The halfling adjusts the two small Kukri hanging at his belt and starts bouncing on his heels as he looks around the room, eager to discover what new assignment they're going to receive.
"Oh, I'm Hangust by the way! Nice to meet you all! Does your friend have a name too Otieno?"
As he speaks Hangust walks toward the wolf, probably faster than he should, and stops just close enough for it to smell him.
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The fourth to arrive is a tall, pale, elven woman with amethyst eyes. Her bald head lacks the typical elven grace, instead bulbous and distorted, seemingly more appropriate for a goblin. She wears a simple shirt and pair of pants, made from undyed linen, as well as a pair of eyeglasses.
"Good morning, everyone." she says as she examines the others. "They've been calling me Jane. I don't believe I've met any of you before. Have I?" she looks around hopefully.
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"Doubt it," a tall Osirian man replies as he walks in behind Jane. "Unless that's a new face you're wearing, trying to get away from something."
Coming to a halt before one of the Master's bookshelves, the man idle picks a text from the shelf and starts leafing through it while resting his elbow against his well-lacquered cane.
"Barnaby. Barnaby Rockford. Excuse any smell: just got in from Diobel and haven't had a chance to freshen up yet." He rasps to the rest of the assembled Pathfinders. "Did they give any of you a clue as to what we're needed for? I'm seeing an awful lot of blades for Zey's typical needs."
As everyone makes their way into the study, the Master of spells quickly gathers everyone together in what could only be described as a summoning circle. After sparing a moment in quiet conversation with Captain Valsin, the Master of Spells pulls out a scroll, steps into the circle, and begins a complex ritual.
The grand wizard begins moving his hand in an intricate rhythm, positioning each finger precisely and with intent. An aura of vigilant light begins to form around the circle in a soft glow.
“Omnae Oprae Oulum.” The wizard says in a calm and meaningful way, which causes the glow to increase in intensity.
“Omnae Oprae Oulum!” He says again in a more commanding voice. With each incursion of the phrase, the circle begins to thrum with a powerful cadence.
“OMNAE OPRAE OULUM!” The grand wizard iterates with such forceful intent that it sends shivers down your spine.
As if by command, the cadence begins to increase in both size and speed. Soon the room begins to vibrate, which ends in a blinding flash. Momentarily you find yourself floating in a nexus of soft white light, with the Master of Spells, and the five other Pathfinders you meet as you entered the study.
For what seems like hours you watch as your mind feels like it is drifting in and out of a dreamlike existence. You begin to see memories of days long past. Some of the moments in time you recognize as your own, others you can only vaguely place as belonging to your comrades. Even the youthful memories of the loyal animals, that accompany you, appear as they scamper about in play. Most of the images appear clear and with focus, with the exception of one. Jane Doe’s images are broken and fragmented. Just when you begin to connect with one of her memories, it is yanked away, leaving behind a void of uncertainty.
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Barnaby looks around nervously as the study begins to vibrate and pulse. The sudden flash of light blinds him for a moment, and when vision comes back to his eyes the grizzled man sees ghostly flashes of visions.
Barnaby Rockford turns his head away from the tableau and tries to look around. All about him he notices other visions, of people and places he doesn't recognize. Try as he might though, his gaze is drawn back to a scene he remembers too clearly.
As the light and images finally fade, and the group of Pathfinders emerge standing Barnaby whirls towards the Master of Spells, struggling to keep his volume in check as he asks: "What did you just do?"
With a second flash of light and a stomach-churning shift, the cool, saline air of Absalom collapses into the stifling, wet heat of the Garundi coast. Within moments, sweat begins to ooze from your pores as the fetid stink of the local climate envelopes you like a damp blanket.
The scroll in the wizard’s hand crumbles into dust, its magic spent. The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Spells removes his hat and begins fanning himself. “All right Pathfinders, welcome to the blistering hole that is the Mwangi Expanse. Any of you who bother to keep up with your Chronicles know that the Society has an archaelogical expedition working in the Terwa Uplands, about 80 miles northwest of our position. Of course, I doubt if more than half of you read anything but dirty poetry, so allow me to sum up: the Azlant Ridge site shouldn’t be there. There are no known Azlanti sights in the Mwangi Expanse, but here we are. It may be the best-preserved evidence that the Azlanti at least visited the Mwangi Expanse. A servant of Angazhan called Ruthazek the Silverback King claims the site, too. His troops have laid siege to it and our people are starving, dying from disease, and running low on ammunition and personnel, which is where you come in.”
The Master of Spells points north through the tree line, where a ragtag city of boardwalks and wooden buildings straddles a swampy, red, river delta. “Your first stop is Bloodcove.” He chokes out the word as if it insulted his mother. “The Azlant Ridge site needs supplies, and Bloodcove is the nearest trade port. They need 2 tons of food and clean water, five crates of arrows and crossbow bolts, and clean dressings for wounds. House Cartahegn is your best choice as the Society works with them occasionally. We already arranged payment to a caravan leader named Raimondo Scevola several weeks ago. Make contact with him to carry everything north. Also, look for a man named Senzer somewhere in town. He was an alchemist funneling potions and information to our team in the Uplands, but he went silent
a month ago. You need to find out why and get that stream of potions flowing again.”
“Don’t think this will be a simple trip to the market. Bloodcove is a pit founded by pirates and run by criminals—scum with no sense of achievement or appreciation for arcane advancement. Even worse, it’s a stronghold of the Aspis Consortium, which loves nothing more than perverting and profiting from Pathfinder discoveries like Azlant Ridge. Keep your heads down and do nothing to attract suspicion; perhaps adopt a disguise.”
“Normally I don’t give a damn if you heroic types kick in doors, make asses of yourselves, and die, but more than your lives rests on your shoulders now. If you fail and the Azlant Ridge site receives no backup, it will surely fall.”
Aram hands over a coin pouch. “As I said, we arranged payment for your caravan some time ago. This should cover the cost of supplies. If you dip into your own resources and manage to survive, the Society will attempt to reimburse you.”
“Once you deal with that business, head northwest.” He presents a sealed scroll case and an ornate, golden key on a leather thong. “Guard these with your lives. The key’s exact purpose eludes me, but the symbol it bears is repeated on a doorway at Azlant Ridge. The scroll case contains a map to the dig site. My magics secure the case, though, and it will explode violently if opened within five miles of Bloodcove.”
“Ask your questions now. I return to Absalom the moment I believe you capable of getting to Bloodcove.”
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Otieno closes his eyes and shudders. Luna licks his hand, but he appears not to notice.
As the last of the light drained from the elf's eyes, she slid off the end of Otieno's blade, landing at an awkward angle on the ground that seemed to present each of her wounds at just the right angle to offend viewers from any direction. She was an elder huntress, trained in the ways of the forest - a ranger of full status to the clan. Yet young Otieno had caught her off-guard, unaware. He let a few drops of her blood meld with the soil before sliding his blade back into its scabbard. When they found out - and they would inevitably find out - he'd be put to death. It was the punishment for murder. Otieno mulled the word over in his mind, after all, it's what he was now.
A whimper from behind him snapped him back to awareness. He turned to see the last of the wolf pack curled up on the ground, struggling to lick the spot where the intricately decorated arrow had pierced her flank. All thoughts of guilt or regret drifted out of his mind as he crouched to tend to her wound, evaporating into the night air and drifting off between the silent trees.
Finally sensing her presence, Otieno absentmindedly pats Luna on the back of the neck, his eyes still closed.
Looking firmly at Barnaby, the Master of Scrolls smiles and begins to address the Investigator’s concerns. “Do not fret, Mr. Rockford. It was only a teleportation spell. Unfortunately, teleporting multiple people at once, has a few adherent complications. I know it seemed as if we were entwined in the spell for quite some time, but I can assure you that we were only in the nexus for a brief moment. It was necessary inorder to expedite this mission in time.”
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A little girl sat in a large house, a big hearth burning in the middle many tall men around here with broad shoulders and thick beards and in the background one could hear the laughter of children. A voice called to her, a stern voice, the voice of her father.
Brunhilde...come join us! it was the stern voice of her father who sat on his big chair next to him in a smaller chair her mother was seated, she didn't look happy, and before them stood a fat old man with little hair left on his scalp.
Brunhilde my dear... come here! I want you to meet your future husband!
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A small figure stands at edge of the group. The sight of a rat, holding the bridle of a larger rat is strange to say the least.
"Eh... I'm sorry, Fiona was a bit hesistant to enter the room with the wolf." The smaller rat gestures to the larger rat.
"Sorry I'm late. But it looks we entered just in time. I am Sula, and this is Fiona"
The small rat speaks perfect common, and is wearing armor. Standing on the hindlegs, its hard to to tell if its a male or female.
The larger rat has a saddle and saddlebags equiped with a lance strapped to the sadle. It eyes the wolf suspiciously.
"Go on, we are getting close to the thief!" Sula encourages Fiona.
The wind is cool trough her fur, the chase is on, and if the culprit is caught, a fight will surely follow. Sula is elated. This is what it means to be alive.
The Master of Spells leans back on a nearby tree with his arms crossed across his chest. The look on his face could easily be interpreted as curiosity as he patiently waits to see how the group intends to proceed into Bloodcove.
As the group considers their options, the sun slowly begins to surrender to the evening. Although the temperature has dropped, the humidity still takes a harsh toll, leaving everyone dripping in sweat. The local foliage provides easy concealment do to the large leaved plants that blanket the area. In the distance, you observe many rickety dwellings that are thatched together by a heavy network of large planks. Lanterns slowly begin to light up, as people fare below your location begin to move about Bloodcove.
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"Just a teleportation, eh?" Barnaby grumbles, as he tries to recall what he's heard about the Aspis.
Serpents slither in their den. One of you may already be gone.
The investigator grits his teeth as stray thoughts run through his mind as he searches for insight. Still in a poor mood, he turns back to Zey.
"And if time was so of the essence, couldn't you have just teleported us and supplies right to the ridge? And this Senzer fellow: if he's dropped off the grid, what makes you think he hasn't already given us up?"
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The crack of a whip. Hands clenched. Blood. Shouting. Rage. A young halfling slave stands over a Chelish slave owner who is bleeding from the nose and shouting. The dogs are on their way, you can see them in the distance. The halfling grabs at the chains on his legs and pulls mightily, snapping one of the links and freeing himself to run. The other slaves cheer him on.
Hangust is quiet once the spell ends, having been forced to live memories he'd long ago pushed down. He listens as the Master of Spells explains what he had done and then takes time to adjust to his new surroundings.
"I'm ready when everyone else is." He grumbles quietly, too put off by the spell to consider asking any questions.
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Sula takes the lull in the conversation as an oppurtunity to climb on Fiona's back.
Comfortable in the saddle, she strokes the riding rat's fur untill Fiona has calmed down.
Mulling over the Master of spells his words. "So. Who is this silverback King? Sounds like he's got us in a tight spot. Not a minor player then.
After trying to recall anything you may have heard about Bloodcove and its local inhabitants, you come up blank. There are stories about the city being the bloodthirstiest pirate refuge of all time, but those stories are likely embellishments right? Besides, everyone knows Riddleport is the preferred pirate haven.
As the group slowly becomes readjusted to the new environment, you watch as trade moves in and out of the city's harbor. On occasion you also observe well armed merchant caravans moving into the city from a couple different land-base entrances. These merchants appear to be caring large amount of commerce.
The master of Spells fans himself as the heat drags on. "Well my inquisitive little friend. That would be a relevant question. is some sort of hyper-intelligent gorilla and worshiper of Angazhan. He rules the inland city of Usaro and claims the Mwangi Expanse and all its contents. He’s uncivilized and violent, from what we hear, unwilling to negotiate with us. He rules over a race of sentient ape-men, but they keep a healthy distance from Bloodcove.”
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Sula's ears twitch a bit. "All of the Mwangi Expanse? Gorilla's might be big but that is quite a tall boast. And why does he keep away from bloodcove, but want an ruin? You would think that a King would want subjects. Strange."
Shrugging it off, Sula continues. "To the practicallities of our mission then. The site is 80 miles from here, and we need two tons of water and food. There is more, but those are among the heaviest things. We are of course very gratefull for the coin. But are there arrangements to get the items to the site? Pack animals do not take kindly to a long trip trough a dense jungle, and the distance we need to travel around might simply make the trip too long and therefore too late."
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Well I'd hope this Raimondo fellow will be prepared for the worst, if the arrangements have in fact been made Barnaby says, looking pointedly at Aram Zey as he says that last point. But another pertinent question is: do any of you have any history of ordering goods or knowing the niceties of merchant-work? I'm not exactly a stranger to slinging some bull myself, but eventually we might need some hard facts and know-how to back it up.
“Well now, let me summarize the summarization for Sula. We have made arrangements for transport with a caravan leader named Raimondo. He should have the necessary animals and gear to transport what we need. As fare as were to acquire the goods, I will leave that to you. I recommend trying House Cartahegn, they have been very cooperative with the society in the past. Although we have had a couple opportunities to do business with very specific merchants in Bloodcove, make no mistake, Society members are highly frowned upon.” You have the feeling that the term frowned upon is a moderate understatement.
Sula’s rat sense begins to make him feel very uneasy. The hair down his spine begins to rise as he notices the wolf staring at him with a little more than simple interest.
The master of spells notices the uncomfortable union and smiles. “Lastly, there is an alchemist named Senzer that the society has a high investment in. He hasn’t been heard from in quite some time. We would like you to investigate this and reestablish communications with this individual.”
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Jane's past manifests as fleeting images and sensations, scarcely long enough to identify.
Absolute darkness, with the sensation of lying on a cold, hard surface...laughter, simultaneously childish and maniacal...flashes of red lightning across a clear night sky...a ramshackle building with flames pouring from every door and window...tall, dark spires rising above what appears to be the city of Absalom...Kreighton Shaine, measuring her unusually shaped head with a pair of calipers and muttering to himself with excitement...
As the others question Zey, Jane quietly removes her wayfinder, and begins unpacking her bag. She quickly rearranges things so both it and the two volumes of the Pathfinder Chronicles she carries are at the bottom, as far from prying eyes as possible.
"Well then...perhaps we should start with this Raimondo first? Securing the goods does not help us very much if we can't get them out of the city.
Do these contacts know they work with the Society, or have we been dealing with them under a false identity?"
The Master of Spells nods to Jan doe. " All three of the contacts are aware of who we are. As for anyone else, I would refrain from letting that cat out of the bag. As fare as contact with the alchemist goes. The last we heard from him, he had a shop on the western edge of Bloodcove. Someone in Bloodcove might be able to give more specific instructions on the shop's location."
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By now the humid heat has Sula fanning herself. She easily guides Fiona a few steps father away from the wolf, before slipping out of the saddle again.
She puts down her backpack, and starts first stripping gear, and then her clothes. Underneath, she is entirely covered in light grey fur. Only her hands, feet, ears and tip of the nose are fur-less. Altough there is a short fuzz on the back of her hands and feet.
She starts putting her clothes into her backpack, giving a slight apologizing shrug to her party members. "Sorry if this is weird for you. My kind does not sweat. Then again, we dont have the whole 'naked' problem a lot of others have."
Putting her armor and gear back on, she gets back into the saddle. "Well, this is as much disguised I'm going to get I'm afraid."
"And if time was so of the essence, couldn't you have just teleported us and supplies right to the ridge? And this Senzer fellow: if he's dropped off the grid, what makes you think he hasn't already given us up?"
After considering Barnaby's question, the master of Spells turns to the investigator and posses a brief explanation.
The Pathfinder in charge of the dig site erected some sort of dimensional anchor, probably using one of the artifacts they uncovered. As a side effect, the magic blocks any attempts at magical communication. With consideration of the alchemist's loyalty. Anything is possible, especially considering the fact he is raising a 12 year old child in a nest of snakes. I would be cautious, but at this point he is still considered and asset. ”
The wizard watches, with amusement, as the group begins the dirt rubbing process. "So if you are propositioned about who you are, what are you going to say?"
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Brunhilde, a girl from the high north, had been suffering from the heat as well as the shocking childhood memories which went along with the teleportation.
She wipes sweat from her brow as she takes off her furs exposing plenty of naked skin and some linens underneath her breastplate.
I fear I have never been this far south. Nor do I have experience in business matters... I do know my way around the wilds however. So where shall we begin?
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Brunhilde ponders what she knows about the area...
Bloodcove sits on the headwaters of the Vanji River. Much of the wealth from the jungle interior flows through it, making the city surprisingly wealthy. I rembmber one of my uncles who would sail far with his longboats once made a run to the shakles as he had some very hot cargo and he actually sailed all the way to Bloodcove...
The heat of the Mwangi Expanse continues to linger as a number of Bloodcove citizens make their way through the streets, while lighting old rusty looking lanterns, in preparations of nightfall. Although the sun has yet to fully set, many of the local merchants have already begun to prepare their shops for closing. The salty smell of the ocean, heavily mingles with the days catch, as five young deckhands quickly make their way to a local market with a cart full of fresh fish. More than a couple scantily clad youths run through the streets, unsupervised, participating in some sort of game.
At least (4) moderate size merchant caravans’ crowd the streets, competing for room, as you and your group make your way into BLOODCOVE! Cautiously you navigate through the twisted streets to the first intersection. On your way you pass by a bait and tackle store, a general goods shop, a bakery, a tobacco shop, (3) empty ware houses, and a rundown tavern called the Rusty Bucket. With the heavy distraction of the (4) caravans entering the city, many of the locals seem too preoccupied or busy with organizing the influx of incoming merchandise to notice your group pass by. What attention you do receive seems to be directed at the two unusual looking Rats, and the lady with the elongated cranium.
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"If anyone wants, I can store some sensetive items in Fiona's saddlebags. No one will check those without my permision. Not if they value their fingers."
"Well, that sure isn't the worst idea Sula. No offense, but I can't imagine too many people falling over themselves to fish around in her fur."
As the group makes its way towards the city, a knot begin to grow in Barnaby's stomach. Into the maw. The jungle sees all.. Pulling his cloak up a bit, he tries to sidle into the city as inconspicuously as possible.
[ooc]EDIT: plus inspiration!
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Sula pats Fiona lightly on the back. "Yes mr. Barnaby. A lot of people have an aversion to rats. Even tough we Ratfolk are very clean. And those who can overcome their aversion to try and feed their greed will be met with aome sharp teeth. We should introduce you all to her if we have the time. Fiona knows many usefull tricks and it could help us if she trusts you.
Knowing that she is an oddity that will attract attention no matter what, Sula tries not so much to remain unseen, as to look as she belongs.
Those unfamilliar with her kind will stare anyway, those that do know will assume she is part of the caravan. Ratfolk being renowned for their trade.
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Hangust follows the rest of his group as they head in. He keeps his eyes low and makes sure he doesn't do anything to make himself stand out.
"Everyone has their prejudices, but personally it's nice to have another of the smaller races around! I tend to get overlooked when it's all tall folk."
As they walk through the streets Hangust tries to make casual conversation with the locals to discover the whereabouts of the alchemist they're looking for.
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Jane blends in about as well as you might expect a bald elf with a cranial deformity and only a few months of memory to do so. That is to say, poorly.
Still figuring out how to navigate Absalom, she's out of her element in a new city. She tags along with the others, occasionally starting to ask a question, then stopping halfway through, afraid to say something incriminating.
"Do you know where someone could find-?"
Look mama! It’s a mousy!” A young girl sounds out with excitement as she quickly runs up to Sula and tries to pet her mount. Upon the announcement from the young child, three other children quickly bolt from behind a nearby building to join in the fun. The oldest boy quickly begins to circle Sula to get a better look at the two. “Check it out Mike! The stooped rat has a saddle!” the oldest boy shouts as he begins pointing at the unusual duo. Although the caravan continues to distract the majority of the adults, the children begin to draw attention to your group.
After approaching a couple of the local merchants, you find that Senzer’s shop is not that hard locate. A Middle aged man who runs the nearby tobacco shop, named Minard Longwell, gives you instructions on how to reach the alchemy shop. “I have been doing business with Senzer for some time now, and I have to say he has been lacking in customer service as of lately. I wouldn’t be surprised, if he goes out of business soon.”
After navigating through the rat’s nest of streets that make up Bloodcove, you manage to locate the small alchemy shop that borders the western edge of the city. The building is in disrepair with many of its windows boarded up. Even in its current state, the shop looks open for business. Without delay you approach the establishment.
A small bell rings as the door opens into Rulkep Tonics. Colorful bottles and bags of powder decorate the shelves, while curious, twisted roots and larger bottles lie securely beneath a glass countertop. Several disinterested customers, (Customer 1 Green), (Customer 2 purple), (Customer 3 Yellow), mill about, eyeing newcomers suspiciously before pointedly examining the shelves once again. A gaunt, half-elven man steps out from a doorway behind the countertop, his dusky skin gleaming slightly from perspiration. He smiles crookedly from behind the counter. “Welcome to Rulkep Tonics, friends. What can I do for you today?”
The shopkeeper eyes the other customers uneasily for a moment before his expression shifts distinctly to fear. Silently but clearly, he mouths a single word: “Help.”
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Sula takes the time to answer the questions of the kids and holding Fiona still if they want to pet her.
Eventually she relents and gives the little girl a short ride on the back of the big "mousy", keeping in plain sight as not to worry any parents.
Outside the shop, Sula dismounts. Giving Fiona a quick pat on the back. "Fiona, Guard this door." Letting Fiona sniff the door, the riding rat settles down next to the doorway.
Entering the shop, the 'customers' appear suspicious to her. Having seen a lot of potential protection rackets in her time in her parents caravan.
Seeing the man ask silently for help, Sula walks up to the counter, peering over it with some slight trouble.
"Hello good sir. My mount is not feeling welll. She's got some leasions next to her mouth, and I dont know what's wrong. Could you come check? Please? I'm worried about her."
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Hangust enters the shop a little after his companions and mulls about the shelves, trying to seem as though he's looking for something while Sula heads over to the counter and talks to the apparently frightened shop keep.
He looks the other customers up and down, trying to get a sense of what they're doing here that the shopkeep would request help, and he waits patiently to see if Sula is able to lead him outside.
The slender Half-Elven shop keeper makes a point to choose his words carefully. Wow, what a large amount of business! I would be happy to assist you my little friend! After his last statement, the alchemist pulls out a red beaker from under the shelf, and begins explaining how it works. "Well good sir, this ointment is the best in the business. It has three different kinds of healing properties that will help with your problem. If you are interested it costs 28 gold."
Stop peeking! LoL!
One of the customers , who is wearing a wide brim hat, looks over the group and begins to talk. “Well it looks like the gig is up. We intended to resolve our business disagreement peacefully Senzer, but it looks like we underestimated your resources. I would say it’s a respectable amount of hired muscle. You have outdone yourself alchemist.”
Customer Purple-22 (Attacked Brunhilde)
Jane Doe-21
Customer Green-20
Wold-19
Barnaby-18
Otieno-11
Hangust-11
Riding Rat-10
Customer Yellow-8
Sula-8
Brunhilde-5 (5-NL)
With the announcement proclaimed by the man in the hat, the customer wearing a headband pulls out a sap and takes a swing at Brunhilde. You can tell by the man’s look that killing the princess is not what he has in mind.