Of Battle, Wolves and Winter.

Game Master GM Drachenfels

Lutke listens to the madman's diatribe with disdain. A load of skeever dung without a doubt.

"All the way to Altdorf naked? Mmm...best be on your way then. If Sigmar be reborn, make sure you mention To him that his armies are getting picked to pieces up here in the north. If this child Sigmar is here to save us, he'd better grow up soon and get to it."

Lutke estimated the fools would all be dead in two days maximum. If the cold didn't do it, the Kurgen and their hag surely would. He turned his gaze to Albrecht.

"We should be pressing on, Magister. We don't know how much time we have to reach the Temple."

Incidentally, how many other Gray Wolves are with us? 0? 3? 50? A couple of posts seem to suggest we have additional people.

Regarding the Gray Wolves, I had imagined that the main PC's (and Gretta) are the last surviving refugees from the camp. It seemed a fitting way to bring you all together. Still, if anyone is up to the challenge of fleshing out another alias, there could be another Gray Wolf or two tagging along in wounded silence, awaiting their moment of glory or demise...probably demise.

The fanatical band of ragged cultists do not linger long once they realize that you will not be easily swayed to their ridiculous pilgrimage. Without so much as a second look, the six men bow their heads and press down the mountain path, their eyes locked forward towards their glorious destiny in Altdorf.

Truth be told, the fate of these six men will never lead them to their destination. Instead, two will die from exposure and be dragged for miles through the snow. The remaining four fanatics will suffer horribly as they begin to perish of exposure and starvation. Grim salvation will come at the end however when the largest of the doomed men will choke the last remaining survivors to death with their own chains and then proceed to feast upon each in turn, picking his iron locks with the finger bones of his dead comrades, scampering off naked into the Drakwald where he'll soon discover new Gods more willing to hear his prayers...

The Old World is a dark place indeed.

Pressing on...

You've never known such bone shattering cold in your short miserable lives. As the setting sun plunges from the heavens like a dying torch, the true face of Ulric is unleashed. The wind picks up, slashing the snow like a white razor upon the face of the Middle Mountains.

However, it seems Ranald has not totally forsaken you. It is Gretta who spots it first. A small cave near a copse of frigid trees at the base of a rising fist of shattered stones.

"There!" she wails into the rising wind, "That looks like someplace we could find shelter."

You quickly setup camp, thankful to the Gods above and below for some respite from the howling winds and biting cold. Magister Albrecht prepares a roaring fire with ease, the wet kindling no match for the infernal heat he seems to be able to produce so easily.

Gretta, becoming ever more useful, begins to prepare the evening meal from a brace of coneys Lutke had snared earlier that day with one of his inventive traps.

Krak and Booom watchfully pass around more of their hidden stash of Dwarvish ale, slinging crude jokes and salty refrains to any within earshot.

Last but not least, Caspar serenades your fellowship with the only song he seems to know; the Hymn of the Gray Wolves:

"Gather round soldiers ye young and ye old,
For Ulric will bless ye brave and ye bold!
Let not the Kurgen, nor Beastmen alike,
Falter the Grey Wolves cold steely BITE!"

Feel free to roleplay and add description. Also, let me know how you setup your watch for the night and any additional plans to secure your safety in these dangerous mountains.

As you busy yourself with the final preparations for the night, you notice Gretta slide her way next to Caspar, sitting at his side while whispering into his ear. You can't make out what is said...

Caspar's response:

Caspar finishes his song for what might be the hundredth time (it's been a long march to this point for everyone). "You know my brothers, I think it's time we change our name from the Grey Wolves. Certainly many fought and died to that name, but we have a new commander and new orders. Perhaps with all these new things we should have a new name and banner to rally under? And I know with my prowess I can surely change somethings around to make my song fit with any new name we come up with!" The 4 Grey Wolves' combined sighs makes the winds outside of the cave sound calm. "hmmmm, I thought we determined this cave had no other exits? Sounded like wind coming from that end," Caspar responded pointing towards his comrades but also toward the end of the cave.

The warmth of the fire and the rabbit stew have done wonders for morale. You almost relax your guard when...where's Caspar and Gretta anyhow?!

You look about in sudden alarm, and then you hear the scream! Gretta!

Bounding to your feet, you grasp what weapons are on hand and bound to the back of the cave. The scene before you is a shocking one...

Caspar stands, sword in hand, yet completely naked! Gretta is wrapped in only a mottled gray cloak...

And then a massive THING lumbers from the shadows, twice the height of a man and covered in rippling muscles and sinew! The creature has a crude sleepy face (did someone somehow wake this thing up?) and long flat features, a pair of dim eyes gleam blackly from a stone gray skull.

A TROLL!

"Sigmar's ass!" Someone yells, you're not sure who. "Did no one check the back of the cave before we made camp?!"

The house sized creature howls and then swings a brutal club, a weapon forged from the trunk of a long dead oak.

KABLAAAAM! The trunk slams hard against the wall of the cave. Jagged rocks dislodge from the ceiling and skitter across the stone floor.

I think it might be interesting to resolve this combat as we would with normal 2E rules. However, since we can't wait all day/night for people to update in the proper initiative order, the sequence of attacks will be based on who updates and who doesn't. We'll use common sense.

Trolls are large, strong, and staggeringly dim. They come in a variety of clours, though this one appears to be the cobalt gray of the stone around you. Judging from their appearance and behavior, they may or may not be big cousins to the Greenskins.

This Troll, if it had a name, would think of itself of 'Uck! But that's more for the odd worbbling sound that the beast makes when it devours it's meals raw and alive...

Stepping away to get some sleep. I'll check updates later today when I wake up and we'll get this combat (or retreat) going full speed.

1d100 ⇒ 10 vs 48 WP
I'll make any necessary rolls you (Drachenfels) think is required to do this....

Caspar sword in hand realizes there's only one thing he can do. He grabs his sword, grabs his boots, grabs his shirt all as fast he can possibly do it in. His cloak, he realizes, Gretta has his cloaked wrapped around her body. "I'm going to need that, standard issue and all. It's also very cold where I'm headed! And if you know what's good for you, you'll do the same." Before Gretta can react Caspar wrenches the cloak from her grip and bundles his gear inside it. "If you think I'll stand between a cave troll and his Red Wizard dinner, you're sorely mistaken. You'd do the same if you had any wits about you,"Caspar said to the astonished camp follower. In all fairness, Caspar didn't know what trolls ate. He just hoped it wasn't him.

From there, he made his way to his fellow Gray Wolves, all equally as astonished at his nakedness. "A troll my brothers! Stay back Captain Albrecht, he might eat you first!"

I dont remember any description where we were the last survivors.
I say we had 10 or 20 that were with us, but we pussed out and had to find shelter (probably at the whining of a certain camp trollop.) and the rest pressed on to the temple of Shallaya (or whatever)

Instantly dropping their mugs and food Krak and Boom recognize the circumstance as a VERY dire one. They have both seen Trolls solo and amoung Orks back in and around their homelands, but never had the chance to fight one. They do know how descructive they are though and as one, quickly scramble on the wagon for their weapon of choice...THE BAZOOKA!!

Lutke found himself staring out of the cave at the falling snow. It was easier to pretend he couldn't hear Caspar and that pretty girl back further down the cave doing that which men and women were wont to do in cold weather. For all the conspiracy the two had whispered and subtlety of how they snck off, once they had gotten to it, the girl couldn't seem to stop herself from making sure the Kurgen in Wolfenburg knew what was going on back there. He tried to count the flakes and predict their path from the sky. It was one of the few times he couldn't...strangely it didn't bother him as other unmeasurable things would.

He also found that watching the snow helped to forget about what had happened before...the two boxes and what he had done to Caspar. None of that should have been possible! He had tinkered with Caspar's body like he had been simply resetting a Baldurian-style doubleback lock...and it had worked! Almost worked. There was a nagging sense that he had either left something behind or taken something away. And Lutke knew he could do it again if he had to. But he wouldn't. No, that was something which was unnatural and he would have no part in it.

Even to save a friend's life? a small part of his mind tried to say. Lutke shut it out and concentrated on determining how much weight that tree branch could hold before it either cracked or the snow fell off the side. The sound of Boom grousing and the fire crackling was comforting and the only sound in the silence of the snow. When he heard Gretta screaming, Lutke suddenly realized her cries of passion had ended some moments before. This was different.

Leaping up, Lutke looked to the back of the cave and saw the situation as was described. In shock, he was almost bowled over as two squat forms rushed past him and flipped up the tarp on the wagon just outside. He saw the naked form of Caspar tear a gray cloak out of the grasp of the young camp follower and bolt towards him. He just left the girl?! Lutke thought in shock. Even after they...?

Before he knew what he was doing, Lutke snatched up a burning brand from the fire, tossed at the angry troll as a distraction, and tried to scoop Gretta up where she lay shrieking on the cold cave floor.

Strength 29 v. 1d100 ⇒ 67

Unable to completely pick her up, Lutke started to pull her to her feet and hoped they had enough time to escape before the troll attacked...or worse! the dwarves started firing those explosive rounds from that metal tube.

flipping back the tarp, Krak, knows one thing on this cart....where the fragging Bazooka is...wrapped in its own white fur. 1d100 ⇒ 75. Agil. Failure...
Unfortunately for Boom, Krak stops as a thought hits hijm like a sledge...DONKEY!!!
Having raised the Dwarven Mule since birth and tended to it ever since, Krak often talks to him confiding in "Donkey" his likes and dislikes when he cant speak to Boom.
In fact Boom chided him ONCE....but when seeing the angry flare in Krak's eyes and the pick axe in his hand, Boom had decided against any further teasing when it came to the Dwarven Mule.
HEEEEEHAAWWWWW the mule desperately struggles against the teathers near the fire as it looks frantically back at Krak.
Leaping off the wagon, Krak races back into the cave with a Pick Ax in both hands DOOOOONNNNKKKKEEEEYYYYY

"KRAK!!!!" VHAT THE SEWEN ORC HELLS?!!!...."
"THE BAZOOKA, GET ZE BAZOOKA!!" He yells to himself
1d100 ⇒ 56 fail.
Boom scrambles desperately for the Bazooka and ammo

1d100 ⇒ 67

"Everyone get ba--- OUTSIDE!!! QUICK! ITS A DEATH TRAP IN HERE!!!"

Albrecht runs towards the mouth of the cave in a stupefied state over the sudden arrival of the troll. Certainly he can regain his fiery courage next turn?

Hearing the panicked de-rally call from the magister, Lutke feels fear begin to grip him. He hears Gretta muttering, "OhUlricohUlricohUlric..." over and over. No, wait...that was not Gretta's voice...Lutke focuses on the sound...it's coming from him!

Please, Gretta. Get up! Lutke awkwardly tries to begin dragging Gretta towards the mouth of the cave and "safety".

I know this post is sort of out of turn, since I am sure the troll gets a chance to make a move. Just trying to flavor it up a bit!

Amazing updates! 'Uck the Cave Troll will be responding to your actions soon!

ALBRECHT: Try to muster your courage, calling upon the fires within you to bolster your morale! [ooc] Another Will Power check please.

KRAK: You may attack as you close ground on the Cave Troll, pick ax in hand! As of yet, the huge thing hasn't noticed you, it's eyes locked in a death stare on Lutke.

BOOOM: Perhaps a search check is in order to see if you can find what you're looking for under duress? Since it is your wagon, I will give you +20%.

CASPAR: Behind you Gretta screams your name, a lingering question mark hangs at the end of her terrified shriek...

Make an Agility check as you stumble half naked through the cave.

1d100 ⇒ 35 WP success!!
1d100 ⇒ 81 AGil: failure

Krak rushes to Donkey and attempts to quickly untie the tethers. Nothing doing, it's going to take more time (or more agility) than Krak has at the moment.

"BOOM, gunnah buy yah sum time boy yo!!! Set er up on der planks un dunna yah ferget ter load der damned ding!!!"

"Donna ya worry Donkey, gonna by yer sum time pallio" Krak whispers to his friend/pet...

1d100 ⇒ 43 Animal Care (INT)38 perhaps I can get a bonus to calm Donkey down?

"ARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHH" Krak turns and runs at the troll with his Pick Axe!!!

1d100 ⇒ 100 : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lemme know if that's too many dice rolls for my turn. Figured since they were mostly small actions, I can get away with it.

1d100 ⇒ 100 : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ROFL, I actually spit out my water and starting busting up laughing when I saw this! Ah yes, glorious Warhammer.

This may not kill you...

1d100 ⇒ 78 AGIL: failure
I'm rolling agility to buy time for everyone and also to attempt to bring alive the desperate fumbling for the weapon in a packed wagon while facing immense danger. Perhaps every turn I can receive a bonus?
1d100 ⇒ 60 WP: failure

"BY GRIMLEY'S HANGING BALLS, VHERE IZ ZE AMMO!!!!"

.......................Dagon rolled 100........................................I'm doomed........................

Willpower 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 3

Whoa!

Suddenly, Lutke realizes the troll is almost as confused as it is hungry. Sensing his impending doom, points to the party's dinner pot and stammers,

"Th-th-there's y-yummmmmy rabbi-it in the pot. Yu-you can ha-ave the r-r-r-est."

All the while, Lutke slowly backs up, intending to make a fast break if the troll doesn't go for the conies. His heels drag on something. He realizes it's Gretta's dress and absently picks it up never taking his eyes off of the troll.

Feelings? Lol! Hey, I'd like to think I would have the courage to save a shrieking woman from death, feelings or no.

BOOM: WHO PACKED THIS WRETCHED WAGON ANYHOW?! SLAAAAAAM! KRAK flys past you, rebounding once off the edge of the cart before he catapults skywards and then out the front entrance of the cavern: Strength check to hold onto the wagon as Krak hits it HARD!

LUTKE: You stammer, pointing frantically at the cooking pot, trying desperately to deflect the Troll's hunger. The huge brute gives you a confused look, smacking it's lips as it stares from you to the cooking pot, then back again.

Make a Fellowship check (with a -20% unless you have a skill you think might help, like Blather).

1d100 ⇒ 88 Str: miss. gotta love these electronic dice!

Krak knocks Boom off of the wagon

A strange shadow passes over Gretta's face as her eyes begin to flicker backwards in her head...

"Epu-ush salam kashshapi-ia u kashshapi-ia!" She moans, "Ina qibit iqbu-u ilani mushitum!"

"UPU UNTI PI-IA IPRUSU!" she howls in primal rage, hands extended!
A strange wind begins to blow...

Gretta is chanting in a strange language! Anyone capable of speaking more than one language may make a check against Intelligence. Grant yourself an appropriate + or - as would seem fitting your knowledge base. I await results.

BOOOM: Tumbling backwards you land badly, the contents of the wagon pile on top of you as it tilts dangerously!

Toughness check +20% or lose 1 health as you hit the cave floor like a brick, heavy objects raining down upon you!

Lutke's stammering trails off as a hairy squat charges the troll with an aggressive battlecry. With a mighty roar, the troll puts an end to that. The sight off Krak being swatted like a fly is almost soul crushing.

Fellowship 33 v. 1d100 ⇒ 54

Lutke realizes no discernible words are coming out, and the troll begins to focus its beady eyes in him. Lutke gulps and attempts the only other thing he can think to try. He turns head suddenly to the dark back of the cave and exclaims,

"By Ulric's beard! What is that back there?!"

Without even waiting to be sure his ruse worked, Lutke turns and runs. He sees Gretta having some sort of fit and without thinking about it, grabs her arm in passing and tries to pull her along to safety.

1d100 ⇒ 45vs39 agi eh not so much. I wouldn't call it cowardess per se. A strong sense of self preservation is what Caspar has. Caspar couldn't fight a Kurgen nevermind the troll. Plus, he's succeeded every roll to look passed her attempts to Charm him. I feel I'm just playing the dice rolls. She didn't run, I don't know why but I'm not going to force her to move. Turns out she's some kind of Mage, good for her, but Caspar's not.

LUTKE: Trying to grab Gretta has become as easy as walking uphill in a gale storm. Some unspeakable invisible force is howling around her now, and the strange wind you had sensed before has become nothing short of a torrential howl!

"Ssalmani-ia ana GISHBAR tapqida duppira!" she incants, and then all at once slamming her hands together there is a crack of thunder and an ominous screaming laughter that withers the very courage from your bones!

The Cave Troll howls in what must be terror, it's wild eyes staring this way and that.

Something strange is afoot! I'll be making a Will Power check for the Cave Troll: 1d100 ⇒ 39 vs WP 27 <-- Failure!

With a terrible howl of primal fear, the massive Cave Troll turns in a panic, charging into the low burning fire Albrecht had set earlier, crashing through the packed Dwarvish cart (sending debris flying everywhere) and into the cold foothills beyond.

Then, silence...

Gretta's eyes swim back into her face and she swoons, confused.

"What, what happened?"

A moment later she faints...

1d100 ⇒ 10

Steeling his resolve, Albrecht turns to face the cave troll. Surely his power is stronger than anything this beast could possibly be? He turns and sees the dwarf's valiant assault on the troll. Bolstering his inner fire he let's forth an arcane call!

"FIRES OF UZHUU--- Oh, What... hmmmmm."

Albrecht is contemplating what he just felt in the For----- Aethyr.

"Caspar, grab hold of your woman, she seems to have fainted."

GM'S Eyes Only

Lutke reaches for Gretta's arm and it is flung violently away by a wall of air. Surprised, Lutke turns and not understanding what happened, reaches for her again.

Agility 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 83

Flung off his feet by the howling gust, Lutke falls backwards with a small yelp.

Moments later the howling witch wind withers and dies, a final ominous cackle echoes in the cold stone halls of the cave.

Gretta's naked form is slumped at your feet like a forgotten rag doll. Her eyes flicker quickly behind her closed eyelids.

The Troll, like a passing terror in the night, is gone. You hear the trees outside shatter and break as the beast continues to run from the unseen horror Gretta had seemingly conjured.

Albrecht is next to you then, his gaze firm as he sizes up this woman who is apparently much more than she seems.

And then you remember, KRAK?! The last you had seen of him...

You stare out the cave entrance into the darkness of night and the falling snow. A small figure lies slumped in the high drifts unmoving.

Btw, +30 xp to the party for the scene with the Cave Troll.

Ready for the next set of updates which might include healing KRAK, questioning/confronting/comforting Gretta and making preparations for the dangerous trek to the Temple of the White Dove.

Run, as fast as you can, wench! Caspar thinks to himself looking back at Gretta as she speaks in what must OBVIOUSLY be elvish. Afterall, Caspar doesn't speak elvish, nor had he met an elf. Gretta had said something about not being truely honest about something. Obviously, that must be it! Caspar continued thinking till he realized he was falling through the air. Caspar hit the ground, a shadow appeared above him. As the troll approached Caspar, Caspar went into his famous "Full Prone Defensive Maneuver."

Caspar lay naked in the fetal position well after he realized the troll was gone. His cowardice, like his manhood, was there for the whole group to see.

"Caspar, grab hold of your woman, she seems to have fainted." Captain Albrecht said to him.

Caspar instantly jumped to his feet. Forgetting his cloak and it's contents he ran to her aid.

"Get her some water, a pillow would be nice too! She's the last of the Elves! Right after we were finished *ahem* and before the troll, she said there was something different about her. I'm sure that was it!" He proclaimed, he'd found an Elf! All the things he could learn from an Elf raced through his mind. It was the elves who'd given the Lute to man in the beginning and...and the room began to spin. Caspar saw the walls of the cave collapse as he passed out in excitement.

Albrecht, attempting to be stern despite his recent flight:

"Caspar! Someone get him up! Boom! Where's Krak?! He charged the troll right before- she did whatever it was she did. I have a feeling we can rest easy in here for the night. I doubt that troll will be back to bother us. Still, I'll take first watch. Lutke the second along with Caspar. Then the dwarves last shift before daybreak. Boom, WHERE IS KRAK!? Someone get out there and get him!"

1d100 ⇒ 75 T failure. Take a wound.
Boom attempts to gather up Boom and the supplies and the wagon etc etc.

1d100 ⇒ 76taken 1 insanity for the very bad dream

"Well then, I think we should all get back to what we were doing....I'll continue checking the back of the cave....." Caspar said rising to his feet. The fact that he was naked didn't bother him as much as one would think, no being cold and naked was far worse. His clothes were scattered about the cave. As he put them on he couldn't help but feel like the whole cave was laughing at him.

reassessment!!! No need to go to the White Dove since we apparently do not have the band of Gray Wolves with us. UNLESS we have to go because of KRAK and Caspar...
Are we really going to say the Gray wolves are done for once and for all or just a detachment? What would be our motivation if they are?

I think the idea at present is survival. The idea was to go to the Temple of the White Dove in order to find a place to rest and regroup and decide what to do next. Being stranded as a broken unit in the middle of a war, you'll need to find cohesion and purpose in a world of madness and chaos...

And considering that neither I or the group have done anything to describe any other survivors, I think it's safe to assume you are the last remaining members of the Gray Wolves. Aside from survival, I'll leave motivations up to each of you and we'll see where things go. Play it out on the boards perhaps?

KRAK is wounded, but not terribly. It seems Dwarves are made of sturdy stuff indeed. A hit like that would have killed a normal man.

Panting and sweating despite the cold climate, you gather round the last embers of the flame. Albrecht works his ways with the fire and soon it roars back to life.

A lingering question hangs in the air. If indeed you are the last of the Gray Wolves, where does your allegiance lie? Do you press onwards to the Temple of the White Dove to find rest and solace, or make haste to Wolfenburg to assist the standing armies there? Or, the final question, do you abandon your sworn oaths (pressed or not) to defend the Empire and scatter to the four winds?

As the howling winds blast and circle outside, the ancient spirits of the Old World listen, pondering your destiny...

rolling perception to see if Caspar finds anything else in the cave
1d100 ⇒ 54 vs 31 int

Caspar returns from the rear or the cave, too dark for him to find anything of value. "So.....I thought we headed to the Temple of the Whit Dove?" He acts as though he's still hurt but it's clearly not the case anymore.

"Now men, I know you wish to go to the temple. That's understandable, well, and good. Truly, if we were in any other circumstances, ah but what circumstances would have us motley crew together, I too would seek the solace of the White Dove. But that is not the case. Our duty remains in Wolfenburg. I said it once, and I'll say it again. We must go and assist. Our small band can move faster than the Kurgen's horde, we need to warn Wolfenburg, and put our might in their hands. What say you?"

"To Vulfenburg den"

And so our beleaguered band of 'heroes' turned their gaze from the Temple of the White Dove to the capital of Ostland, Wolfenburg.

That following morning you set out once again, as well rested as is possible in the harsh terrain, pressing back down the mountain passes into the cold snow covered fields below, stretched out before you like a frozen white cloak.

As you march your way along the many paths that crisscross the open plains and forested shoulders of Ostland, you can see the tainted signs of the Kurgen everywhere. It does not take a tactical master to notice that they're forced march appears to be taking them to Wolfenburg as well.

"That can't be good," Gretta whimpers. "Still, I'm glad to be out of those wretched mountains."

As the eye of the raven flutters over and past you, it crosses the many miles to the besieged city of Wolfenburg. Plumes of flame and smoke rise there, hung in the air like demons of wind in the cold morning light. Valiant charges are met with savage ripostes, thunderous cannonade fire from Imperial artillery is countered with the blackest of sorcery.

In these times of war, nowhere is safe.

As you march, let's tend to a few roles:

Every passed check above will give each of you one additional fortune point for the coming encounters in Wolfenburg. I still haven't quite figured out how we'll use fortune points here, but I'm sure we'll come up with something useful!

Albrecht Baer is in truth a youth, but he exudes power. The arcane nature of his being make his very word seem stronger than steel. Albrecht is not entirely unfriendly, indeed if any of the Gray Wolves, Sigmar save them, had known him outside of the war or even before his apprenticeship they would have found him pleasant enough. But war ravages the mind as well as the body.

Willpower 1d100 ⇒ 20 Success!

Being the Magister assigned to the Gray Wolves, Albrecht has found himself in the presence of real leadership and it has apparently worn off on him. He leads the warband on the trail, and infuses their beings with warmth, staving off the cold is a trifling feat for one with such power.

"I ask of you all no more than I would ask of myself, we continue this march, not for ourselves, but for Wolfenburg and all of the Empire! Should we fall, the Empire loses more brave souls from its cause!"

"I ask of you all no more than I would ask of myself, we continue this march, not for ourselves, but for Wolfenburg and all of the Empire! Should we fall, the Empire loses more brave souls from its cause!"

You feel your spirits lift and rally as Magister Albrecht, Captain of the last of the Gray Wolves leads you onward to your destiny!

Nice update, Albrecht! +10xp for the well written description.

Also: +1 Fortune Points to everyone in the party! I've posted in the discussion forum how Fortune Points work. Please read it and update your character sheets accordingly.