The waters of the river Reik swirl and churn in great eddies around the bough of the ‘Harlot of Mordenheim’. The forces of wind and river battle one another, across the barge’s rotten hull, drawing out groans from the wood. The damp of the river has permeated ship, crew, and cargo. A cargo of men and woman crammed into the hold, so tightly they can scarcely move. They clutch at a few possession like seamen holding to the mast of their shattered ship. To the aft, two of the passengers, a married couple, lay covered with furs, breathing in wet, ragged gasps, occasionally coughing up phlegm and blood. There is a clear space around them, where other passengers will not sit, even the couple’s own daughter does not approach them, leaving them to what is likely to be a slow death.
On shore, lights blaze in the hundred taverns, brothels and pot shops of Nuln’s wharfs. The twinkling luminescence guiding the barge in to the land, like a wreckers fire. The crew can be heard, hard at work on the deck above, though they keep quiet as they guide the harlot towards her birth.
The doors of the nearest of the wharf pub burst open, and muffled shouts followed by the crack drift out across the water. Moments later, a loud splosh echos out to the barge.
Gottfried rises from his spot as near to the door as he could manage, and tries the door again. Come on. Let me out of here before I catch this awful cough as well.
The heavy bar across the hatch above the hold rattles as the young farmer tries it again. Above the crew ignore their cargo's attempts at freedom, more interested in getting to shore safely, and just as fearful of the outbreak of plague below.
Keeping her distance with the dying couple, a young woman, the face marked with pox and dressed in worn outdoor garb tries to maintain a long leather-wrapped staff out of the water. At her side, a worn axe and a quiver indicates some experience with outdoor survival.
I've done all I could, my bow is now in Taal's hands. But I swear I will not take such a boat again. I can't stand so many people crowded together. Let's hope I find a way to get out of Nuln as soon as possible.
Keeping her back to the boat hull, she edges her way towards the exit, wary of the stampede that will happen when the hatch is open.
After a long pause, Leopold the Ears, ugliest of the legendarily unattractive crew, forces himself not to smirk before mumbling to the first mate. ”Hanz, I think some gits gone swimmin'.”
The sound he makes is like a whippet being choked on a live ferrit, and identifiable as laughter only by several weeks of exposure to his slow witted humour and hidious laugh. Hanz’ laugh is little better, something like a mill stone turning.
"Thinks ya might be right." he replies.
The yell from below deck grabs the pairs attention for a moment. Hanz strides over to the hatch, stamping on it three times with all his might.
"Keep it down, ya poxy lot. Ya brought the cough onto this boat, so ya can damn well take it with ya." he shouts down at the hatch, then strides back to the gunwale. The pair start to heave the Leeboard up out of the water and secure it as the ship glides in. Other members take in the top sail, and foresail, to slow the approach.
Below, the passengers shift, and slowly start togather their possessions. What little space their is near the hatch get rarer and rarer, as they crowd in to escape onto land.
Elsewhere in Nuln.
The shadows are deep outside of the three cats brothel, covering everything like like velvet. The river laps at the short some few feet away, washing flotsam and jetsam up the muddy edge. The floor is hard here, in the alley way between the house of ill repute and its neighbour , but it provides shelter from the wind and a chances to rest for a few minutes, before continuing the search for the Blind Pig Tavern.
Whatever chance at rest there might have been is shattered in a moment when the front door of the brothel slams open. From within, a frenzied polka is the dance of the night, and the light escaping from the door casts lurid and flickering shadows across the narrow gap between building and water.
The light is blotted out as a man is thrown to the ground, he rolls in the mud, carried by the momentum of the throw, covering him river muck. A moment later three burly Nulners exit the building, quick on his tail. They wear filthy clothing and to elven senses the stench is sickening. The left most of the group raises a battered looking pistol, levelling it at the poor wretch.
"Please guv, it ain't my fault." pleads the mud covered wretch, as he tries to rise to his feet.
"Holster says bye bye, Gerhart." says the man with the pistol, then there is a bright flash and a report, that echos out across the river. The other two move over to the body and heave it into the water, before the group retreats inside, closing the door and muffling the sound of the dance within. Quiet descends upon the alley way again, save for the creaking of a bed in the room above it, and the groans of an aged river barge out on the river, making its way to dock.
Stepping out of the shadows, Erevan cocks an eyebrow toward the brothel door "Hmm, probably not much of a welcome there. Besides my purse is already light enough." patting his chest where it lay hidden.
Keeping a eye on the door, he begins to make his way down the street.
Pausing, he thinks Why not? and makes his way down to the shore to where the man was tossed. Carefully stepping on the wet ground, Erevan approaches the water. "Gerhart..... do you live still ?" he whispers harshy, looking for any sign of the man.
Perception Roll (40 + 10 = 50):
Holding onto the bridle of his horse Alfred strokes her gently trying to sooth her nerves.
"Keep clear of her!" he barks at a blond haired boy causing him to jump back in fright. Alfred continues more gently "She'll kick if you get too close."
He turns back to the horse "Gently Adalheidis, gently."
*Glancing around Alfred shifts his weight trying to gauge the mood of the crowd*
"How long till we make landfall?" he yells to the men up on deck.
"No need to yell, you're spooking your horse. And I would prefer it to avoid kicking around," replies the young woman that had just made her way to the side of the horse.
"We should be touching ground soon and I bet he's as keen as I am to get out."
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Returning from leave taken at Karak-a-Karzan, Harlgrum was not happy being forced into the hold of the ship. As a soldier of the empire, and one from Nuln none the less, being treated like any other citizen was not something the dwarf appreciated. Despite all his threats and complaints, the crew did not seem to care as this was their ship and no dwarf was gonna tell them what to do. Completely unworried about the sick couple at the other side of the hold,as dwarves are much hardier than frail humans and halflings, Harlgrum istead spent his time caring for his equipment.
His hammer, shield, and arequebus had seen him through many tough time and this trip had been no different. Having gone out with the keeps Thunderers to better acquiant himself with dwarven battle tactics,Harlgrum's unit had been set upon by wolfriders. The older dwarves seeing this as chance for the beardlings to prove themselves held their fire till the younger, less dependable lot had had their shots. Harlgrum was quicker than most to attempt to prove himself being a dwarf of the empire and not a keep. Leveling his fine musket on a goblin riding up their flank, he let he hammer fall. With a dull thump the goblin's head exploded in a mess of greys, reds, and pink.
Even now as he cleaned his firearm, a smile creased his face at the memory. Hearing the hollering at the portal and the response of the woodswoman, the dwarf puts in, "It'll do ya no good, boy. They aren't have any of it. Worry not though.They'll get theirs as soon as I report back in!, the last part shouted in hopes the crew might think better of their treatment of the empires best.
Pistol shot alone rarely kills, so it should be no surprise that Gerhart survived the attack. He clings to a mooring pile some twenty feet out, and thirty feet down stream battling shock and the cold with his life as the stakes.
What might be a surprise is that for all their legends of the sharpness of elven eyes, the wandering story teller does not see Gerhart.
Back on the Harlot of Mordenheim
On deck Leopold the Ears keeps half an eye on the water, but no ‘swimmer’ passes in view to be relieved of it possessions. Soon enough the barge is nudging in against the que. The crew, all save the captain, jump ashore, busying themselves tying off. The captain, a man named Johan Wizzenman, checks the barge is safe, then walks to the prow, carefully removing a purse from his waist. From the purse he fishes three golden Karls before jumping down onto the pier. Once on the relatively solid walkway, Wizzenman makes his way towards dry land and the unsually fat man waiting with two attendants where earth begins and mud ends. Wizzenman presses the coins into the man’s hand.
‘Brother Engerman, good to see you. It shouldn’t take long to get his lot off, then we’ll be out of your hair, and on our way down stream.’ says wizzenman
[i]‘Be quick about it then Brother Wizzenman. The harbour master is starting to actually pay attention lately, better your out of hear sharpish. I have your cargo weighting.’ says Engerman, his mole like eyes crinkling up in his pudgy face as he tries to see though the dim light.
Wizzenman nods before trotting back down the wharf, and vaulting onto the vessal. From his sleeve he pulls a large heavy key , and bends down to unlock the hold. ‘Right you skum., we’re here, you can get the hell of my boat now you filthy gits.’ he roars, pulling open the hatch.
Unwilling to enter the fetid water, Erevan is nonetheless puzzled by his failure to see the man Perhaps he had stones in his pockets and sank. he mused as he walked downstream to see if the man fetched up further along the river. Stopping every 10 to 15 feet to cry out softly Gerhart, do you live?
Perception:
Toughness (31)
Strength (31)
With a quick curse in his mother's native Kisletvian, Gottfried attempts to be the first to get a breath of fresh air. "Common Hannah". "Out"!
And as he pushes at the hatch, a cough wracks his body, and in his weakness he loses his balance, and tumbles into the nasty water at the foot of the hatch.
"No need to yell, you're spooking your horse. And I would prefer it to avoid kicking around," replies the young woman that had just made her way to the side of the horse.
"We should be touching ground soon and I bet he's as keen as I am to get out."
*Alfred smiles*
"She's a she. Her name is Adalheidis, it means noble one. She's trained to cope with loud noises but the problem is she's also trained to kick."
"Oups, sorry about that. As long as she doesn't try to practice about that, I should be fine."
Looking at that crowd getting out of the boat, she adds: "Let's wait here for the time being. We'll be out soon enough."
"Oups, sorry about that. As long as she doesn't try to practice about that, I should be fine."
Looking at that crowd getting out of the boat, she adds: "Let's wait here for the time being. We'll be out soon enough."
"Yes I think that would be best, and no apology needed she's not offended. Excuse me a moment."
Alfred turns to address the Dwarf and shouts jokingly
"Who are you calling boy beardling? You might be older than me in years but I am half way through my span whilst you're barely an adult!
You're not wrong though it will be a while till I get out. Adalheidis can't walk out and I'll not risk her on a gangplank. The winch is safer.
Where would you be reporting in? A soldier are you? Most of the Dwarves I know back home are builders like my father, though fierce fighters if provoked.
From here, down in the sucking, slimmy mud of the rivers bank, it is possible to see the human clinging desperately to the large wooden mooring pile some way out into the river. His sobs of pain and desperation can just be heard above the nocturnal sounds of the river.
The crowd surges forwards, its members frustrated and near panic from the disease that they have been shut in with. Cries of pain ring out through the crowd, as members of the throng are trampled.
Before Gottfried can raise himself, he is already being kicked and trampled by the throng, but he manages to start to force his ways to his feet. Before he can rise fully however, a middenlander built like a mountain, stumbles over Gottfried, and stands heavily on his ankle. trample.
Slowly but surely the crush subsides, as the crowds burst out onto the deck, and from there filter onto dry land. Only a few of the patient or perhaps fool hardy remain in the hold. Two crew men, their mouths and noses covered with kerchiefs, stomp down into the hold carrying heavy blankets. The make their way over towards the plagued couple, throwing the blankets over them, and busying themselves with rolling the pair up to carry out of the hold.
A third member of the crew starts to make preperation to wink the horses ashore.
"Ah there you are!" Erevan says rubbing his chin in thought, the rivers waters lapping at the toes of his boots. "How to get you? Hmmmm?" he says casting about looking if there are any coils of rope in the vicinity.
Search
Slowly rising to his feet, Gottfried checks his bruised, and bludgeoned body to see if anything is seriously hurt. He seems to be OK, so he takes a stock of his situation, just as he sees the crew members come down and extract the plague ridden couple. Well now that they're gone, I might as well wait down here until they come to get Heinrick out of the hold. He walks over to the gentle giant, and rubs his head on his favorite spot, while watching Hanna tug on the blankets of the departing group. "Here Hanna". "Let them be".
He then waits with the Ox to make sure he is one of the first offloaded. Hopefully my cart is still OK on the deck. Maybe I should go up and tie Hanna off to guard it.
Katrina waits out for the worst of the mob to get out. As soon as she thinks she can exit safely, she climbs out of the hold, clutching her bow. Drawing out a big breath, she moves out of the way of the animals.
When she is safely on the shore, she cautiously unrolls the leather wrappings of her bow. She takes out a string from her pack and carefully redraws it, checking for humidity damage.
Once satisfied, she looks around to get her bearing.
By the gods what's taking them so long.
Hey, you sailors, take my horse after you've finished with that ox eh?
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Glancing at the human rider, Harlgrum bristles at the disrespect of such a short lived race accusing him of being a beardling. "Bah. Humans barely are born before someone has to get with digging your grave. And soldier I am. One of the sons of Grimnir on loan from the High King to your Emperor to teach your kind how to use a handgunne." He says patting the firearm setting in his lap. Shaking his head at the frantic crowd he says, "Always in such a hurry to get nowhere fast, you humans."
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"At least you have the good sense to trust dwarven craft. Perhaps your kind isn't a complete loss like them stinkin' elves. As the crowd disperses Harlgrum hefts his gear and heads out the opening in the ship. Stopping at the exit, Harlgrum turns the to Roadwarden and says "Well, I'm not trying to wait for you all day. I imagine we are likely heading the same place, Warden. Let's get movin'!" With that he jumps down into the muddy bank of the river, giving the captain a foul look in the process.
As the men at arms exit the ship, Katrina moves to intercept them.
The tall woman looks out of sorts here with her outdoors clothes, now she has restrung her longbow.
"Sorry, I could not help to overhear your conversation. I'm Katrina and up to now I was a hunter.", she says, showing the furred linings or her cloak and her well used bow. "do you happen to know if good bowmen or scouts are needed at the barracks? I'm said to be fair with a bow and while I could still live in the woods, I'm looking for a new trade."
Travelling in a group is generally wise. Especially in violet places. Did you here the gunshot just now?
I shall take you up on your offer, and I have no objection to you joining us Katrina.
But what am I thinking, I haven't given you my name. I am Alfred Baudry, of Ubersreik, a Road Warden by profession. Excuse me again for one moment.
*Alfred turns to address the farmer*
Hey there, you with the Ox. We are planning to travel together into town. Would you care to join us?.
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"What are ya doing, horseman? You can't every stinking peasant on this ship with us! You'll have every beggar in town looking for crowns or help of some sort. Probably touched by Chaos anyhow. Looked a bit frantic to me." Turning to the female hunter, he says "Grab yer stuff and I'll show you where to go for work. But, that is allI am gonna do for ya." Without another word the dwarf marches off into the streets Nuln ready to get back to work and in the company of his fellow dwarves again.
Fate must be laughing upon the elf and Gerhart, for no rope that is not rotten through can easily be found. Things look up for a moment when the elf finds a small rowing boat, but close inspection reveals it lacks as bottom. Only heroic effort in swimming to the dying man will be enough now it seems.
The rest of the economic refugees have cleared the wharf by the time the ragged group, and their beasts are all ashore. The crew of the ship cast looks over every so often, talking to one another in a Rivermans Cant. Every so often one of the men laughs at some private joke.
Plans for the future may want to wait, all those who travelled upon the boat are carrying the fatigue of travel. Add to that, that it is late already and the night is dark and full of terrors, and it would probably be wise to look for somewhere to sleep, at least until morning. Fortunately, there are many inns in Nuln. The nearest of which can be seen near by, its sign has been painted with the image of a severed pigs head, it's eyes stitched shut.
Stevedores lug large crates down the wharf, and lug them on bored to be stowed away.
"Curses" Erevan hissed throwing a tattered, rotten length of rope back to the ground. "You in the water...Gerhart...Hold fast, I'll seek aid from yonder barge."
Without waiting for acknowledgement, Erevan hikes up his backpack and trots up the river to where the barge has moored, the low murmur of the common folk punctuated by the more purposeful utterances of hopefully more capable individuals.
Emerging from the shadows near the wharf, Erevan initially struggles against the tide of slack jawed, exhausted peasants that made up the majority of the barge's cargo. However off to one side, a small group of more interesting individuals presented themselves.
Jogging up to them, cheeks puffed out in exertion, Erevan gasps "Hail and well met fellow travelers!" , unexpectedly in the accent of the common people of Altdorf not the usually proper clipped accent of most of the Empire's elves. Stopping before the foursome, "Hello citizens....Son of Grimnir!! Please attend if you will!. My pardons for intruding, but I've found a man pistol-shot into the river, clinging for his life , myself alone unable to assist the unfortunate. Can you help? Have you rope? Can you swim ? Hurry , we've not a moment to spare !!"
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"There is always a man with a gun shot in the river, this is Nuln, elf. That sounds like the work of the watch, not Imperial Soldiers. I'd say farmer Fred there may be your best bet for rope." With that Harlgrum continues on toward the inn. "When ye finish fishing or find something worth me looking into I'll be waiting for you there.", he says gesturing to the lodging ahead.
Slow down there. I've ten yards of rope here. Where is the man?
Does anyone else have any, we can tie them together if we need more...
Slow down there. I've ten yards of rope here. Where is the man?
Does anyone else have any, we can tie them together if we need more...
"Nope, I haven't got any and I'm not really a good swimmer. The mountain streams are too cold for that from where I come."
Gazing at the dwarf's receding back with a small smile, Erevan turns to Alfred and says hurredly "The man's about twenty feet out clinging to a piling, on the opposite bank, over the bridge there, so your rope would do the trick, we'd only...." he trails off as he catches sight of the ox standing placidly beside the farmer. "How does that beastie go in the river's mud, good man? I'd go out on the rope, but that creature looks bred to move about in the muck and dirt!"
"Well now we might not need to get Henrick all stuck up in the mud". "I've got some more rope in the cart here somewhere", Gottfried says turning to pick up a heavy sack from the cart.
Gottfried had been in the process of hitching his ox to the cart, but seeing the obvious distress on the bank, and having no real reason not to help, approaches the bank with his ox, and his 20-yds of rope.
"What's the plan". "cough,cough...hack,hack".
"Tis, alright goodman" Erevan says, "Mayhaps we can use your Henricks' stout back to ensure that I am retrieved successfully from my maritime adventure? Tie me up with one rope, I'll tie the other to the man on the piling and Henrick cand drag the two of us to saftey!! What say you??
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Meanwhile, Harlgrum takes up a seat in the inn's tavern area. The triphas left him very hungry and thirsty for some good brew. Making sure to secure a table large enough for his travelling companions and having inquired as to the the number of rooms available, the dwarf settles in near the hearth to reflect on his time with the mountain kinsman.
It is a short way back up river to the place where the injured man clinges for his life to the pile. To the humans he is invisible in the dark night, but to Erevan his presence is still discernible in the cold water of the Riek.
"Tis, alright goodman" Erevan says, "Mayhaps we can use your Henricks' stout back to ensure that I am retrieved successfully from my maritime adventure? Tie me up with one rope, I'll tie the other to the man on the piling and Henrick cand drag the two of us to saftey!! What say you??
"Aye"! "Sounds like that might work".
"Excellent. Follow me!!" Erevan says, leading the others to a point some 20-30 feet upstream of the stricken man. After divesting himself of most of his clothing and placing them with his backback and weapons on the ground in a neat pile, Erevan grabs one end of a rope and furiously attempts to tie a knot. Looking up in frustration "Does any of you have any skill with ropes? I'd not trust my life on any knot I can tie!"
After getting tied a bit more securely and more importantly ensuring the other end is securely tied off to his savior, Henrick, Erevan smiles and with a jaunty wave steps out into the river, getting out as far as the man hangs then letting the current carry him downstream, trying to steer with hands and feet. All the while holding onto the other rope in his teeth.
Swimming