Elthaslas' dire prediction rings true, as moments later a loud horn is sounded quite close to the pathway. It's long, singular tone rings loudly in everyone's ears. Its off pitch wail seems to set your teeth on edge, and make your ear flinch at the obscenity of the whine. Finally, it stops, and for long moments you think that you are hearing the braying within your mind, only to realize that it is coming from throughout the woods. The bray comes from the opposite side of the woods, from further behind, and a slight bray is heard from along the path you must take.
Come, quickly you fools! the old man beckons to the group. In one of his hands holds a finely crafted sword, clearly a work of elvish design. And yet, blazing upon the blade is a rune which glows a faint reddish color.
His other hand holds the hand of a small child, which is the start of a long chain of children standing by his side.
A sobbing heap draws your attention back to the lone death within the group. Hedner. Laying on his back, his eyes wide in shock, mouth open in midsentence, appears to be relaxed. His wife, who huddles over him, sobs uncontrollably. She keeps muttering his name over and over, as if speaking it enough will bring him to life.
No time for graving the man. I do not wish to leave him for the beastmen, but we must reach walls or be whelmed. Let us swift.
Dolwen bleeds mightily from a gash on his brow and across his chest. He hefts the pack carrying Hanna's things and winces strongly, but doesn't complain. "I need to have these wounds bound, and if I don't, I'll soon need to see a priest. But I agree with the dwarf."
Glancing to Hanna, he says "Sorry for bleeding on your bag. Flawless martial technique, there. Starting to wonder if you really are just a scribe, or maybe a wandering noblewoman or knight errant."
Hanna gazes down upon the beast, nay once a man it was, that lay dead before her. Yanking her staff from the remains of its head, she runs it over the soiled "clothes" to remove most of the gore.
The sudden sounding of the horn snaps her head up, the shouts of the others bringing her around.
"We'd best be on our way, stopping to tend those wounds of yours might be the end of us." she says to Dolwen, then shaking her head "I was lucky, naught more. If my pack proves too burdensome, do not fear to tell me." she says, looking with concern at the streams of blood marring the elf's torso.
Daemon's take it. We are in for it now. Elthaslas growls when he hears the horn. He fits an arrow to to his long bow as he hurries along the road. He passes the old man and the children and moves up the road senses straining to detect the Beastmen he knows are there.
"I'm a man of my word, but it's become less safe on my back. I'll carry it until I die, I suppose."
Dolwen grits his teeth, letting his focus drift from the pain to the woods, brimming with cries. "We need to go. Now."
Have care. Elthaslas calls to the others. More lurk in the wood.
If he ever gets a chance for a shot as they move on Elthaslas will take it. Perhaps knowing that they cannot suprise us will keep them off for a while. He thinks to himself.
Nargond struggles, but cannot carry the dead man in addition to his other burdens. "Too heavy. What did you feed him, stones?" Nargond thinks some more, wondering if there is time to build a travois to drag the dead man.
Still wobbling slightly due to the blow to his head and covered with blood, Ethan closes up with the weaping woman.
"Ma'am, you can't do anything for him now. You must think about yourself now. You'll have time to mourn him when we're safe. Take my hand and come with us, there are more monsters out."
Hanna thinks back to her lessons on the nature of the Empire and its enemies, trying to remember the prevelance of beastmen in this area.
CK (empire) (38)
At the other's warning, she attempts to see what they see.
Percption (38)
The newly created widow, sobbing, nods at ethan's word. It's for the best. I have the youngens to see too.
Sniffing her nose, and wiping away her tears, she stands to her feet. Her face, once suffused with absolute suffering and loss, now is a mask of stone. She looks down at her dead husband, and for the briefest of moments, the face cracks. Coughing, she turns and strides away from Hedner.
Passing by the two beastmen, she kicks each one of them in the chest, her face still devoid of emotion. You cannot help but feel her rage and anger with these kicks, as each one is viscous and well powered.
She bends over and picks up the narrow wooden rod that a beastman was using, and whips it around a couple times.
Marching up to the old man who holds the childrens' hands, she calmly resumes her protective pose over her trope.
My condolences, my lady. May Morr watch over him whilest he awaits your embrace the old man says, stepping away from the lady so she may guide the children.
Elthaslas keeps an eye on the beastman in the trees. If we don't hurry and get to the Inn the beastmen will kill us all. We must go now! He says urgently.
Hanna watches the woman exact her pathetic revenge on the dead, her face unreadable.
Turning to Dolwen "We should move fast, his majesty's men obviously chose this area to neglect, hoping for a larger concentration of beastmen. More than what we've heard is likely to appear if we tarry"
She check that he's alright to carry her pack, then grabs his elbow to hurry him along.
"Hmph. If we cannot rest the dead, at least let us be living. Time to go, yes?"
When the group starts moving, Nargond takes up a position just inside the treeline north of the road, watching and waiting for the next attack.
stepping quickly down the road, your eyes constantly scan the trees, ready to react for the slighted form to emerge from the woods. Shadows and noise play tricks upon your senses, and multiple times people will cry out and swing only to have their blade connect with a bush or tree limb.
And yet, for your efforts, are not wasted. The horns, still blare, but with more distance to them. They sound further off. A half hour passes and you do not hear the heavy tonal noise, just the faint mew that is reminiscent of a mewling calf.
The road bends slightly, and before you see anything, you smell it! Food! Wood Burning! Horse Manure. Yes, you are near the Footman's Inn! Your step, heavy with weariness, now quickens. The safety of the walls and Inn beckons you.
There! Ahead of you, you see it. The stout stone wall of the Inn, and nestled within is the rising thatch roof of the Inn. As you glimpse it, you feel a little patter upon your shoulder. Glancing around, you look for signs of attack, but nothing draws your attention. Then another patter, and another. Your eyes are forced to look up, and you see the rain clouds. Dark, gray, ominous, they roil up in the heavens, drawing to mind the image of Sigmar battling the the Chaos foe.
A loud thunderous BOOM resounds throughout the woods, causing trees to shake, and ears to whine from the loud noise. A moment later, as if in response to the vast noise, rain begins to pour. Your image of the Inn is obscured to just a vague outline.
Rushing through the muck and rain, you approach the large front gates of the Inn. A lone man stands huddled within a rainsuit and large brimmed hat. Beckoning you all to hurry, you rush into the courtyard.
the man shouts to be heard over the loud thunder and water. Seeing everyone shake their heads no, he shuts the gate and lowers a large iron bar across. Another bolt and slammed atop of this bar and he motions for you all to follow him within.
The door way, large wood frame and iron reinforced bars running horizontal across the wood that makes up the door, provides a large secure entrance to the Inn itself. A heave and grunt and the man opens the door, allowing you entry into the Inn.
Standing within the large taproom, the smells of firewood burning, tabacc being smoked, food on a spit in the backroom, and ale open for serving, assails your nose with a splendid recourse. Sighs erupt from everyones mouth, as you drop your packs to the ground. The children, sniffling, huddle around their mother and the old man.
the man who let you all in at the gate walks around the bar that takes up the eastern half of the room. Removing his suit from his shoulders, and hanging up his hat, he motions everyone to join him at the bar.
Tis a rough day to be out on the roads, sirs and ladys. But, i am honored to have you at my Inn and to be enjoying my fares. Names Edden. I have some rooms available. Others are in use but those who are staying should be down for mealtime shortly. Your options are the rooms for the night for 2 silver. Rooms and meal for 4 silver, or rooms, meal and drink for the night for a gold.
Looking about the room, you see a warm and inviting location. A large fireplace blazes with a massive fire. Logs the thickness of a mans torso burns within, and large comfortable chairs surround the fire. Throughout the room are circular tables, each with their own set of 6 chairs. Along the wall is a large bench. Hanging upon the walls are trophys of hunters throughout. A bow, cracked with age, hangs upon the wall with an arrow and a large deers head mounted to the wall. Further down, a spear and warthog mounted. And just behind the bar are two beastman's heads and a large sword with an equally large hilt hangs.
The journey through the forest to the Inn was a blur of mud, branches and the agony of burning muscles. Staying with Dolwen was one of the hardest things Hanna's had to do, the impluse to run ahead as fast as she could was at time overwhelming.
Coming in sight of the Inn, Hanna sobbed with relief, hardly needing the sudden downpour to spur her on.
Perception (38)
Once inside, she turned to the equally weary Dolwen and said "I'll take my pack now, thank you. You'll stay on my coin tonight."
Entering the warm Inn, Hanna slumped down into the nearest available seat, hardly hearing Edden. Waving her hand to the innkeeper she says "A room, food and drink for me and for the elf as well " motioning towards Dolwen as she does.
Waiting for her and Dolwen's food, she looks about and notices the sword on the wall
Knowledge(empire) (38)
"Come along, Fanriel, we'll be warm and dry soon enough" says Edgar as he hurries along with the others.
Taking a deep breath after he steps inside, shaking his shabby cloak to free the loosest moisture. Looking around, he draws the innkeepers attention, ordering a room and some food to be brought up.
The warmth and dryness of the inn common room is a welcome thing to Nargond, and he finds a barstool with the others.
Hearing Hanna's order, Nergond catches Edden's eye. "The same, but no drink for me. We are not far enough from the day."
"Generous of you," the elf says. He's no stranger to exhaustion, but the battle and the charge through the forest seem to have drained him of all of his energy. "I'll accept that offer."
Dolwen removes the pack from his back with a pained grunt, leaning on a wall and collapsing to the floor. He passes the bag back to Hannah with an uncertain grip. His wounds are a mix of sticky, hardened blood and wet rainy runoff, made only worse by the long journey. The gash along his forehead will no doubt scar. "I need a healer's touch," he says to the proprietor, coughing.
When the entire group finally got moving towards the safty of the Inn Elthaslas waited until everyone else had passed him and took on the role of rear guard. He spent four arrows on the rest of the trip to the Inn on shadows and flickers of movement in the trees. There is no sign that any of the arrows hit anything besides shadows or that the beastman he saw earlier is still there in the trees, but he keeps an arrow knocked anyway. Even when the sound of the horns falls behind and the Inn comes into sight he doesn't relax. He is the last one to pass through the gate into the safety of the Inn. Only when the gate is closed and barred behind them does he take the arrow from his bowstring and return it to his quiver.
Once inside the Inn Elthaslas strips of his sodden cloak and drapes it over the back of a chair near the fire to dry. He then turns his attention to his bow. Carefully drying it and doing what he can to prevent it being damaged by the wet. He pays for a room and food.
The barkeep nods to all of you and begins to take your money.
Edden speaks upthe 4 rooms at the end of the hall upstairs are open. Out back is a bathhouse to wash up. in an hour the evening meal will be served.
yeah, if you enjoy the sloven filth they serve here A woman barks as she limps down the stairs. Dressed in silk and semi-precious jewels set within her gown, the lady stumps down the stairs. Every other step is with a wooden thump, and a flash of her skirt reveals a wooden leg instead of a real leg.
My Lady. So nice for you to join us this evening. Unfortunately the roads are still wet and will not do for you to travel about this day, or the next. Edder says smoothly to his guest.
Tsk. So it would appear the lady gripes as a loud thunderclap shakes the building. From outside the whinny of horses can be heard.
THe lady stumps her way to a large chair by the fireplace, sits in it, and reclines, lifting her foot up onto a matching foot rest.
Edden. Wine! she barks out, her tone showing obvious distaste; at what, you are not sure.
Edden steps from around the bar and begins to bring mugs of ale to everyone and wine for the lady. Passing Dolwen, he pauses. Son, it looks like youve been wrestling with the wrong sort of ladies in the midst of a Ulric Acolyte contest. I have something that might help take the edge off, but it has a kick like a mule. Want some?
Elthaslas is reluctant to part with so much silver but with hunting for his supper and sleeping under the stars out of the question he pays the innkeepers price. I must be careful if I am to have enough money to get back to the Great Forest. he thinks to himself.
Once he is satisfied that his longbow is undamaged he carefully wraps the unstrung bow in its oiled leather cover. When Edden brings his food he asks Is there a fletcher here? I expended several arrows and would like to get more if possible.
"Ladies? I wish I was wrestling with ladies. Even the wrong sort. At least then I'd have a good story to tell." With no other options, Dolwen shrugs in agreement. "If there are no bandages? Do in Tilea as the Tileans do. I'd truly appreciate that 'something', sir. And maybe a rag and some water to clean the wounds with?"
The thunderclap gives him unease.
Shrugging off her sodden robe, Hanna hands over the coins to the barkeep, then gazes into the fire for a few moments.
Her reverie inturrupted by the arrival of "the Lady", Hanna watches the woman then turns to Dolwen "I'd suggest you take them man up on his offer, those cuts could turn to rot if you're not careful."
Leaning over to catch the barkeep's attention "I'll make use of the bathhouse...is there hot water?"
Edden nods to Dolwen. Something it is. Hey Fred! Hair of the wet dog!
a man pops his head out from inside the kitchen area. Wet dog? ooo ok.
a minute later and Fred comes back with a bottle that has a light coating of dust on it.
Bottoms up, friend Edden says, handing the drink to Dolwen
HPs recovered
Turning his head to hanna, he nods. Aye there be hot water. well, you make it. Theres a fire pit under each bath, all you just need do is add more wood for heat, or close the door for less.
turning to Elthaslas, Edden laughs loudly. A fletcher? here? Pointy ears thinks we have a Fletcher here. Nah, you best continue on to Middenheim for something like that. All you will find here is fellow travelers.
Slumping back against the wall after drinking down the foul elixir, Dolwen lets out a rumbling sigh. He can feel the warmth of alcohol begin its work, distracting him from the pain, but the pain he feels is truly deep-- down inside, in his very soul.
"If only I had done something back there-- shut my mouth and kept a look-out. If only... Damn the luck, and damn me," he muttered, curling into a little ball and nursing the half-full bottle, drinking it and more and more resembling a pathetic dog.
With a heaving sigh, Dolwen steadies himself to stand. Suddenly, he's positive again-- but still possessing the same wry, testing voice. "Alright, then. Time to eat," he says, clapping his hands together and thanking the proprietor for his special ale.
No fletcher eh. I will have to make due with what I have then. Thank you Innkeeper. Elthaslas says.
After he eats Elthaslas goes and makes use of the Baths. He dries his cloths by the fire pit under the bath and when he gets out brushes as much of the dirt as he can from his now dry cloths. clean and dry he goes back to the common room and stops to see how Dolwen is doing.
How are you Kinsman? he asks. I am Elthaslas Palemoon of the Great forest.
The dwarf looks around the room appraisingly as he eats, noting who is armed, who carries themselves like a fighter or a hunter. He pitches his voice low, so as not to carry to eavesdropping ears.
"So. You travel to Middenheim or farther? If more road is like this one, it thinks to travel with strong arms and keen eyes."
Mid-meal, Dolwen looks up, apprehension on his face. "I'm a kinsman now?"
"The drink took the bite off the cuts and everything else is helping it along fine enough. Had to tear up my favorite shirt to bind the wound, but, I can always find another."
"But, again: Kinsman. I was born in Altdorf, mate. I don't know hide nor hair of whatever forest you come from."
Nodding to the inn keep , Hanna levers her heavy pack onto her shoulder, gives Dolwen a nod then makes her way to the bath-house.
Entering the building, she's glad to see that there was a area sectioned off for women. Luxuriating in the near-scalding water, Hanna tries to forget the horror of the journey to the Inn; trying to focus on her own success in that moment of fear and panic.
With a reluctant sigh, she removes herself from the hot water, dresses in her now dry robes and return to the common room.
There she takes a seat next to Dolwen, in time for Nargond's question.
"I travel to Middenheim. After my business there....who knows?"
"I do ponder what beastmen hoped, on the road. Why only four, with so many others nearby?"
Nargond's question gets Hanna thinking, so much so that she remembers something she saw on the way in the Inn.
"Master Dwarf, I noticed something on the way into the Inn and would examine it. But I do not wish to walk alone on such a night, even in the shelter of this Inn. Would you do me the honor of accompaning me" she asks formally, knowing the Dwarven people take such things seriously.
Edgar enjoys his meal and listens to the conversation. He nods to Hanna as she approaches, moving a few dishes out of the way so she has a place at the table. At Nargond's question, he nods thoughtfully.
"I wondered the same, Master dwarf. Perhaps they were merely there to see what kind of resistance they might meet in this area. Then again, being beastmen and all, perhaps they were just in the wrong place and the wrong time" he smiles wryly, taking a sip of ale. He looks around to see if Fanriel is nearby, growing concerned at her absence.
I meant nothing by it, only that we are both elves. Elthaslas replies to Dolwen as he settles in a nearby chair. I am also traveling to Middenheim Master Dwarf and would welcome the company on the road if it is anything like today. I had thought I would face brigands at the worst not creatures of chaos. Not in the heart of the Empire.
"Indeed, I will scrutiny with you. You fought well today, lady, where did you train?"
Nargond turns to the others for a moment.
"Let us hope that was not scouting. Scouting leads to invasion, and I do not wish to war. We should tell of such finding to the soldiers. Middenheim has such, I think."
as the evening meal progresses, the old man who accompanied you sits in a corner, his back to the wall. Around him sit the children of hedder, and a couple of people from the entorage of the lady.
At first, you hardly pay attention to what is going on, until you notice that it has gotten much quieter due to more patrons actively listening to the old man.
Iouz the huntsman, stood upon the battlements of the temple of Ulric, and with him were 10 archers. Each archer a master archer, but compared to Iouz, they were amateurs. Even as the ratmen poured out from the city sewers, and from the buildings windows, he took his time and fired his lethality upon the sewer-scum. The archers did the same, and their efforts were well rewarded. Street that ran up to the wall, filled with ratmen, was now littered with their dead. The amount of dead filled the air with their musk of fear, enough so that no ratman ventured along the lane for the rest of the seige.
Then there was Maldock the mage. His mastery of the hedge spells helped. The ratmen assaulted his wall, and he had with him 10 swordsman. The ratmen raised their vile ladders and climbed the walls. they used arrows to force the men back, but Maldock was unafraid. He went from ladder to ladder, forcing the ratmen to fall to their doom from his simple touch. Ulric himself, well known to be against magic users, seemed to look the other way, for no arrow fell upon the mage.
And then there was Dewn Mou'tain, the rogue. with him were 10 crossbowmen, and they devestated the ratman swarm upon the walls. They shot at the ladder carriers, preventing them from raising the ladders. soon, it became known as death to touch a ladder. In response, a ratman mage summoned one of those lightning cannons, and from it shot this incredible bolt. BUT! THe walls held! For Dewn stood upon the wall, and his patron wouldnt allow harm to befall his Chosen. Nay, twas not Ranald, but Ulric himself! He blessed the man, marking him as his own.
Because of their actions, they withheld the great ratman horde from taking the temple of Ulric.
Applause breaks out from the room as the old man finishes his story.
What happened next? a little tyke asks from the floor.
The old man pauses as he was standing up. Looking at the little one, he motions for the child to climb onto his lap.
Adjusting the kid, the old man continues.
What happened? well, the Three companions were able to help free the city of Talabheim from the ratmen. They single handly destroyed the great lightning cannon, and slew the leader that brought the rat horde upon the fair city. After that, it is said that they went east, over and beyond the Worlds edge mountains. Some say they look for Sigmar's final resting place. Others say they seek the Great Devourer. But what is known is they still roam the land, adventuring.
Bah. Such nonsense. they never existed. Heck, these ratmen do not exist. just a child's nightmare. one of the entourage spouts out in a drunken stupor.
Dolwen nods apologetically. "Sorry for biting your head off. Lots of elves 'round these parts that like to stick it to a city-born like myself. Apologies," he says, and shovels a warm heap of tavern food into his mouth.
He listens idly to the story, more concerned with the road ahead than idle tales of whimsical fancy.
Hanna nods to the dwarf "I thank you, let us go now before the storm worsens. Your compliment on my fighting is appreciated, it is high praise indeed.".
She leads the dwarf back outside into the driving rain and lightning flashes. Despite the relative safetly of the Inn's walls, she glances warily about as she closes the door and begins to examine the door frame where she noticed the sign of Sigmar.
"As we entered, I saw the sign of Sigmar carved here on the door frame, but there was something odd about it. I had to check and make sure. " Here she hesitates, leaning in , squinting to see in the flickering lightning light.
Academic Knowledge (Magic)
"The ratmen are all too real." Fanriel replies to the scoffer, crossing the room to where Edgar sits in conversation. "I know we hardly need more things to worry about, but I'd keep them on the list if I were you."
The elf drops to her seat without further explanation, food in hand and eager to have a warm meal. She looks apologetically toward Edgar, regarding her absence. It was a big group, and the two ought to stick together.
standing out on the front porch, the driving rain cascading upon the wooden porch, you both crouch around the front door frame and examine the symbol that hanna spoke of.
Looking closer at the marking, you see that it is indeed the sign of Sigmar, but it looks like it was repaired recently. the wooden area where the symbol is lightly engraved upon has been replaced.
Nargond stands back, and just as he is about to say something, a bolt of lightning strikes a tree just outside the Inn's walls. But what captures his attention is a white blur that appears to fall to the ground just over the wall into the courtyard. Within moments it is gone, leaving Nargond thinking if he just saw that, or made it up.
The man stands at Fanriels remark.
You dare call me a liar?! You, a pointy eared faerie? I say that they dont exist, And if Minous says something, then it is true! So, I dare you to say i am lying and let's see what happens. the man, at the end of his statement, pulls out a long dirk, and waves it about. Several of the men mutter and agree, urging him on for some sort of entertainment.
Hanna wipes the rain from her brow then points, "Look here, the peasants often carve Sigmar's hammer into door and window frames to ward off evil, it looks like this one had to be repaired..." she pauses as the lightning strikes nearby, its loud rumble almost immediately assaulting the pair's eardrums.
Looking up, blinking, she sees the dwarf's eye drawn to something in the darkness "What is it? What do you see?"
Fanriel tries to mask her surprise, gulping hard as the first bite slowly slides down her throat. Resolving to look confident, she rises back to her full height and slides the small dagger from her own boots. "Getting yourself cut up won't prove they exist or don't, but I can give Minous some new scars if that's what will convince him."
She's beginning to sweat a bit, hoping that the owner of the inn might put an end to this before anything happens.
"I think... something came over the wall. Something white."
"Beware, if it came from outside the wall there will be trouble. I will check for markings."
Nargond draws his axe and begins walking cautiously towards where he saw the blur.
Fanriel tries to mask her surprise, gulping hard as the first bite slowly slides down her throat. Resolving to look confident, she rises back to her full height and slides the small dagger from her own boots. "Getting yourself cut up won't prove they exist or don't, but I can give Minous some new scars if that's what will convince him."
She's beginning to sweat a bit, hoping that the owner of the inn might put an end to this before anything happens.
Placing a hand on Fanriel's arm, Edgar tries to diffuse the situation.
"Fanriel, my dear, sit. Eat something." He turns to the man. "Please, sir, no offense was intended. My lovely companion and I have seen much, hence her passion. Come, let me buy you a drink".
He waves over a serving wench, slipping a coin into her hand. "What'll you have?" he asks.
I wouldn't believe an arrogant bigot like Minous if he said the sun rose in the east. Elthaslas says as he moves to stand by Fanriel. He draws his sword, and rests the point agains the floor boards his hands relaxed on the crossguard. Are you a god, Minous? that every word you utter is truth? More likely you are a small minded fool.