Roads and streets of the Empire

Game Master Escharid Blackrose

You can dot here with your character

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Dottage

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Snow.

So much snow.

Snow on the ground.

Snow in the sky.

Snow coming through the windows of that third-rate over-crowded carriage, the cheapest but quickest way you found to escape whatever city you called home in the Empire.

The wood creaks as the old carriage slides a little on the snowy road. Bodies collides inside once more, in the smelly darkness.

Your ears still hear, in the distance, the howls of wolves. You don't know if they are closer or not. You surely hope they aren't. As you hope the wheels will stay on.

Being stranded in a snowy nowhere on the roads of the Empire can be more than risky.

Being stranded in a snowy nowhere on the roads of the Empire so close on Hexensnacht is certain damnation.

The carriage slows, for some (even more) perilous part of the road.
You hear the voice of Old Hanz, your coach driver, between two fits of cough

Next halt, Hallt!

He manages to laugh at a joke probably older than he is, which is no small feat.

Inside, the short, rotund and balding man sitting in front of (or next to) you buries himself in his furred coat, trying to keep out of the cold, without too much success. He asks to the other travelers

Can we have a story to pass the time? I don't know how long we have before reaching Hallt..

FYI: you are all in the big carriage, plus the short man-eight travelers.Time for some RP!

"A story?" Konraid said, leaning back in the carriage. He was bored from a long ride, and had to agree that telling stories was the best way to pass the time. The rakish young man looked out the window and said "I'll tell how I got this scar." For indeed a large scar did run down the side of his face. "I am a student of Joseph von Stimmigen." He looked around at his fellow travelers, seeing their reactions (if any). "He used to be famous." He continued, with a shrug. "A great duellist, hired by the rich and famous throughout the Empire. Until old age did what the sword could not, and laid him low. Now, I admit, I was not the easiest of students. Too much gambling, drinking and whor-, well, too much of having a good time. So he said to me, he said...'Konrad, you handsome bastard. I am jealous of your youth and vitality, which I no longer possess. I will not teach you for another day, until you prove yourself worthy!' Or, you know, something along those lines. So he sent me off to duel another student of his, one who had graduated already. And I was tasked with defeating this man in a duel." Konrad's smile faded as he turned back to the window, a far away look in his eyes.

"In Ubersreik I found him, and he was all too happy to accept my challenge. You would never know by looking at him that he was so deadly with a blade, that is, until you saw how he held it. I moved as quickly as I could, I do not think that I ever drew a blade so fast in my life. But he was still faster. His blade got to much chest before mine got to his. Both of us drew blood, but he was faster. In but those few seconds I knew that I was outmatched." He sighed and shook his head. "And that bastard, he saw it too. He knew that he had already won, but instead he just shook his head and said to come at him again."

With a deep sigh, Konrad continued "I lost my cool. He had already gotten first blood and he mocked me by saying to continue. I went in at him wildly, thinking that if I was but fast enough that I could leave him bleeding on the streets. The next thing I knew, my rapier was lying on the ground and I had this scar on the side of my face. And Lars? He was there, smiling, wiping my blood off of his blade. He said, and I kid you not, that if I could keep a cool head that I might be worth playing with again some day." Looking at the assembled group he said "Which is why I'm here in this carriage, heading to Sigmar knows-where, and he's still in Ubersreik. Well, that's my story. Who is next?"

At the call for more stories, Udo pushes his burly frame further into his space within the carriage. The man's blunt features stare impassively ahead, as if refusing to acknowledge the request will mean quiet would once again be restored.

The stocky Apprentice Stoneworker was unusual for a Reiklander. He had none of the vivaciousness the people were know for or braggadocio so ably demonstrated by Konrad, the duelist. His features were equally roughhewn; red hair, broad face, broken nose and sad eyes.

His Meister Mason, Abner Stoischmann, was apt to say "Yer a dependable lad Udo, but dour as stone. Swear ye must have Wissenlander in yer forebears!". As an orphan Udo could neither contest, nor confirm this observation and thus would stoically continue his work without comment.

So he would apply the same approach here: Stay quiet and leave the entertaining tales to the handsome bastards with storied scars, not flattened noses from an errant stone-hammer.

Not my story but one of my favourites. You every hear of Franz Four Fingers?, he gives a little laugh.

Guy couldn't resist a bet. He had a problem. He'd lay shillings against two flies crawling up a wall. He ended up in more than a few places that weren't so delicate about money up front or legal niceties like not removing body parts. Which is how he got his name.

Heard they found him later with a crossbow bolt in his head and his hand cut off...

Gottfried gives a little laugh then seems defensive towards those who don't find it amusing.

Maybe you had to know about him...

Felver had no story to tell in this god foraken cold. The small woman next to him had sat on the other side of this large man and had slept in between bumps and snuggled into him. At least that was something better then a kick in the pit. He flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders and kept moving to keep from getting muscle fatigue from lack of movement. He listened to the duelist and says it's a good thing you kept your life after such a thing. Many lesser fighters might have put you down for such. Blood and sand they say are the only truths that matter.

Cool idea, Grumbaki, incorporating rolled combat into the story.

The dark-haired woman with the piercing blue eyes sticks her head out from where it is buried in a large woolen hat and countless multi-colored scarves. She hears Konrad's story of the lost duel and gives a snort of indignation.

"A story of an ignoble defeat, and one you were not forced to fight? By Rhya's heaving busom, I think I can do one better than that!" she says with uncalled-for vehemence, pulling out a small flask and taking a long pull from it. Brunhilde passes the flask off to anyone who wishes to partake. From her general demeanor, it is clear to everyone that that the woman has been drinking from the bottle for some time.

"Now listen," said the woman, "everyone! But first I make a protestation that I am drunk; I know it by my sound. And therefore if that I misspeak or say amiss, blame it on this cheap rotgut, I you pray. For I will tell a legend and a life both of a carpenter and of his wife and how a lowly clerk fooled them both."

She looks around to make sure everyone is paying attention to her, then continues.

"There was once dwelling in Altdorf a rich ass who took in boarders, a carpenter by trade. With him there was dwelling a poor scholar named Nicholas who was learned in the arts but specialized in astrology. He knew a certain number of astronomical calculations to determine when men should have droughts or rain, and when was the right time to sign this or that contract or whatever. Nicholas the scholar lived by himself in a little room in this rich man's house which he kept very tidy and strewn with sweet-smelling herbs and whatnot, along with his almagest, his astrolabe, his abacus, and a little harp on which he played honest, moral tunes of good repute."

A louch belch escapes the woman's lips and she clears her throat.

"So the rich carpenter recently had wedded a wife of eighteen years named Alisoun whom he loved more than his life, but as I have stated, he was a jealous ass, and kept the woman almost like a prisoner for fear that she would set the horns upon his head."

Note: This is an archaic way of saying that he was afraid that she would cuckold (or cheat on) her husband.

"So this old carpenter had this beautiful young wife who was totally out of his league (which is never a good idea). It's always best to wed within your station. And the wife had a graceful body as well and wore a belt made of decorative silk, an apron as white as morning milk, an embroidered smock, and other such finery. She was much more blissful to look upon than is the new-ripe pear tree, and softer than the wool of a lamb. She was skittish as a spirited colt, tall as a mast, and straight as an arrow."

"So one day the carpenter goes out and the clever scholar Nicholas starts playing on his harp and flirting with the young wife, and finally he grabs her, saying 'I cannot live without you, love me immediately or I will die!' The young wife protests a bit at first, but Nicholas was a smooth one and pressed his suit so hard and fast that at last she granted him her love. After they finished their dalliances, she squeaked and said that due to her husband's jealous nature, they had to keep things on the downlow, as the young people say these days. The clever scholar agreed and so the two would only consummate their longings when the carpenter was out of the house on his business."

"Now there was a parish clerk who lived nearby named Absalon, who espied the carpenter's wife when they went to church and immediately became infatuated with her has well. He was a good-looking young man who dressed well, but the carpenter's wife wanted nothing to do with him. This didn't stop Absalon, however, in fact, the opposite. Her rejection of him only drove him to hightened passion, even going so far as to play his lute beneath her bedroom window all night long."

"But the wife was so infatuated with the scholar Nicholas, that she didn't give Absalon the time of day and left him standing outside her window playing his lute in sunshine and in rain."

"So weeks went by, and Nicholas and Alisoun get tired of only making the beast with two backs in the few moments when the carpenter is out on business, so Nicholas came up with a plan."

"Nicholas approaches the carpenter saying, 'I have seen in the stars that a terrible storm is coming that will bring a terrible flood that will drown us all, but I have a solution! You must hang three tubs from the rafters of the barn and fill them with provisions and an axe. You, your wife, and I will each climb into a tub and when the flood comes, we will cut the ropes, bash a hole in the roof, and float out to ride out the flooding in safety!'"

"The carpenter, being a fearful fool, believes the scholar and sets his servants to construct what Nicholas had suggested."

"The night of the prophesied flood, the carpenter, his wife, and the scholar set up the ladders and each climb into their tub to wait out the storm. The drumming of the rain on the roof quickly puts the carpenter to sleep, and Alisoun and Nicholas quickly climb down and rush back into the house to have a lustful encounter in the marriage bed."

"The clerk Absolon is once again outside the window that night playing his lute and cries out to Alisoun, begging her to kiss him in the rain. She does not hear him and after the lovemaking goes to the privy to relieve herself. She sticks her rear out the privy window to piss, but in the dark, Absalom mistakes her blushing cheeks for her blushing cheeks and kisser her full square on her arse."

The woman lets out a large guffaw at this, but quickly continues.

"Incensed, Absalon runs off and grabs a red-hot poker from the local blacksmith's to repay the wife's cruelty, but in the meantime, she has left, and it's the scholar Nicholas who has his backside hanging out the privy window to relieve himself. Absalon shoves the red-hot poker where the sun don't shine, and Nicholas cries out: 'Help, help! Water, water!', looking to cool off his burning posterior. This wakes the carpenter in the barn who hears the cries for 'Water!' and thinking it's a warning of the flood, cuts the ropes holding up his tub, and crashes to the ground and breaks his arm. This alerts the entire neighborhood, who come rushing in to help. The carpenter yells incoherently about a flood and tubs, and the neighbors, seeing the strange contraptions built in the barn, come to the conclusion that the carpenter has gone crazy and laugh at him."

"Thus Alisoun got well-screwed in spite of her guarding and jealous husband, Absalon kissed her lower eye, and Nicholas got scalded in the rump!"

The woman doubles over in laughter, clearly thinking she has told the funniest story in the world.

FYI: This is a much-shortened retelling of Chaucer's "The Miller's Tale" from his "Canterbury Tales".

English lit professor here, bravo!

Thank you!

Konrad smiled at Felver. "How unsporting. Maybe in the pits that would work. But a duel in the streets? It would leave him in prison and his reputation in tatters." He stopped as Brunhilde launched into her drunken tale. Never one to turn down a free drink, he took the proffered rotgut, glad to have the familiar fire in his belly on such a cold day. He listened along in rapt attention, and only when she was done did he say "And now that I am glad that I went first! To follow such a performance would be folly."

Outstanding

Gottfried laughs his arse off.

The man laughs, and joins with a story of his own, gesticulating while speaking, between bits of cough

Curse that cold and bitter night! That was a good tale,and it is a tale well told, or my name isn't Goswin Samter! Ach! I don't know about your Franz Four Fingers, but I heard a tale about a Fingerless Rudolf, maybe they are from the same family. He was a thief I defended once, before he lost his fingers. Maybe another time, hey? I was thinking about a local tale I heard, a tale about a creature, or a man, known as the Dullahan, have you heard of him?

Even if someone tries to interrupt him, Goswin continues, expecting the story to be too good to tell and hear

The Dullahan is a creature of darkness, a foul man beast perhaps, even if those are the stuff of legend. He is a tall man, broad shouldered, and would be an even taller man if he still had a head!

He smiles as he looks at your faces, to watch the impact of his words

This headless hunter rides the biggest horse you would ever see. He was cursed at death, and resent those who still have their own heads. He pursue them, and strikes at their throat, never missing, always killing on the first strike, or so they say. One can only hope you die by the spot, if your head is dangling! Local folks say that only the pure and innocent can survive meeting the Dullahan, but as true as I'm breathing now, I've yet to meet such a person.

He spits on the floor of the carriage

Of course, all this is only simple, rural superstition, no offense meant. It's a tale told to scare children and weak-hearted men. Folk speak of killing the Dullahan, with heartwood stakes from a willow tree cut during the full moon, or with a silver blade. Which, you will admit, isn't quite the same thing! They say that whoever finds the Dullahan missing head can make it leave to the unholy pits it cames from.But I guess this folktale is just some drunken lies mixed maybe some memories of a powerful outlaw from ages past, roaming around Hallt!

Despite the collective mirth Udo remains stoic, however at the tale of the Dullahan he lifts his gaze toward the rotund storyteller;

"Rustic superstition or no, if such a creature was one of risen dead, then it is a soul stolen from Morr. It should be put to rest and returned to his realm..."

The stone-worker's voice is low but soft, out of sorts with his heavy frame.

The supernatural never sat well with the boy. He could watch public executions with a smile and a laugh, and never think twice about the blood of cutting a throat but magic? Ghosts? Why those things made his hair stand on end! Truth be told, if that figure in the carriage really was an elf? Damnation... he'd need to sprinkle himself with salt!

"Well, it's a good thing that we are a group of pure and innocent people, right?" Konrad said, elbowing Udo good naturedly. Looking around, his gaze stopped at Brunhilde. "We even have a maiden with us! I would say that if anyone is safe from Dullahan, it would be us."

Udo takes the duellist's nudge with an impassiveness, instead reaching beneath his cloak to check momentarily upon something that may have been affected by Konrad's elbow.

Satisfied all in still in place, the Artisan claps some stoney dust from his cloak before returning to his quiet, calm countenance.

lore: 1d100 ⇒ 82

Felver does not recognize the story and leans back a bit in the carriage and says it is true there may be different rules on the street but not so much as one might believe depending on where you stand and the challenge legally accepted. Then it is the same. The dirt on the road and the blood spilled on it

He listened along in rapt attention, and only when she was done did he say "And now that I am glad that I went first! To follow such a performance would be folly."

Brunhilde gives a little seated half-bow and takes the flask back from Konrad.

She listens to the story of about the dullahan with wrapt attention, seemingly spell-bound like a child.

At Konrad's comment she gives a deep, throaty laugh. "A maiden? Nay, good sir, I haven't been a maiden in many a year."

A feisty girl and a very good stotyteller, for sure! Quite the company
we have here....

There is an uneasy silence in the carriage. Everyone has shared his or her story, except one.

Brunhilde can do a Routine (+10) Intuition check. Everyone can do an Average (+0) Intuition check. You can open the following spoilers if you get a success. Remember you can use a Fortune point to either re roll or get an automatic success (+1 Success Level, or SL)

Intuition 34 (Average+0): 1d100 ⇒ 35 Almost... I'll resist spending a fortune this early.

Udo lets the man's words wash over him as he mulls his fellow traveller's based on their words;

Two young men at ease with violence: The bruiser and the blade.

The girl ribald and lewd. No doubt of dubious virtue.

This Goswin Samter. Mentioned defending a thief once. Perhaps a former bodyguard gone to seed?

The apprentice artisan rubs his furrowed brow with a calloused hand, then pulls his cloak in for more warmth...

Konrad was glad to talk to Felver, for he could tell a kindred soul when he saw one. ”You speak true, my friend. How does the saying go? ‘If you prick my finger, do I not bleed?’ Something like that. In our world, nearly everyone enjoys watching violence, and almost as many of them have a reason to hurt someone. The only differences are in how much tradition is wrapped up in it, and how many lies we tell ourselves about our righteousness. I’m sure you have a few good stories of kicking someone’s head in for brass?

Intuition: 1d100 ⇒ 13

Turning back to Samter, the fencer said ”Samter. You’re scared, aren’t you? Of the silent man?” He leaned forward, hands on his knees as he looked upon the lawyer’s face. ”What have you seen that makes you so worried?”

He seems reluctant to speak, then says, with a little bit shame

We humans are Doomed, aren't we? I'm not speaking in a general sense, but you surely had, like me, your own coming of age ceremony, when a priest tell you how you might die. It seems to be my Fate than someone with pointed ears will bring my demise... Hence my unease tonight. Nothing personnal.

Konrad grinned at this. "Ha! That old thing? I was told that I was doomed to die, and get this..." In his best stuffy old voice, he said "He will perish in a contest with deadly weapons to settle a point of honor, arranged by two men without any." Chuckling he said "Good thing that I am a duellist by trade, no? I would hate for such a prophecy to come true."

Charm 41: 1d100 ⇒ 15 SL3

"So relax, yes? At least your mean-spirited priest gave you a rare one. I mean, how am I supposed to avoid my doom?"

"The humans also tend to get along with us pointed ear, so I do not think your doom will come from this direction." Imrik says from where he sits quietly in a corner. "But some nights there is a gloom that can fall upon us all."

Flying posts so far.

Intuition 35+10: 1d100 ⇒ 65

Brunhilde is still feeling the effects of the rotgot alcohol, and is absorbed by the conversations she is having with her fellow passengers.

At the attorney's fearful statement, she sits up and passes him the rotgut while glancing at Imrik. "Why be so fearlful? The reaper has a date with all of us. Given my background, I should have been found stabbed dead in an alleyway a dozen times, yet here I am. Our fortune is what we make of it. It is not written in the stars, no?"

Charm Test 48: 1d100 ⇒ 8
Wow, that's SL+4 if you were to make this a Dramatic Test.

My doom... , he says quietly, barely above the clatter and squeaks of the carriage.

My doom is to be killed by a creature of chaos.

He shudders and falls silent.

"The humans?" Konrad turned to Imrik, his face lacking it's characteristic smile. "Remove your hood and tell us who you are." He continued, his hand falling to the rapier at his side. Gottfried's doom and Samter's fear were infectious in bringing the mood down. He was glad that Brunhilde, at least, had kept her head about her. All the same, Imrik's comments were not auspicious. If he was not a human, then what was he?

priests of Mor get paid for their prophecy of doom. When there is coin to be made it makes some of that less then what it should be as anything else. Do we suppose that Mor takes time to determine every soul? Men have made religion into a thing of control and gold. It was not meant to be so. Felver says and then responds to Konrad saying
I am no purist but I am a professional. How one lives is at least as important, yes?

As the others declare their Doomings and faith, or lack thereof, regarding the nature of such prophetic Udo slowly takes off his cap, eying the black raven's feather that adorns it. Compelled he speaks to all, and none, in his low, soft voice;

"You should not make trivial Morr's augurs. They are the end to your fated journey through life."

The artisan raises his head eying the carriage, his voice a little more zealous as he continues:

"Our ends, when they come will serve a purpose. A grander bourn that which only Morr and his blessed priesthood can discern. We would all do well to remember this."

His voice trails off, and he looks again to the floor...

Brunhilde whistles in admiration of Udo's statements.

"We could have used someone like you at the ends of our first shifts to help clear out the over-eater young gentlemen who refused to leave. You could shrink any sausage, good sir!" she states bluntly, a merry twinkle in her eye.

Udo continues to eye the floor, somewhat embarrassed, before re-donning his cap without comment.

Gottfried smirks, his mood lightening at Brunhilde's quip. While they hadn't spoken privately he recognised her and he was pretty sure she recognised him.

Memories of set up 'marks' made him smile. If Brunhilde's customers were nice? Wanted a full slew of entertainment? Why she'd lead them down one street and their evening, hopefully, would be unmolested and fun.

If they were rude? Cheapskates? Didn't want any 'extras'? Why then, Brunhilde would walk them down a certain alley. The alley his street gang 'owned'. Much fun and profit would happen. Of course later she'd get her cut... and so would Sargeant Shultz of the watch. With regular and adequate payments Shultz could remain very very ignorant indeed. He would loudly proclaim that he "knew nothing" of any gangs or crime in that area.

Good times.

Then he flinched in his carriage seat... remembering the explosion of a blunderbuss none of them had expected. The explosion that tore Gunters head apart.

Dammit, I gotta get out before I end up just like him... or like so many other fella's I've seen swing or on the wheel.

He sat up straight and studied Udo. If there was someone clearly not 'in the life', someone who was clearly 'on the straight', it was him. Maybe he could be an example of what to look and sound like?

Who can be sure? Folks don't know how they live from day to day, they surely know that they will die. Is it so important to know how, especially when the priests themselves can't be certain?

He smirks
The only one who knows if the priest were wrong or not is the deceased. And they can't complain about possible lies, sorry if that offend some believers among you, but it's true.

He looks at Udo, but Brunhilde is sure she got some not too furtive glances, as he grumbles

It's way too dark in this carriage...

What kind of furtive glances? Glances at what or whom?

Intuition or Perception (whichever is appropriate) 35: 1d100 ⇒ 50

Sorry if I wasn't clear enough: he's peeking at your feminine charms, shall we say.

Udo keeps his gaze footward, but at Goswin's impious words the stoic artisan gives a wistful smile, coupled with a shake of his broad-featured head.

The burly man looks toward Imrik;

"Our elven companion had the right of it when he wisely said 'some nights there is a gloom that can fall upon us all'. Hexensnacht is one such night, so we should ware our talk of the dead, lest they hear and return to answer your questions."

Sigmar damn it all if this fellow isn't a gloomy crow, he grumbles inwardly.

Brunhilde takes another long pull from her flask and glances out of the window at the passing scenery, seemingly lost in her own thoughts for a moment.

She then snaps back and notes: "At my last place of employment, we had a special on Hexensnacht. If you came dressed as a witch or a demon, you got a free spanking. Makes the whole thing more festive, you know? All I know is that we always did brisk business on Hexensnacht. Nothing gets the Old John Thomas going than a good scare! "

Imrik considers briefly lighting up the cabin with a magical light, but decides against it as the humans could be such superstitious creatures and his own eyesight was more then good enough inside the cramped cabin. "Perhaps happier matters might be discussed. Are any of you versed in song or perhaps an instrument?"

"A happier matter would to be know what brings an elf here." Konrad said, somewhat crossly. "You wouldn't happen to be a...wizard?" He asked, almost astonished with himself that he could be so rude as to accuse a stranger of such malfeasance. But it was bad enough to be caught in such a close space with an elf (everyone knew they were bad luck!). But to be within arm's reach of a wizard? He'd heard what the Sigmarite preachers had said about wizards, and none of it was good. Dangerous tools at best, hidden traitors at worst. Either way, it was far too ominous to be stuck in a cart with both an elf and a wizard, so he had to know.

*Gulp* *stare*

"It is nice that you are so concerned with my travels. I am simply here to evaluate some potential trade with buyers in Ulthuan. And what brings you to this part of the Empire?" Imrik says with a smile at the human.

Konrad looked at Imrik askew. The elf didn't answer his question, which was cause for concern. And what was even worse was that the answer didn't come across right. What was an elf doing this far out, away from the cities. A wizard and a dishonest one at that! But...Ulthuan. He had heard that before, from some sailors he had gotten drunk with. They said that it was magical island with shifting isles and rolling fog that would sink any ship that came close. But for those that could get through, they would find glittering alabaster cities with spires of silver and crystal. It was said that every elf who lived there did so without any want or desire, and that precious gems were so common that they were used as minor currency. What if it was true? What if this elf was really doing business. What if he was looking for an intermediary to trade with the dwarves? Everyone knew that dwarves were, to a beard, fabulously wealthy, and that the only reason they smelled so bad was that they took baths in tubs full of gold. If this elf was indeed facilitating trade, then there had to be *alot* of gold there.

The human weighed his options. The wise part of him said to get out of the cart and walk. An elf and a wizard? Why, his immortal soul was in very real danger! At any moment he might be turned into a pile of salt. But the rational part of him said that this might be a chance to get some real coin. There were many things he wanted to buy. A masterwork rapier. Supple and fashionable leather armor. Wine. Women. Respect. And how bad could elves be? They owned Marienburg afterall, right?

"I'm a...bodyguard." He improvised. "While a duellist by trade, I am looking to hone my skills with a blade." Greed won out over morality, as he forced a smile on his face. "Do you travel alone? There are plenty of bandits in these parts. Lots of ne'er do wells. I wouldn't travel alone." He finished, sizing the elf up to see if he could make something out of this.

if he turns your offer down does that prove he is a user of magic or I'd he accepts the offer I wonder? Perhaps if he scratches his left pointy ear or adjusts his pointy balls three times that means something? For gods sake you bunch will have yourself jumping at any shadow and beating at the walls Felver says

”What, you don’t believe in magic?” Konrad asked.

The snow seems take a break from falling, but the cold lingers, anyway, taking each of you in its embrace.

The great cloulds slowly drift away.

You see, for the first time in the last few hours, the stars in the sky, and the two moons , Maanslieb and Morrslieb, overlooking the Empire.

Mannslieb is just a waning crescent, as if a lidded eye, Morrslieb looks like a small, green orb reminiscent of a skull.

In the distance, you spot the first lights of what pass for civilization in these parts: Hallt. In the clearer sky, you can even distinguish the faint trace of smoke from chimneys. Goswin lets out a sigh of relief that becomes a yawn, and tries to stretch his legs a little in the over crowded carriage.

Perception (Hearing) test +0 (Intelligence test) -Acute sense may apply.

Will let my players roll and react