Here's Lutke Geshburger, an Unchained Human Rogue, updated to match the current build rules. Backstory in the profile with stats.
Originally a character I made for a Warhammer Fantasy RPG 2nd edition game, he represents a character concept I've always wanted to see to fruition. Perhaps this will be the game.
20 Questions:
What is your character's name? Lutke Geshburger
How old is your character? 20ish
What would somebody see at first glance? height: 6'2" | weight: ~168 | skin color: olive | eye color: teal | hair color: dark brown | physique: slender | race: Varisian | visible equipment: lots of pockets, a rapier on one hip, several pouches, maybe traces of his craftsman trade, a tool absentmindedly tucked in a breast pocket or a ring of cogs hastily clipped to a belt loop, and naturally his Varisian kapenia which Lutke has wrapped loosely around his neck on his shoulders with the ends hanging down his back.
What additional attributes would be noticed upon meeting the character (i.e. Speech, mannerisms)? affable but somewhat nervous if he doesn't know the person; essentially well-meaning, but socially awkward unless the conversation falls into an area of knowledge or interest in which case he is very enthusiastic and and likely to overshare
Where was your character born? A farm between Magnimar and Sandpoint
Where were you raised? on the farm and in Magnimar (or maybe a larger village nearby the city) once he was apprenticed to the Locksmith
By who? parents/extended family and also his master
Who are your parents? Helga and Mannis Geshburger (not very Varisian, I know, but I can't edit Lutke's name, so Germanic it is!)
Are they alive? Yes
What do they do for a living? Grain farming, some cattle
Do you have any other family or friends? Family: Yes, a few generations of Geshburgers and their resulting broods | Friends: Highly probable, not opposed to creating such a connection with a fellow player; for sure another apprentice who left the service of the locksmith to go study magic at the Acadamae in Korvosa
What is your character's marital status? Single
Kids? None
What is your character's alignment? NG
What is your character's moral code? probably a tricky question; Lutke considers himself a good person, but may not be the first to speak up when some injustices are in his face if they are "socially tolerated" but he would definitely take a stand if he observed behavior he knew without a doubt was harmful to others and he could stop it; Lutke is definitely aware not all societies have the same idea of what is moral and he would err on the side of caution rather than assert his own righteousness until he's certain it's not misplaced; naturally exact circumstances could affect the outcome and we could see Lutke swing as more or less likely depending on environment
Does your character have goals? to become the greatest dungeon designer/builder/engineer ever
Is your character religious? yes, but not a zealot; he would observe the holidays and make the appropriate donations/sacrifices the average peasant would in this part of the world, but if forgets a prayer or business/research prevented making it to the church this particular Sunday, Lutke would not sweat it
What are your character's personal beliefs? he thinks the ruins of Thassilonia and its rune magic may hold the key to designing deadly dungeons and legendary labyrinths
Does your character have any personality quirks (i.e. anti-social, arrogant, optimistic, paranoid)? as mentioned earlier, Lutke will be a little nervous and socially awkward at times, but is likeable; once a person has gotten to know him they may noticed he's easily distracted and sometimes gets too focused on things in front of him especially if it's a trap or work of dungeoneering
Why does your character adventure? to study the various trap-ridden dungeons and vaults and learn how to make even better ones
How does your character view his/her role as an adventurer? trap-discoverer, trap-repurposer, scholar, efficient killer (hey, he has to have some level of sociopathy to want to build deadly dungeons; were you expecting a Boy Scout? :P)
Does your character have any distinguishing marks (birth-marks, scars, deformities)? his left hand has a burn scar on the back which he will unconsciously rub sometimes when he's lost in thought
How does your character get along with others? fairly well; much more likely to try and appease everyone; a bit of a doormat
Is there anything that your character hates? being forced to stop researching/investigating a trap or mechanical device before he's figured out how it operates
Is there anything that your character fears? pixies; he had a bad experience as a young tween
Here's a post I did as Lutke in the Warhammer game, so there will be some references which may seem out of place for Pathfinder. One thing that's integral to understanding the blurb is that Lutke had a supernatural ability to use his craftsman tools to Heal, so he could 'fix' physical ailments like an engineer repairing a mechanical device.
If you would like something a bit less dramatic and more of a typical in-game post, please let me know.
RP Sample: Narrative:
Lutke waited nervously for the man called Sir Brechton outside of the Bloated Dragon trying to keep himself under the overhanging second floor. Rain was falling in large, heavy drops. He found himself both excited and afraid of the task he had been given. From a purely academic standpoint what a challenge this would be! Finding a way to bind someone who could escape standard restraints would test the limits of his knowledge of locks and other traps. Lutke tried not to think of the unspoken part of needing to 'question' the Champion of Tzeentch. Lutke had no illusions he would be required to 'assist' with finding a way to do this as well.
On the other hand, Lutke would be faced with being in close proximity to a fiend of Chaos, some type of mortal being who had given himself over to the Ruinous Powers and been blessed with their hideous touch. That was terrifying. Lutke found himself praying continuously to Ulric and Ranald, his two favored gods here in the far north of the Empire.
Lutke was brought out his reverie by the sudden sounds of two metallic heels striking together with a dulled ringing sound. A helmetless man with dirty blond hair slicked down by the falling water and a very unusually trimmed mustache and beard regarded Lutke's lanky form. He wore what appeared to be a mix of plate and chain for mobility and tabard with a detailed embroidery of a bouquet of flowers imposed over the top of a large golden goblet with a corona of light sewn around it. Lutke had never seen a Bretonnian knight before, but there was certainly no mistaking Sir Adrien Brechton for anything but. The falling rain plinked loudly on his pauldrons.
"You're the locksmith?" It came out with a touch of incredulity and a fair dose of annoyance.
Lutke swallowed and nodded. "I-I am a locks-"
"Follow me then, monsieur. And pray the Lady guards your soul."
Lutke, mouth still agape, watched startled as Sir Brechton strode away, metallic heels splashing muddy water. He was several steps ahead when Lutke regained his wits and hurried to keep up. He quickly gathered up his satchel and tool pouches and hurried after the knight doing his best to shield his equipment with his cloak from the rain.
Sir Brechton led Lutke to a two story building missing part of its roof that appeared to once have been a tavern. A broken sign bearing the name The Secret Games Tavern hung from one rusty chain and swung in the wind and rain. A small detachment of Wolfenburg militia was stationed at the building's entrances, ensuring that no one entered or left without clearance. The men looked miserable standing guard in the rain, but they remained watchful nonetheless. Sir Brechton lifted a hand in acknowledgement of the guards' salutes as he and Lutke approached one of the side doors closer to what had once been the stables but was now being used as barracks for one of the neighborhood patrols off-duty men. Lutke realized this indicated they were also there to be on hand in case something happened with the prisoner contained in the basement of this building.
Lutke followed the slightly older man inside and to what appeared to be a closet under the stairs ascending to the tavern's former puff-puff rooms. Two men were stationed on either side of the hall, one able to watch for those approaching the closet and the other to watch the closet itself. Lutke was somewhat confused until Sir Brechton opened the closet door and revealed the back panel of the closet had been removed. What might have once been a well opening was visible, but iron wrought stairs spiraled down and Lutke could see the flicker of lantern light. Without hesitation Sir Brechton descended the stairs and Lutke hurried to do the same.
The iron stairs were quite cramped and tall Lutke had to stoop slightly or continuously bump his head on the iron steps he had just descended. It went down for quite a while but eventually a similarly small opening allowed access into what was clearly a hidden basement. Stout and study wooden beams supported stone wall construction, and Lutke was certain a portion of it was actually the other side of a sewer wall. It was obvious the stone walled complex was much more extensive than the building above.
"Turns out The Secret Games Tavern did in fact have 'secret games'. Illegal betting on a variety of dangerous things appears to have gone on down here," Sir Brechton suddenly said into the quiet of the underground complex. "Don't wander from me or my men until you have become familiar with the layout. It seems to have been built like a maze. Probably so that if discovered, it would be difficult to catch all of the gamblers and staff."
Lutke barely heard him. Since descending the stairs, he had felt an ominous dread; a wordless feeling that had begun to seep into his skin and was trying to settle into his bones. It seemed to come from a single place in the basement, and somehow Lutke knew he could navigate directly to it. Somehow Lutke knew that this "dungeon's" maze was an open book to him. It was happening again. That feeling like the laws of physics and matter were falling into his hands to use and control and play with...
"Locksmith!" Lutke was roughly shaken by a hand and Sir Brechton's face swam into view. He was inches from Lutke's own. "Have you already given yourself over to madness, man?"
Lutke blinked several times. "Uh..um, I-I am fine. J-Just had a strange f-feeling."
Sir Brechton grunted. "Yes, you'll just have to get used to that." then he added under his breath. "Not that you'll be able." Lutke wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that or not.
"Follow me, and you can get a look at it and we'll get started." The knight began to move away down the passage towards the next lighted area.
"Wait," Lutke blurted. "I need to do some things first." Sir Brechton turned with a frown.
"Uh..I need to interview your men; I need to know what kinds of things the..uh, Champion has escaped from and if anyone knows how he did it." Sir Brechton started to shake his head. "Please, Sir Brechton. I know it sounds useless to you, but trust me. This kind of data will be useful if I am to be able to devise a means to secure this creature. And more importantly..." Lutke took a breath, "if I am to help you find a way to properly question it."
Si Brechton regarded the locksmith, and Lutke noticed how red-rimmed the man's eyes were. Lutke could fix that. His hands twitched, and he wanted to get his tools out.
"Fine," the knight said in a flat tone. He turned on his heel and Lutke leaped to follow.
Over the next several hours, Lutke met the four men who kept a constant vigil on the Champion one-at-a-time. One of them was bemused by Lutke's questions, two were rather sullen, and one was downright hostile feeling like this was all quite a waste of their time. The first was a battle pilgrim who followed Sir Brechton in his questing, the two Sir Brechton's men-at-arms, and the last was Sir Brechton's ward, a young knight errant who was very haughty and obviously of noble blood.
Then Lutke requested to examine the various devices they had attempted to use to restrain the so-called Champion of Chaos. Lutke was astounded to see the various things from manacles and chains to ropes and weights. Belts, straps, rings, hooks, and even a loveself which was a coat used in asylums. Lutke measured them, weighed them, and worked any of their movable parts. He took extensive notes, and once, Sir Brechton had to call up a request for more ink and paper.
Lutke spent a long time staring at his notes and the data. It was all very contradictory....assuming the Champion followed any of the laws of nature as Lutke knew them. Frighteningly, Lutke found that some it it made sense in a way he didn't want to contemplate. A part of him knew how something could do these things...if certain adjustments were made. Lutke tried to force that from his head.
Finally, as Sir Brechton's patience was wearing thin, Lutke admitted to himself that the last bit of information couldn't be obtained until he met the Champion and had his chance to see what he was facing. All these measurements and data that shouldn't be possible...Lutke knew that it would make sense to him even though it shouldn't.
Sir Brechton tapped his foot impatiently, obviously tired and not feeling too much more indulgent. Lutke scraped the wooden chair from the table where he worked in the area outside where they kept the Champion. He stood and looked at the knight.
"May the gods preserve my mind, body, and soul." Lutke whispered. He wiped his sweaty and ink stained hands on his trousers. "I am ready."
For a moment Sir Brechton's face softened and fleeting expression of pity rushed across his features as he looked at the skinny man who looked at him with trepidation. Then it toughened again, as Sir Brechton steeled himself for the encounter to come. He nodded decisively once, and led Lutke to a door. Sir Brechton opened it and went through. Lutke paused in front of the room's entrance trying to steel his nerves. Then before he lost the ability to choose to do so, Lutke put one foot in front of the other and crossed the threshold of change.
Lutke could see the the ghostly hag screaming at him pointing at Albrecht as the wizard was tossed around by the rumbling of the earth. Two massive explosions, one nearer than the rest, caused the world to shake violently. Lutke's human reactions wouldn't allow him to move any faster despite his mind being able to quickly see the vectors and angles the force and movement was generating. The beautiful spirit was quite clearly distraught urging him to save the mage from death. Based on Lutke's mental calculations while Albrecht would certainly be feeling bruised once this was over, he should live. Perhaps, Lutke could soften this last fall...but then the "sight" went wild and Lutke's senses were overwhelmed.
Through the small hill of dirt and stone, Lutke could suddenly see a light that began to increase in size seemingly both agonizingly slow and yet lightning fast. Lutke could see the shape of a horrible being surrounded by some of its lesser kin and they all seemed to be frozen as the light increased, its intensity threatening to strip Lutke's mind bare. The rising crescendo of luminescence vaporized the outlines of those daemonic beings as the ball of energy detonated in an explosion ten times more magnificent than what had come before. A wave of pure magic rushed from the center of the explosion, pushing all magical energy away creating a magicless void of space. Lutke felt it rush past him and through him. As he watched, Albrecht became transfixed. The power surrounding the mage and filling him, his magical well overfilled. The spectral witch had a look of pure awe on her face which Lutke realized was no longer translucent but made solid by the overwhelming magical rush being forced, pressed outward. Lutke knew that only the strength of the earth and stone was keeping the small band from being obliterated by the force of magic.
If Lutke had ever seen the thin rubber-like membrane dwarven engineers sometimes filled with gases lighter than air to amuse their children, Lutke would probably have described this as such. It was as if the void was pushing and straining to keep the winds of magic out. But of course this couldn't remain. It was unnatural and the energy maintaining this void was soon expended. The winds of magic shifted and bucked wildly, rushing back into the magic vacuum that had been created, desperate to refill the space. A small maelstrom of magic whirled and crashed. Manifestations of bizarre things appeared on the magic blasted streets before the bridge, affecting the few survivors in sometimes good and amazing ways but more often hideously warping fashions.
The "sight" faded then, Lutke's exhaustion at this ordeal taking it's toll. He saw the wraith's form linger slightly before she too faded from view, the magic making her corporeal dissipating. Lutke slumped to the ground next to Albrecht senselessly and soon a dreamless sleep took him.
Suddenly, Lutke sees a virtual explosion of lines and vectors. Impossible quick calculations of distance and force rapidly enter and exit his mind as he sees the soldiers of the Hellcannon mission thrown around the small tunnel as the earth shakes and rolls.
FP=3, Fate Roll 30+20=50 v. 1d100 ⇒ 8 = Very good Success
It's as if all the physics of the chaotic tumbling make sense, and Lutke is simply able to step, jump, push a hand off the wall here or there, oy! maybe he misread that a little, but it only jostled him a tiny bit.
Lutke nods. "Aye, Albrecht. I agree that Captain Biedelmann's suggestion seems to be a wise decision considering..." Lutke casts a significant glance at the astounding devastation created by one snotbomb.
"These things should definitely be able to take down that accursed daemonic weapon."
Lutke hefts the bomb he had acquired from one of the downed soldiers. He would have to think carefully before he used this.
Lutke follows Albrecht into the tunnel, Captain Biedelmann and the-now-Sergeant Steinmann right behind. Several soldiers had been waiting for their entry and immediately moved some tower rubble that had been propping up against the entry way. Hopefully, this would make this door look like just another closet that collapsed.
As the last piece fell into place, the cramped feel of the stone and the darkness not illuminated by the thin light of storm lanterns made the shadows seem darker, and an ill feeling swept its way past Lutke. He shuddered and hoped they hadn't just made a mistake returning to this damp and dark place.
Hearing the captain speak, broke Lutke's contemplation of the wizard and the ghostly familiar which Lutke was certain was somewhere around.
Lutke couldn't shake the feeling of doom, and the sense of wrongness and foulness coming closer and closer. Captain Biedelmann's suggestion of taking refuge in the tunnel seemed a good one. However, Lutke couldn't help but think he should follow Magister Albrecht. He waited to see whether if the mage would move based on the captain's command.
Lutke's contemplation of the ghostly vision he had witnessed is abruptly ended when he is jostled roughly. Lutke becomes suddenly aware of the movement bodies and fearful shouting all around him. Suddenly a strong smell hits his nose and eyes and he reflexively coughs.
T 39 v. 1d100 ⇒ 21 = Success Ag 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 17 = Success
Lutke manages to not only keep his footing as the panicking soldiers coughed and fought to reach the ladder, but also managed to pull a work rag out of his pack to cover his nose and mouth. It was even damp. Had a small tentacle handed it to him? Lutke shook his head. No, that's ridiculous.
Moving away from the mad rush towards the ladder. Lutke finds himself next to Albrecht. The "sight" hadn't faded yet and he could see the spitting sparks of Bright Wind magic that surrounded the wizard. The hag's spirit was nowhere in sight, but Lutke wasn't concerned with that at the moment.
He was trying to see the source of the strange gas. Was it an attack of the Kurgens'?
Perception (Int 37)-15(smoke filled room and commotion)=22 v. 1d100 ⇒ 49 = Failed
The shifting bodies and screaming not to mention the thick smoke made it to hard to see the origin. If only a strong wind would come blow the smoke out of the room. Or if the smoke behaved more like wood smoke the heat would make it lift up and out of the opening in the ceiling. Lutke could only dream the Kurgen's would suffer that way.
A.K. Engineering (Int 37)=37 v. 1d100 ⇒ 7 = Success
For Albrecht and GM Drachenfels:
Wait! Wind! Heat!
"Albrecht!" Lutke reached out and pulled the mage close and shouted into his ear above the din of the soldiers. "Make heat! Heat the air, Albrecht. Make the smoke rise!"
I know there isn't a "spell" for this, but come on. A bright wizard should be able to do something as petty as generating heat from his body without even making fire. It's up to Albrecht and you GM Drachenfels
Suddenly, Rekstahl's voice murmured to him.
High Lady? Who in the name of Ulric was that? Regardless, Lutke realized betrayed meant betrayed. In his heart, Lutke prayed Ulric and Ranald, the brother gods, would see that a nemesis, a righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent, came to this High Lady. Briefly the pretty face of Gretta filled his thoughts. Lutke shook his head to clear his mind. This was no time to be lustful!
Lutke's mouth drops open in shock as Njord's body falls from the opening onto the men below. The taste of blood enters his mouth and Lutke finds himself gagging and spitting, but the flavor of iron won't go away.
Shock test: WP 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 89 = Failed
Aside from the instinctive reaction to the blood spray, Lutke can't seem to be able to move. He hears Captain Biedelmann's cry to assist, but Lutke hears him as if from very far away. Lutke sees the last of the blood dribbling from the stump of Njord's neck. For a moment, the "sight" comes on him again.
He sees a strange image of a glowing fog pouring out of Njord's body. Is that his soul? Lutke thinks wildly. Suddenly, a translucent beautiful dark haired woman appears from out of the side of Lutke's vision. A glowing nimbus seems to surround her. She is reaching for the wispy fog as if trying to grab it, but it seems to slip through her fingers. He hears her whisper as if in his own ear.
Alllllbreeeecht. That one would have been a great spirit for you to possess and control. It is a shame we were not prepared for his passing.
Without warning her gaze snaps to Lutke. Her eyes widen and an evil smile fills her face. Lutke blinks and she is immediately in front of him, mere inches from his face.
Hello, rabbit, I have been waiting for the day when you might see me again. After all, I have been with you so long! My killer, my murderer! She laughed, a peal of crystal. She reached out and touched his forehead. Her touch was cold but light like the touch of a snowflake falling from the northern sky. Yes, I owe you so much, my dear rabbit. A hungry and terrifying light shone in her eyes, and just as suddenly as she had appeared, she retreated. To Lutke she seemed to have been pulled back as if she had been straining against a tether and had ceased resisting. Lutke's eyes followed her quick movement unconsciously, no control of his actions.
Lutke was frozen with fear and couldn't believe this had happened. Despite her gorgeous appearance, Lutke recognized her. She's the ghost of the accursed hag that had almost killed him what seemed so long agao! She had "snapped back" amongst the crowd of panicking soldiers and Lutke hadn't been able to see where she had gone. But she had said Albrecht's name. And he had her stone...
Lutke shivered uncontrollably. Shame and doubt began to crowd his mind. The hag had come to represent everything he feared about magic and Chaos. Somehow knowing even after her death she would haunt Lutke seemed to strike a blow deeper than even his conversations with Rekstahl.
WP 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 21 = Success
However, even now his strange new grasp on reality and the laws of the universe protected his fragile mind from breaking. He could use this somehow. The more he thought about this, the more sure he was of it. Yes, he would master his fear of this creature. Her rabbit she had called him. We'll see who's hunting who Lutke thought. After all, I won the first time, didn't I?
Somewhere, wherever it was, Rekstahl the Choice-Giver smiled.
Lutke waited nervously for the man called Sir Brechton outside of the Bloated Dragon trying to keep himself under the overhanging second floor. Rain was falling in large, heavy drops. He found himself both excited and afraid of the task he had been given. From a purely academic standpoint what a challenge this would be! Finding a way to bind someone who could escape standard restraints would test the limits of his knowledge of locks and other traps. Lutke tried not to think of the unspoken part of needing to 'question' the Champion of Tzeentch. Lutke had no illusions he would be required to 'assist' with finding a way to do this as well.
On the other hand, Lutke would be faced with being in close proximity to a fiend of Chaos, some type of mortal being who had given himself over to the Ruinous Powers and been blessed with their hideous touch. That was terrifying. Lutke found himself praying continuously to Ulric and Ranald, his two favored gods here in the far north of the Empire.
Lutke was brought out his reverie by the sudden sounds of two metallic heels striking together with a dulled ringing sound. A helmetless man with dirty blond hair slicked down by the falling water and a very unusually trimmed mustache and beard regarded Lutke's lanky form. He wore what appeared to be a mix of plate and chain for mobility and tabard with a detailed embroidery of a bouquet of flowers imposed over the top of a large golden goblet with a corona of light sewn around it. Lutke had never seen a Bretonnian knight before, but there was certainly no mistaking Sir Adrien Brechton for anything but. The falling rain plinked loudly on his pauldrons.
"You're the locksmith?" It came out with a touch of incredulity and a fair dose of annoyance.
Lutke swallowed and nodded. "I-I am a locks-"
"Follow me then, monsieur. And pray the Lady guards your soul."
Lutke, mouth still agape, watched startled as Sir Brechton strode away, metallic heels splashing muddy water. He was several steps ahead when Lutke regained his wits and hurried to keep up. He quickly gathered up his satchel and tool pouches and hurried after the knight doing his best to shield his equipment with his cloak from the rain.
Sir Brechton led Lutke to a two story building missing part of its roof that appeared to once have been a tavern. A broken sign bearing the name The Secret Games Tavern hung from one rusty chain and swung in the wind and rain. A small detachment of Wolfenburg militia was stationed at the building's entrances, ensuring that no one entered or left without clearance. The men looked miserable standing guard in the rain, but they remained watchful nonetheless. Sir Brechton lifted a hand in acknowledgement of the guards' salutes as he and Lutke approached one of the side doors closer to what had once been the stables but was now being used as barracks for one of the neighborhood patrols off-duty men. Lutke realized this indicated they were also there to be on hand in case something happened with the prisoner contained in the basement of this building.
Lutke followed the slightly older man inside and to what appeared to be a closet under the stairs ascending to the tavern's former puff-puff rooms. Two men were stationed on either side of the hall, one able to watch for those approaching the closet and the other to watch the closet itself. Lutke was somewhat confused until Sir Brechton opened the closet door and revealed the back panel of the closet had been removed. What might have once been a well opening was visible, but iron wrought stairs spiraled down and Lutke could see the flicker of lantern light. Without hesitation Sir Brechton descended the stairs and Lutke hurried to do the same.
The iron stairs were quite cramped and tall Lutke had to stoop slightly or continuously bump his head on the iron steps he had just descended. It went down for quite a while but eventually a similarly small opening allowed access into what was clearly a hidden basement. Stout and study wooden beams supported stone wall construction, and Lutke was certain a portion of it was actually the other side of a sewer wall. It was obvious the stone walled complex was much more extensive than the building above.
"Turns out The Secret Games Tavern did in fact have 'secret games'. Illegal betting on a variety of dangerous things appears to have gone on down here," Sir Brechton suddenly said into the quiet of the underground complex. "Don't wander from me or my men until you have become familiar with the layout. It seems to have been built like a maze. Probably so that if discovered, it would be difficult to catch all of the gamblers and staff."
Lutke barely heard him. Since descending the stairs, he had felt an ominous dread; a wordless feeling that had begun to seep into his skin and was trying to settle into his bones. It seemed to come from a single place in the basement, and somehow Lutke knew he could navigate directly to it. Somehow Lutke knew that this "dungeon's" maze was an open book to him. It was happening again. That feeling like the laws of physics and matter were falling into his hands to use and control and play with...
"Locksmith!" Lutke was roughly shaken by a hand and Sir Brechton's face swam into view. He was inches from Lutke's own. "Have you already given yourself over to madness, man?"
Lutke blinked several times. "Uh..um, I-I am fine. J-Just had a strange f-feeling."
Sir Brechton grunted. "yes, you'll just have to get used to that." then he added under his breath. "Not that you'll be able." Lutke wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that or not.
"Follow me, and you can get a look at it and we'll get started." The knight began to move away down the passage towards the next lighted area.
"Wait," Lutke blurted. "I need to do some things first." Sir Brechton turned with a frown.
"Uh..I need to interview your men; I need to know what kinds of things the..uh, Champion has escaped from and if anyone knows how he did it." Sir Brechton started to shake his head. "Please, Sir Brechton. I know it sounds useless to you, but trust me. This kind of data will be useful if I am to be able to devise a means to secure this creature. And more importantly..." Lutke took a breath, "if I am to help you find a way to properly question it."
Si Brechton regarded the locksmith, and Lutke noticed how red-rimmed the man's eyes were. Lutke could fix that. His hands twitched, and he wanted to get his tools out.
"Fine," the knight said in a flat tone. He turned on his heel and Lutke leaped to follow.
Over the next several hours, Lutke met the four men who kept a constant vigil on the Champion one-at-a-time. One of them was bemused by Lutke's questions, two were rather sullen, and one was downright hostile feeling like this was all quite a waste of their time. The first was a battle pilgrim who followed Sir Brechton in his questing, the two Sir Brechton's men-at-arms, and the last was Sir Brechton's ward, a young knight errant who was very haughty and obviously of noble blood.
Then Lutke requested to examine the various devices they had attempted to use to restrain the so-called Champion of Chaos. Lutke was astounded to see the various things from manacles and chains to ropes and weights. Belts, straps, rings, hooks, and even a loveself which was a coat used in asylums. Lutke measured them, weighed them, and worked any of their movable parts. He took extensive notes, and once, Sir Brechton had to call up a request for more ink and paper.
Lutke spent a long time staring at his notes and the data. It was all very contradictory....assuming the Champion followed any of the laws of nature as Lutke knew them. Frighteningly, Lutke found that some it it made sense in a way he didn't want to contemplate. A part of him knew how something could do these things...if certain adjustments were made. Lutke tried to force that from his head.
Finally, as Sir Brechton's patience was wearing thin, Lutke admitted to himself that the last bit of information couldn't be obtained until he met the Champion and had his chance to see what he was facing. All these measurements and data that shouldn't be possible...Lutke knew that it would make sense to him even though it shouldn't.
Sir Brechton tapped his foot impatiently, obviously tired and not feeling too much more indulgent. Lutke scraped the wooden chair from the table where he worked in the area outside where they kept the Champion. He stood and looked at the knight.
"May the gods preserve my mind, body, and soul." Lutke whispered. He wiped his sweaty and ink stained hands on his trousers. "I am ready."
For a moment Sir Brechton's face softened and fleeting expression of pity rushed across his features as he looked at the skinny man who looked at him with trepidation. Then it toughened again, as Sir Brechton steeled himself for the encounter to come. He nodded decisively once, and led Lutke to a door. Sir Brechton opened it and went through. Lutke paused in front of the room's entrance trying to steel his nerves. Then before he lost the ability to choose to do so, Lutke put one foot in front of the other and crossed the threshold of change.
Lutke eyed the ladder and the stones above it suspiciously. He strained to hear anything which might indicate trying to leave this room wouldn't be foolhardy. Nervously he shifts his pack on his shoulder and steadies it so as not to disturb the bogbaby too much.
Lutke found he was only a little surprised by the wide mouth of the dwarven jug that came floating by. Leave it to dwarves to create a container that allowed greater consumption in a single gulp. The tiny bog octopus slipped right in after Lutke placed the remainder of the hand and arm inside with a generous dose of murky, bloody water as well.
"Lutke, you really shouldn't keep this creature," Albrecht said again.
Lutke tossed Albrecht an irritated glance. Momentarily, the "vision" came on him again. He could see the strange reddish-orange wisps that seemed to swirl around the wizard; some of it shooting off of him like sparks of off a fire. Lutke could see a strange greenish glow emanating from Albrecht's chest area adding it's own power to the wind of fire surrounding Albrecht. Occasionally though, Lutke saw a darker tendril colored a deep purple like a very bad bruise. It seemed drawn towards the large corpse of the bog octopus. Where it caressed the animal, Lutke swore he could see an energy trying to enter it, trying to move it. Then the "vision" faded, and only Albrecht was before him.
"I suppose there are things none of us should be keeping, magister," Lutke muttered hotly and reached out and poked Albrecht in the place where the stone was hidden in the mage's clothes.
Albrecht met Lutke's eyes and the two men stared at one another for a moment. It ended when Albrecht inclined his head acknowledging the secrets the men seemed to share. Lutke nodded and looked around. The jug's cork floated into view and Lutke picked it up and plugged the jug. Drawing his utility knife he poked a small hole in the cork to allow some air transfer, and then he stowed the jug amongst his other things.
"In any case, my dear wizard friend, I very much hope we both survive this. I do believe we can help each other out with our personal 'interests'." Lutke turned towards Albrecht once more. "After all, choices have been given us, Magister Albrecht."
Lutke moved past Albrecht as the rest of the platoon began to trudge down the tunnel. He hoped Albrecht wouldn't see his trembling. Choices have been given us, Albrecht. And those choices have already been made. By both of us. The triumphant laughter of Rekstahl followed him long into the dark.
The voice of Rekstahl chimes in Lutke's mind again. It frightened him. He felt a desire to try and go against the Champion's suggestive comment. But...but the chance! The little octopus would be just too perfect.
Lol, I wrote the last post without even knowing Rekstahl was going to weigh in. How terrifying it was almost perfectly in line with what Lutke was already thinking!
You know "octopi" is the plural of octopus! Are you saying there is more than one?
Lutke stares at the small octopus. Wheels turn and Lutke desperately prays to Ranald that a large bottle or waterproof sack would appear out of nowhere. Oh the things I could do with you little one! Lutke can't help but think keeping this young monster on hand to place in a completely abnormal and incongruous location in a magnificent dungeon somewhere would be brilliant. Who would expect a bog octopus in mountain temple security vault? Not mention keeping it for possible milking of its skin irritating ichor.
A piece of what was probably the arm of an unfortunate soldier to be killed by the bog octopus, floated up and bumped into Lutke's leg. Lutke recognized the bad tattoo of an ugly mohawked snotling, the letters G-R-A-N with the rest cut off (torn off) from where the bloody stump ended. Absently, Lutke retrieved the arm and hand and held it out to the small monster. It gurgled and its beak began to tear shreds of flesh off the hunk of meat. Lutke's mind raced. How would he ever be able to get this little critter out of here intact and keep it alive?
Lutke approaches the submerged corpse of the large cephalopod. He examines the creature and determines the beak area and the hole in its center mass would be the best angle to to try and locate the source of the ichor and perhaps extract a gland or sac.
Corrupted Heal (Int 37)-15 for bloody and murky water = 22 v. 1d100 ⇒ 10 = Success
Oh Wise and Corrupt GM Drachenfels, what does Lutke obtain?
Lutke blinks as he is splattered with cooked rubbery flesh and watches the whole mess of wailing and flailing, forcibly penetrating hentaicles crashes back into the water.
Private Aimes leads a cheer as the octopus releases whatever soul it had to Rhya's embrace. Face and arms still burning uncomfortably from the irritating ink, Lutke absently begins to splash the dirty, bloody water on himself to wash off the ichor.
Hearing Albrecht, Lutke says, "I think I have to agree...after I collect some of this monster's ichor, of course!"
For a moment Lutke's vision seems obscured and he feels wildly off balance and dizzy. The hentaicle had just come off! Suddenly further distorting his view amongst the snapping beak, flailing hentaicles, and shouts of men, Lutke sees the eyes of the Chaos Champion Rekstahl. Lutke hears the mental voice of the demon man in his mind.
Rekstahl the Choice Giver wrote:
~ Trapmaster, EVADE! ~
Suddenly Lutke's vision clears perfectly. The darkness is irrelevant. The shadows and flickering light no longer hide anything. Lutke can see these things as if they are just shapes, colors, abstract concepts which happen to have been splashed upon the color of the world, and for the first time Lutke is has begun to be able to grasp their design and purpose. He sees how the objects connect to vision and how the muscles of the men around him are telegraphing what they will do long before they do it. Their movements almost easily predictable based on the simple physics and geometry of their impending motion. The same was true of the bog octopus which seemed to be curling up inside. Lutke could see the way the ripples of its rubbery flesh seemed to be constricting and drawing together. It was getting ready to unleash something!
Lutke was moving before he realized it. Maybe he had started to move when the image of Rekstahl had appeared. Lutke just wasn't sure. However it happened, the trapmaster attempted to evade.
Ag 40 + 20 Foresight bonus v. 1d100 ⇒ 67 = Failed
The hentaicle Lutke had removed was under the water and still moving! Wildly thrashing, it was curling and uncurling; the suckers grasping and releasing anything it touched. Unfortunately one of these was Lutke's leg. As the tall thin man leaped away, it curled around his leg preventing the dash to safety. Lutke let out a surprised yelp as his movement was suddenly arrested. The wave of burning inky bile splashed all over him.
T 39 v. 1d100 ⇒ 27 = Success
Lutke grits his teeth and manages to separate his mind from the pain. Damn that stupid hentaicle! And suddenly a new trap idea springs into Lutke's mind.
As the noise and motion explode around him, Lutke finds the old familiar panic rising. He sees the spray of blood as Stannis is bitten in two and his remains messily consumed. Bile starts to rise up.
Then he hears the shout of Captain Lucas, and turning to look at him, Lutke sees a white light. Momentarily entranced, Lutke feels the nausea wash away and the fear leave him. He finds a trust in Captain Lucas building within him and for once, Lutke knows he can play his part. He pulls the giant wrench he carries from the strong loop sewn onto his breeches and begins to calculate how he can help without dying.
Aimes 12 feet and to the left on a 5.2 degree path from Lutke's position. Lifting shield to block incoming tentacle attack coming at downward arc to Aimes' upper right quadrant.
The man behind Aimes steadying his sword and beginning to charge in the right of Aimes at approximately 2 degrees of Aimes current position attempting to slash at the attacking tentacle.
Lutke sees his opening as the other two soldiers behind the man who was next to where Stannis had stood grabbed him and began a tug-of-war with a tentacle that encircled the poor soldier's torso. A strange feeling comes over him as he watches the tentacle move. He knows what to do. It's just like before. He could adjust the bog octopus if he just...
Lutke the Lackless: Attack (2 at WS 29 v. 2d100 ⇒ (86, 26) = 112) + Defense (3 at T 39 v. 3d100 ⇒ (5, 22, 31) = 58) = 4 Octopussy Tentacle w/ Hentai Attack: Attack (4 at WS 45 v. 4d100 ⇒ (54, 66, 70, 77) = 267 + Defense 5 at T 55 v. 5d100 ⇒ (75, 36, 84, 12, 41) = 248) = 3
Winner: Lutke!!!
That's unbelievable. I thought for sure Lutke was going to go down when I saw the Bog's numbers.
Hentaicle's saving throw: 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 76 = Failed!
Lutke slips past the three struggling men. The hentaicle clutching the soldier weaves and another hentaicle comes out of nowhere, but Lutke steps in a small pothole under the water and the hentaicle misses him. Focused, Lutke reaches the point in the water he believes to be the hentaicle's point of connection to the bog octopus. He sets to work, and with a few skilled turns of his wrench the screws fall out, plop-plop, into the murky water and the hentaicle suddenly detaches and with a splash the three struggling soldiers fall backward into the murky river water as the tension releases.
For a moment Lutke grins from ear to ear. Then he blinks as what he did crashes home. Lutke's face feels bloodless and a wave of dizziness hits him. How do these things keep happening??!! Lutke prays to Ranald that no one saw him.
Lutke is glad he had acquired some wool lined boots to go with his other wool garments. Being cold wouldn't be something he would have to be too worried about even floundering around in a tunnel full of water. The eels or bog octopi babies would still be a problem however. Damn those soldiers for putting that in his mind! Now every stride forward through the dark and murky water seemed to just be one more step until the inevitable cry of doom from whichever poor fool got attacked first. Lutke wished he had been invited to float in the small boat Lackey had brought.
Lutke looked around at the red jerseys of the tough soldiers who had been recruited for snotball by Lackey. Lutke felt out of place with his very nondescript brown tunic and tan wool coat which he had buttoned all the way. Lutke felt a small stab of jealousy that these men got to wear such nice colors. It quickly passed though as it occurred to Lutke that in the half light of the storm lanterns, it almost made these men look like they were covered in blood. Lutke shivered. He found himself thinking, They all look like they're dead already with those red shirts.
Lutke will roll to represent the weariness Drachenfels described to determine if he will have a negative modifier until he gets some rest: T 39 v. 1d100 ⇒ 52 = Failed. Lutke will suffer -10% when rolling physical and mental tests until he can rest, unless Drachenfels wants to modify.
Commander Nulner is giving his last speech before the mission is to begin its desperate struggle to destroy the Hellcannon. Lutke seems to hear the Commander through a haze, like his ears are stuffed with cotton. He begins to hear something else...a noise, no...a feeling of something else above him. He looks up and feels the rending of space and time and peers into a void, the Warp. Lutke stares in horror. Colors and sounds and feelings and smells...things which shouldn't exist, that cannot exist are being experienced. He hears a cry, and Albrecht's voice begins to say things Lutke cannot at that moment understand. He can't understand anything as his mind is assaulted by the image of the creature that is coming through through from that place on the other side. The cruel eyes of madness belonging to the enormous birdlike being reach out to him, Lutke feels like he is being ripped apart, reassembled, changed. He wants to scream, but how can he? He no longer has a mouth to make sound or ears to hear it. Every speck of him under assault as he makes the mistake of looking upon a Lord of Change. No! Lutke's mind wails. I never wanted to be able to see this! Why couldn't it have been a lie? Why did you do this to me? Why!? Ulric! Shallyah! Ranald! Sigmar! Morr! Please!
WP 43-30=13 v. 1d100 ⇒ 12 = Success
Whether the gods saved him, Lutke will never know as an much more normal and mundane sound ripped through the moment and prevented the change. The heat of a fire hotter than any Lutke had ever felt washed over his skin, and with a scream he would never remember but often torment his dreams, the daemon above him was sucked back into the Warp, with no trace to show there had ever been a tear on the fabric of reality except a single feather as long as Lutke's arm drifting on the shifts of air current created by the super heated air above the fire. Fortunately for Lutke's sanity, he did not see this, and the fate of this feather has yet to be seen.
Ag 40-10=30 v. 1d100 ⇒ 36 = Failed
Lutke staggers and falls to his knees as the force of the explosion hits him from behind. He turns and looks, the raging conflagration burning out the husk of what was the guardtower the Farseer Nicodemus had been granted by Commander Nulner to use as his own. Large pieces of burning rubble fall but fortunately do not pose a threat. The fire is very, very hot, and the debris is mostly consumed before reaching the ground. The rain of fire looked more dangerous than it actually was. Most people respond appropriately and dive for cover. Not surprisingly, the man-giant, Lackey Gunterman laughs and point in glee shouting something about fireworks. Lutke is half-surprised to find himself among the few who are strangely unafraid in the face of the inferno.
Just as it said would happen, Lutke thought wearily. Lutke could see it now, something he never had been able to before. This fire was created from magic. Lutke found himself wondering why he had not always been able to tell, but ever since the interrogation of Rekstahl the Choice-Giver, Lutke seemed to notice things differently. This frightened Lutke. He forced himself to look at the gibbering Albrecht who was being restrained as he had seemingly lost his senses before the explosion occurred. So much rode on the Bright Wizard now. Luke said a prayer to the gods hoping one of them would find the time to watch over the young man full of arcane energy to keep him safe. And keep him sane, a small voice in Lutke's mind whispered. Lutke shivered.
Numbly he heard Commander Nulner and Captain Lucas begin getting control of the situation, giving orders and providing direction to the stunned and terrified soldeirs and nearby citizens. Lutke strode forward and laid a hand on the Albrecht's shoulder who looked at him with wild eyes, seeing him as who knows what at that moment.
"It's okay, Albrecht," Lutke says just loud enough to be heard over the commotion. "You did right. You saved us all." He closes his eyes and shaking his head whispers half to himself, "I just pray we can make good of the gift of more time you have given us."
Moments after Lutke, Commander Nulner dismissed Major 'Ice' and his Sergeant Major. The major immediately headed out from The Bloated Dragon and walked several streets towards the southern section of the Imperial controlled territory. He came to a pair of enormous and elaborately made gates which were manned by some very serious and dangerous looking men wearing ill-fitting livery displaying a large mouthed fish with scales of gold. Two large signs on each side of the gate also sported an image of the creature with the words "Maximillian's" over its head and "The Golden Bass IV" just below it. Across the street from the large gate, several dirty and very desparate looking men and women sat or stood around what was probably once a fine cafe and seemed to watch the estate and the dangerous looking men like hawks who in turn stared right back with the menace of a hungry wolf protecting its kill.
Upon seeing the major, one of the serious looking men made a gesture and the gates began to open just enough to permit a single person inside. The mercenaries tensed up as the small crowd of unfortunates seemed to stir slightly when the gate was opened. Major 'Ice' thought he could hear a low rumble like a growl from one of the mercenaries as he passed by. He ignored the rabble and the cutthroat mercenaries and stepped inside. The gate closed swiftly and audibly behind him.
A small man met Major 'Ice' just inside. Thin and short, his stature probably fooled many into not thinking this man was dangerous. Having been in the Imperial Army for a while, Major 'Ice' could recognize the eyes of a killer. The man who greeted him had a very calculating gaze, and Major 'Ice' had no doubt the man probably already knew at least three ways to kill everyone in view if needed.
"Major," the small man said with very poorly hidden disgust and a nod which instead of being respectful came across as challenging. "So when are you going to take care of that." The man's tone was flat making the question a statement. "My men and I have had to deal with their attempts to breach his place many times. I have had to see to some things...personally."
Major 'Ice' didn't need any explanation. He knew very well to what the man referred.
"Pleasant as always to see you, Jaspar," Major 'Ice' said with venom. "And I believe it is you and these brutes who are being paid to protect the Golden Bass. The Army has other concerns." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Besides Jaspar, with the increasing number of illicit and unsolved murders that we keep getting reports of in the citizen districts, I can only imagine, the rabble out there is more interested in getting to you than they are to looting this place." Ignoring the tightening of Jaspar's jaw and the narrowing of those dangerous eyes, Major 'Ice' proceeded through the courtyard garden to the main entrance.
Despite the war raging, the garden was well maintained and the fountains were running with clean water. It was filled with fantastic topiary most of them fish shapes, but in some highlighted areas were bushes shaped like some of the more fantastic creatures the owner Maximillian had encountered and even likenesses of comrades he had journeyed with (if one believed he had only ever traveled with beautiful women) before his gambling and luck had acquired him wealth of a staggering amount. This location was mirrored after the original Golden Bass which Maximillian had essentially taken over after breaking the bank when gambling there. The actual Maximillian was likely in Altdorf, but he required certain standards of appearance for all his properties, and appointed well-paid managers to oversee the casinoes and keep up the reputation of the brand.
The well-dressed and groomed doormen silently opened the large doors and Major 'Ice' stepped inside. A beautiful woman in a long flowing gown with a perfect smile greeted him and gestured for another young woman also beautiful to show the soldier to his 'usual' table. He was led across a large gambling hall which amazingly seemed filled. The destruction of the city across the river had dislodged many of the wealthier merchants and nobles. The Golden Bass offered rooms as well as games, and Maximillian had advised the current manager of the Golden Bass IV to offer the rooms at discounted rates to these dislodged patrons and for some even on credit pending the war's resolution. Always the shrewd one, Maximillian recognized the opportunity to acquire the support of the nobility and the wealthy, and with the debt some of them had acquired for accepting Maximillian's generosity, many people in this room would owe the casino owner much more "support" than others.
The pretty young woman led the Major to a private room where some notably influential individuals sat playing cards. The major took a seat at the table as if there was no other place that he belonged. Being the third son of the most influential noble family in Middenheim certainly brought some respect from those who knew enough. Credit was immediately offered and he was dealed into the next hand. The other members of the game making some small talk amongst themselves, but otherwise left Major 'Ice' to bring up the topic they were waiting for on his own.
The major let himself cool his emotions by focusing on a few hands before breaking the polite talk into the serious.
"The fool is taking that farseer warlock seriously!" Major 'Ice' said coldly despite feeling the anger burning within him. "This so-called 'vision' has blinded Commander Nulner to the truth. He has sent the 'trap maker' down to the creature just as the Farseer directed."
A balding priest threw his hand of cards down in disgust. "How can the colonel not see that if he continues to listen to this Sigmar-damned bastard, we shall all be lost?" He reached into his the folds of his robes and withdrew a Hammer amulet and kissed it. "I think it is time to exercise my influence with the Bishop and demand the mutant destroyed and the Farseer tried for sorcery!"
A man with long gray hair and and a beardless face in an exquisitely embroidered robe, tapped a golden finger on the table surface. "My spies have told me a Bright wizard was amongst the so-called foretold group. If he falls under the spell of the Farseer, this could be problematic. It may be necessary for me to expose myself and intervene. Of course, I will most likely need your assistance, Graven." His gleaming metallic hand gestured to a woman sitting across from his position at the table.
A woman of such stunning appearance that she made the other women look like still budding wildflowers in the presence of a rare orchid in bloom smiled at the suggestion. "I suppose I might do what I can. Though I am not my aunt, I still manage." She laughed softly, the sound like the tittering of beautiful birdsong.
The man sitting next to her wore dark clothing and hadn't removed his hat seemed to ignore tham and remained studying the cards in his hand. The others turned to him as he had yet to say his piece. Very carefully, the man laid four of the cards on the table. They were Cadet of Coins, Initiate of Flags, Apprentice of Crowns and Maid of Swords. Paired with any other card the hand was the lowest possible hand. Any card except...
The man placed the Fool on the top of the others. The Fool on this card was depicted as exaggerated caricature of a witch hunter. It had always amused him to play with this deck and he loved it when he got the Fool.
"Yes, the wizard. One must always start with the wizard..." a deep but raspy voice said. The man lifted his head so the other could see his eyes.
Lutke had been shocked to be invited into the Commander's private office on the upper floors of The Bloated Dragon. A couple of high ranking men who had the air of command stood in the room, most likely Commander Nulner's aide as one man's insignia showed a major's rank and the other the top enlisted man which would make him a sergeant major. Lutke hadn't noticed the commander's rank when they had first been introduced, but clearly he must be a lt. colonel or perhaps higher. Lutke began calculating the time these two must have served based on their ribbons and what he could remember of the service awards.
His contemplation was interrupted when a side door from the one Lutke had entered opened, and Commander Nulner came into the room. Apparently the Commander had just come from the bath as he was bare-chested with a towel around his shoulders and loose fitting slacks of a rough cloth. Coming in front of the desk, the Commander leans slightly on it while gripping the ends of the towel in each hand. He wastes no time with pleasantries and says,
Commander Nulner wrote:
"Herr Geshburger, I'm beginning to think the arrival of you and your cohorts was a gift from Sigmar himself. Tell me sir, are you a religious man? Do you obey the strictures of Sigmar?"
Lutke blinks several times and as the silence grew realized a response was evidently expected. "Y-yes. Of course." The Commander and his two men watch Lutke squirm unrelentingly. Lutke swallowed and found himself begin to speak again. "I-I mean, maybe I haven't always said my prayers, b-but I am definitely good about requesting help from the gods Ulric and Ranald since I was raised here in the north and I thank them too, of course after all if one can receive help y-you sh-should definitely remember to honor them afterwards and of course I honor S-Sigmar, too even though I am from the northern lands and we venerate Ulric I have never b-been one to forget my Lord Sigmar in my prayers or on feast days I swear, I mean one time when I was back h-home, my father and I..."
This time Commander Nulner is the one who blinked, finally realizing that Lutke was too nervous to shut up on his own. He waved his hand dismissively. Lutke stops talking immediately, a slight choking sound may be heard as Lutke strangles whatever words he was going to say.
"Don't misunderstand my question, Lutke. I am no priest, but I must know you are going to be able to protect your soul from the business I called you for today."
Lutke feels even more confused now. "Sir? I don't think I understand."
Nulner pauses here, glancing at his aides. The major seems to have a slight disapproving turn to his mouth, and the Sergeant major grunts slightly nodding at the commander. The quiet stretches to the point of almost uncomfortable as the Commander visibly wrestles with whatever is on his mind. When he does finally speak, the words seem to burst out of him causing Lutke to jump just a bit which might have been funny except none of the three other men seemed even remotely interested in laughing.
Commander Nulner wrote:
"In one of our more daring counter attacks, we staged an assault deep into No Man's Land. That's what we call the part of the city the Kurgan now control."
GM Drachenfels wrote:
The Commander seems to choke on his words as if they were venom, then continues.
Commander Nulner wrote:
"Anyhow, we lost many good men but the attack wasn't in vain. We manged to secure a prisoner. A Chaos Champion by the looks of it. My Farseer tells me he's aligned with the Architect of Fate, whatever that means. In truth, I've never made much of a study of the Chaos Gods. To look too deep into the eyes of the enemy is to become your enemy."
Lutke tried to keep his face very still. The Commander's comment had struck a nerve within him. His memories of those odd occurrences he had had since meeting the wizard Albrecht had come surging to the forefront of his mind, and Lutke felt if these three men saw even a whisper of it in his face, they would strike him down where he stood.
GM Drachenfels wrote:
It is here Commander Nulner seems to peer into Lutke as if looking for imperfections. Mercifully, he seems to find none. With a nod of his head, he continues.
The other two men seemed to relax slightly as well, as if taking cues from Nulner was second nature and most likely not even conscious.
Lutke would have breathed a sigh of relief, but knew it would only arouse whatever suspicions had been recently stifled. Instead he tried to focus on Nulner's face to understand why Nulner was telling him of such a possibly heretical act as leaving a Chaos Champion alive.
Commander Nulner wrote:
"We've been forced to keep this Champion under constant guard. I've assigned some of my best men to stand watch, men who I'd rather have on the front lines. You see, no lock or cage seems capable of holding this infidel. There's something strange about him. We need this man restrained! Only then can we properly question him and glean whatever information he has."
"A man who is able to escape restraints and locks?" Lutke says with curiosity, almost to himself. His mind begins to whirl and work already trying to puzzle out the different ways a man could escape basic locks.
GM Drachenfels wrote:
Nulner pauses, turning once again to face you. His cool black eyes seem to be sizing you up.
Commander Nulner wrote:
"I hear you're something of an expert when it comes to locks. Can you do this?"
"I will need to study him...understand how he frees himself. I have to admit, if it is magic I will be outside my element, but if there is some mundane mechanism..." Lutke trails off, his eyes unseeing as his mind began placing images of every lock type one could use to secure a prisoner ahead of his more physical vision.
Lutke didn't see the looks exchanged between Nulner and his top men. "Herr Geshberger? Herr?" Nulner gestured and the Sergeant Major leaned forward and snapped his fingers before Lutke's face. Lutke recolied slightly and his eyes refocused on Nulner. A comical expression on Lutke's face brought a wry smile to Nulner's lips, while the Sergeant Major chuckled audibly. The Major did not seem amused.
"Is that a yes, Herr Geshburger?" Commander Nulner asked. He crossed his arms and gave Lutke an inquisitive look.
"Ah...yes, Commander," Lutke said. "As long as his method of regress is in fact a physical means, I know I can prevent this."
Commander Nulner smiled and nodded, another quick glance in his aides' direction seemed to confirm something between them.
"I hope I do not need to stress how critical it is for us to question this so-called Champion as soon as possible," Commander Nulner said returning to complete seriousness. "Aside from the time sensitive nature of finding out as much as we can about what the enemy force is planning to throw at us, the various religious orders are clamoring for us to destroy the mutant immediately." Commander Nulner frowned and rubbed his temples. "I have begun hearing some rumors questioning my own intentions in keeping this...this thing alive. If we are not able to gain some Intel from it soon, I will be forced to turn it over to the witch hunters who are stationed here for termination."
"I...I think I can understand that, sir," Lutke said. Then hesitantly, "Are you certain one mutant is going to be worth all this trouble? I am not certain how quickly I will be able to find a solution for you."
Commander Nulner's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled when the frowning Major said icily, "You would do well not to ask questions which might be above your position, Herr Geshburger." The man had an accent Lutke couldn't place or rather a distinct lack of one, each word pronounced precisely and carefully with absolute care.
"My, my apologies, gentlemen," Lutke said looking down. He felt himself tremble. There was an air of dangerous energy crackling in the small office, and Lutke realized there was something happening here. He would need to tread very carefully in how he proceeded. Lutke swallowed and as politely as possible said, "Since time is of the essence, it's best I get started right away." He took a chance and looked up with out raising his head. For once he was grateful for the longish hair dangling in his eyes. Nulner was looking at his major, his face a mask. The sergeant major had a sour expression and was definitely shifting his gaze between the two officers. Major 'Ice' was frowning deeply and seemed intent on boring a hole through Lutke's head with his eyes.
After a long moment of silence, Nulner lifted a hand without saying anything and rang a small bell sitting on the desk upon which he leaned. The door opened behind Lutke and he heard the voice of the runner boy who had been sitting outside the office on a stool next to the door sentries say, "Yes, Commander Nulner?"
"Go and find Sir Brechton," Mulner said. "Tell him I am sending a locksmith. Have him come to The Bloated Dragon to escort Herr Geshburger here," Nulner gestures to Lutke, "back to his fellow knights' location."
Lutke heard a quick, "Yessir," and the boy was gone. Commander Nulner twists from his position and picks up a small folded paper and looks contemplatively at Lutke. "I trust you will not let me down, Herr Geshburger." He holds the paper out, and Lutke takes it from the commander. "Dismissed."
As Lutke turns to leave the small office, he feels the weight of the three men's eyes on his back. Somehow the cold and the snow and the Kurgen are feeling a lot less dangerous than the small office of The Bloated Dragon.
After 'hinkering' (heal + tinker) for many minutes, Lutke feels proud at his masterpiece reconstruction of Caspar's wounds. To his horror, Caspar dies. Lutke can hear the cackle of the Architect as Caspar's soul is plucked from his body and consumed in the void of Chaos. A spiritual scream of everlasting torment echoes across the face of the world as Caspar is ripped apart and remade.
The tools fall limply from Lutke's hand, the cry echoing through his head. He feels a hand on his shoulder, Albrecht is looking at him. Such serious eyes. Flames dance in them, burning and burning. The light of them fills Lutke's vision and the world goes orange and red.
Lutke's vision returns and he is still looking at Albrecht. But he feels the tools in his hands. He looks down. Caspar is alive and looking at him with fear and those sad, sad eyes. Lutke had not yet begun his work. The vision was of what would happen if he did. He hadn't killed Caspar after all!. For the second first time, the tools fall from Lutke's limp fingers. He's in such a haze from his own pain, he never realized the damage he was doing or had been about to do.
Gretta helps Caspar up while Albrecht brings Lutke to his feet. Albrecht looks at Lutke again, a curious expression on his face. Suddenly Lutke can feel it. Even though Albrecht is holding it, Lutke can sense it. The hag's stone. It was pulsing with magical energy. Somehow it had given Lutke this terrible moment then taken it back. A hairline fracture in Lutke's mind is formed. He would never forget that scream of torment escaping Caspar's soul. Even knowing it had never happened, Lutke knew he was changed yet again. The stone had changed things again. But at what cost. Lutke shuddered and moved with the other three into the tunnel.
"Wait!" Lutke suddenly sputtered. "Albrecht, wait!" Painfully Lutke turns and hobbles back out of the tunnel.
There! Amongst the rotting and frozen corpses of the undead was the Norscan warrior. Having been felled early in the fight, Njord's spilled blood was already beginning to freeze in the snow. Lutke hoped he wasn't too late, and that he had regained enough of himself to help the big man.
Lutke's Corrupted Heal (Ag 43) -10 for being in pain = 33 v. 1d100 ⇒ 39
Left to recover on their own, Lutke lies stiffly and in pain on the cold ground with Gretta fairly close to him burned and moaning in her fire-filled dreams while Caspar coughs blood hoarsely into the snow. A strange quiet fills the air broken only by the ragged breathing of Albrecht who is close; the wizard picking himself off the ground where the concussion of a defective grenade had jostled him from a magic-infused vision.
The dwarves move along the passage with their donkey much more concerned with their engineering marvel than the fate of their comrades, and so they face the challenge from the tunnel's interior door alone.
Lutke realizes that even with the danger over, the party's in a bad way. He needs to act, or the cold and and injuries will see almost half the party consigned to death or permanent disability.
T 34 v. 1d100 ⇒ 93 = Failed
The pain seems to be too much to move, Lutke's injuries too severe. He knows he must move on, must get up, he had to help his friends. He had to! Move, Lutke. Move!
WP 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 6 = Success
With a groan of pain Lutke sits up, his vision ringed with brightness and is quite blurred. The pain in his jaw and chest, tells him what he needs to do first. Desperately pawing through his bag, he finds his tools. Trying not to think about what it means, he begins to tinker...trying to find that place again that let him "unlock" the body's capacity to heal.
Lutke's Corrupted Heal (Ag 43) -10 due to working on himself while in pain v. 1d100 ⇒ 76 = Failed
Lutke realizes in his condition he will not be successful when trying to work on himself, since it is too difficult without a mirror or assistance. He abandons the attempt and turns to the fiery haired woman lying close by. She is breathing, but seems badly burned. She begins to stir and lift herself up her eyes unfocused. As she reaches her knees she looks up and seems to suddenly see something on the wall at her eye level. She blinks several times, and Lutke swears under the burns she is blushing.
"Gretta," Lutke slurs. "Let me see what I can do." And he tries to pull himself closer to her.
Lutke's Corrupted Heal (Ag 43) -10 for pain v. 1d100 ⇒ 69 = Failed
Shaking his head, Lutke finds his concentration doesn't seem to be sufficient for these burns. He finds himself hoping the wounds will fade and do not remain to mar her pretty features. Lutke then turns to Albrecht who other than some blood running down his cheek seems fine if shaken.
Groaning, Lutke pulls himself to his feet and approaches the bleeding Caspar who looks up at Lutke with sad eyes, so very sad.
Lutke's Corrupted Heal (Ag 43) -10 for pain v. 1d100 ⇒ 100 = Fumbled and failed. Oh damn...sorry man.
Well, GM Drachenfels...it looks like I must turn over the description of what happens here to you.
Finishing up his obviously poor attempts to "fix" everyone, Lutke tries to help Gretta lift Caspar's form, but collapses to his knees. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Lutke looks up and sees Albrecht's grim face looking down at him. Of anyone here, Albrecht must know what Lutke was just doing...but no recrimination or accusation is in his eyes. Such serious eyes. Lutke's head is swimming as Albrecht tries to help him to his feet.
T 34 v. 1d100 ⇒ 24 = Success
Lutke manages to fight through the pain and hold down what little food he had managed to eat that day before hell had descended upon them. A pitiful quartet moves into the dark confines of the tunnel. The loud sounds of the dwarves' voices ringing along the stonework filling Lutke's ears like thunder.
Mercy, gods above. Mercy, please, Lutke prays. In his heart he knows that no one is listening.
What no mention of my sorry situation? I guess "friendly fire" doesn't merit a comment in the situation synopsis anymore, lol.
Lutke's prone form lays more or less just shy of the new opening made by the enthusiastic demolitionists. He moans numbly in pain. Maybe he's coming around?
T 34 v. 1d100 ⇒ 53 = Failed
Lutke's form slumps again in a pain-infused stupor.
Shoved again by Krak, Lutke snaps out of his fearful charge down the tunnel long enough to see the black orb with the burning fuse spitting and hissing like an angry cat. Lutke's eyes widen and his mouth makes a large 'O'. This only inspires further haste from Lutke, albeit at the cost of watching his footing and now tangling with the dwarf holding certain death in his hands.
Ag (40-10)=30 v. 1d100 ⇒ 28 = Success
Lutke manages to disentangle himself from the dwarf and moves quickly towards the far end. Feeling relief Lutke takes a large breath and reaches out to steady himself. His hand encounters something very warm and covered in coarse fur. I thought I just got passed Krak, Lutke thinks. Only when Lutke hears the startled and fearful braying of an unusually bright service animal does Lutke realize he has placed his hand on Donkey's hindquarters. And Donkey is not at all pleased.
Lutke's Ag to dodge to avoid a near point-blank kick from a frightened Donkey: 40-25=15 v. 1d100 ⇒ 70 = Failed
Lutke is kicked hard. One hoof connecting right into his torso and the other under his jaw.
Lutke's fate roll not to take an Attack Dice like hit 3*10=30 v. 1d100 ⇒ 84 = Failed
Lutke is launched into the air right in the direction of the rushing Krak's back spitting teeth and blood and the horrible sound of cracking ribs.
Lutke's Saving throw not to be KO'd by a donkey: 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 95 = Failed
Lutke turns back towards the tunnel opening in time to see Caspar make his heroic if foolhardy charge. Seeing the terrifying figures emerging from the ground, Lutke feels that old familiar panic rising.
WP 43 v. 1d100 ⇒ 79 = Failed...Sorry, Caspar...
Lutke turns and begins trying to move further down the tunnel away from the scary, scary monsters.
Move 4*10=40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 46 = Failed
Lutke is moving quickly, but the debris from the explosion causes him to stumble slightly, and he is jostled more when Gretta tries to run past him to save Caspar. He doesn't make it to Donkey's flying hooves this time around.
"Hey!" Lutke exclaims as the two dwarves lead the charge into the darkness of the tunnel. He follows the giant warrior inside the cool damp confines of the earth while still trying to get the dwarves attention. "Hey! We need to get the collapsing trap set up. Hey! Listen!"
"You two didn't leave me with much to work with out here. We'll have to set up the collapsing trap further in." Lutke stands up and absently brushes off the debris from his clothes as if explosive residue is no different than the ever present snow. "We'd better get moving. If the Kurgen didn't know the location of this tunnel before, they do now! Plus I can only imagine someone from the city heard that noise. They are sure to think it's another Kurgen trick and be responding with some assuredly suspicious fellows."
"Hey now. Hey!" Lutke rushes over and attempts to gently pull Caspar off of the young woman. "Come on now. Easy, easy." Lutke speaks in a fairly soothing voice to both of them trying to calm down the situation.
Fel 30 v. 1d100 ⇒ 25 = Success
"We don't have time for this you two. We need to get into the city. Then we can sort this out, okay?"
Almost caught off-guard by the Norseman's quick and brutal swing, Lutke attempts to side step the fountain of arterial spray erupting from the now headless body
Ag 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 40
Lutke's move to the side is almost comical as he ducks behind the Camp Follower of Mystery and and whatever would have landed on him lands all over her. She makes a joke and laughs as her "seduced" Kurgen falls lifelessly to the ground. A chill comes over Lutke hearing her mirth, but that seems to happen often enough, Lutke thinks it might just be the cold.
Then as if nothing unusual has happened whatsoever, Lutke considers Albrecht's proposal.
"Hmmm...I hadn't really given that type of trap much thought simply because there would be no way to discriminate against if the people entering the tunnel would actually be friendlies, but yes I can do it." Lutke points to Krak and Boom. "Those two are demolition engineers after all. If they can create the blast formula that has enough power to crash this hill, I can rig the trap that does it."
Lutke tilts his head, "Not to mention, I am not sure if we will be able to open it wide enough for the donkey..." Lutke gives the poor Donkey a sympathetic look.
Lutke's face pales a little as Albrecht makes plain the suggestion he had attempted to recommend without alerting the Kurgen. He begins to pull the crossbow into a more easily retrievable position as he imagines the Kurgen are not going to go quietly.
Until their reactions to their death sentence are posted, Lutke continues.
Looking down, he says in a small voice, "We could in fact probably 'force' it open, but collapsing it is most likely going to require the use of some of the more volatile chemicals Krak and Boom are carrying." Lutke takes a breath. "Also, we would run the risk of bringing the tunnel down on our heads since there is no way to know its stability."
Drachenfels, does the party know how far away from the actual city walls we are? Is this like miles, or can we see it in the distance, so we can somewhat gauge how far the tunnel is supposed to be taking us?
Lutke now turns his attention to the rock and the secret door as indicated by dwarves. Lutke looks critically at the crack the Shaman had put into it with his magic. Lutke shook his head knowing this could complicate things.
After a few minutes, everyone close by can hear Lutke muttering to himself as he approaches on side of the "door". "If I was making this, I would definitely put the switch over here...but I strongly doubt whoever did this would have been aware of the Berthold Hingebreaker, so they wouldn't know that putting it over there would make it vulnerable..." Lutke suddenly reaches to a corner area of the stone and seems to insert his fingers into the snow and moss. "Ah-ha! Just as I thought."
Set Trap (Ag 40) v. 1d100 ⇒ 63 = Failed
The stone groans and begins to shift as if it is going to retreat into the wall, but suddenly a loud crack! is heard. The rift caused by the terrifying magics by the shaman widens, and the entire stone shifts in its position. Half of the stone falls into a position wedging it diagonally while the other half still tries to move. A horrendous grinding noise is heard and then suddenly stops and the stone door is in two pieces pressed together in an almost impossibly airtight formation.
"Skeever Dung!" Lutke cries. He attempts to examine it for any possible means to correct the broken pieces and get them on track.
Trade: Locksmith (Ag 40) v. 1d100 ⇒ 45 = Failed
With a forlorn look, Lutke turns to the party. "That thrice-damned warlock ruined our path in." Shaking his head, Lutke gestures to the break in the stone. "We don't have the tools we need to repair this, and if we force it open, we create an access point the enemy is bound to exploit. We would not be doing our comrades a favor."
I suppose I should state these are assumptions Lutke is making since he assumes he knows more than anyone present about it, and the process is baffling him based on his rolls...though that final roll is only a little off his skill...
Lutke keeps his loaded crossbow in hand and carefully approaches the man with fire in his eyes and flames curling from his fingertips.
"Look down, Albrecht," Lutke says quietly. Kneeling down, Lutke attempts to write a message in the snow with his hands. The medium is fairly difficult so Lutke really has to concentrate.
Perhaps, Albrecht is smart enough to read it despite Lutke's clumsy attempts. Lutke isn't certain if he succeeded and quickly scuffs the "message" with his boot once he thinks Albrecht has had a chance to see.
I am assuming Albrecht will need to make an Int test or something to see if he was able to see Lutke's poorly formed snow words
Message for Albrecht:
Tunnel not good place to keep track of prisoners. Recommend Morr's mercy.
Lutke begins the laborious process of turning the crank on the crossbow in order to reload it. He hoped Njord would run out and kill the last warrior before he realized what a fantastic target Caspar presented or that the tall skinny man shooting at him had no business doing so.
Lutke is just beginning to consider the traps situation when two increasingly loud explosions rock the area. The first one causes Lutke to freeze as he sees the Shaman's body fall mostly headless to the frozen ground. The louder second one snaps his mind back into action and he feels a cringing fear that always signifies the beginning of battle.
Lutke brings his crossbow around from where he keeps it attached to his pack. Taking aim at the Kurgen who has bounded back to his feet, Lutke says a quick prayer to Ranald asking for assistance with what will most likely be a shot made with pure luck.
BS 28 v. 2d100 ⇒ (49, 10) = 59 = 1
Unwounded Kurgen:
Defense 42 v. 4d100 ⇒ (4, 99, 1, 28) = 132 = 2
So if I am reading this right The Kurgen is completely unharmed
The bolt strikes square on the Kurgen's blade with a loud clang. He had drawn it just in time. Lutke groans knowing he really is pretty useless in these situations.
Lutke is once again too stunned to even begin to comprehend the battle which suddenly explodes like a kernel of corn in a hot pan. All he registers is the speed and force with which Njord moves and makes his charge. The numbers whirl in Lutke's mind in time to the strangely high-pitched and glass-like sound of Njord's red steel blade colliding with the heavy iron of the Kurgen's large kukri style weapon. And just like that a bloody Kurgen is kicked into the snow and dirt at Albrecht's feet.
Perception +0 (Int 40) = 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 98....that's great
Holy Ulric! Lutke's feverish mind begins to see things which may or may not be there. He's covered in eyes! Eyes! Lutke felt faint. Chaos was once again confronting him. Suddenly he could see the hag, claw-like fingers reaching for him; the image superimposed over the Kurgen covered in eyes, blinking eyes.
Lutke stumbles backwards into Caspar and then as if every bone in his body had vacated his skin, Lutke faints.
Lutke, who has been rather quiet since the intense battle which nearly killed the party, looks upon the tableau and thinks how much better the Temple of Shallya would have looked right about then.
Lutke hears the wailing of Mudknuckles and fear at "Yeti!" begins to work its way into his mind. Lutke's vision pictures the angry troll from the cave, just as the horse and rider burst into view. Seeing the imminent collision, Lutke attempts to dive aside!
Agility 40 v. 1d100 ⇒ 10Success!
In a move he recently picked up while fleeing a winter-cursed hag, Lutke dives forward, crossbow clutched to his chest, and falls into a roll. Coming up into a crouch, Lutke brings the crossbow up somewhat awkwardly in his best impression of The Gray Wolves marksmen he had seen. He looks around wildly for the Yeti.
Perception (Int 37) 37 v. 1d100 ⇒ 25Success!
Lutke sees the crazy scene before him clearly. He identifies the situation needing attention and springs into action.
Lutke is now waiting for description of the ensuing tangle and potential threat. What he will do next is dependent on the scene Dagon and the others lay out for him. :)
"...look Magister, I refuse to do shoddy work. As I have said before, we don't have the time, the tools, nor the materials to set up any traps which would actually do more than inconvenience the Kurgen!" The frustration in Lutke's voice coming through despite his attempts to contain it. "I don't do inconvenience! Some of us aren't able to conjure what we need out of thin air."
The party has been traveling for several miles through Kurgen pillaged country; the signs of their foul rape of the land and its people evident. The argument between Albrecht and Lutke had started off as a simple request for Lutke's talents. Since then it had turned more into struggle of authority as the young wizard tries to assert his assumed leadership of the group by imposing his fantastic demand that Lutke cause fortifications and elaborate devices to spring up from the snow and frozen soil (at least this is how Lutke sees it). Lutke so far has stubbornly refused to comply, insisting that making speed to the legions' camp would be the better choice and not wasting time on "pointless exercises in futility".
Lutke still respected the wizard and deferred to his opinion on most things, but when it came to what he considered his own specialty, he didn't want to hear any contradictions. Especially not from someone who was barely older than himself.
"Look if I had 50 bear traps laying around, that would be one thing. But what do we have? Our gear necessary for survival, some ale, and components for the dwarves' weaponry which they are not going to give to me. We don't have the manpower needed to gather enough wood, rope, and metal needed let alone the time!" Lutke shook his head. "Snare traps are pointless unless they can cripple as well."
I am assuming Albrecht makes a response here. Whether he is able to make a post or not, imagine he is saying something wizardly, and then consider the rest of this post the aftermath.
Whatever Lutke was going to say in response is forestalled, when
Caspar the Red wrote:
"Captain! It sounds like a rider approaches!"
Lutke can also see the small form of Mudnuckles running back from his scouting position. Albrecht turns and responds to the outcry of Njord and begans to chant strange words. Lutke finds himself fascinated as he begins to see small sparks shooting off of Albrecht's form like he is fresh wood just thrown into the fire. Realization of what may come ahead suddenly dawns on Lutke and he quickly takes a place close to the side of the wagon and tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He frees the crossbow from where it hangs on his backpack, and begins to work the crank necessary to load a bolt.
Somewhat disappointed, Lutke shakes his head at Caspar's lack of fortitude. Gretta had displayed her usual fickle attention by first being frostier than the pre-morning air to the Norseman and the suddenly seeming to be more warmer than a tavern fire on a winter's night.
Int 37 v. 1d100 ⇒ 71Failed
Lutke gathers up his gear and grabs the main tent pole as he steps out into the morning. The tent cloth begins to sag still held up partially by the makeshift tent stakes and ropes.
As Lutke begins to bring the rest of the tent down, he turns to Albrecht and says, "Aye. Of course I am willing to set whatever traps I can, but unless we're planning to take the time to fell some trees and cord some rope; I won't have too much material to make traps that will be able to kill or cripple a man." Lutke cocks his head and frowns in thought. "Unless we have spare glass containers that can be corked or sealed...and use any highly flammable liquids to..." Lutke trails off and you can see him doing some mental calculations.
Around this time, Njord is making his joke, one which would have made Lutke laugh for sure, but his mind was too busy thinking about what he might be able to do to assist.
Lutke's eyes seem to light up for a moment, but then he shakes his head. "Nevermind. It won't work." He eyes Albrecht thoughtfully. "Not unless you can put your fire in a bottle or make it cling permanently to a stone." You can hear the question in his voice, Albrecht
Lutke awoke to the sound of some unnecessarily noisy clumping and scraping sounds. Poking his head out of the tent, he sees that between Gretta and the halfling Mudnucles (who had chosen not to engage his requests for conversation the night before) most of the few general supplies were being packed haphazardly in the dwarves wagon. In fact, it looked like the tent the two had shared with Caspar had been taken down around Caspar as he was laying on his bedroll amongst an unfortunate pile of rocks. His bewildered expression at waking to the sky was enough to bring forth a chuckle from Lutke.
A moment later he heard Njord approach Gretta from the side while Albrecht who had been with him responded to something Krak had said. Lutke's jaw dropped when he heard the Njord's comments and questions for Gretta. His mouth sure seemed to spend a lot of time in that position lately. He snapped it shut with a small clack of teeth. Caspar seemed to have heard the exchange, and surprisingly his bleary eyes seemed to have narrowed and become more focused. Caspar painfully climbed to his feet and began to approach the would-be-casanova and his mark. The unfortunate hangover the minstrel had seemed to be lending an almost out of place appearance of menace to Caspar's normally smooth handsome face.
Lutke's eyes track Caspar as he approaches the large Norseman and the young mysterious camp follower. Lutke can't see Gretta's reaction to the large warrior's "advances" since her back is mostly to him. Lutke's eyebrows rise in pending surprise at Caspar's uncharacteristic display of bravado. Lutke wonders if Gretta has noticed Caspar yet, and if it will change her response to the big man.
"Oh my, this is going to be interesting," Lutke muttered to no one in particular. He estimated at Caspar's footspeed, he would reach the pair in less than 2.3 seconds. Quite interesting indeed, his mind said to itself.
As Lutke moves towards Mudnucles, Caspar sings his song, and Lutke notices that the strange tension Gretta had been displaying seems to melt away. She begins to give Caspar those flirty little smiles again, clearly the off-key song meant to instill bravery in men about to die having an effect few could understand on the mysterious young woman. Lutke does his best to ignore this and makes his offer to Mudnucles for conversation. As he sits, the giant Norseman Njord goes thumping by not seeming the worse for wear after all the dwarven spirits, and a brief moment later the sound of a keg being untapped and let to run unchecked comes from off in the dark.
It had been a very long night and day. After the strange hallucination brought on by Albrecht touching the glowing stone the hag had been wearing, the party had rummaged through the wreckage and destruction of the desperate camp made by The Gray Wolves. The Kurgen hadn't left much behind that wasn't ruined or defiled, and their evident cannibalism had been nauseating.
Removing the crude manacles from Njord and Mudnucles had been childsplay. Lutke didn't even know why the Kurgen bothered. Even Njord probably would have been able to pick the single-pin key lock. Lutke already been imagining what he could do with the heavy manacles and made sure to stow it on the wagon. A trap design intended to launch them like a bola came to mind...in fact, Lutke was sure some of the dwarves explosive devices could manage it. Lutke decided he would approach them about a way to propel this in a directed manner...
Caspar and Gretta had managed to find some rations that they knew the cook had buried in the snow behind the former mess area. The cook had always insisted on doing this for some of the officers' food. Fortunately, the Kurgen hadn't known about it, and it had been unspoiled. Not that it had been too much better than the food served to the regular soldiers. Times had been tough.
Fortunately, there had been plenty of clothing and blankets left (bodies not being in short supply), and the party had been able to scrounge enough to replace or augment their rather meager inventory. Everyone but the halfling was able to add a second pair of worn boots (Gretta looked a little odd in soldier's footwear, but the hide boots she had been wearing had needed a little cobbling) and some socks or foot wraps. Mudnucles refused to even hear any suggestion of the kind and pointedly ignored any attempts to convince him otherwise.
The only other tools of survival they had an overabundance of was tent canvas. While much of tent poles and stakes had been broken or burned, plenty of the thick rough cloth lay about in various degrees of destruction. Using tree branches, broken spear hafts, and even a snapped pitted dagger as a stake, the party was able to get together enough materials to set up two full tents for three and enough tarp for the dwarves to make a half tent using the side of their wagon. Lutke had assumed the big Norseman Njord, Albrecht, and he would be in one tent while Mudnucles, Caspar, and Gretta shared the other. However, the unusually tense air between Caspar and Gretta seemed to indicate that sleeping arrangements might be different.
As the ragged band sat around the fire eating the warming meal Gretta provided, Lutke find himself trying to divide his attention between Albrecht, Gretta, and the two newcomers. For once he couldn't seem to keep track of everything. The laughter of Krak and Njord was somewhat irritating...being ignorant always bothered Lutke. He cursed that he had never had a chance to learn Khazalid. Instead he tried to focus on the things pressing on his mind. He found himself tinkering with the ancient dwarven lockbox absently as he did sometimes, a single lockpick tracing the familiar contours inside the lock itself. (This isn't an opening attempt. Just a nervous habit.) He forced himself to stop, stowing the tool and the lockbox.
Albrecht worried him. Even after the mental hijinks the stone in the hag's crude thong necklace had caused, Albrecht had insisted on taking it with him. Not the reaction Lutke had expected. Of course, Gretta's "episode" was probably the most concerning. She was hiding something. It had embarrassed and upset her, leading her to distance herself from the man for whom she seemed to have a strong infatuation, Caspar. She sure was pretty. Lutke shook his head to clear his thoughts. No time for that. Besides she had made her choice of course. Likely, it was better that way. Who knew what her secret was, but it didn't look to be something one would easily ignore. Lutke found his hands were once again busy with the lockbox and a lockpick tool. This time it was the other lockbox. Lutke didn't know how he could tell, but he could despite their identical appearance. He immediately stopped and once again put them away.
Running his nimble hands through his hair, Lutke moved the wooden bowl of half-eaten food from his lap. Standing he forced himself not to look at either the wizard or the pretty girl and instead made his way to the other side of the fire. Looking at the small form of the halfling, Lutke says,
"Hello friend, if you are willing to hear my story of how I arrived here, I would be more than happy to hear yours." Lutke gives Mudnucles a nervous smile, brushes some snow off of the fallen log they had pulled up close to the fire, and sits down near the body almost invisible in a pile of blankets.
Lutke composes himself, brushes the snow from his hair, and says,
"What says the halfling cloak you wear? Will he vouch for your? If there is one thing you can trust a halfling for, it's no love of Chaos and its minions."
Lutke feels an odd twinge as he sees the locked manacles on the Norseman's body. He feels his fingers twitch and one hand instinctively go to his satchel where he keeps his lockpicking tools. Lutke finds a desire to work with his cold numb hands on those locks building inside of him.
I just realized...the halfling hasn't had an intro. How about he's manacled to the Norseman, Dagon? It would give the Norseman a lot more credibility for not being a part of the Kurgen, and allow us to kind of gloss over the 30 posts or so we would normally go through to "accept" the new party member.
At the sound of the Norseman's heavy accent, Lutke jumps another "four and a half feet" landing quite certainly behind Albrecht. Clutching Albrecht's robe, Lutke peers in suprise and the beginning of fear over Albrecht's shoulder at the newcomer.
"Are...are...you real?" Lutke says in a strained voice. "Is he real?" he whispers in Albrecht's ear.
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