Sir Brechton's page

BACK IN IMPERIAL HELD WOLFENBURG...

Sir Brechton could not believe the news was true, yet here he was marching through the darkness, preparing to deliver the bad tidings to Commander Nulner personally.

Deep in thought, Adrien Brechton had hardly paid any attention to his surroundings. Rounding the corner suddenly brought him into the officers district and in view of what appeared to be the Farseers tower. It was nothing now but a smoldering skeletal finger! Sparks and embers fell from the smoking wood frame, the gutted structure a ghost of its former self.

"By the Ladies blessing," Sir Brechton mutters. "What happened here?"

Pushing past the scurrying fire teams, the Bretonnian knight stands for a long moment, fist raised, preparing to knock upon the door of the Bloated Dragon...

LUTKE:

Hope this doesn't ninja your story in any way. I just felt inspired by the name Sir Brechton to make the man Bretonnian. I left the reasons why he is serving here open. I'm sure we can make it into an interesting backstory.

"Sir Brechton!" A young voice calls. Ah yes, one of the unfortunate children of Wolfenburg turned runner for Commander Nulner. "Sir Brechton? Message for you!"

"In here, boy!"

Sir Brechton was a stranger in a strange land. Bretonnian by birth, Adrien Brechton was in fact a Sir, a Knight of the Order of the Flowers, though perhaps the lowliest of them. How he had managed to become embroidered in the troubles of the Empire is a story for another time.

"Commander Nulner is sending someone, errr, a locksmith."

A locksmith? Sir Brechton muses, raising an eyebrow. Of all things, a locksmith?

These past few weeks had been very tense. This palpable air of stress had not improved when 'The Champion' had been captured. This Champion had been left under the watch of Sir Brechton and four of his most capable men. It had been a tiring affair. Even now, down in the basement below, Sir Brechton could feel the presence of the unholy denizen of Tzeentch, mocking his captors as he slowly paced the room. What was he, no IT, waiting for?

"Send the Commander my thanks. We welcome any assistance when it comes to our current...situation."

A locksmith?! Lady preserve us.

Adrien Brechton takes another long pull at his glass of Bretonnian Brandy.