We don't have the Orientation talent?
The plan that picked it only got 2 votes.
Warhammerquest: A WHFRP Adventure.
- Thread starter Swordswain
- Start date
We don't have the Orientation talent?
The plan that picked it only got 2 votes.
My bad, corrected now, thank you for pointing it out!
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Plan: Scooby dooby doo Warhammer edition.
LordPanther14
The Definition of Insanity
- Location
- Land of the Free
[X]Plan healer of body and mind
[X] Geheimnisnacht's Gift
[X] Geheimnisnacht's Gift
- Location
- USA
[x] Retain Experience Points
[x] Geheimnisnacht's Gift
[x] Geheimnisnacht's Gift
Vote Closed, I plan to have Character Sheets and first IC Post up by tonight.
Dramatis Personae
PERSONAL DETAILS
Name: Olaf Khöleir
Race: Human
Homeland: The Empire, Stirland, The City of Würtbad.
Career: Vagabond
Height: 6'1''
Hair Color: Light Brown
Weight: 130 Pounds
Eye Color: Copper
Distinguishing Marks: None
PEOPLE YOU KNOW
Father: Magnus Khöleir, A Rat-Catcher in Würtbad
Mother: Gabrielle Khöleir, An entertainer in Würtbad
Siblings: Pieter & Klara Khöleir, both as-yet unemployed teenagers.
Friends: Miska, a Kislevite warrior and your Companion on the road.
CHARACTERISTICS
Weaponskill (WS): 29
Ballistic Skill (BS): 45
Strength: (S): 32
Toughness (T): 26
Agility (Ag): 26
Intelligence (Int): 32
Will Power (WP): 36
Fellowship (Fel): 36
Attacks (A): 1
Wounds (W): 10
Movement (M): 5
Magic (Mag): 0
Insanity Points (IP): 0
Fate Points (FP): 2
SKILLS
Common Knowledge (the Empire): +20%
Common Knowledge (Kislev): +12%
Gossip: +10%
Storyteller: +7%
Speak language (Reikspiel): +20%
Navigation: +6%
Outdoor Survival: +4%
Swim: +6%
Heal: +5%
Silent Move: +6%
TALENTS
Sixth Sense: You get a strange feeling when you are in grave danger. and this sometimes alerts you to trouble before it happens. When danger is afoot, the GM may secretly roll a Test on your Willpower. If successful, the GM may tell you that you have a bad feeling about your situation or that you feeI like you're being watched. This talent may enable you to avoid being surprised when the rest of your allies succumb.
Strong-Minded:
Your resilient mind is less susceptible to sanity-blasting events. You don't have to check for insanity until you have 8 Insanity Points, and you don't automatically get one until you have 14 IPs.
Seasoned Traveler: You have extensive travel experience. You gain a +10% bonus on Common Knowledge and Speak Language Tests.
Fleet Footed: You Gain a permanent +1 to your movement characteristic.
Marksman: You gain a permanent +5% bonus to your Ballistic Skill Characteristic.
INVENTORY
Commoner Clothing (Equipped)
The same clothes you left Würtbad with, and currently your only set. They'll protect you from the elements (mostly), and keep your private bits hidden, but aren't particularly fancy.
-Solid leather boots that smell of feet
-Warm Wool socks (Thanks mom!)
-Undergarments
-Brown Cotton pants that have been patched and re-patched a hundred times
-Simple leather belt
-An old, loose hemp shirt, once white, but now stained in gray and yellow by time, weather, and spilled meals.
Cloak (Equipped)
A well-worn traveling cloak. It can keep you warm in the wilderness, and, with a dark gray-ish green color, and the hood pulled low, can help keep you hidden. Although its lower edges are tattered.
Walking Stick (Poor quality Quarterstaff)
The fallen branch of a tree, this tal twisted branch serves as a makeshift staff has served you well along your journey, lightening your burden and allowing you to poke things from a small distance away. In a pinch, it can make a shitty quarterstaff in a fight.
Kitchen Knife (Poor Quality Dagger)
Literally just a repurposed kitchen knife you took from home, it's a sharp piece of Iron with a wooden grip. As simple as simple can be. It makes for a useful tool to whittle wood, cut rope, or a hundred other things, and is the closest thing to a proper weapon you have. You mostly keep it tucked into your belt.
Backpack
A leather bag with straps carried on your back, if you stick your head in it smells kinda funky, but it can reliably store most of your day-to-day supplies in an easy to transport fashion.
-Rations (1 week)
Packets of Trail Rations, dried and salted strips of meat, and hunks of bread or cheese, carefully wrapped in wax paper to keep out dampness and pests.
-Travel Tent
The set for a small cloth tent that can be set up in the wilderness, with thick canvas and wooden poles. It's been patched a dozen times, and the corner leaks, but it's better than sitting out in the rain. Can fit one person uncomfortably, two if you really squeeze it.
-Waterskin
A simple leather waterskin with a wooden cork, perfect for holding a healthy amount of water or other refreshments for travel.
-Coin Pouch
A small leather pouch with a drawstring, capable of holding a number of coins for the purposes of common commerce.
-16 Pennies
Small brass coins, the simplest form of currency used throughout the empire. These are stamped on one side with the mark of the Würtbad mint, and the other has the profile of the current Elector-Count of Stirland's predecessor.
-Tinderbox
A small, dented tin box with a simple latch. Inside is a number of flint rods and a steel striker, alongside Tindling that can be easily replaced by what you find in the wilderness. As long as you have this, starting campfires will be relatively easy.
-Blanket
A thick, warm blanket, beige in color and quilted by your mother to keep the cold of the night away.
Name: Olaf Khöleir
Race: Human
Homeland: The Empire, Stirland, The City of Würtbad.
Career: Vagabond
Height: 6'1''
Hair Color: Light Brown
Weight: 130 Pounds
Eye Color: Copper
Distinguishing Marks: None
PEOPLE YOU KNOW
Father: Magnus Khöleir, A Rat-Catcher in Würtbad
Mother: Gabrielle Khöleir, An entertainer in Würtbad
Siblings: Pieter & Klara Khöleir, both as-yet unemployed teenagers.
Friends: Miska, a Kislevite warrior and your Companion on the road.
CHARACTERISTICS
Weaponskill (WS): 29
Ballistic Skill (BS): 45
Strength: (S): 32
Toughness (T): 26
Agility (Ag): 26
Intelligence (Int): 32
Will Power (WP): 36
Fellowship (Fel): 36
Attacks (A): 1
Wounds (W): 10
Movement (M): 5
Magic (Mag): 0
Insanity Points (IP): 0
Fate Points (FP): 2
SKILLS
Common Knowledge (the Empire): +20%
Common Knowledge (Kislev): +12%
Gossip: +10%
Storyteller: +7%
Speak language (Reikspiel): +20%
Navigation: +6%
Outdoor Survival: +4%
Swim: +6%
Heal: +5%
Silent Move: +6%
TALENTS
Sixth Sense: You get a strange feeling when you are in grave danger. and this sometimes alerts you to trouble before it happens. When danger is afoot, the GM may secretly roll a Test on your Willpower. If successful, the GM may tell you that you have a bad feeling about your situation or that you feeI like you're being watched. This talent may enable you to avoid being surprised when the rest of your allies succumb.
Strong-Minded:
Your resilient mind is less susceptible to sanity-blasting events. You don't have to check for insanity until you have 8 Insanity Points, and you don't automatically get one until you have 14 IPs.
Seasoned Traveler: You have extensive travel experience. You gain a +10% bonus on Common Knowledge and Speak Language Tests.
Fleet Footed: You Gain a permanent +1 to your movement characteristic.
Marksman: You gain a permanent +5% bonus to your Ballistic Skill Characteristic.
INVENTORY
Commoner Clothing (Equipped)
The same clothes you left Würtbad with, and currently your only set. They'll protect you from the elements (mostly), and keep your private bits hidden, but aren't particularly fancy.
-Solid leather boots that smell of feet
-Warm Wool socks (Thanks mom!)
-Undergarments
-Brown Cotton pants that have been patched and re-patched a hundred times
-Simple leather belt
-An old, loose hemp shirt, once white, but now stained in gray and yellow by time, weather, and spilled meals.
Cloak (Equipped)
A well-worn traveling cloak. It can keep you warm in the wilderness, and, with a dark gray-ish green color, and the hood pulled low, can help keep you hidden. Although its lower edges are tattered.
Walking Stick (Poor quality Quarterstaff)
The fallen branch of a tree, this tal twisted branch serves as a makeshift staff has served you well along your journey, lightening your burden and allowing you to poke things from a small distance away. In a pinch, it can make a shitty quarterstaff in a fight.
Kitchen Knife (Poor Quality Dagger)
Literally just a repurposed kitchen knife you took from home, it's a sharp piece of Iron with a wooden grip. As simple as simple can be. It makes for a useful tool to whittle wood, cut rope, or a hundred other things, and is the closest thing to a proper weapon you have. You mostly keep it tucked into your belt.
Backpack
A leather bag with straps carried on your back, if you stick your head in it smells kinda funky, but it can reliably store most of your day-to-day supplies in an easy to transport fashion.
-Rations (1 week)
Packets of Trail Rations, dried and salted strips of meat, and hunks of bread or cheese, carefully wrapped in wax paper to keep out dampness and pests.
-Travel Tent
The set for a small cloth tent that can be set up in the wilderness, with thick canvas and wooden poles. It's been patched a dozen times, and the corner leaks, but it's better than sitting out in the rain. Can fit one person uncomfortably, two if you really squeeze it.
-Waterskin
A simple leather waterskin with a wooden cork, perfect for holding a healthy amount of water or other refreshments for travel.
-Coin Pouch
A small leather pouch with a drawstring, capable of holding a number of coins for the purposes of common commerce.
-16 Pennies
Small brass coins, the simplest form of currency used throughout the empire. These are stamped on one side with the mark of the Würtbad mint, and the other has the profile of the current Elector-Count of Stirland's predecessor.
-Tinderbox
A small, dented tin box with a simple latch. Inside is a number of flint rods and a steel striker, alongside Tindling that can be easily replaced by what you find in the wilderness. As long as you have this, starting campfires will be relatively easy.
-Blanket
A thick, warm blanket, beige in color and quilted by your mother to keep the cold of the night away.
As nobody presented a Faceclaim they preferred, I took the liberty of randomly rolling some features for Olaf.
Also, it's notable that you have little in the way of weapons, and even less in the way of direct combat skill. As a Vagabond, this should be unsurprising. You have a very high natural Ballistic Skill, but no training in any actual ranged weapons (Something you may wish to prioritize in the future). With this in mind, you may want to be cautious about getting into fights, and you also will probably want to hide behind your much tougher friend.
Speaking of ...
PERSONAL DETAILS
Name: Miska
Race: Human
Homeland: Kislev, anything beyond this changes by the minute.
Career: Kossar
Height: 6'1''
Hair Color: Black
Weight: 180 Pounds
Eye Color: Green
Distinguishing Marks: A nose that is ever-so-slightly crooked from being broken countless times.
PEOPLE YOU KNOW
Miska claims to know many people, Olaf knows that most of what she claims is nonsense, and if the truth is buried somewhere in there, it's impossible to tell.
CHARACTERISTICS
Weaponskill (WS): 33
Ballistic Skill (BS): 25
Strength: (S): 43
Toughness (T): 37
Agility (Ag): 26
Intelligence (Int): 28
Will Power (WP): 33
Fellowship (Fel): 24
Attacks (A): 1
Wounds (W): 11
Movement (M): 4
Magic (Mag): 0
Insanity Points (IP): 0
Fate Points (FP): 2
SKILLS
Common Knowledge (Kislev): +10%
Common Knowledge (The Empire): +2%
Gossip: +5%
Speak Language (Kislevarin): +10%
Speak Language (Reikspiel): +2%
Consume Alcohol: +6%
Melee (Two-Handed): +5%
Dodge Blow: +10%
Gamble: +5%
Outdoor Survival: +5%
Perception: +5%
Search: +4%
TALENTS
Very Resilient: You gain a permanent +5 Bonus to your toughness characteristic.
Resistance to Poison: Your hardiness alIows you to ignore the effects of many poisons. You gain a +10% bonus to Toughness Tests to resist poison.
Strike to Injure: You're an expert at targeting your enemies' most vulnerable areas. The Critical Value of any Critical hits you inflict is increased by 1.
INVENTORY
Kislevite Clothing (Equipped)
The Clothes you bought with you from the north. They have served you well, but are in somewhat ill-repair from the constant travel.
-Leather boots, lined with fur on the inside to keep your feet warm.
-A pair of Threadbare Socks
-Undergarments
-Padded Leggings (Light Armour)
These leather trousers were designed for lancers or hunters crossing the wide steppes of your homeland, and accordingly are reinforced with padded segments, and the leather made tough and boiled, so as to cushion hostile blows.
-A simple leather belt, cinched at the waist.
-An old woolen turtleneck, warm and comfortable, for all that loose threads are fraying from it and the black coloration is turning gray from weathering.
-Padded Vest (Light Armour)
This vest is made of thick hides of tough leather and white fur hunted on the steppe, and provide adequate cushioning against blows to the chest or stomach.
Old Wood Axe (Poor Quality Two-handed weapon)
Though it's blade is rusting and it's long handle is cracked, this old woodsman's axe is still weighty enough to kill, when you put enough strength behind it.
Dagger
A simple Iron Hunting Dagger, as much a tool as a weapon.
Pouch
A simple leather pouch with a drawstring to hold money in.
-15 Pennies
The last of the Kislevite currency you brought south with you, these copper pennies are slightly bent from mistreatment, but one can still make out the bear's head printed on one side, and the Eagle on the other.
Name: Miska
Race: Human
Homeland: Kislev, anything beyond this changes by the minute.
Career: Kossar
Height: 6'1''
Hair Color: Black
Weight: 180 Pounds
Eye Color: Green
Distinguishing Marks: A nose that is ever-so-slightly crooked from being broken countless times.
PEOPLE YOU KNOW
Miska claims to know many people, Olaf knows that most of what she claims is nonsense, and if the truth is buried somewhere in there, it's impossible to tell.
CHARACTERISTICS
Weaponskill (WS): 33
Ballistic Skill (BS): 25
Strength: (S): 43
Toughness (T): 37
Agility (Ag): 26
Intelligence (Int): 28
Will Power (WP): 33
Fellowship (Fel): 24
Attacks (A): 1
Wounds (W): 11
Movement (M): 4
Magic (Mag): 0
Insanity Points (IP): 0
Fate Points (FP): 2
SKILLS
Common Knowledge (Kislev): +10%
Common Knowledge (The Empire): +2%
Gossip: +5%
Speak Language (Kislevarin): +10%
Speak Language (Reikspiel): +2%
Consume Alcohol: +6%
Melee (Two-Handed): +5%
Dodge Blow: +10%
Gamble: +5%
Outdoor Survival: +5%
Perception: +5%
Search: +4%
TALENTS
Very Resilient: You gain a permanent +5 Bonus to your toughness characteristic.
Resistance to Poison: Your hardiness alIows you to ignore the effects of many poisons. You gain a +10% bonus to Toughness Tests to resist poison.
Strike to Injure: You're an expert at targeting your enemies' most vulnerable areas. The Critical Value of any Critical hits you inflict is increased by 1.
INVENTORY
Kislevite Clothing (Equipped)
The Clothes you bought with you from the north. They have served you well, but are in somewhat ill-repair from the constant travel.
-Leather boots, lined with fur on the inside to keep your feet warm.
-A pair of Threadbare Socks
-Undergarments
-Padded Leggings (Light Armour)
These leather trousers were designed for lancers or hunters crossing the wide steppes of your homeland, and accordingly are reinforced with padded segments, and the leather made tough and boiled, so as to cushion hostile blows.
-A simple leather belt, cinched at the waist.
-An old woolen turtleneck, warm and comfortable, for all that loose threads are fraying from it and the black coloration is turning gray from weathering.
-Padded Vest (Light Armour)
This vest is made of thick hides of tough leather and white fur hunted on the steppe, and provide adequate cushioning against blows to the chest or stomach.
Old Wood Axe (Poor Quality Two-handed weapon)
Though it's blade is rusting and it's long handle is cracked, this old woodsman's axe is still weighty enough to kill, when you put enough strength behind it.
Dagger
A simple Iron Hunting Dagger, as much a tool as a weapon.
Pouch
A simple leather pouch with a drawstring to hold money in.
-15 Pennies
The last of the Kislevite currency you brought south with you, these copper pennies are slightly bent from mistreatment, but one can still make out the bear's head printed on one side, and the Eagle on the other.
IC will be coming soon.
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Sir LagsAlot
Yandere Dice Magnet
- Location
- In the fridge
Wow we are severely under weight for our height.
And with a relatively low toughness score? You are a sickly, skinny, lanky motherfucker. This was randomly rolled, but it does make a certain amount of sense.
Given your upbringing ... you probably have not had a healthy amount of nutrition for most of your life.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
We must fix that soon then. There don't happen to be laws against going into the woods and killing a boar for food are there? Because the best way to put meat on your bones is to consume the meat from something else's bones.
It depends on if the particular woods/boar in question is owned, and if so, by whom.
Poaching from the estates of nobles, for example, is a good way to get yourself Hanged.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
I mean specifically where we are now. Unless I'm mistaken, it's an inn situated in the principality of Bumfuck, within the Nowhere region of Stirland.
Olaf doesnt know specifically what the legality of the closest woods are but it's not difficult to guess that A: Nobody probably cares, and B: he's unlikely to be caught.
Do note, however. There are more than animals hiding in the trees.
IC #1
"Blyat!" The Kislevarin curse cuts through the air, swift and sharp as a crossbow bolt, causing you to lift your eyes towards the source.
Peering out from under the safety of your hood, past the veritable curtain of rain that falls from the heavens, threatening to burst the banks of rivers and drown rodents in their own subterranean nests, you can see your companion, though only dimly.
Miska is of much the same height as you, but much broader of shoulder (especially for a woman), with thick arms and legs, strong enough to crush skulls underfoot, if she felt the need. For all her might, though, it is she who is having the worse time of it tonight.
You watch silently as she pulls her boot back up from where it had slipped at the side of the wide road, thick clumps of muck sliding off of it as she shakes the appendage free, muttering foul things under her breath. Small wonder at that, for had she properly fallen she would have been completely drenched in the stuff. Her outfit was well suited to the frosts and chills of the north, but not to the rains of southwestern Stirland, nor the mud that inevitably followed.
Splatters of mud stain her up to the knees, with the rain carving a pattern of long trenches through each filthy patch as it slides down the leather. In contrast, her woolen shirt appears to be completely sodden through, and you would reckon the water alone makes it half-again as heavy as it should be. The fur of her vest is flattened with dampness, and you can see that her hair, black enough that it's difficult to make out through the darkness, is plastered against her skin.
She growls, flicking her head to get the strands out of her eyes, before turning a pair of green eyes on you, burning with annoyance. Her accent was difficult to understand at first, but you've gotten the hang of it by now. "We should have stayed."
You snort in amusement, rolling your eyes. Not that she could see it, beneath the hood. You suppose you must not look much better at this point in time. A tall, rail-thin specter looming in the darkness like a wraith from out of a bad horror story, ready at any moment's notice to point a crooked, skeletal hand and announce mystical curses in a croaking ancient voice at whatever passerby happened to be handsome enough to qualify as protagonist-worthy.
Instead, you pull the cloak tighter about yourself, hoping to stave away the cold. "Well, maybe we could've if you hadn't insulted the Bailiff's wife." You had quickly taken flight from Ramsau after that, not daring to stay lest the local notables start bringing the law down on your heads. (You hadn't actually done anything illegal, but that's never stopped the law before.)
Miska only shrugs, nonplussed. "She was bitch. Besides, you already said we moving, I thought, no reason to hold back."
You frown, but do not have a response, because that was true enough. You had planned to travel today regardless. If what you were told at the last village had been true, you were within a day of the nearest coaching inn. Unfortunately, the storm had broken out while you were on the road, and mud and rain had slowed down your pace, 'today' had quickly turned into 'tonight'.
You made to respond, but a terrifyingly loud crack of thunder overhead caused you both to wince and look up, watching as distant lightning raked the sky, and beyond that, the Eerie emerald glow of the chaos moon. Morrslieb hung low and full in the sky, glaring down at the world balefully. Just looking at it made your skin prickle uncomfortably, you felt like you were being watched by a hundred hidden eyes.
Of all nights to be stuck out in a storm, you had the misfortune to do so on Geheimnisnacht.
The most wicked night of the year.
You had never been out on Geheimnisnacht before. For your entire life, it had been the one night the streets of Würtbad went quiet. Shops shuttered their fronts, taverns locked up by mid-day, and parents kept their children home, huddling close with them around the hearth. Yours included.
You had the good fortune to never have experienced anything terrible on this night, but cannot remember a time it passed that your spine did not crawl and your heart did not race. Tonight is no different.
They say all sorts of wicked things transpire under the gloam of Geheimnisnacht. They say cults of witches dances naked around fires in the wood, that mutants drag unsuspecting victims to be sacrificed in profane ceremonies deep beneath the earth, that ghosts and vampires and other fiends creep from their hiding places to work wickedness in the realms of men.
You do not know how much of this is true, and you certainly do not want to risk finding out.
Miska grunts, gritting her teeth in frustration. You share her dissatisfaction at the situation.
"There's nothing for it. We'll have to push on." You certainly aren't willing to test your flimsy tent out in this mess.
Your companion nods, and the two of you trudge on through the rain.
______________________________________________________________________________
A couple of minutes on, and Miska is nudging at your shoulder.
"Olaf, look."
You follow her pointing arm, squinting through the gloom. It takes you a moment, but you do eventually catch the outline of something large sitting at the side of the road. There is a large square box, a wheel, a … is that a dead horse?
Indeed, as the two of you approach, and the details become clearer, you can spy an entire wagon overturned on the side of the road, the kind that a merchant or farmer might use, Boxes and bags spilling over its side to lay across the ground, smashed open and torn apart. The corpse of a horse sinks partially into the mud near the front, liquid blood running out to mix with the rain. The sight and the stench makes you gag.
Miska's face is a stone mask, one hand drifting towards the axe hanging at her side. "This was done recently." and you trust her word on it, for the corpse is not yet decomposed. The two of you stare for a moment in shock, questions swirling in your mind.
Who did this? Why? How? Where … oh …. Oh, gods …
"Miska?"
"Hmm?"
"If they killed the horse … where's the driver?"
She pauses at that, thinking for a long moment. She does not have an answer, so instead she gives you a question. "How long until the inn?"
You glance over at the signpost, and curse. If either of you could read, that sign might have the answer.
"I don't know. It could be minutes, it could be hours."
".... What do we do, Olaf?"
[] Redouble your pace. If there's a murderer about, that's only more reason to find shelter, and besides, you cannot afford to sit still. If whatever did this doesn't get you, the moon or the storm will.
[] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.
Peering out from under the safety of your hood, past the veritable curtain of rain that falls from the heavens, threatening to burst the banks of rivers and drown rodents in their own subterranean nests, you can see your companion, though only dimly.
Miska is of much the same height as you, but much broader of shoulder (especially for a woman), with thick arms and legs, strong enough to crush skulls underfoot, if she felt the need. For all her might, though, it is she who is having the worse time of it tonight.
You watch silently as she pulls her boot back up from where it had slipped at the side of the wide road, thick clumps of muck sliding off of it as she shakes the appendage free, muttering foul things under her breath. Small wonder at that, for had she properly fallen she would have been completely drenched in the stuff. Her outfit was well suited to the frosts and chills of the north, but not to the rains of southwestern Stirland, nor the mud that inevitably followed.
Splatters of mud stain her up to the knees, with the rain carving a pattern of long trenches through each filthy patch as it slides down the leather. In contrast, her woolen shirt appears to be completely sodden through, and you would reckon the water alone makes it half-again as heavy as it should be. The fur of her vest is flattened with dampness, and you can see that her hair, black enough that it's difficult to make out through the darkness, is plastered against her skin.
She growls, flicking her head to get the strands out of her eyes, before turning a pair of green eyes on you, burning with annoyance. Her accent was difficult to understand at first, but you've gotten the hang of it by now. "We should have stayed."
You snort in amusement, rolling your eyes. Not that she could see it, beneath the hood. You suppose you must not look much better at this point in time. A tall, rail-thin specter looming in the darkness like a wraith from out of a bad horror story, ready at any moment's notice to point a crooked, skeletal hand and announce mystical curses in a croaking ancient voice at whatever passerby happened to be handsome enough to qualify as protagonist-worthy.
Instead, you pull the cloak tighter about yourself, hoping to stave away the cold. "Well, maybe we could've if you hadn't insulted the Bailiff's wife." You had quickly taken flight from Ramsau after that, not daring to stay lest the local notables start bringing the law down on your heads. (You hadn't actually done anything illegal, but that's never stopped the law before.)
Miska only shrugs, nonplussed. "She was bitch. Besides, you already said we moving, I thought, no reason to hold back."
You frown, but do not have a response, because that was true enough. You had planned to travel today regardless. If what you were told at the last village had been true, you were within a day of the nearest coaching inn. Unfortunately, the storm had broken out while you were on the road, and mud and rain had slowed down your pace, 'today' had quickly turned into 'tonight'.
You made to respond, but a terrifyingly loud crack of thunder overhead caused you both to wince and look up, watching as distant lightning raked the sky, and beyond that, the Eerie emerald glow of the chaos moon. Morrslieb hung low and full in the sky, glaring down at the world balefully. Just looking at it made your skin prickle uncomfortably, you felt like you were being watched by a hundred hidden eyes.
Of all nights to be stuck out in a storm, you had the misfortune to do so on Geheimnisnacht.
The most wicked night of the year.
You had never been out on Geheimnisnacht before. For your entire life, it had been the one night the streets of Würtbad went quiet. Shops shuttered their fronts, taverns locked up by mid-day, and parents kept their children home, huddling close with them around the hearth. Yours included.
You had the good fortune to never have experienced anything terrible on this night, but cannot remember a time it passed that your spine did not crawl and your heart did not race. Tonight is no different.
They say all sorts of wicked things transpire under the gloam of Geheimnisnacht. They say cults of witches dances naked around fires in the wood, that mutants drag unsuspecting victims to be sacrificed in profane ceremonies deep beneath the earth, that ghosts and vampires and other fiends creep from their hiding places to work wickedness in the realms of men.
You do not know how much of this is true, and you certainly do not want to risk finding out.
Miska grunts, gritting her teeth in frustration. You share her dissatisfaction at the situation.
"There's nothing for it. We'll have to push on." You certainly aren't willing to test your flimsy tent out in this mess.
Your companion nods, and the two of you trudge on through the rain.
______________________________________________________________________________
A couple of minutes on, and Miska is nudging at your shoulder.
"Olaf, look."
You follow her pointing arm, squinting through the gloom. It takes you a moment, but you do eventually catch the outline of something large sitting at the side of the road. There is a large square box, a wheel, a … is that a dead horse?
Indeed, as the two of you approach, and the details become clearer, you can spy an entire wagon overturned on the side of the road, the kind that a merchant or farmer might use, Boxes and bags spilling over its side to lay across the ground, smashed open and torn apart. The corpse of a horse sinks partially into the mud near the front, liquid blood running out to mix with the rain. The sight and the stench makes you gag.
Miska's face is a stone mask, one hand drifting towards the axe hanging at her side. "This was done recently." and you trust her word on it, for the corpse is not yet decomposed. The two of you stare for a moment in shock, questions swirling in your mind.
Who did this? Why? How? Where … oh …. Oh, gods …
"Miska?"
"Hmm?"
"If they killed the horse … where's the driver?"
She pauses at that, thinking for a long moment. She does not have an answer, so instead she gives you a question. "How long until the inn?"
You glance over at the signpost, and curse. If either of you could read, that sign might have the answer.
"I don't know. It could be minutes, it could be hours."
".... What do we do, Olaf?"
[] Redouble your pace. If there's a murderer about, that's only more reason to find shelter, and besides, you cannot afford to sit still. If whatever did this doesn't get you, the moon or the storm will.
[] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
To protagonist or not to protagonist. That is the question. And the answer... is yes, fuck it.
[X] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.
[X] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.
- Location
- France
[X] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Redouble your pace. If there's a murderer about, that's only more reason to find shelter, and besides, you cannot afford to sit still. If whatever did this doesn't get you, the moon or the storm will.
Not our problem. The moon and storm are our problems
Not our problem. The moon and storm are our problems
[X] Stop to investigate. Examining the wreckage might give you some clues about what exactly happened, maybe you can track the driver, or find something useful in the debris.