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The Enemy Within (WHF Witch Hunter Quest)

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Scheduled vote count started by Maugan Ra on Aug 10, 2024 at 8:39 PM, finished with 103 posts and 61 votes.
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V - The Crown of the Empire
  • Threadmarks
    • Markus has chosen to blame Phillipe's profession for the conflict that saw him die, and consequently has gained the Psychology trait of Prejudice (Mercenaries). Whenever he encounters one, he must take a Cool test (a skill based on willpower, at time of writing 61), with bonuses or penalties based on the current situation. If he fails the test, he is compelled to verbally and loudly mock, criticise and insult them.

    Markus lost 13 wounds during his battle with Phillipe, reducing him to 5/18. For every good night's rest he gets, he is entitled to make an Average (+20) Endurance test. For Markus this skill is at a base of 52, and so he rolls against 72.

    He rolls 30, scoring +2SL. This means that he heals his toughness bonus (5) plus SL (2) wounds, in this case 7, bringing him up to 12/18 wounds total.

    V - The Crown of the Empire

    One hears Altdorf before they see it, and they smell it considerably before that. Built at the intersection of the great rivers Reik and Talabec, surrounded for leagues in all directions by mud flats and marshlands, the Capital is at once a place both sacred and profane, beautiful and besmirched. It has produced the Empire's greatest heroes and its most vile villains, great works of scientific artifice and pits of squalor to stain the soul. It is the heart of spiritual and secular power in the nation, and the greatest prize its many enemies yet scheme to claim.

    "I have never actually been to Altdorf," Lady Isolde says abruptly, as your carriage rattles its way down the road and past the first of many outlying farms and hamlets, "One hears so many stories that the truth itself is hard to discern."

    You turn your gaze from the window and back towards her, aware on some level that she likely hoped to broach such a subject in casual conversation much earlier, only put off by your brooding demeanour. In truth your sullen silence shames you, and you take a moment to chastise yourself for the poor manners before answering.

    "Sigmar's City contains the best and worst of humanity," you say at length, thinking of all the stories you have heard from your peers and their contemporaries. "I cannot claim to be nearly as familiar with it as a native, but if you have the time to spare, I do have a few recommendations…"

    The Lady does indeed have time to spare, now and in the future, and so you pass the final few hours of your journey in earnest conversation. You speak of the Great Cathedral and the sermons you have heard there, the University and its lectures, the wondrous theatres with their manifold plays and performances. You offer recommendations for the best eateries along the South Bank, and which districts to avoid no matter how beguiling the guides make them sound (Marie, the lady's towering bodyguard, pays far more attention to these parts). You even touch upon the city's most prominent and influential officials, and which social clubs and events you have heard they like to frequent, though in truth none of them are likely to know you or welcome the attention of a Witch Hunter.

    Such conversation proves so absorbing that you almost miss your arrival in the city proper, though that at least you are inclined to blame upon the fog. Altdorf is infamous for the way great clouds of mist and smoke roll in off the rivers at the slightest provocation, and today seems to be a notably bad day of it - you can scarcely see much more than a yard or two beyond the carriage windows, much less yet a good look at the city's famous white walls or the imposing landmarks of the skyline. Only the looming bulk of shadowed buildings all around, paired with the uptick of babbling voices you can hear even through the glass, provides any clue as to your urban environs.

    Still, there is no mistaking your arrival at the Königsplatz. The buildings fall away, the fog thins slightly, and everywhere the hustle and bustle of city life is replaced by the focused chaos of a route terminal in the middle of the day. There are coaches and carriages by the dozen parked up around the square, each swarming with teams of drivers and porters like ants around a hive, and when you disembark a wave of voices crashed against you as bawds and guides holler their services into the fog. You pause for a moment, taking a shallow breath so as to not gag on the sudden stench of a city after so long in the woods, and then turn and offer a gentleman's hand to Lady Isolde as she disembarks.

    "My thanks, Lord Bruner," the noblewoman murmurs to you as she steps down from the carriage, her servant already disembarking the other side to take care of the luggage, "You likely have duties to attend to, but if you have some time in the coming days, I am staying at the Hotel Imperial for the next week. Please feel free to call upon me."

    "Of course, my lady," you reply, equally polite despite your utter lack of interest in the proposition. Truthfully you're a little bemused; offering to cover your carriage fee to Altdorf was an act of consideration and respect, but even the most fastidious of souls would agree that any obligation ended upon arrival at the capital. Likely she has some other motive, but you cannot guess at what. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

    With good manners attended to, you turn your attention to your horse, which seemed entirely happy to trot along behind the carriage on the way here without the additional weight of a rider on her back. You slip the reins from around the back of the carriage, check her over for any signs of injury or distress, then pat her on the shoulder and look towards the edge of the square. The Königsplatz is in the northern part of the city, so you will need to find your way south and head towards the Grand Cathedral in order to make your report. Altdorf is a distressingly challenging place to navigate, especially in the fog, so you are likely to do better with a guide of some kind.

    Curiously, among the gathered crowds of hawkers, bawds and visitors around the edge of the square, there are two men who appear to be looking directly at you. Neither of them is particularly remarkable, dressed in the comfortable yet sturdy clothing of the lower middle class, but they are quite clearly staring directly at you. One of them scratches his ear, and when you frown he glances at his neighbour in evident confusion.

    Markus makes an Average (+20) Intuition test, skill is 62, roll is 81, fail

    It seems as if they're expecting you to recognise them, but you can't claim to have clapped eyes on either man in all your life. For a long moment you stare at each other across the plaza, neither side knowing what to do or whether they should approach, and then their expressions turn from confusion to relief and they move off towards the far side of the square. Tracking them with your eyes, you see them nod in welcome to a stocky, bearded man in a long leather coat who just stepped out of one of the houses that lie along the perimeter of the square. You wouldn't say the two of you look identical by any means, but given the distance and the fog a case of confused identity isn't anything worth remarking on.

    Dismissing the pair of onlookers from your mind, you turn back to your earlier efforts of finding a guide, discarding out of hand the various hawks and bawds looking to advertise one tavern or another until you spot a small cluster of pious looking souls gathering in one corner of the square. Their evident leader is holding a long staff tipped with a painted wooden hammer, and with a nod you take your horse's reins in hand and move over to join them.

    "And now we can… oh!" the guide says, noticing your approach and glancing from your weapons to the broad-brimmed hat with a slight edge of nervousness, "A Templar of Sigmar! Ah, how can I assist you, sir?"

    "I am bound for the Grand Cathedral," you say simply, dispensing with the details in favour of the practical, "I would walk with you until then."

    The guide agrees, of course. You don't think he even works for the Cult in any formal capacity, being a mere local with a knowledge built up over time of interesting stories and intriguing facts about Altdorf's religious sites, so it is no surprise that he opts not to incur even the possibility of a witch hunter's ire. As for the pilgrims he is guiding, most of them look positively awestruck to be accompanied on their journey by a genuine templar of the faith, even if a few of them suddenly look nervous or a trifle guilty over some petty personal failing. Thankfully none of them seem inclined to engage you in conversation, and soon enough your party sets off at a steady walk, venturing forth into the fog-wrapped streets of the capital.

    The guide keeps up a steady patter of commentary and observations as you walk, none of which is terribly interesting. You're not familiar with the events or even most of the saints that he alludes to, but that is no surprise; you were not a particularly pious youth, and your more recent schooling in matters theological has tended towards the practical and exclusionary end of the scale. You could tell someone precisely what manner of blessing ought to be carved on a silver bullet for best effect against a tainted beast, but the epistles of the Venerated Martyn are strange and unfamiliar to your ear. You feel a bit guilty about that, at times, but Sigmar knows what is in your heart and your service has always been exemplary.

    The fog grows thicker as you approach the river, until the appearance of each new passerby on the street is a sudden surprise. Part of you itches at the lack of vision, paranoid about what might be lurking in the mists, but the rest of you knows that it would be all but impossible for anyone who meant you harm to even find you right now. That is why the sudden shout from the man standing on the next corner is so alarming.

    "You! You, sinners, hunters, I see you!" He screams, perched on a rickety wooden box that means you need to tilt your head back to see him properly. His beard is long and ragged, and what were once the tough leathers of a smith are stained and tattered by long misuse. "I see it all! I see darkness gathering as the last house of joy falls! Beware, hunter, for shadows over Bögenhafen stir!"

    You had meant to keep walking, for madmen screaming at passers by are three a penny in Altdorf, but the mention of Bögenhafen draws you up short. The pilgrims and their guide stop in their turn, muttering to each other in worried voices, but you have no time to spare for them. Bögenhafen, where the letter of inheritance you now bear would have you go, where the man who wears your face was bound… is this a coincidence, or a sign?

    "I see Beloved Morr, resplendent in vestments of green, stand astride Sigmar's great river!" The prophet howls, his voice rising in pitch as he sees your interest, beating at his chest with one soot-stained hand. "Yea, I see death upon the Reik, and I despair!"

    "Vestments of green?" You murmur the words with a frown, trying to discern the meaning of such a phrase. Morr is god of the dead, so to see him astride the river presumably means great calamity or disease born upon the waters, but why green? If the ragged prophet hears your words he gives no sign, merely working himself up into an ever greater frenzy.

    "Then the stained hand guides the once mighty lord, and this power behind the throne curses us all!" he screams, staring at his own stained hands as if they might suddenly betray him. "Lo, the Horned Rat claims the Broken King atop his throne of lies, and the white walls fall, leaving our Empire in ruins! Tremble in fear, ye mighty! Tremble, for the End Times have come!"

    That final pronouncement seems to be all that the fanatic's heart can take, for a moment later he pitches over backwards and falls from the crate, hitting the ground with bloody froth gathering at his lips. For a long moment everyone just stares at him, torn between incredulity and concern, and then the prophet coughs violently before rolling over onto his side.

    "Ah, well - you may see many sights such as this during your visit to Sigmar's city, faithful," the guide picks up after a moment, nodding seriously, "The presence of such a sacred legacy, to say nothing of the holy relics held secure in the Grand Cathedral and elsewhere, often grants ecstatic visions to the pious."

    "So too can men see many things when drowning in their cups," you say curtly, making the nearest pilgrims flinch backwards at the reminder of your presence and remit. The man said nothing overtly heretical and so there is no need for you to act, but the common folk do not know this. "Best to inform the priests when we reach the Cathedral, and allow them to determine if he is blessed or simply a fool."

    The guide takes your comment as an implied command and soon you are underway once more, crossing the great bridge across the Reik and heading into the southern quarters of the city. The vast bulk of the Great Cathedral looms like a mountain amid the mist, visible in a way few other things are, but while part of your soul wishes nothing more to stay with the pilgrims and cleanse your sins in prayer, duty must come first. You pull away from the group just as the first of the great statues that dot the cathedral exterior are starting to come into focus, and instead make for the squat, ominous looking building that you know lies just to the east: the Grand Temple of the Sigmarite Templars.

    Despite the name, the temple is more of a chapterhouse and barracks than a place of worship, the flat grey stones of its construction giving it the air of a fortress set down in the very heart of the capital. There are no guards here in the traditional sense, not even the knights that watch over the other religious sites nearby, for your order trusts none but their own and even that under duress, but as ever there is a novice in the small gatehouse waiting to take your name and assign you a key to one of the temple's rooms during your stay.

    "Is General Wälder in?" you ask, making a note to drop by the servants quarters and collect your bedding before you turn in tonight. You didn't know how to do such things before you began your training, but no Templar is comfortable with an unknown person passing through their quarters on a regular basis, no matter how innocuous or thoroughly vetted.

    "He is in a meeting, sir," the novice replies politely, and you note with some approval how they restrain the urge to provide any further detail that might compromise security, "However, if you care to wait outside his office, I am sure he will see you shortly."

    You nod at that, and with the formalities attended to head inside. As with any fortress the Grand Temple has everything within its walls that the defenders might need, from the smiths who make your specialised tools to the infirmary where the most devastating of wounds can be cared for, but a witch hunter contends not with physical threats alone. There is a library here, with primers on topics that might get a man burnt if discovered outside these walls, and below your feet the gaol cells that play host to your harshest interrogations await your arrival. So few taken there ever emerge again, but that reputation is itself a weapon in your arsenal. Still, you have no business in such places just yet, instead heading through the doors of the main building and up the stairs to the offices above.

    There are other templars around, of course, seated in small groups at tables or attending to the unique business of their particular assignments, but aside from the odd nod and muttered greeting none of you have cause to speak. The Witch Hunters do not select for gregarious souls in the first place, and what nature alone does not account for, years of harsh lessons and paranoid experience does. The sole exception is when you reach the hallway outside your general's office and find another witch hunter waiting there already, and that has more to do with the bloody swath of cloth wrapped around half her face than any great friendliness.

    "Katarin," you say with a frown, taking up a position on the other side of the hallway from her, beneath the glowering portrait of some former Witchfinder General you never cared to read up on. "I trust you paid them back for the injury?"

    "No," your comrade snorts, shaking her head and then wincing at the pain the motion elicits. You're not entirely sure she should be out of the infirmary at all, given the red stains that you can see leaking slowly through the fabric, but you're not going to ask. "It was Deathclaw, the Emperor's own griffon. The blasted thing went mad the second I went near its enclosure. The keepers say it has been in a terrible mood lately; even Karl-Franz won't go near it."

    You nod slowly, choosing not to ask what exactly your peer was doing in the Imperial Zoo in the first place. Some investigation, no doubt, and not one you need to know about just yet. Given the reputation for savagery that griffons have, and the wounds you've heard of them inflicting on their prey, you suppose it is fortunate that Katarin's head is still attached to her shoulders. Templars rarely get noble or glorious deaths, but that would still rank as one of the least inspiring you've heard of.

    Before you can continue the conversation the door by your side swings open and a small coterie of scholars emerge, their balding heads twitching back and forth like strange cowled birds as they scurry off down the corridor. You tilt your head in silent query at Katarina, and when she shakes her head, stand and make your way inside.

    "Ah, von Bruner, good to see you." Witchhunter General Wälder is an old man with only a few strands of thin grey hair left atop his head, and you know that behind his desk his chair is equipped with wheels to do what his ravaged legs no longer can, but there is a razor gleam in his pale eyes as he looks up at you. "You were attending to the rumours of hedgefolk down by Grunberg, as I recall. Close the door and make your report."

    "Aye sir," you nod, closing the door as directed and taking a moment to note the metal plates nailed down across the back of its wooden frame. "I tracked the supposed coven through three villages before I caught up with them near Rottfurt. It was a Strigany caravan, reported for all the usual reasons they are brought to our attention."

    Wälder nods, one clawed hand scribbling notes down in a small leather-bound diary as he listens to you. The notes are not for him, of course - the General's unfaltering memory and ability to perfectly recall snippets of conversation from decades in the past are the stuff of legend - but he will need to make a formal written report once this is done, as will you, and immediate impressions are invaluable for such things.

    "The Strigany have been known to harbour witches in the past, either local criminals or students of their own deviant traditions," Wälder says in a neutral tone of voice, watching you carefully, "I assume you considered the possibility?"

    "I did, and did the necessary due diligence," you say firmly, keeping your legs firmly planted and your arms folded behind your back. "The supposed mind-reading was nothing more than a huckster's cold reading, and the accusations of a curse levelled on the fields produced a harvest in line with what the parish records suggested was known for the reason. The Strigany simply recognised that local sentiment was turning against them and moved on, leaving the peasants to complain to their priest, who then sent word to us."

    The tribe's innocence in various associated charges of theft, smuggling and immoral sexual practices is another matter, of course, but such concerns are not part of your remit and you refuse to dignify them with your time. Let the local bailiffs and town guard worry about such things.

    "I see. You know, von Bruner, not many would say such things to me," Wälder says calmly, closing his notebook and fixing you with his pale eyes, "Most would have taken at least some form of decisive action while in the field, instead of coming back to Altdorf with nothing but failure and false sightings to report."

    Behind your back, your hand clenches into a fist. Still, you manage to keep your voice more or less level. "I will not condemn an innocent to the pyre for the sake of polishing my reputation, sir. Frankly, any templar that would is unworthy of the name."

    Wälder studies you for a long moment in silence, and then allows himself a thin little smile. "Well spoken. As it happens I quite agree, which is why I have signed your promotion to Inquisitor. Congratulations, von Bruner. The Order needs more men like you."

    You blink, completely thrown off balance. A promotion to Inquisitor… on paper the title means little, for your remit and authority across the Empire has not changed, and indeed the law does not recognise any difference in the rank. Internally, however, the promotion gives you the right to recruit new agents and issue a salary for each from the Order's own finances. It is a tool meant to encourage you to grow more accustomed to leading agents and coordinating assets in the field, and a significant step on the path to higher rank. "I… thank you, sir. I will strive to be worthy of the honour."

    "Of that I have no doubt," Wälder chuckles without humour, shaking his head, "Now, as it happens I have some other assignments that might suit your new authority, but before we go there - is there anything else you wish to report?"

    "Aye sir, there is," you nod, drawing out the letters of inheritance and testimony you collected and laying them on the desk. They are yet stained with blood and dirt, but the Witchhunter General has handled far worse, and he does not even blink as he picks them up and scans them methodically. "Kastor Lieberung, the man who bore these letters, was ambushed and killed by a band of mutants on the Altdorf road. They had his route and a sketch of his face."

    You hesitate for a moment, then decide not to mention the eerie similarities with your own features. Until you know for certain that such a detail is relevant to the wider Order, there seems little reason to complicate your life by bringing it up in an official report.

    "Organised mutants? Interesting," Wälder murmurs, his gaze distant and thoughtful, "The motive is doubtless connected to this inheritance, but the culprit… perhaps the Red Crown?"

    Markus tests Lore (Witches), skill is 40, roll is 50, narrow failure.

    "Red Crown, sir?" You say, a trifle hesitantly, "The name sounds familiar, but I cannot say I have experience with them."

    "Mm, no reason you would. The Red Crown are a cult of the dark gods, specifically bound to the Changer," Wälder explains briefly, his lip curling in contempt. "They operate as a support network and hidden society for mutants of all kinds, providing them material aid and using the perceived debt to induct them into worship of their foul patron."

    You nod thoughtfully. Certainly a network like the one Wälder describes might be able to position a group of mutants in the right place and time to carry out such an assassination, especially if they have members with less visible deformities operating within nearby towns and villages to feed their comrades intelligence. Control of the inheritance would provide a fine motive as well, since gold in such quantities could vastly increase their ability to find, support and arm new mutants for their hosts.

    "I see, sir. Shall I return to the area and conduct a follow up investigation?" you ask, just for the sake of being thorough.

    "No, I'll send a junior in need of some field experience to do the legwork," Wälder shakes his head, pushing the inheritance papers back across the table towards you. You nod and pick them up, tucking both safely back away inside your coat. "You, I think, would be better off heading to Bögenhafen. As it happens we've had a report from the priest there, conveying certain concerns about a new group embedded in the local merchants guild - a covert group that apparently calls itself the Ordo Septinarius. We know virtually nothing of them as of yet, but there is a certain efficiency in killing two birds with one stone."

    You nod, understanding the concerns that would motivate such an interest. The Empire has no shortage of religious sects, mystery cults and secret fraternities, and the vast majority of them are nothing worth worrying about… but just enough are that you can be justified in poking around and asking a few questions. If you are going to be in the area anyway, it makes sense.

    "As you say, sir. I'll begin arranging transportation on the morrow."

    "Oh, stay a few days longer than that," Wälder chuckles, waving his hand at you, "You've time enough to prepare… and between you and me, you want to give that back of yours a chance to heal before you return to the field."

    You pause at that, then smile ruefully. Of course your stiffness and muted pain would be visible to the Witchhunter General. You doubt there's anything those pale eyes of his ever really miss. "As you say, sir. As you say."

    Article:
    Markus is being sent to Bögenhafen, there to resolve the issue of the inheritance and also investigate reports of a secret fraternity within the local merchant's guild. Given his promotion, it may be worth determining what kind of retinue you think he would be best served to gather around him.

    (This is not an immediate vote, but may become part of the preparations for Bögenhafen in the upcoming updates if there is a particular consensus)

    Before that, however, he has earned some 220xp to assign (for a full breakdown of where this came from, see the character sheet). This xp allows him to purchase TWO of the following options, which I have pre-costed for you.

    CHOOSE TWO

    [ ] Fellowship (from +0 to +5).
    Increasing this attribute will bolster all of your social skills and associated rolls.

    [ ] Charm (from +10 to +15)
    This skill is rolled for all positive social interaction, creating a good impression and making people think well of you.

    [ ] Intimidate (from +10 to +15)
    This skill is rolled for virtually all hostile social interactions, or those based on fear and coercion. It is also your earning skill, responsible for your income endeavours during downtime.

    [ ] Cool (from +10 to +15)
    This skill is rolled to resist fear, psychology and social influence. It is also rolled to lie with a straight face.

    [ ] Melee (Basic) (from +10 to +15)
    This skill is used to attack and defend with the most common types of melee weapons, including swords, spears and axes.

    [ ] Ranged (Blackpowder) (from +10 to +15)
    This skill is rolled to attack people with blackpowder weapons like pistols, and also to repair and rapidly reload them.

    [ ] Lore (Reikland) (from +10 to +20)
    This lore skill represents your knowledge of things you may encounter in Reikland, and can substitute for many other lore skills such as Heraldry (for Reikland nobles), Law (for Reikland law) and even Cults (for cults known to operate in Reikland), albeit at a higher difficulty. It also benefits from an xp discount due to the Seasoned Traveller talent.

    [ ] Endurance (from +0 to +10)
    Used to resist environmental effects, disease and poison, as well as certain status effects like Stunned. Also rolled to determine how quickly you recover from damage taken in battle.

    [ ] Lore (Law) (from +0 to +10)
    This skill represents your familiarity and technical knowledge of codes of law across the Empire and beyond, as well as the professionals who work in the field and the protocol when dealing with various courts.

    [ ] Fearless (Witches)
    This talent allows you to make a single average (+20) cool test to ignore all fear, terror and other psychological effects created by a hostile spellcaster for the scene.

    [ ] Nose for Trouble
    This talent means you are perpetually on the alert, able to roll intuition to detect hostile intent even when you are distracted, off guard or around those you think of as allies.

    [ ] Write In
    This option is reserved for those with a sufficient knowledge of WFRP 4th edition to suggest their own purchases.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Nose for Trouble
    This talent means you are perpetually on the alert, able to roll intuition to detect hostile intent even when you are distracted, off guard or around those you think of as allies.

    [X] Endurance (from +0 to +10)
    Used to resist environmental effects, disease and poison, as well as certain status effects like Stunned. Also rolled to determine how quickly you recover from damage taken in battle.

    The first purchase is a natural reaction to getting drygulched by someone who you thought was a friend and also it's the Old World, there's "Paranoid enough" and there's "Dead", the second one Markus is built different but he could be even MORE constructed in an alternative manner.
     
    Hm, upping our fellowship sounds like a good idea? That and either melee or cool. Charisma has a lot of uses and resisting fear is important in the face of what we're likely to run into. And swording better is obvious.

    That prophecy is concerning though. Morr in vestments of green and talk of the horned rat sounds like someone's gonna dump warpstone in the river.
     
    Maugan Ra said:
    It has produced the Empire's greatest heroes and its most vile villains, great works of scientific artifice and pits of squalor to stain the soul. It is the heart of spiritual and secular power in the nation, and the greatest prize its many enemies yet scheme to claim.
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    It's also the home of the Colleges of Magic founded by Teclis and Magnus the Pious where they're in close proximity with the current Emperor of the Empire, Karl Franz. Gotta keep the Imperial Wizards close with rotating staff of Asur mage advisors supervising them.

    Maugan Ra said:
    (Marie, the lady's towering bodyguard, pays far more attention to these parts)
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    Marie is just standing there... MENACINGLY!

    Maugan Ra said:
    "You! You, sinners, hunters, I see you!" He screams, perched on a rickety wooden box that means you need to tilt your head back to see him properly. His beard is long and ragged, and what were once the tough leathers of a smith are stained and tattered by long misuse. "I see it all! I see darkness gathering as the last house of joy falls! Beware, hunter, for shadows over Bögenhafen stir!"
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    TTS Rogal Dorn: "I suspect he was high on narcotics."

    And that, he should have been taken in by the Sisters of Shallya to deal with his clear insanity.

    Maugan Ra said:
    the End Times have come
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    Oh hell no. I hope it doesn't lead to that where everyone grabbed Idiot Balls and Chaos default wins by authorial fiat by GW.

    Maugan Ra said:
    another witch hunter waiting there already, and that has more to do with the bloody swath of cloth wrapped around half her face than any great friendliness.
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    An aversion to Beauty Is Never Tarnished trope. At least she's still alive and can heal from it.

    Maugan Ra said:
    "It was Deathclaw, the Emperor's own griffon. The blasted thing went mad the second I went near its enclosure. The keepers say it has been in a terrible mood lately; even Karl-Franz won't go near it."
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    Guess Deathclaw was irritated that Karl Franz decided to choose the Imperial Dragon for now.

    Maugan Ra said:
    it is fortunate that Katarin's head is still attached to her shoulders.
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    Deathclaw was giving her the heads up.

    Maugan Ra said:
    Templars rarely get noble or glorious deaths, but that would still rank as one of the least inspiring you've heard of.
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    It could be worse: an unfortunate Witch Hunter might end up in a Yamcha Death Pose.
     
    [X] Nose for Trouble
    [X] Lore (Law) (from +0 to +10)

    Absolutely have to go with Law. We're investigating a Guild of Merchants and dealing with a Inheritance. If we don't want them to run rings around us and keep obstructing our investigation via means that can't be dealt with by bullets and swords without social repurcussions, we'll need to know to speak their language and what laws we need to avoid or could use to our advantage.

    It should give us more space and leeway to conduct our investigation if we can justify our actions using both secular and religious law.

    Markus likes to think the Empire is nation of laws and order, so it's time he put his money where his mouth is and actually learn what those laws are instead of relying on what he feels is right.
     
    Last edited:
    [X] Nose for Trouble
    This talent means you are perpetually on the alert, able to roll intuition to detect hostile intent even when you are distracted, off guard or around those you think of as allies.

    [X] Fearless (Witches)
    This talent allows you to make a single average (+20) cool test to ignore all fear, terror and other psychological effects created by a hostile spellcaster for the scene

    This feels borderline mandatory at some point, and getting it now means we're even more likely to just not die the next time someone tries to shoot us in the back. By that same logic, becoming more resistant to spellcasters being terrifying before we encounter any can only benefit us.
     
    Hm, interesting, Markus didn't catch the mention to Morrslieb, and there wasn't even any roll to do so. Sure, the name is in old reikspiel but it's not too different. Still wouldn't be heretical, given it's literally in the sky all the time and known to be a bad omen by everyone, but unusual he didn't catch it.
     
    [X] Nose for Trouble
    [X] Lore (Law) (from +0 to +10)

    Now that we are more important, we should probably know the law.
     
    Imo for stuff like lore/Law checks we can hire someone in our Retinue to help us out for those.

    [x] Nose for Trouble
    [x] Fearless (Witches)
     
    Bucephalus said:
    Imo for stuff like lore/Law checks we can hire someone in our Retinue to help us out for those.
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    While true, it's better if Markus has a understanding of the Law himself to undercut any paranoia he may have over his hired lawyer's motives. If he ever harbors any doubts over his lawyer's advice, he'll be able to check for himself if their advice is sound.

    After he was stabbed in the back by someone he called a companion, Markus has some trust issues regarding people in professions that are focused on making money, like lawyers who specialize in matters of inheritance and disputes between merchants. Besides, we can't always have the Lawyer with us when we're sneaking about in places we shouldn't be in.
     
    [X] Nose for Trouble
    [X] Lore (Law) (from +0 to +10)

    We are going to be dealing with a group imbedded in a Merchant Gulid and a inheritance that we know bad actors want. We also still have people tracking us by our face which means people still might think that our body double is still alive and come after us when we leave the city. These two votes help us in both those areas.
     
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