The Enemy Within (WHF Witch Hunter Quest)
- Thread starter Maugan Ra
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- Germany
[X] Introduce yourself
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Introduce yourself
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
[X] Introduce yourself
-[X] As a Noble. Making your birth and house known will remove you and Josef from the list of viable targets. You might even be able to talk the young brats out of their plans.
These noble assholes are irrelevant to the story and I would prefer to keep them that way so we can keep the focus on Josef.
-[X] As a Noble. Making your birth and house known will remove you and Josef from the list of viable targets. You might even be able to talk the young brats out of their plans.
These noble assholes are irrelevant to the story and I would prefer to keep them that way so we can keep the focus on Josef.
[X] Punch Him.
[X] Introduce yourself
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
Josef will not be happy to hear it and it might create complications, but I am too tempted by these louts not to.
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
Josef will not be happy to hear it and it might create complications, but I am too tempted by these louts not to.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Omegahugger
Inattentive Idiot
[X] Introduce yourself
-[X] As a Noble. Making your birth and house known will remove you and Josef from the list of viable targets. You might even be able to talk the young brats out of their plans.
-[X] As a Noble. Making your birth and house known will remove you and Josef from the list of viable targets. You might even be able to talk the young brats out of their plans.
- Location
- Asia
[X] Introduce yourself
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
- [X] As a Witch Hunter. It isn't quite within your legal remit, but you doubt Sigmar would object overly much if you terrified these little shits into being less of a disgrace to their class and station
- Location
- London, England
can't we just introduce ourselves to them as a noble first, then get them to follow us into a private place away from the tavern and away from Joesf, and then reveal we're a Witch Hunter? It'll save a lot of trouble later on. Plus, it'll dampen our reputation as a Witch Hunter if people knew we came for a quick drink and reminisced with an old friend in present clothes.
Last edited:
- Location
- London, England
Since the point of the Witch Hunter vote is publicly shaming and/or terrifying these two nobles into cleaning up their act, no.
Being more discrete about it would be better for avoiding hurt feelings and perhaps an unfortunate reputation, but there's a reason the vote is worded the way it is.
Being more discrete about it would be better for avoiding hurt feelings and perhaps an unfortunate reputation, but there's a reason the vote is worded the way it is.
Damn, it would've been better to privately reprimand and terrify them so that they wouldn't have a personal grudge against our MC then publicly humiliate them and potentially get their houses involved as well. But alright, I guess the vote is already done so lets hope this goes well.
VII - Templar
- Location
- London, England
VII - Templar
You can see how this scene is meant to go. These nobles, these selfish children, are out on the town in search of fun, and the best idea they can come up with is tormenting their lessers. They are here to bully and intimidate, to humiliate those who cannot fight back and revel in their power, safe from any consequences behind the wall of their status and the skill of their bodyguards. It sickens you; a visceral, nauseating fury that boils like acid in your gut, and you will not stand for it.
Max Ernst goes to push you again, and with a growl of fury you draw your pistol and level it at his head.
"Hey, hey, woah now," Josef says urgently, laying a hand on your arm as the bully freezes and the tavern falls silent, "No need for that, Markus. Just… just put the gun away, alright?"
The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, and even the two young nobles seem a little unsure of what to do as their bodyguards draw blades and step between you and their charges. If you pull the trigger now they'll gut you before you can reload and everyone here knows it, but that won't keep Max Ernst's brains from decorating the floorboards. The whole situation just escalated far beyond what any present expected, and everything now rests on the edge of a knife.
"Introductions are in order, I think," you speak into the silence, your voice cold and clear and filled with an aristocrat's furious contempt, "I am Markus von Bruner, initiate of the Holy Order of Sigmarite Templars."
Markus makes an Average (+20) Intimidate check. Skill is 81, roll is 23, 6SL (8 with talents). Astounding success.
"Witch hunter," someone hisses, their voice like a pin dropped in the silence of the tavern. Outside you can hear the hustle and bustle of an Altdorf evening, from above the low groan of wood and plaster settling with the change of temperature, but in the tavern's main room nobody makes so much as a whisper. Half of the people watching are barely remembering to breathe.
"You, boy," you say flatly, looking past the thug you have at gunpoint and the now-wavering bodyguard to address the noble at his back, "What is your name?"
"I, uh," the boy swallows, his eyes glassy with familiar shock. You've seen that look on too many faces before. He barely even understands what is happening right now, because every time comprehension comes close his mind flinches and scrambles away. "Jacob von Katzenreik, uh, sir. This is Georg von Ostbrun. We… we were just…"
"Having a bit of fun?" you ask, and from the way he blanches your voice must have contained almost as much venom as your heart, "You, Jacob von Katzenreik, are a disgrace. You bring shame to your name, to your family and to your god. Go home, and know that if I ever hear word that you have done anything like this again, you will mourn the day you were born."
Markus tests intimidate, skill is 61, rolls 62, bare failure with 0SL.
Noble tests Cool, skill is 26, roll is 79, failure with -5SL.
Markus succeeds with +5 net SL.
You lack any legal authority to issue such a command, and if the boys commanded their retainers to gut you like a fish you would certainly die, but neither of those things matters. What matters is how they feel, what they see, and so at your command two scions of Reikland's proud noble families nod and bow and slink from the Boatman's Inn like whipped curs. Their guards go with them, most not daring to take their eyes off you until they are safely through the doors, and at last you allow yourself to lower the pistol.
"That goes for you too, Max Ernst," you say flatly, keeping an eye on the thug just in case he thinks of trying his luck now that you've put the pistol away, "Go home. Be better."
Max Ernst tests Cool, skill is 65, roll is 43. Pass.
The thug swallows, then works his jaw and shakes his head, adopting a deliberately nonchalant pose. "Sure, sure. You hiring?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"Well, see, that's by pay packet you just sent scurrying down the road soaked in his own piss," Max drawls, nodding at the door but never taking his eyes off you, "which means I'm in the market for a new boss. You seem a right vicious bastard, so… are you hiring?"
You blink, too bemused by the sheer audacity on display to take offence at the slur on your parentage. "You are offering me your services? As, what, a professional legbreaker?"
"Something like that," Max nods agreeably, "I hurt people. I'm good at it. Scare them pretty good too, and I don't need to wave a pistol around to do it. Figure you might be interested."
You nod slowly, just to show you understand. You won't pretend that there's no use for a man like Max in your line of work, or that you're too good for such company, and you remember how the whole room fell silent when he first walked in. Of course, you suspect that reputation is why he's making this offer in the first place - he might have lost some face back there, but the sheer audacity of making this pitch in front of so many witnesses will win it back and then some.
-/-
The sun has set and evening cast its dark cloak across the sky, but the docks of Altdorf are still alive with sound and motion as you make your way back down the street. Workers hard off their day shift, merchants hawking their wares, working girls opening their windows and purveyors of vice calling out from nearby alleyways, all of it vital and vibrant. You pass through the crowds like a wraith, unseen and unseeing, and it is only when you reach the bridge and begin to cross back towards the city south and the waiting cathedral that Josef at last musters up the wit to speak.
"So. A witch hunter, huh," he says, a trifle awkward, caught between faux-casual and deep concern, "I never would have guessed."
"Yeah," you say, stopping in place and feeling the cool evening breeze tug at your hair. "I swore my oaths when… the day my father died."
You don't look back, not yet. You can't. Instead you turn and make your way over to the side of the bridge, leaning on the railing and staring out over the vast sweep of the Reik as it passes by. There's a grain barge making its way down the river, slow and ponderous, and as you watch the crew start work on lowering the rigid sail so it can fit beneath the bridge you stand on.
"I, ah," Josef says slowly from behind you, hesitating to come too close, afraid to leave you alone, "I guess it's got something to do with how that went down, then. Only I've heard the stories, everyone has, and if whatever happened was enough to make you like that then…"
He's afraid of you. Of course he is, it's only sensible. You're a Templar of Sigmar, a Witch Hunter, a mad killer redeemed through service to state and creed, the monsters the Empire keeps close to match against the horrors in the dark. You laugh, once, a cold and ugly sound that tears its way free of your chest like a beast from a trap.
"I did it," you say, and you don't know why you're saying it, why you're telling him anything like this at all, save that the very thought of deceiving him for even a moment longer hurts worse than the truth of what must happen next. "I turned him in. I found my father practising his sorcery, speaking with a witch he'd invited into our home, and I reported him. The Templars came that same day, they broke down his office door and they found his notes and his tools and they burned him in the garden that night."
Your eyes are burning and your vision blurred, your skin is cold and your throat so tight you can barely get the words out, but you keep speaking. It isn't a choice. You never get to choose.
"The witch was already gone, she ran the second she realised I'd seen them, but father… he was still there. He didn't even try to flee," you whisper, hunched over on that railing, shoulders trembling as your body rebels and the wind whips at your hair. "He thought we could talk it out, that he could explain, that I would listen. He thought… he thought he could trust me to give him that much, and I didn't, and he didn't even blame me."
You don't regret it. You don't. It was the right thing to do, everything you know, everything you were ever taught is clear on that. You joined the Templars because you knew it was right, because Sigmar's law will make a better world and yours will be the hands that build that shining future.
Josef's hand is on your shoulder now, but you do not feel it, and if he speaks you do not hear him. All you can hear is the crackle of the flames, the sound of the priest's voice as he read the charges and passed the sentence. All you can see is the pyre they built, and the stump of the apple tree where first you learned to climb. You remember seeing your father walk to his end, a terrible dignity in his poise and bearing, a grim look in his eyes. You remember how your mother cried, how your sister begged, how your brother stared at you with a look you have never seen on another's face before or since. You remember your father's last words.
You remember him saying 'I love you'.
And you remember his screams.
You can see how this scene is meant to go. These nobles, these selfish children, are out on the town in search of fun, and the best idea they can come up with is tormenting their lessers. They are here to bully and intimidate, to humiliate those who cannot fight back and revel in their power, safe from any consequences behind the wall of their status and the skill of their bodyguards. It sickens you; a visceral, nauseating fury that boils like acid in your gut, and you will not stand for it.
Max Ernst goes to push you again, and with a growl of fury you draw your pistol and level it at his head.
"Hey, hey, woah now," Josef says urgently, laying a hand on your arm as the bully freezes and the tavern falls silent, "No need for that, Markus. Just… just put the gun away, alright?"
The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, and even the two young nobles seem a little unsure of what to do as their bodyguards draw blades and step between you and their charges. If you pull the trigger now they'll gut you before you can reload and everyone here knows it, but that won't keep Max Ernst's brains from decorating the floorboards. The whole situation just escalated far beyond what any present expected, and everything now rests on the edge of a knife.
"Introductions are in order, I think," you speak into the silence, your voice cold and clear and filled with an aristocrat's furious contempt, "I am Markus von Bruner, initiate of the Holy Order of Sigmarite Templars."
Markus makes an Average (+20) Intimidate check. Skill is 81, roll is 23, 6SL (8 with talents). Astounding success.
More than any other type of roll, social tests are prone to circumstantial modifiers. Here, Markus is enjoying a +20 modifier because he has a gun and has higher social status than the vast majority of people present. He is not gaining a modifier from naming himself as a Witch Hunter, as he has no way to prove this and does not really look the part.
Technically, this intimidate check could be opposed by the Cool skill of all targets. However, nobody present has a high enough willpower+cool to actually exceed Markus' 8 success levels, so I am not rolling.
Having succeeded, Markus can intimidate up to his willpower bonus (5) plus SL (8) targets, for a total of 13 - more than enough to tag Max, the two nobles and their four guards. Said targets will stand down and not get in his way or oppose him, and should combat break out, they treat him as having a fear rating.
Future intimidate checks can be used to compel specific courses of action, but should you ever fail one, the target stops being afraid of you and can no longer be intimidated for the rest of the scene.
Technically, this intimidate check could be opposed by the Cool skill of all targets. However, nobody present has a high enough willpower+cool to actually exceed Markus' 8 success levels, so I am not rolling.
Having succeeded, Markus can intimidate up to his willpower bonus (5) plus SL (8) targets, for a total of 13 - more than enough to tag Max, the two nobles and their four guards. Said targets will stand down and not get in his way or oppose him, and should combat break out, they treat him as having a fear rating.
Future intimidate checks can be used to compel specific courses of action, but should you ever fail one, the target stops being afraid of you and can no longer be intimidated for the rest of the scene.
"Witch hunter," someone hisses, their voice like a pin dropped in the silence of the tavern. Outside you can hear the hustle and bustle of an Altdorf evening, from above the low groan of wood and plaster settling with the change of temperature, but in the tavern's main room nobody makes so much as a whisper. Half of the people watching are barely remembering to breathe.
"You, boy," you say flatly, looking past the thug you have at gunpoint and the now-wavering bodyguard to address the noble at his back, "What is your name?"
"I, uh," the boy swallows, his eyes glassy with familiar shock. You've seen that look on too many faces before. He barely even understands what is happening right now, because every time comprehension comes close his mind flinches and scrambles away. "Jacob von Katzenreik, uh, sir. This is Georg von Ostbrun. We… we were just…"
"Having a bit of fun?" you ask, and from the way he blanches your voice must have contained almost as much venom as your heart, "You, Jacob von Katzenreik, are a disgrace. You bring shame to your name, to your family and to your god. Go home, and know that if I ever hear word that you have done anything like this again, you will mourn the day you were born."
Markus tests intimidate, skill is 61, rolls 62, bare failure with 0SL.
Noble tests Cool, skill is 26, roll is 79, failure with -5SL.
Markus succeeds with +5 net SL.
You lack any legal authority to issue such a command, and if the boys commanded their retainers to gut you like a fish you would certainly die, but neither of those things matters. What matters is how they feel, what they see, and so at your command two scions of Reikland's proud noble families nod and bow and slink from the Boatman's Inn like whipped curs. Their guards go with them, most not daring to take their eyes off you until they are safely through the doors, and at last you allow yourself to lower the pistol.
"That goes for you too, Max Ernst," you say flatly, keeping an eye on the thug just in case he thinks of trying his luck now that you've put the pistol away, "Go home. Be better."
Max Ernst tests Cool, skill is 65, roll is 43. Pass.
The thug swallows, then works his jaw and shakes his head, adopting a deliberately nonchalant pose. "Sure, sure. You hiring?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"Well, see, that's by pay packet you just sent scurrying down the road soaked in his own piss," Max drawls, nodding at the door but never taking his eyes off you, "which means I'm in the market for a new boss. You seem a right vicious bastard, so… are you hiring?"
You blink, too bemused by the sheer audacity on display to take offence at the slur on your parentage. "You are offering me your services? As, what, a professional legbreaker?"
"Something like that," Max nods agreeably, "I hurt people. I'm good at it. Scare them pretty good too, and I don't need to wave a pistol around to do it. Figure you might be interested."
You nod slowly, just to show you understand. You won't pretend that there's no use for a man like Max in your line of work, or that you're too good for such company, and you remember how the whole room fell silent when he first walked in. Of course, you suspect that reputation is why he's making this offer in the first place - he might have lost some face back there, but the sheer audacity of making this pitch in front of so many witnesses will win it back and then some.
Article: Do you hire Max Ernst?
[ ] Yes. You'll arrange a stipend at the chapterhouse later, and he will meet you by the docks tomorrow morning.
[ ] No. You'll send him on his way, and hopefully never lay eyes on the man again.
-/-
The sun has set and evening cast its dark cloak across the sky, but the docks of Altdorf are still alive with sound and motion as you make your way back down the street. Workers hard off their day shift, merchants hawking their wares, working girls opening their windows and purveyors of vice calling out from nearby alleyways, all of it vital and vibrant. You pass through the crowds like a wraith, unseen and unseeing, and it is only when you reach the bridge and begin to cross back towards the city south and the waiting cathedral that Josef at last musters up the wit to speak.
"So. A witch hunter, huh," he says, a trifle awkward, caught between faux-casual and deep concern, "I never would have guessed."
"Yeah," you say, stopping in place and feeling the cool evening breeze tug at your hair. "I swore my oaths when… the day my father died."
You don't look back, not yet. You can't. Instead you turn and make your way over to the side of the bridge, leaning on the railing and staring out over the vast sweep of the Reik as it passes by. There's a grain barge making its way down the river, slow and ponderous, and as you watch the crew start work on lowering the rigid sail so it can fit beneath the bridge you stand on.
"I, ah," Josef says slowly from behind you, hesitating to come too close, afraid to leave you alone, "I guess it's got something to do with how that went down, then. Only I've heard the stories, everyone has, and if whatever happened was enough to make you like that then…"
He's afraid of you. Of course he is, it's only sensible. You're a Templar of Sigmar, a Witch Hunter, a mad killer redeemed through service to state and creed, the monsters the Empire keeps close to match against the horrors in the dark. You laugh, once, a cold and ugly sound that tears its way free of your chest like a beast from a trap.
"I did it," you say, and you don't know why you're saying it, why you're telling him anything like this at all, save that the very thought of deceiving him for even a moment longer hurts worse than the truth of what must happen next. "I turned him in. I found my father practising his sorcery, speaking with a witch he'd invited into our home, and I reported him. The Templars came that same day, they broke down his office door and they found his notes and his tools and they burned him in the garden that night."
Your eyes are burning and your vision blurred, your skin is cold and your throat so tight you can barely get the words out, but you keep speaking. It isn't a choice. You never get to choose.
"The witch was already gone, she ran the second she realised I'd seen them, but father… he was still there. He didn't even try to flee," you whisper, hunched over on that railing, shoulders trembling as your body rebels and the wind whips at your hair. "He thought we could talk it out, that he could explain, that I would listen. He thought… he thought he could trust me to give him that much, and I didn't, and he didn't even blame me."
You don't regret it. You don't. It was the right thing to do, everything you know, everything you were ever taught is clear on that. You joined the Templars because you knew it was right, because Sigmar's law will make a better world and yours will be the hands that build that shining future.
Josef's hand is on your shoulder now, but you do not feel it, and if he speaks you do not hear him. All you can hear is the crackle of the flames, the sound of the priest's voice as he read the charges and passed the sentence. All you can see is the pyre they built, and the stump of the apple tree where first you learned to climb. You remember seeing your father walk to his end, a terrible dignity in his poise and bearing, a grim look in his eyes. You remember how your mother cried, how your sister begged, how your brother stared at you with a look you have never seen on another's face before or since. You remember your father's last words.
You remember him saying 'I love you'.
And you remember his screams.
Article: Every character has two personal goals, one short term, one long term. Completing a short term goal grants 50xp. Completing a long term goal grants 500xp and allows you to retire the character if you wish.
Markus' long term personal goal is "Earn my father's forgiveness".
How does he imagine this might be achieved?
[ ] Find the Witch. The woman who brought your father those forbidden texts is the one who damned him. You know her name - Etelka Herzen - and one day you will have justice for her crimes.
[ ] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
[ ] Enter the Garden. Through the prayers of a Morrite or the magic of an Amethyst you might find your father's spirit. Nothing else will suffice. And if such methods fail, well, there is always the traditional way.
[ ] Confess your Sins. Find some fault in Sigmarite dogma, something truly undeniable and intolerable, and you will break their hold over you. Then you can be forgiven for what you did. Then you can be punished.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Yes. You'll arrange a stipend at the chapterhouse later, and he will meet you by the docks tomorrow morning.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Yes. You'll arrange a stipend at the chapterhouse later, and he will meet you by the docks tomorrow morning.
Well, if Markus doesn't like him he'll probably die on the job, and if he doesn't die, that's a reason to like him.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
In the grand spirit of being the least stereotypical Witch Hunter possible...
Well, if Markus doesn't like him he'll probably die on the job, and if he doesn't die, that's a reason to like him.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
In the grand spirit of being the least stereotypical Witch Hunter possible...
[X] Yes. You'll arrange a stipend at the chapterhouse later, and he will meet you by the docks tomorrow morning.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
Wade Garrett
Just trying to do the right thing
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
[X] Yes. You'll arrange a stipend at the chapterhouse later, and he will meet you by the docks tomorrow morning.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.
[X] Mentor a Wizard. Your father could have, should have, turned himself in to the colleges. Finding another in his situation, one who needs you to guide them, and seeing them become a respected magister will redeem him and you both.