[:plant:] [WFRP] The Oldenhaller Contract

Hamit inspects the corpses, grimacing distastefully. None of the bodies was clad in any armor, or carrying anything so dangerous as a sap or as valuable as a single brass penny. Either the poor bastards were caught totally unawares or the attackers had been quite thorough in their looting. Or both. Two of the bodies are wearing cheap copper pendants in the shape of a fig leaf. The other four are decorated with nothing finer than playing cards; some unfortunate deck somewhere is missing all of its 4s. On each card is a note scribed in a shaky hand: "Greetings from Valantina Anti-Personnel."

Kazanin charges into the southern room, curious about the bookcases. Things are ransacked just as thoroughly here; aside from the mistreated books, a once-fine painting lies smashed on the floor. While some few of the books and scrolls here may be of value to collectors, a great deal of it seems to be simple accounting records of the Totengeld gang interspersed with the occasional collection of bawdy verse.

Slumped over a desk is a particularly odoriferous corpse; a pock-marked man of olive complexion dressed in fine clothing and a voluminous black cloak. The man's face is festooned with weeping sores, as is his left arm (the right arm is notably absent below the shoulder, terminating in a ragged stump). The drawers of the desk have been pulled out and lie empty.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

1 Die Roll a secret roll! of mystery!

Yarogni jabs at the becloaked corpse with a jagged plank, and it slumps wetly to the floor. Alas, the desktop and the drawers are empty of all valuables; indeed, all that remains is a pewter mug bearing the engraved slogan "#1 Boss" and a cheap hooded black cloak much like the one the corpse is wearing. This second cloak is neatly folded in the back of the lower right desk drawer, and allows the wearer to inform passersby that "[He] took the Bugman's Brewery Tour and all [he] got was this lousy cloak".

Kaz peers through the slightly-ajar western doors. The next room is unlit (not that this bothers dwarven eyes); the only things visible through the gap between the doors are three sodden mattresses, ripped open amidst a pile of their straw stuffing and their broken wood frames.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

4 Dice Rolls ulrich init

Kaz pushes open the door, with the Kislevite butcher right behind him. Just like the other rooms, this dormitory is utterly trashed. The beds are in ruins, and bloody corpses lay haphazard in the south of the room. One of them has a crossbow in hand, and Kaz notices with alarm that this fellow isn't quite dead! Though heavily wounded, a bearded man shakily tries to aim his crossbow at the intruding dwarf.



A pair of heavy doors, barred with a long iron rod, lead out of the southeast of this room.

Most amazing jew boots

Leaving the dazed-looking elf behind, Daz catches up with the group just in time to see Yarogni and the dwarf kicking an unarmed wounded man. There was almost certainly a good explanation for this.

The crossbow flies out of the man's hand on the first thing; the next few are just for emphasis, really. "Ugh!", he wheezes, coughing up an alarming amount of blood. "I'll never tell you Valantina bastards anything! Go ahead and kill me!"

I was speaking idiomatically.

"The joke's on you, then! I'm already so badly wounded that I no longer feel pain! Your kicks are merely a dim thumping sensation intruding into a world of empty numbness! Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ow."

Yarogni puts his ear to the door. There was a raucous conversation going on the other side, though the language was outside Yarogni's limited knowledge of foreign tongues (he knew "ale" in about 15 languages, but that was that); there were at least three distinct voices. Under the chitchat was the clink of classes and the all-too-familiar clatter of dice.

Meanwhile, back at the entrance to the Asylum, a passing Norseman kidnaps Tanrindil Tenderheart and whisks him away for mysterious purposes. He is never seen again.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Hamit listens at the door but finds it no more intelligible than the human had. Whatever language it was, it had far too many vowels for respectability.

"You don't scare me! If Ulrich Vogel has to go out he's — screw it. Who do you think is back there, the incorruptible remains of St. Horst? It's the damned Valantinas, and I managed to bolt the door after they left me for dead. But I wasn't dead; this was the flaw in their plan. They won't be getting back in here! Not that they'd want to, in retrospect."

Sorry about the long delays between GM responses, my life got significantly busier in the last month.

FELIPE NO