[:plant:] [WFRP] The Oldenhaller Contract

"Mmm. Call me jaded, but do make sure the warm dry place is an inn, and not a stable, hm? Spent the last too many nights huddled with with this lot of foul smelling belly swillers already."

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"I WILL NOT DIE NEXT TO AN ELF!"

It wasn't much of a battle cry, but it would have to do. My moment of heroics was delayed, however, as I saw the creature charge at me, his cudgel slamming into my arm. I grunted my dissatisfaction with his choice of targets. Locking eyes with him I very carefully removed my weapon, and lowered my shoulder, as if to strike at him. I grinned as he flinched away. I may be a cartographer, but I can map enemies as well as shore lines. I was going to smash his chest in. Or maybe his face. The point was smashing followed by gloating. And maybe throwing blood on an elf. They were dainty, and hated when you did that.

Draw weapon and feint.

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The elf bit cobblestone roughly as he jumped. I allowed myself a light smirk as he almost got his head caved in by the ground and then again by the thug. Sure, I enjoyed the suffering of a pointy-eared dandelion eater, but I also enjoyed crushing the bones of hapless thugs with my hammer. So as I ducked my head to disguise the angle of attack, I swung out with my weapon, looking to maul the poor bastard.

All Out attack on the jerk off who hit me with the feint bonus

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

The dwarf followed at a reasonable distance from the two. He couldn't help his instincts of mapping out their path mentally as they traveled. He didn't pay a lot of attention to the bravado of the beefy leader of the pair. He'd seen his ilk many times. Walked into a forest with dreams of grandeur and heroism and got lost ten minutes in, only to be eaten by whatever local animals decided he smelled of tasty flesh. As he stepped through the now shattered door, he simply said "Ale" as he passed the bar keep and sat down a respectful distance from the loud ass and his quiet boyfriend. So far he'd gotten to almost smash in a criminal's chest and survived to drink a beer. Good first day here.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

1 Die Roll FLYING WRAP OF DOOM

Jostled to a waking, the dwarf sat bolt upright, spluttering:


"HOW'S MY HAIR?"

Shaking the cobwebs from his head, his wits suddenly coming back to him he pointed a finger and let fly the famous warning call of his people:



Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

In mid cry, he grabbed the blanket from atop him and launched himself at this interloper, seeking to dive on top of him and wrap him in the thing like a net until the other, what's a nice word for "these retards I just met", he wondered.... sure, fellas. Until the other fellas could leap in and offer their aid. Most of them might be helpful, and gods willing, the elf might die.

I was speaking idiomatically.

I stretched my arms above my head as I wandered downstairs. I felt refreshed from a good night's rest and an even better night's thief catching. I'd set out to map the world and find adventure, and I'd found the latter on my first night. Good for me. Twice, actually. Gooder for me.

I scanned the room over breakfast looking for anyone wearing a guild badge, or generally looking like they might be willing to trade some information on where to find a job that would allow me to follow my young cartographer's heart. Or at least something that would keep me from sleeping in the alleys. Either or. Or both. Whichever.

"Oi, innkeep." I called. "You'd best check your locks. I caught a fly buzzing around my coinpurse last night." And with that I settled in for breakfast and hopefully a job offer. I decided to help that last bit along: "Seasoned adventuring group looking for decent paying work. Anyone know where to start in this town?"

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Originally Posted by Zephyrin

Hamit wanders outside after the measly and disappointing breakfast. The mutts...what good they did. Aren't animals supposed to ward off trouble? Maybe they could be sold for some coin.

With some compassion, but only because he was in a similar situation as the others, Hamit suggests the group accompany him to the gallery where he was to present his sculptures. He would likely be turned away due to lacking his invitation, but perhaps they could steer the other poor fellows into some work and provide him with some advice.

For his part, Hamit wasn't going to waste this trip to the city. He wanted to experience the cities art and culture, since he had been robbed of his original purpose.

"Why don't ye all come wid' me today, no? I think me comrades in the arts might have some gainful employment for ya brutish fellows."

Acquire directions to gallery to best of ability.

The dwarf grunted as he glanced over at the Halfling. During his training as a cartographer, he'd often found a certain... calming effect in the craftsmanship art provided. It wasn't far off from the smithing of his people, albeit to a far lesser extent. With a brusqueness he pushed himself up from the table, gathering his parchments and his quills and simply nodded curtly his ascent, both to spending time together and to heading towards the inner city as he made for the door, looking to gather his pony for the journey.

He always preferred to ride, when possible, in a city as it allowed him to copy down the streets and shops he passed. He had a strong sense of direction, but a map was always a trusty thing to keep in your back pocket. He never felt overwhelmed by the city, as growing up in Karaz-a-Karak, under the banners of Thorgrim Grudgebearer's Oathbearers, he had been constantly surrounded by a throng of living creatures. He did, however, at times feel slightly intimidated by the open sky, and his map making was an excuse to look down and around, and not up. His mother had always told him she'd lose him to the seas when he came upon them, but so far he still wasn't enamoured of the openness this new world afforded him.

The concept of sharing the road with an elf near turned his stomach, 85 years in the world had honed his distaste for the race responsible for the fall of his people to a razor's edge of vitriol. However, he also understood the value of protection in a new place, even if said protection was the sneaky knife in the back of the dandelion-eating hand-talkers. His spirits were somewhat buoyed by the addition of the pair of humans, however. Long allies of his people, he would tolerate one elf with the promise of two humans to watch his throat while he slept. He had left his home seeking a heroic death, like in the old tales. And perhaps he would find it. But not today. Today he was going to look at art.

He hoped it was pretty.

FELIPE NO

The dwarf muscled past his comrades, sliding the spectacles off his nose and into a pocket as he did the same, only into a pack, with his map and quill via the other hand. He walked past the clerk to squint at tool marks on one of the stones, tutting slightly at the shoddy, clearly not dwarven, work. He spoke without turning towards the clerk as he walked around the gallery, taking in each bit of stone the way a chef would investigate the plating of a rival. He had long ago abandoned stone-mason as a career, but he still heard his master's voice echoing in the back of his head concerning a steady hand and a steady mind producing steady work.

"Hmph. Browsing for business. Yes." He smiled a little, but only on the inside, as he tugged at his long beard. "Maps. Charts. Public places, public lands, secret places, stars and planets?" The list raised in tone at the end, a question, maybe, in his clipped accent. The others had their own reasons for being here, and their own questions, no doubt. He wouldn't ask for them.

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In Karaz-a-Karak, the dwarf had known people like Yarogni. He'd worked for people like Yarogni. To acquire certain maps, he'd turned into people like Yarogni himself. The man's home language was one he didn't understand, but his intentions were as plain as could be. A cartographer was in high demand for the underworld. Secret places and secret things always so very valuable to people who live in the shadows of the great cities. Yarogni was clearly one of these men. He narrowed his eyes slightly and sniffed, walking over and plucking the card from his hands, flipping it between his digits before handing it back and grunting his ascent.

He may be an academic, but he certainly didn't shy away from the clearly criminal aspect of this endeavor. And besides, you never found anything interesting playing within the bounds of the law. A concept that constantly had him on the precipice of having to take the calling of the troll hunter for honour's sake. Luckily for him, so far, honour was all well and good because he hadn't been caught. You only had to worry about family honour if you were caught.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The dwarf smirked slightly at the magic inhibitor. His race was naturally resistant to magic, and outside of runes they didn't quite understand all the fuss. Whole thing seemed like a pretty nifty way to get yourself possessed and dead.

Either way, he was definitely up for this job. In that he needed start up funds and frankly this seemed more fun then tending bar. He showed his joy by scowling for three solid minutes.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf climbed aboard his pony and slapped Yag firmly on the shoulder, jerking his head in the direction of the local smith. "Supplies." He said simply, indicating that should probably be their first stop. He also planned to stop by the local cartographer's guild to see if anyone had mapped out the tunnels they'd be taking. For the right amount of coin, a cartographer was usually pretty good for keeping his mouth shut. If there was going to be violence, he wanted a nice, heavy weapon and the knowledge of what wall was safe enough to have at his back.

He sniffed as he pulled out his maps and began down the street towards the smiths, slowing his pace so the crew could keep up easily. A hand smoothed his beard as he squinted at the parchment. Tonight should be fun, at any rate. He, for one, was looking forward to the confines of the sewers. His kind grew up brawling in tight quarters, so this was slightly more to his liking. He may have been a mapmaker by trade, but when you grew up under the banners of the Oathbearers, you learned your way around hammer and axe; just as a matter of personal pride. Plus, tunnels like this often had secret places and secret ways. He liked those. It is what attracted him to cartography in the first place. Only a fool read what a map said. The wise man read everything it didn't.

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

1 Die Roll GOSSIP FOLKS MISSY ELLIOT

The dwarf did not have high hopes to find himself a set of golden plate for the 9 gold he had in his pocket, so he settled on trying to track down a leather jerkin and the maps he sought. The leather jerkin would be easy, the maps... maybe not so much. Cartography guilds fancied themselves as hoarders of secrets and prized their maps greatly. He personally considered himself more of a navigator in training than a cartographer, truth be told. He was always far more skilled at reading the stars and maps than he was at making them. However, a trade was a trade, and he would make his way into the navigator's guild eventually. For now, however, he sighed deeply and steadied his nerves to deal with the cartographers. The best in the world were elves, and luckily they were not good at reading the deep emotions of the dwarf people. They missed the little facial twitches and relied on the calm tone of voice to indicate how we felt about them. Wankers. All of them. However, as his grandfather had said, in times of need enemies can be friends for as long as they are necessary. And hopefully it wouldn't be elves, anyway. Just a map was all he needed. Not that it was overly necessary. A dwarf in a hole was as at home as an elf was in a gay orgy in a field of daffodils.

As they approached a shop, he slowed his pony and put a hand on Yag's shoulder to hold him back a few strides from the rest. He spoke quietly, so the other's would be hard-pressed to hear over the din of the steets.

"Don't trust magic at face value. One of us should investigate what this thing is before we hand it over so readily." He took the hand off his shoulder and shrugged. "A thought."

He glanced over at the human once and glanced up at the darkening sky, commenting: "Lanterns." After all, not everyone could see in the dark as he could. With that he spurred his pony forward with his heels.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

1 Die Roll PERCEEEEEPTION

The dwarf slowly scanned the area before moving forward. He kept his eyes and ears open as he approached the door, his hand checking his hammer to make sure it was loose in its home at his hip, and then reaching up to tug the hood of his cloak forward over his face.

If he met no resistance as he approached the door, he would place himself beside it and let one of the others open it. Perhaps someone with a slightly more silver tongue. It had been his experience that hardened thieves very rarely ran away from the dwarven hero just because he scowled a little. Not like in the stories, o no. Not at all. He'd received a blackened eye for making that mistake once.

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll perception of THINGS

The dwarf ducked his head around the corner and sighed, rather audibly. Inside he thought: "Well, that was underwhelming." But on the outside all that showed was a slight twitch of some whiskers on the left side of his upper lip. He glanced at the human who had laid such fierce foot to the now splintered door and shrugged. In his head he couldn't help but consider the plight of his ancestor Methed'Mann of the Clan of Wu and his friend, the terrifying warrior Airic the Redman. Two warrior brought together when they were both accosted in an alley outside a local alehouse. The fight escalated when the Redman kicked in the door of a nearby crime lord, leading to a misunderstanding of epic proportions that could only be solved by axe and hammer.

The resulting affair led to Kaz's ancestor taking to troll slaying and traveling the land with his new friend. Their tales were the stuff of songs in the south-central area of the mountains of his homeland.

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The dwarf walked down towards the note, keeping his eyes peeled for any suspect activity from the walls, floor or ceiling as he did so.

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The dwarf shrugged and rapped on the door firmly twice. He'd done this once, behind a waterfall. Felt like bloody forever before someone opened up. He glanced up at his human sidekick and shrugged, glancing back at the horde of drooling husks hanging conspicuously behind. He muttered something under his breath, an old Dwarven axiom, roughly translated: "Sometimes the whole world feels like a Canadian and a British person with shitty shoes playing with themselves."

FELIPE NO

The dwarf was in no state to move across the room. His shoulders were rising and falling rhythmically as he used every ounce of his willpower not to burst out laughing as the elf flayed the door to pieces with the power of a blade of grass. He wiped his eyes with his beard, took a long breath to steady himself, looked over at the elf, laughed once more and then made his way towards the door, using his hammer to poke at the wardrobes and table to see if there were any nice clothes.

He'd eventually stand to the side of the south door and fling it open.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

The dwarf huffed and went to explore the bookcases, pushing things aside with his hammer as he clucked his tongue. Someone did a right smash and grab here. This made him wonder exactly what their employer needed them here for. The whole thing smacked of a trap.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The dwarf covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. He actually furrowed his brow, which for a dwarf was almost like retching in public. He stepped back out into the open and commented: "Smells like the plague in there." Not a worrying statement at all, he reckoned. He took a deep breath of fresher air and marched off to the other, heavier doors, since everyone else was apparently drooling on themselves.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

OPEN door
INVESTIGATE room
ASK DARKNESS ABOUT LOOM

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

The dwarf simultaneously threw himself across the room, attempting to kick the crossbow away from the near dead human. He wanted some answers, and you didn't get those when you caved in someone's face.

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