[:plant:] [WFRP] The Oldenhaller Contract

FEATURING

Shin as Yarogni Bukoski, Kislevite butcher

and his travel companion

Hawkeye as Dazhyn Jelavic, a Kislevite goat drover.


Denicalis as Kazanin Hargundsson, a Dwarven cartographer from the World's Edge mountains.

Colonel Skills as Tanrindil Tenderheart, a gangly wood elf bandit from the forests of Laurelorn.

CetteHamsterLa as Bulkbelly Tallowman, a halfling charcoal-burner from the Moot.

Zephyrin as Hamit Tanglefoot, a halfling stonemason and sculptor from the province of Ostland.

After what seems like months, your boat reaches Nuln. You are all frozen and soaked through. It is probably true to say that you all bitterly regret buying a cheap deck-class passage on an aging riverboat.

During the course of the journey you have got to know each other and become friends of a sort, united by the tedium and hardship of the voyage. It's a small miracle you've still got your lives, let alone your health; most of the goods and personal effects you brought along are long gone, thanks in roughly equal part to pirates and confiscation by overzealous riverwardens. You all have your own reasons for coming to Nuln, the cultural center of the Empire.

Bukowski, purportedly traveling for no other reason than to see the sights, and dragging along his recalcitrant friend Jelavic (who doesn't speak enough Reikspiel to order an ale).

Hargundsson, tasked to provide new and accurate maps of Nuln and the surrounding lands for the recently reclaimed dwarfhold of Karak Eight Peaks; though for all he knows, the hold has fallen to Chaos again while he sat miserable on this damned boat.

Tallowman, bored of peaceful life in the Moot and with no greater ambition than to get himself into trouble for the sake of a little excitement.

Tanglefoot, invited to be part of a presentation on Ostlander art at one of Nuln's fabulous galleries. Alas, the weather has destroyed his invitation, and what few sculptures the bandits didn't take were lost to the river when Jelavic's damned horse slipped its pen for the fifth time.

Last, there's Tenderheart: an emaciated giant of an elf, who speaks little of his plans and less of his past. He claims to have been a farmer before leaving to seek his fortunes in Nuln, but few farmers could afford the extravagance of Tenderheart's leather jerkin.

The pilot brings the boat alongside a jetty. Crewmen throw ropes to waiting stevedores, the ropes are lashed round massive wooden uprights and the boat is pulled onto the jetty with a slight bump. The gangplank is lowered, and timber cranes swing across the decks to unload the cargo. The customs formalities drag on and on, and it is nearly midnight by the time you are allowed ashore.

Regardless of the separate tasks that brought you here, for the night at least you are companions by circumstance if not necessarily by choice. Time to find beds, and then part ways in the morning (save Jelavic, who might as well be on Mannslieb — so poorly is he suited to city life on his own).

You try the inns along the Shantytown waterfront, but they are all full. Tired and groggy, you begin to despair of ever finding a bed for the night. Things seem to be looking up when you meet a man in the Blind Pig tavern who introduces himself as Grolsch Van Eyke. He speaks with a distinctive Wastelander accent, and seems to take pity on you when he hears that you are newly arrived in Nuln. He warns you that it is extremely unwise to be wandering about the city at this hour and says: "Giz'za couple of shillings and I'll get you a nice warm room somewhere dry and clean."

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1 Die Roll do it

Seeing an opportunity to move up in the world after the wood nymph fiasco that drove him from the edges of the moot Bulkbelly commences to engage in this "big pimpin" he'd heard so much about.

How does one shilling and a night of beastly congress with the living scarecrow over yonder strike ye?


haggle

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The grimy Wastelander raises an eyebrow and grins, openly leering at the elf.

"Yer, a'right. Nevva had me a twig before, but none like the present eh?"

It's highly unlikely that Tan will actually humor the human's advances when the time comes, but that's neither here nor there. Bulkbelly passes silver to the smirking human and Van Eyke dips into an exaggerated bow, gesturing grandly out the door onto the dark streets.

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

"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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Dazhyn wondered why the group couldn't just find a camping spot outside town. Cities made him feel claustrophobic. He was much more comfortable sleeping outside in a land he didn't know than inside a crowded city in a land he didn't know. Open fields under the stars were more his thing. Saying nothing, he followed the rest of the group to wherever they were going. Dazhyn wasn't taking charge of anything until he was out of this dreadful place.

I was speaking idiomatically.

It was a warm night and Yarogni would have been quite happy to spend the night tucked up in a barn somewhere. When you've endured a few winters on the border of Troll Country, the rest of the Empire seemed positively balmy in comparrison.

The Kislevite wasn't convinced that giving money to a stranger for any reason was a good idea, let alone merely on the promise of a warm bed but it hadn't been his money so he followed the crowd, mildly surprised to see the dwarf and elf heading off together and not having come to blows yet.

His holiday was not going well so far. He'd traipsed across half the Empire with his new friend Dazhyn in tow and not seen a single one of the legendary knights his father had told him about during those long evenings around the fire. From his father's tales of his time as a member of the retinue of the Yarl's, the knightly orders of the Empire were the most impressive examples of soldiery in the known world and it was those stories that had inspired this vacation. That and the silly business about the bargain bucket, mystery meat but it's not like anyone had actually died, there was no need for the rest of the townmen to get so angry.

Getting a similar bad vibe now to the one he had got the night he had to skip town in such a hurry, Yarogni loosened the tie round his club and hid it up his sleeve, just in case.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

10 Dice Rolls Footpad (yellow) init

Grolsch leads you down dark, winding alleys and through streets littered with rotting vegetables and stinking debris. At last, he reaches a door. "Here we are", he says. Then, quick as a flash, he pulls the door open, leaps inside and throws the bolt behind him. Suddenly, you become aware that you're not alone. "Right", growls a voice from the shadows behind you. "Just drop your weapons and purses and walk away, and there won't be no trouble!"

You're in the intersection of three alleys, but the thugs have blocked off every one. You're trapped!

Hamit 48, Bulkbelly 48, Tanrindil 45, Yarogni 43, Dazhyn 41, Footpad (Green) 40, Footpad (Red) 37, Footpad (Yellow) 36, Footpad (Blue) 35, Kazanin 21

Clockwise from top right: Yarogni, Hamit, Kazanin, Tanrindil, Dazhyn; Bulkbelly in the center. Yes, the tokens are a bit of a rush job, deal with it.
Oh, and HEX MAP BOOYAH, also deal with that. A 4 in movement means you can move 4 hexes, etc.

FELIPE NO

DAGNABIT!! No elf for you!

Ready hatchet and take up a parrying stance.

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

2 Dice Rolls Damage

Yarogni rolled his eyes. Bloody typical, the old here's a warm bed no actually it's an ambush routine and they'd walked right into it. Still, he'd been there when enough deals went bad to know how to handle himself in situations like this. Sliiping his club into his hand he took the initiative, charging towards the ruffian to the left, swinging as he went using his momentum to add weight to his strike.

Charge attack on Red Footpad.

Hit! 7 minus toughness bonus damage to footpad's head

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1 Die Roll thug wranglin'

See, this is why Dazhyn preferred plains over cities. No one can jump out and surprise you when you can see them coming three miles away. He pulled out his lasso and lobbed it at one of his opponents. Or at least tried. The rope hardly went more than a foot.

ready lasso, throw at south thug.
fail miserably.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Hamit had been nauseous and tired from the voyage, did not trust this city, and was now faced with this awful situation. Funny how the closer to civilization you get, the less civil things become. But since fate had decided to alter his plans up until now, he figured he would let it do so for one more night and gather his agenda the next day and move out.

"This might be the last time I make that mistake," Hamit thought. Hamit was not accustomed to this kind of situation. He was not a noble, but he was certainly not used to fraternizing with ill company. Hopefully the more country-bred brethren he was with could properly handle the situation.

Move against crates. Climp up into them if possible.

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

1 Die Roll climb

Tanrindil thought about it for a moment.

Foot pads? Foot people? Footpi? Foot....clan?



SHIT.

Try to clamber up onto the house on the right. Use the crates if need be

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5 Dice Rolls damage to kaz

Hamit clambers atop the nearest box without much trouble, preferring to leave the violence to the others if at all possible. Bulkbelly just mutters a mild oath, pulling the hatchet from his belt and waiting for the trouble to reach him. Tan clambers onto the crates as well, his long arms pulling him onto the nearest rooftop and out of harm's way.

Yarogni immediately goes on the attack, too surly and tired from his long trip to tolerate any nonsense. He rushes the hoodlum on his left, his trusty club smacking into the thug's skull with a wet thump. That should put a scare into them.

3 wounds lost by Red Footpad

Dazhyn was not at home in the city, but in his experience there was always one good way of dealing with unruly animals. Alas, his lasso falls short by yards — it's hard to judge distances in this urban maze!

The thugs to the north approach carefully — the halfling was ready for trouble, and the two climbing the crates were clearly up to something. Their swings go wide, and Dazhyn smells the stink of cheap liquor on them. Maybe they were emboldened more by liquid courage than any actual competence. The footpad to the west reflexively turns on Yarogni, attempting to repay the Kislevite's assault. With his head still ringing his overhead smash is far off the mark, nearly overbalancing him.

The last thug charges up the alley, hurtling toward Kazanin before the dwarf could even free the hammer from his belt. The footpad's cudgel collides painfully with Kaz's left arm.

Charge attack (+10 to WS): Hit! 1d10 (4) +SB 4 - armor (none) - Kaz's TB (4) - 4 damage to Kaz.

You guys don't need enemy AC anymore, but this may be useful:

Footpads: TB 3. Wearing leather jack: Body armor 1, Arms armor 1.

Kazanin 21, Hamit 48, Bulkbelly 48, Tanrindil 45, Yarogni 43, Dazhyn 41, Footpad (Green) 40, Footpad (Red) 37, Footpad (Yellow) 36, Footpad (Blue) 35

I was speaking idiomatically.

"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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Hamit felt consoled a bit that his fellow halfling was just as apprehensive about engaging any of the ugly fellows. He also wondered if the dwarf should worry more about being killed by the thugs or by the elf. He shrugged.

Break off some wood and throw it at closest dude.

FELIPE NO

1 Die Roll fuck yeah let's do it

Tanrindil was having none of this bullshit. Cowardly box man has absolutely no male genitalia to speak of. Who throws wood. Honestly.

Not Tanrindil. No sir. He's a man of the people.

YouTube Video

Standing jumping people's elbow onto blue foot asshole.

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

1 Die Roll chop chop

These boys are about to learn why you don't stand with your nuts at face level to a pissed off halfling with a hatchet.

Say goodbye to your bollocks boys.


all out attack on green footpad

Jam it back in, in the dark.

3 Dice Rolls hit location

Dropping the profusely unhelpful length of rope at his feet, Dazhyn pulls the string on his shoulder, reaches behind him, and lets his hatchet fall into his hand. He wasn't exactly a seasoned warrior, but he was grateful for all of those lessons his grandfather had given him. He took a swing at the thug in front of him. The attack gets by the thug's guard but only just - Dazhyn's hatchet simply bounces off his foe's armor.

drop lasso, ready hand axe. attack connects, but no wounds are sustained.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

2 Dice Rolls Damage

The sudden ferocity of the Kislevite's attack had clearly surprised the footpad but Yarogni knew that uncontrolled agression was not the way to win streetfights, not without picking up a few cuts and bruises anyway and he was not about to start this leg of his holiday resting up from a serious injury. Adopting a more defensive posture, he swung at his assailant again.

Attack footpad, adopt parrying stance
Hit to the head, 4 more wounds

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

18 Dice Rolls about that crit

Kaz draws his hammer and feints to the left; the filthy human recoils, fooled by his ruse. Behind him, he hears odd splintering sounds. What's that halfling doing?!

Hamit snaps off chunks of the damp, rotting crate and pelts the footpad with the decaying wood. Inside the box was a stack of mildewed fabric bolts. The rain of splinters doesn't seem to do much other than annoy the human; Hamit had hoped to at least get some in the bastard's eyes.

Bulkbelly's hatchet goes scything through the thug's codpiece, but the man doesn't shout in pain. Odd. Maybe this one's not carrying a full set of marbles. Bulk had expected to meet a little more resistance, and now his swing had left him off-balance.

Tan leaps from the rooftop, intent on introducing the flying elbow drop to the uneducated populace of Nuln. Alas, he misjudges the distance: Tan misses the man entirely, sprawling awkwardly onto the cobblestone below.

Tan knocked down; until he stands, his attacks are at -10 and attacks against him are at +10.

Yarogni gives the ruffian another bash in the head and the thug reels, blood streaming down his face. Another solid hit would probably take this one out of the fight. A good thing, too; it seemed Yarogni's companions could scarcely hit anything smaller than a house. Typical Imperials.

Daz's hasty axe swing just bounces off the footpad's leather-clad shoulder — but the bounce carries it upward through the footpad's ear, slicing a jagged line through the soft flesh. The thug yowls in pain as his earlobe goes rolling into the dirt. Not precisely the kind of strike that people tell stories about, but a wound was a wound.

Hit location is the reverse of your attack roll, so 12: you hit him in the head for one wound.

The footpad's free hand darts to his ruined ear, and his fingers come back bloody. "You rotten —", he snarls, smashing his cudgel into Dazhyn's left knee. Nothing feels broken, but it still hurts like hell.

3 damage to Daz (left leg)

"I'm not havin' my taxes paid over this, bear-botherer." The thug Yarogni had given a beating to withdraws cautiously, clutching his temple. "Keep my share of the grab, boys. I'll be having... a lie down. Ugh."

Red footpad disengages and flees

"You runty little — that was brand new, I'll have you know." The footpad's club whistles over Bulkbelly's head. Bulk smirks, only to find himself lifted off his feet when the footpad's boot thumps into his chest. He stumbles backward, narrowly avoiding a collision with the dwarf (who clearly has his own troubles).

Yellow footpad wins opposed test to manoeuvre, pushing Bulkbelly 1 hex southwest.

The thug assaulting Kaz glances over in surprise as the elf slams into the cobblestone at his feet. Never know what's goin' on in a leafer's head, but an opening is an opening. His cudgel smashes into the back of Tanrindil's skull, and the elf responds with an agonized screech. Damn it all, there's nothing more annoying to listen to than an elf with a grievance. The dwarf was all but forgotten for the moment — somebody has to stop that awful noise.

Ouch. 9 damage to Tanrindil (head)

Kazanin 21, Hamit 48, Bulkbelly 48, Tanrindil 45 (Knocked Down), Yarogni 43, Dazhyn 41, Footpad (Green) 40, Footpad (Yellow) 36, Footpad (Blue) 35

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

Hamit looked at the elf, blood oozing from his pointed ears like morning dew from a tobacco leaf. He definitely wouldn't be following his lead. Also, he could use a smoke.

Well, as mother always said about the bullies when he was a child, "Ye may as well just run away, Hamit. Theer bigger dan ye. No sense in hurtin' yeself."

What a cunty old rag.

Throw some more wood, for goodness sake!

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2 Dice Rolls Damage

His opponent defeated, Yarogni cast a string of Kislevite curses towards the fleeing footpad before turning to watch the triumph of his companions.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. Clearly none of these soft Westerners had ever had to fight their way out of a tavern full of angry villagers when they found out exactly what the surprise was in a rat sausage surprise!

He was of half a mind to just slope off and find a bed but despite his history of dubious business deals, the Kislevite had a sense of honour of sorts. Having seen enough wolf packs hunting bison on the Steppes, Yarogni knew the trick was to take out the weakest one first. Raising his club, he launched himself at the nearest foe who appeared to be weakened already by the ineffectual flailing of his companions.

Charge Green, unless I'm too close in which case move and attack
Hit to the head (Again). 9 Wounds

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

2 Dice Rolls damage

Dazhyn's knee throbbed with pain. Drawing his dagger from its sheath on his leg for something to protect himself with, he took another swing at his opponent.

Draw dagger in off-hand to get one free parry attempt per round. Attack same target with hand axe again (assuming he's not already dead)

6 wounds to the arm (i think)

This time the axe slices into the thug's arm like it's supposed to. Dazhyn allows himself a tiny grin. He usually preferred to give other people drinks, not pain, death, and disfigurement. But hey, this guy had started it.

FELIPE NO

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

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

2 Dice Rolls chop em proper

After stumbling back Bulkbelly whirls around to find another thug directly in front of him.

Mayhaps your packing more than friend there?

full attack to blue thug


Truly he was already beginning to regret running afoul of the empty codpiece gang.

Jam it back in, in the dark.