[:plant:] [WFRP] The Oldenhaller Contract

The door to the south reveals more concrete evidence of a raid; the next room is full of smashed furniture and strewn with half a dozen corpses. The blood is dry; the violence evidently occurred some time ago. To the south, a pair of smaller doors have been torn off their hinges and pushed into the next room; all that's visible within from this vantage is a large bookcase (with most of its books scattered on the floor). Another pair of heavier doors stand on the west wall, slightly ajar.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Hamit enters the room and observes the bodies. He begins to turn one with his feet, but a pool of blood oozes from underneath due to the disturbance.
Hamit jumps back, does a little leprechaun dance, and let's out a rather audible "EEEEEEEEEEEEPPP~!"


Inspect bodies

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

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.

FELIPE NO

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.

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

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.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Yarogni had lived within rampaging distance of the chaos wastes long enough to know when to leave a plague-ridden corpse well alone. He was also aware however of how effective a deterrent to would be looters an apparently plague-ridden corpse could be.

Grabbing a plank from the busted door, the butcher gingerly prodded the corpse at the desk, trying to knock him over and away to allow a proper look at the desk.

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.

OPEN door
INVESTIGATE room
ASK DARKNESS ABOUT LOOM

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

With nothing else of interest in the room with the desk, Yarogni followed the trail of destruction, looking for signs that whoever had been here had found what they were after and left. He was getting a sinking feeling that they were far too late and someone had beaten them to the prize.

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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.

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With scant regard for his own safety, Yarogni barged past the dwarf, launching himself across the room and attempting to kick the crossbow out of the man's hand. They needed answers and it was going to be a lot easier to get them from an unarmed man.

FELIPE NO

Hearing the kerfuffle ahead, and wondering how he had let his translator get so far ahead without him noticing, Daz hurries to see what was going on.

in the future, just have Dazhyn keep up with Yarogni, since he's pretty much useless otherwise.

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

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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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!"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Yarogni felt much better after kicking the injured man a few times. The guy said he wasn't going to tell them anything but he wouldn't keep that up for long, although a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the crew reminded the Kislevite that a bit of street negotiation might upset the others to the extent they'd bugger off and for the time being, he still needed them.

Maybe a softer approach was in order.

Listen good Totengeld fuck. Maybe we don't want you to talk, maybe we just enjoy beating on idiots, no?

Sadly, Yarogni knew little of soft touch negotiation. With the man disarmed he was clearly no threat to the crew but the butcher went through his pockets just in case. Indicating that someone else might want to have a go at talking to the injured mobster, Yarogni turned his attention to the southern door. If this Valentina gang had indeed been here and were looking for the same thing as them, why would the door be barred from this side? Who bothers to lock a door back up after shaking down a gang?

Yarogni moved to the door and held his ear to it, listening for any sounds beyond. Turning back to the ongoing negotiation, he suggested that someone ask what's behind the door and more importantly, why it's locked, before going back to examining the door for any other oddities.

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"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.

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

While Hamit half observes - half wretches on - the corpses in the room, the others thrash their way into the adjoining room.

During their absense, it was him and the elf. Suddenly, however, he heart the footsteps of a portly man making his way into the room from the entrance. Hamit had a good ear for these things. Turning around, he is locked in the stare of a beardy, red man. There was something comical in his face, but Hamit couldn't put his stubby finger on it.



The man quickly swept up the elf and stuffed him in a burlap bag. He muttered some vulgarities about his wife, then went the way he came.

With a bit of shock, Hamit simply retreated to the room with the others. He noticed the dwarf hulking over a human, pressing him. The Kislevite man was at the other end, ear to the door, with a confused look on his face.
Hamit moves there and attempts to listen as well.

language check

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll Probably involves rolling dice

Yarogni could make out nothing of the conversation going on behind the door and freely allowed the halfling to have a listen instead. Looking around, he was convinced they were missing some people. Were there not two halflings earlier and he was pretty convinced they'd had an elf on board too. Shaking his head, he put it down to the drink although he was a little concerned at the remainder of the group's ability to perform a proper gangland takeover.

Nobody else seemed too bothered about interrogating the wounded man so muttering something about if you want a job doing then you should probably do it yourself in the first place, he continued the job himself.

Look little man, you listen good to uncle Yarogni. Look to me like you wounded pretty good ya? Yarogni thinks you might not be with us for long but is up to you whether that be gentle slide into death's arm or extreme pain for little time left, no?

All I want to know is who behind door and why is locked from this side. I am thinking you understand what happen if you no tell.

Attempt to intimidate wounded guy

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

In retrospect? What you mean little dead man?

And how many men they are in there? Seems like you keep talking you maybe live a little longer no?

Yarogni laughed deeply, the effect ruined somewhat by the ensuing coughing fit. He really needed a drink.

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