[Part 2, Session 1] Dragon Age - Friday 17th February 2012

By the time the Ser Edmund returned to his manor the night was blacker than his mood. He felt gray and numb, all colour drained from him and those around him. The warmth of life had been snuffed out. It felt pointless to be returning to this place.

Inside Ser Lothryn takes Willam aside as Ser Fossett shows the surviving mercenary captains and their men into the great hall. They find a trough has been brought in to sit along a wall filled with icy cold water from the well. Steaming hot food lines the central table, wine skins and a keg of small beer sit to the side. Horn drinking cups are aplenty. A kindness indeed on such a day. The fire is lit in the hearth too. One of the captains, Gregor, makes an appreciative appraisal, "Your fine hospitality does you proud Ser."

The lord of the manor can do little more than a glassy-eyed nod, "A pleasure." comes the flat reply as he walks past the hall and up the stairs to his quarters. 

Outside Willam's toothless face winces then scowls at the news. "That'll be that then." he says nodding a little and looking at his own worn hand. He hands the torch to Lothryn and trudges back towards his hut. Back hunched more so than usual in the dimness. Nothing more can be said to a man who now has no son and no grandson, the only family he'd had. A man whose master has lost his own family too. Dark days for the coming winter.

Upstairs the priest finishes his administrations and announces that all the Lady requires is some rest and a light meal. He will be back in the morn to check on her progress but will leave some salves for use during the eve. Making his way downstairs he stops to tend to wounds of any great gravity that means the experienced fighters can not tend to them on their own. Men who fight for a living quickly learn the tricks of the trade in how to tend to minor wounds on themselves and greater ones on their friends.

Ser Fossett finds himself fortunately suffering from nothing more than a severe requirement for food and rest. Plate in hand he takes his leave of Ser Lothryn and heads upstairs with a taper in the other. His brothers do not begrudge him his rest and wave him on to their sleeping quarters. Myrtle arrives with a bowl of water and a cloth to allow him to cleanse, with instructions to leave his soiled goods on the other side of the door for her to deal with.  

With nothing more to do than guard his lady and partake of sustenance, Ser Shelby makes his way to the feasting in order to grab a plate each for Garrett and himself before all of the food is but bones to pick over or bowls to sop. "An army marches on it's stomach indeed.", he observes to himself quietly with a small smile. 

Just as he turns to make his way back upstairs a voice catches his attention. He looks up cautiously and scans the men sitting in the firelight. Stories are being told now and some are gambling. Why does the voice sound strike a chord?

The faces are as you would expect. Mottled with various scars of varying ages and severities. Some are nothing more than youths like himself but most are worn old dogs with grizzled features and weatherbeaten skin. One in particular strikes him as familiar.

His stomach knots and he grips the plate he carrying to control his anger.

He continues looking casually and bids a good night to Ser Lothryn who waves him on his way.

"M'lady?" Shelby says as he comes through the door, after handing a plate to his brother. Laria doesn't reply.

"My Lady?" Shelby says again, walking a little closer. Not wishing to disturb her as she sits gazing into the hearth.

At that Laria stirs and looks up with a sleepy smile. "Ser Shelby, I do wish you would call me Laria for I am no lady. What is it? Have they eaten all the meat already? My father used to speak of the legendary appetite of his fellow soldiers.", she grins to herself but stops when she sees the look in his face. "What is it?"

"I am unsure what to make of what I have seen. Please do not be alarmed but I believe downstairs sits at least one of the men who were once loyal to the Black Brigand."

Laria is unsure what to make of it also but agrees to take a cursory look while collecting a plate of food for her own supper. 

In the hall she finds the table of food has been ravaged, unsurprisingly. Though she is used to men of war from growing up her father's daughter, she isn't so comfortable in the sole company of men and their drunken ways. Especially given the news that some may have already made her acquaintance. Nerves flicker in her as she growls inwardly trying to steady her hands. A woman of the sword should fear no one! She admonishes herself while darting her gaze this way and that, picking at what is left and picking out faces. Waiting for one or another to become familiar or for her plate to become full. Just as she is pulling a hunk of bread from a cold hard loaf, she hears a laugh that stops her dead. A voice too. A memory of stinking breath and warm unwelcome hands comes to mind. An image of the Black Brigand and his 'men'. The Brecilian forest. 

She glances up quickly in order to locate the voice and take in it's owner before quickly leaving. Not wishing to stay to be reacquainted with its owner. 

~ o0o ~

The sun returns for its daily journey to find the land is much as it was before the dark came down. The sky is still cold and grey. The clouds are like old wet lace forgotten on the line overnight and dripping with the dew. Not even the local cock wishes to crow this morning.

Ser Lothryn wakes to find Myrtle bustling about in the great hall with a local boy she had brought in to help the cook last night. They are busying themselves with clearing up after the feast. Only a few stray bodies still lay snoring deeply in the hay. 

Outside the captains have their men preparing and mending their equipment and belongings from yesterday. He notes such care is a good sign.

He unsure what to make of the news he received before bed. Mercenaries are mercenaries are mercenaries. They are men with a skill and a weapon's use to sell. They will fight for whoever holds the purse. What be it that one or two of these men last fought for an enemies friend? Their past actions matter less than their current. He would keep an eye on all.

~ o0o ~

The priests return is as good as his word. 

Lady Iah woke with the watery light of dawn. She felt weak but her head was clear and her stomach calm. She could not recall all of what had taken place since last leaving the manor. She remembered that she was in the manor of Lastford, one of her vassals. She had come here to find why he had not paid his tribute this year and to officially introduce herself as the Bann of Restenford. 

Laria was sleeping in the chair by the window. The shutters had not been drawn hence the light had come in and the air was now frigid as the fire had gone out. She remembered there had been a fire. Odd the things that come through illness.

A strong knock came at the door in the far corner, quickly followed by the entrance of a man in priestly vestments.

"Ah, my child. You are a awake I see!", the wizened old man shuffled at quite a speed to her bedside as Laria woke with a start. "Forgive me gentle-ladies. I wish not to cause alarm. I am only here to enquire on the health of our Bannora. Please sit back my Lady." The Father went about his duties swiftly and gently. He was well pleased at her progress and insisted she spend the next day or so at rest especially as it was so damp and cold outside this season.

He left as quickly as he had came when Myrtle arrived with some steaming broth for her lady's morning meal. Something thin and full of goodness to ease her gently back into health.

She fussed and minded over her. Iah enjoyed the attention.

~ o0o ~

Not moments after the gate is closed behind the priest it is opened again for an incoming messenger on horseback. The boy's message is short and simple. "Return to Restenford. Your help is needed." The boy was out of breath. The rat of the story came slowly in gasps. 

Ser Lothryn took up the call. He split the mercenaries into two groups; one to travel to Restenford and one to stand with Ser Edmund to provide protection against whatever may come his way. Restenford would not be able to provide winter barracks for all the men and it was also an easy way of separating the wheat from the chaff.

Those being left behind were not entirely agreeable as they were due their payment on the return of Lady Iah to her home in Restenford. Their concerns were eased with a down payment from Ser Lothryn's own purse. He would need to speak with his Lady on return to the castle to ensure all dues were paid and expenses recouped.

Back in the manor he found Ser Edmund awake and sullen. "At least he is alive.", he thought to himself while explaining what was underway. He also explained fully the situation of the new Bannora and that the new Lady of Restenford would need her official introductions. He nodded and waved in agreement,  looking drawn and aged. "Of course."

The proper introductions were made. Lady Iah walked from her sick bed unaided but quite shaky of foot. Her head swam a little but she was careful to take her time. This is her title and role now, she did not wish to be seen unfit. 

Ser Edmund knelt before the new Bann of Restenford without pause and kissed the ring of office on her slender fingers. All previous suspicion against him is lifted in that act; a loyal subject.

Talk of regrets at his great loss are given before moving on to the shortage of food for the coming winter, the imminent danger and the mercenaries Ser Lothryn wishes stationed at the manor.

By midday, and against Ser Lothryn's protesting better judgement, they are on the road back to Restenford castle. All of them. Lady Iah is swaddled in a heavy travelling cloak, riding along with Laria to keep her steady. The knights Unuthstill; Fossett, Shelby and Garrett flank and bring up the rear of the retinue. The mercenaries walk behind the cart and mule acquired from the town for supplies.

As they head toward the hills they try to find the lower road that will take them homeward bound.

Something does was not right. The horses were nervy. The road too quiet, even for a wet autumn.

A high keening cry broke from the sky above from a large bird of prey. Looking up they find it begins to circle; once, twice, three times; before breaking off into the forest nearby that cloaks the hill side.

Lothryn advises for precaution. All are set on edge for what is to come.

[next] coming soon!

[previous] part one, session eleven

[first] part one, session one

[background] life of lady nimue

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Spinning Betty

Angestag 15th Ulriczeit 2522

Last night Grunnd received word of where to meet another agent in the city, down by the spice quarter. Unfortunately when we arrived we found the informant Frederick dead and his shop ablaze. A desperate fire fight ensued once the other merchants and citizens nearby had been roused. At least they seemed well equipped and versed in what to do. I guess with having so much to lose and fire being such an eminent danger... 

It was too convenient. Someone knew we were coming and didn't want us to know what we were to be told.

Grunnd found some interesting things to think on. A sigil marked coin on a broken leather thong grasped in the man’s hand. It showed two crossed hammers surmounted by Sigmar’s twin tailed comet. Frederick had been killed by a single stab wound to the heart, the mark of a professional killer in Grunnd’s books. There was also the remnants of a scroll in the fireplace which was past reading. Unfortunately that is all we know. Grunnd will go to the temple today to speak with fellow Sigmarites. Hopefully they may be able to shed some light on what we are to do now we have arrived, for Verstohlen is still in Altdorf.

Today seems to be a clear day. One of those magical winter days where the sky is a clean clear blue, the sun shines its pale cold light and the air cuts your cheeks. 

Despite the blaze and more death last night my mood is light today. 

I laughed good and hard yesterday when Danielle and I caught back up with Grunnd and Hans after the market. Hans was sat holding a mug of ale in both hands, smiling from ear to ear and laughing into his drink. His smile was amusing to behold. There was a twinkle in his eye and his face was fresh. 

“Oh aye! What did you two get up to then?” Danielle stood with her eyebrow raised expectantly, hand on hip in the stance I've seen fishwives take against their husbands and children alike. “You know, while we did some work. Mmm hmmm?”

“Grunnd?” she tapped her foot. I tried to keep my face serious while I held our purchases and ‘findings’. 

“Hey! Don’t look at me.” he held up his hands with mock shock. Just as quick, a  mischievous grin broke through. “You won’t find women of negotiable affections I’d be interested in here. The lad however..." He winked at Hans.  "Well, let’s just say he’s a man now after an afternoon with Spinning Betty.” Grunnd laughed deep and full as Hans’ face coloured and his silly smile widened more, if it was indeed possible.

Danielle and I couldn’t help but laugh at the grinning idiot with his ale. Bless him. A real man now, eh? Fought in his first battle and bedded his first woman. No one can begrudge a boy some celebration after surviving an encounter with beastmen and Chaos. Certainly not when he walks a path that could bring him back round again, and that time he may not see the other side.

I just hope this Spinning Betty gave him only pleasure. I’ve heard plenty a tale of the pains and itches, boils and worse that can be the longer lasting gift of these women. My brother's friends were quick to tell the tales they had 'heard' of 'friends of theirs'.

Silly boy. Thinking on it has me laughing again this morn.

There’s the sound of many feet on cobbles from outside, walking in unison, marching. Many steps. I should get up and look. Grunnd is already at the window.

Mäuschen

[Next entry - Sigmar Sees All]

[Previous entry - He is Reborn]

[First entry - Ranald's Luck]

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] He is Reborn!

Konistag 14th Ulriczeit 2522

Our trip to this city has thus far been uneventful since the battle. My wounds and aches have healed and Grunnd and Stefan have done each other no damage. In fact I am unsure if they have even looked in each others general direction, never mind exchanged words. Maybe it is for the best then that Stefan has upped and taken himself off to his temple on arrival here in Talabheim, leaving Danielle with us.

Arriving here we found the way to the main gates cluttered with strange people. Tents and shelters a plenty. Men and women shouting and wailing prophecies of doom, whipping and causing themselves pain. Grunnd calls them flagellants. Fanatics so fervent in their faith they mortify their own flesh. He says they are fearsome opponents, that they often throw themselves into battle without warning, fear or hesitation. They have been driven so insane by what horrors they have experienced in their lives that they desperately court death in a wish for their pain to end.

To look in the eyes of the truly insane is a fearful thing. We made our way slowly through, trying to look unoffensive so as not to offend or draw their interest. A woman turned towards us. She threw out an accusing bony finger at me, teeth bared and eyes wide in her skull haloed by a shock of black matted hair. “You are doomed! The Iron Forged End of the World, He is reborn!” She continued to screech this over and over while watching me. We picked up our pace and kept our eyes down until we reached the guard at the city gate. I sighed in relief when I realised she had not followed us.  

While checking our papers and reasons for visiting the city we chatted to the gatekeeper, enquiring about the flagellants. It seems they have been travelling here in ever increasing numbers for weeks. They are saying that Sigmar has risen again, the second coming. The city is concerned to have such a large group of people camped on its doorstep, especially in light of the coming winter, and many of the city's militia are gone north to battle against Chaos. We commiserated with him on his predicament and we were eventually permitted entry. 

Once through this was where Stefan chose to take his leave, once Grunnd had told us our inn would be the Comet.  We parted ways and went to deliver the girl Brigitte to her uncle. He strode off into the crowd seeming to know his way. Serious and direct. Suited in armour, sword at his side and heavy bag of healing in his hand. I hope Morr will grant him some humility and humour in his prayers for that is a man in need of some. He has many admirable qualities but others which grate against the sense of his fellow beings, for shame.

Today has overall been a good one in Talabheim. An improvement on Altdorf. We were rewarded with a meal of quality beef from Brigitte's uncle who we found to be a butcher. He was grateful to have his niece back alive, doubly so once she recanted her tale. 

The Comet is a comfortable inn with actual beds to sleep in as opposed to a dry corner or a palette with straw. A luxury! And Danielle did well with her quick tongue to get a pretty penny for our bag of hard-won goods from our travels. Whereupon I was able to use my own talents to stretch those pennies further with my own form of discount. Warm cloaks and clothes for the harshness of winter which is beginning to bare its teeth.

Maybe Danielle and I will stretch our legs after our supper and try the crowds here for some more light fingered work. Grunnd is more than happy for me to explore my talents. He actively seems to encourage it!

Mäuschen

[Next entry - Spinning Betty]

[Previous entry - Drawn Steel]

[First entry - Ranald's Luck]

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Drawn Steel

Aubentag 10th Ulriczeit 2522

Grunnd is well on the mend it seems. He came up on deck with hardly a sign of pain, dwarven stubbornness accounts for much. He was in a foul mood as he gave us a dressing down like I have seen the captain of the guard give his fellow watchmen before. He berated us for not following his orders on the battlefield. Stefan interrupted and challenged him a lot, defending his own actions that night. Before I knew it anger flared and Grunnd had punched him. 


I was amazed when Stefan took the blow and still stood. He looked at Grunnd in disgust.


"As a gentleman I will let you have that one for free. However, mark this - the next time you raise a hand against me it will be the last time for one of us." He walked away, turning his back.


Such a threat and open mockery of his authority was too much. Grunnd gritted his teeth and followed the turned back, readying another blow.


Stefan wheeled on him and drew his sword. Not a word spoken. Face calm. Eyes boring into Grunnd in confident serious challenge. Wrong thing to do.


Grunnd stopped. His hand flicked to Storm Breaker and time stood still for a moment.

“Mouse! What were my words about drawing steel?” He barked at me.

I replied. “Never draw steel unless you intend to bloody the blade and deal with the consequences.” The sudden sickening image of the last man who tried drawing a blade against the master dwarf flashed in my mind. The awful wet crunch as the hammer caved the mans skull into his chest. The sound of the barely revealed blade clanging to the stone floor in the mausoleum. Fool. I begged Stefan to think about his actions. Luckily for us all the captain heard the raised voices and intercepted the commotion. 

Not on his ship. Thank you Sigmar!

Grunnd has been very quiet since then. He has taken to teaching Danielle how to use her quarterstaff effectively and how not to shoot him in the back again with a crossbow. Just one of the many reasons we disappointed him in battle. It is nice to see the two of them bonding in a way. They have never seemed to like each other. Danielle finds Grunnd rude and obnoxious. I think Grunnd has felt the same towards her in the past. Both willful hardheads, both stubborn.

“You stupid fool of a girl!”

Those were some of the last words I had heard him say to her before we charged. Danielle had flew in between him and a beastman in an attempt to attack it with her staff but luckily for everyone she planted herself in the mud. Grunnd had been standing ready to fire his new blunderbuss at the creature. 

“If you’re in such a hurry to die Storm Breaker will speed it along!” He roared at her.

He wasn’t all flames and temper. He did well that night to be fair, as he said he is. “What you did was very brave.... But very stupid! When you see that gun in my hands, don’t run in front of it. It doesn’t care what is in front when it goes off, and I’m not as accurate as Hans.” His words are coming back to me now. 

“These things won’t ask for mercy. These things won’t offer clemency. They only care about killing, fucking and eating and they don’t care if you’re alive or dead when they start to eat you. So if you think I’m being rude or just shouting at you because I don’t like you. You’re wrong! It’s called giving orders, and when I give an order on the battlefield I expect it to be followed. Orders will keep you alive. Keep us all safe, and with Sigmar’s good graces we’ll get out of here alive.”

There were no lies told. We may not have followed his orders to the letter but we are but a rag-taggle band of untrained and untested civilians. We are not soldiers or warriors. When a beastman charges straight for you, roaring and scything it’s sword through the air it is only natural that our first instincts would be to defend ourselves. 

I feel I did the best I could. I must get myself a sword or something more suitable when we reach the city. Pistols are only good for one shot before I am overwhelmed and daggers are little better than butter-knives in a fight with such creatures. If Hans had not thrown me his sword I shudder to think what would have befell me and the others.

Mäuschen

[Next entry - He is Reborn]

[Previous entry - Children of Chaos]

[First entry - Ranald's Luck]

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Children of Chaos

Festag 8th Ulriczeit 2522

Breathe. Calm yourself.

Sweat beads then drenches my skin, a chill of nerves like ice. My heart is only now slowing. My breathing is ragged. The images from my dreams still hang in the air like shadows I wish to banish. I can smell their heavy musk, stink of sweat, animal breath, fresh and rotting blood. My stomach lurches but luckily I hold it down. I can hear them, see them as they steam in the frigid air. Great horns and muscles scarred with battle wounds. Terrifying weapons crusted from those who’ve fallen. Cloven feet churning the hard mud. Huge creatures that tower above me. Wild eyed.

Beastmen walk my nightmares. Even worse than my imaginings and the wives tales from my childhood. I never thought back then that I would see one in my life, never mind come face to face in battle and kill them.

The twilight battle of yesterday almost cost us dearly. At one point we thought the children of chaos had us routed but we chose to stand firm and won by the will of Sigmar.

I feel calmer now. Writing is an earthly task and brings my wits back to where they should be. The Blue Bird is chasing up the Talabec river and in a few days time we shall be in Talabheim itself.

I do not wish to get out of my bunk yet as my face is swollen painfully from my broken nose. Thankfully Stefan worked his priestly touch so I won’t look like a thug once the swelling goes down. I am sure I must be a pretty sight. The rest of me aches but I’ll mend.

Grunnd is at the other end of the cabin. I can see him past the other bunks and shadows in the candle light. He is quite the unwilling patient as Stefan tends to the wounds he cannot reach himself. I am sure whatever he is saying is not dwarven pleasantries.  He is certainly not one to enjoy being mollycoddled. He’ll sleep soon once the administrations are done. They almost cost him his life, and if it were not for Grunnd we would all be dead.

 I do not wish to go into the particulars. I am tired both in mind and body, though I am not sure I wish to sleep more considering where I might go.

Last night we drew-up along the banks of the Talabec to berth for the evening. While standing around the fire with the captain and the crew a man burst out of the forest gasping a story of beastmen, his wife, an inn and carnage. Chaos at work. We left the safety of the camp to the crew and dove headlong into the wilds with him.

The inn we found like a knackers yard. Dismembered and disemboweled corpses littered the floors. The back yard was filled with dead horses. No beastmen were to be found but the broken earth tracked their path into the forest. 

When we caught up with them we killed those we found. So easy to write but nothing could be further from the truth. Behind them were cultists and a woman tied to an altar.

By the end the man had fled, never to be found. We untied the woman who turned out not to be the mans wife but was a fellow traveller from the inn. We have her here on the boat where we will reunite her with her uncle in Talabheim. 

It sounds like we are stopping for the day. Maybe I shall go stretch my legs after all. I only hope our camp is not disturbed by more mad men or agents of chaos. May Sigmar hear my wishes. May Morr be kind to me as I sleep.

Mäuschen

[Next entry - Drawn Steel]

[Previous entry - Women's Talk]

[First entry - Ranald's Luck]

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Women's Talk

Angestag 7th Ulriczeit 2522

I found Danielle sitting in the blanketed warmth of her bunk on her own. The others were elsewhere, possibly stretching their legs in the little town we are berthed at. 

"How are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?" I came in and sat at the edge of her bed. She looked up and smiled, giving me a happy nod. She looked genuinely pleased to see me. The dark had gone from under her eyes.

"I am glad. Danielle, I wanted to apologise for all the trouble I caused us the other night. You especially. I would not have wished for all the world to put you in danger. I am sorry." 

Confusion crossed her face. "Danger? Hah! Nah, no danger at all. It was ostentatious to be a lady for the evening." she said this with an upper class accent and a flourish of her hands. The illusion lasted a moment and ended with a snort. "It's not everyday you hit a hired ass on the head with a skillet and then get to act the lady. Though I don't know how you can do it." she said rolling her eyes.

Danielle’s nonchalance in the face of danger shocked me but I suppose it shouldn’t have. My nerves suddenly evaporated watching her exaggerated pantomime and I melted into laughter. I could not help but give my friend a hug. Her humour never fails to warm my heart.

"Woah! What's all this now? You’re acting funny girl. Did the dwarf give you some of his ale? Lord help you if he has!" she made a show of patting the iron implement.

I laughed and wiped at my teary eyes "No! No no no no no... I am sorry. I am just relieved. I thought you would be angry with me." I took a deep breath and composed myself for the more serious questioning.

"Danielle. You have been more like a sister to me in the past two weeks than I have had the pleasure of in such a time but what I am about to ask you I need to hear what your heart says on this matter." I looked into her eyes to make sure I had her full attention. To impress upon her the gravity of what I asked.

"Do you understand just how much 1000 crowns is worth? What it could bring you? You would be royalty among us with that in your purse. Not a care you would have in your life from here on.

   That is what I am worth now, more to my father if he gets me back. But I won't go back. Not now and not ever. I would rather die than return to the life I have left behind. You must think me a spoilt unthankful girl to not be able to appreciate what was handed to me on a golden platter as a merchant's daughter... I cannot." I fell silent and looked down my hands. I had never seen them so dirty before, I hardly recognised them.

There was no reaction at first and this made my imagination think on what she might be considering. Maybe she hadn’t thought on the reward and what it could do for her? Hadn’t thought on what a prize I could be? Maybe she was considering what to tell me?

The sound of Danielle snorting and bursting into a fit of laughter caught me off guard. I looked up to see her wiping her face and gasping for breath between giggles.

"Anya! Oh sorry, Andreas! Do you really think I'm gonna support some twisted man that is forcing you to marry? By the Ladies no! And may the Gods forbid such a thing should ever occur. You marry when you want to girl, and not because it's deemed proper, or whatever they say." She shook her head and continued. "Yes, 1000 crowns is tempting but not to me. It's adventure I crave and not the fine and grand things in life. Any man such as touches you with an intention of trading you in for 1000 crowns will feel my mighty iron!" and with that she made a whooshing noise with her skillet and mimicked Grunnd's voice in a mighty "Hah hah!"

I broke down completely at such a display, sobbing in relief. I believed her words to be true. I do not think Danielle cares for guile. I now have my answer from the two people closest to me. I feel I need not watch my back so closely as an animal hunted.

I calmed and eventually sat back to wipe my face clear with my sleeve. Disgusting but it was all I had. The sheer relief of receiving such care and support from both Danielle and Grunnd left me grinning like a child. I had not cried so hard in such a long time, had not felt safe to. A heavy weight had lifted from my heart. I clasped her hands "Thank you. Truly, thank you! There are not words for me to explain how big a gift that is to me. Thank you!” I sat back a little so as not to embarrass her. I changed the subject. “So, it is adventure you crave? Your mother did you a disservice in giving you to an initiate of Morr then didn't she? How do you put up with such a self-important man? I would expect life with Stefan must be boring indeed! Though, he is harmless I suppose." 

"My mother..." Danielle sighed and looked away, "only had the best intentions for me. She didn't want me to end up with nothing like sh-" she stopped suddenly and coughed. "Um, she just didn't want me to end up alone. Since I refused to find myself a husband she just thought Stefan was the best she could do on her death bed." she smiled knowingly, "Stefan, though he is flat out boring like a dry piece of toast, let's me be myself. Yes, he has the right to boss me around but you notice how he does not punish me for speaking my mind like some other master's would. So I am not living in torture. Yet at the same time I am happy to be coming along on an adventure. Death is possible, yes. But it does not scare me as much as other things would."

I felt bad from bringing up a subject that seemed to take her back to a painful time but what she said was true.

"I understand. I know how you feel. There are fates worse than death as we have seen no? Upon looking at it like that your mother did do you a great kindness as her last act. I did not mean to be rude. It is true that if any servant spoke in our home the way you do... they would be dismissed at best or 'punished' at worse. The head of our staff had a temper on her, but everyone toed the line."

With that we both decided to stretch our legs before the captain had us cast off again. I felt light like a feather. 

We are back on board now. I am told we should be at Talabheim in under a week. I am unsure what to do with my time from here until then, but I feel I do not wish to mar this light mood I have with any of the dark that is passed or is yet to come. Maybe I will write here, but maybe not. We shall see.

~ Mäuschen ~

[Next entry - Children of Chaos]
[Previous entry - Blind Beggar Inn]

[First entry - Ranald's Luck]

The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Blind Beggar Inn

Angestag 7th Ulriczeit 2522

It is freezing on deck where I sit now. My breath clouds white from my lips which nip from the icy air. The sky is clear overhead with the last stars fading from the newly rising dawn, of which only the brightest stand defiantly in her gaze. The blue lightens to the yellow of hot metal, though no heat is to be found here in Ulric’s month. We march ever forward to the day of least light that of the longest night, a little way off but not long. Frost coats the deck like a dusting of fine ground diamonds, a bitter beauty. Peace hangs like a mist.


Not many are moving on board, not any who do not need to be that is. I myself am sat with as many layers as I could don. A rough blanket is folded beneath me to keep from the chill. I have another over my legs. Against all common sense I am awake and writing on some of the fresh parchment I acquired in Altdorf’s markets. It is not my best script as these new gloves are stiff but it is better than blackened  shriveled fingers the sailers of Erengrad tell of. My ‘acquired’ hat protects my head.

I awoke to find the sky still starry like a dark embroidered gown and the false dawn showing the promise of things to come this morn. All in our quarters slept soundly in all their various fashions, dark mounds in a room warm from breath and bodies.

My mind was calm but perfectly awake. No reason. I just opened my eyes and felt no need to stay in the bunk. I wanted to come outside and watch the sun rise. A new day in my new life.

Now that the sun has risen I write. Writing soothes me. You are the friend I need never fear of loosing. I do not need to pretend to be anyone other than who I am whilst speaking to you. You are silent and patient. You do not judge my innermost thoughts and desires. You do not heap scorn on me for feeling or thinking the way I do. You are my mirror where I see what really is, the quiet room where I can listen to the echo of truth. 

It is two weeks since I woke in Marienburg last and so much has changed, such a long time in my mind. You already know the tale of there to here, but what of the events I have not spoken of? What happened in the Blind Beggar in Altdorf?

Grunnd’s suspicions were right. It was a night of little sleep and much disturbance. 


The first time I woke to a man being shown the short way down the stairs for having turned the handle on the ‘wrong door’. Grunnd does not hold back when he hits. When he came back to the room he replaced the chair below the door and dismissed the encounter. “We’ll know soon enough what is to come. That was only the beginning of tonights entertainment I think.”

He shook his head and asked me outright. “Tell me mouse. Who exactly is your father? More importantly, what lengths would he be willing to go to get you back? What are we facing here?”

The questions felt like a chiding, in fact I was almost embarrassed to admit I had not considered the full consequences of who I am and how it would affect how long I would be free for when I ran. I explained that my father is Johann Eisenjaeger. One of the wealthiest, most successful and consequently probably one of the most powerful Marienburgian merchants alive. Though the power struggles and posturing of merchants is a politically turbulent and wholly labile affair. At home, to me, he is just ‘father’. I admitted that I had assumed very naively that I would be free to make my way in the world and that the loss of one daughter would not be of much consequence. It seemed I was wrong. 

Grunnd agreed that it was rather short sighted of me but that we would deal with what came. He then asked me out of interest what the circumstances were that caused such a well placed young lady to run away in the first place? From a life with such promise as to be the daughter of a highly successful merchant? What was so wrong?

This brought back memories I would rather not have faced at that time of night. I decided to be brief and not delve into a history that would go dredging in the deep. 

“I am sorry. I am not trying to be awkward but I do not wish to discuss in full my reasoning tonight, another time perhaps, but here is the quick of the tale. My father wished me married to one of his close friend’s sons, an ally if you will. I could not dissuade him from this decision as I had done in the past. I lost my heart long ago to the seas of Manann and I will not be forced to settle for less than what I lost. On the day of our wedding my brother helped me make my escape. I did not arrive at the temple where my groom and future family waited. I took flight and stayed with some of Andreas’s friends before deciding to make my own way. You know the rest. I chose the wrong man to fish from.” 

Later after sleeping what felt like moments, I woke. I threw myself from where I slept into a bleary upright. My limbs trembled with the urge to run or fight while my eyes fought to remain open, trying to make sense of why I was standing. The sound of Grunnd’s voice told me this was it. I loaded my pistol hastily,  fumbling and turning to the door as I heard the sound of men outside in the hall. Within a heart beat Grunnd threw the chair through the window with no warning. The shattering glass shocked my tired nerves and my pistol went off, firing through the closed door. Then, the shriek of a man in pain. I’d shot someone through the door! A voice yelled “Get the girl!”. It was me they were here for.

It all happened in a blur of confusion after that. Grunnd ordered me away from the door. Moving toward the window and I caught the tip of a pistol edging round the jagged frame. I threw my back against the wall and began hastily reloading. If only I had a second pistol, a rapier, something. Grunnd gave our assailants the opportunity to rethink their course of action before the repercussions began. He gave me the choice. This was it. Did I want to end it all and go back to my father, or did I want to stay here? “What will it be little mouse? Predator or prey?” I chose the now, my freedom.

All but one of the hired men died in what ensued. The one Grunnd tackled down the stairs as he tried to flee, I am not so sure of. I believe he and Storm Breaker may have had some unpleasant words. I think Grunnd would have left him as a messenger to go back to Albrecht. 

Not wanting to have to deal with the Watch he bade us move quick. Stefan gave the dead their rites as we looted the bodies. I was quietly pleased to find myself that second pistol and a hat to add to my disguise. I was to go with Stefan and Hans as men together to the Temple of Sigmar, to await the morning before going to the Blue Bird. Grunnd took Danielle but not before I had given her one of my brother’s coats to make her disguise as me all the more convincing. 

No more excitement happened that night. We left the temple with the rising sun and arrived at the quayside to find Grunnd and Danielle were safe also. As they approached Grunnd smiled “That’s a fine hat mouse.” I nodded and smiled. No use for pleasantries, Stefan in is inimitable style handed me his bag and strode up the gangway to rouse the captain. 


I followed his course with my eyes. Watching his serious expression. His gate full of importance. The man who appeared was not who should have been there. It was Albrecht. My heart fluttered and ice ran under my skin. A trap! I drew my new hat over my eyes and whispered to either side of me who it was. I squinted sideways down the wharf but could not see any armed men. Grunnd rattled along the gangway after Stefan and demanded what was happening. I could not hear much but I imagine from what I know now Albrecht was asking if anyone had seen me as he had heard I was to be onboard. Grunnd yelled at me “You boy! Bring me my belongings.” Against every voice in my mind I made my way on to the boat at which Albrecht took his leave. With not so much as a look at me he handed me a note while passing with instructions to give it to ‘my master’. I made sure to keep my hat tilted but did not have a problem disguising my voice. My throat rasped tight as I spoke "Yes sir". 

You already know what the note said. Albrecht knows Anya Eisenjaeger is now in service to the Empire for thievery and is most probably on the Blue Bird to Talabheim. Other than that? Nothing. For we ourselves do not know what the future holds. Snow I suspect, or rain. Rain is one of the few certainties in this life. Considering the clear sky for now and the frost we may have a reprieve to catch our breath.

~ Mäuschen ~

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