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[IC] WHFRPG: The Masquerade of Horrors
Super Namicchi
Orange County, CARegistered User regular
Orange County, CARegistered User regular
The scenario opens in the small riverside town of Nachstreik, in a small dock-side inn and tavern called Oliver's-at-the-Docks. It is run by a fat innkeeper whose name isn't Oliver; his name is Albricht.
Opportunities and Antiquities Inc. has had a boring time traveling down the river - the three members Otto, Alda, and Berthold are enjoying a decent brew of morning ale in the common room, a dwarf delicacy. It's just before sun-up and the room is quietly filling with the stink of Albricht's terrible fried pancakes and unwashed patrons.
After the breakfast of morning ale (and terrible pancakes if so inclined), it's time to set off down the river. The captain of the boat Happy Traveler isn't in the common room yet.
Opportunities and Antiquities Inc. has had a boring time traveling down the river - the three members Otto, Alda, and Berthold are enjoying a decent brew of morning ale in the common room, a dwarf delicacy. It's just before sun-up and the room is quietly filling with the stink of Albricht's terrible fried pancakes and unwashed patrons.
After the breakfast of morning ale (and terrible pancakes if so inclined), it's time to set off down the river. The captain of the boat Happy Traveler isn't in the common room yet.
There are a few people in the common room, including Albricht the innkeeper. Also note that you can't leave without captain Sigmund (unless you want to steal his boat)
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"Ugh... I feel like I've been kicked in the gut by an Ogre," he said, his internal monologue emerging through the haze of burning pancakes. Oof... pancakes. Not sure he was ready for those. He spit a bit of phlegm onto the floor through the hole where his front teeth used to be.
"Are you eating those... <burp>... oh, by the Emperor's cunt-hairs, those pancakes smell awful, Bert! And I'm bored as hell! Where did Sigmund get hisself off to? Thinks he's so damn handsome he's probably still preening his moustaches in front of the glass. If I knew how to run a riverboat we'd be on our way already!"
Berthold stopped talking to swig a gulp of ale. "And if you tried to run a riverboat, it'd end up at the bottom of a river before the day was out. But, I agree, where the hell is Sigmund. Someone needs to kick his ass and tell him that 'be ready at sunup' doesn't mean 'be ready whenever the hell you please."
"After all, we're paying his bastard ass to haul us downriver!" After this outburst Berthold stops and groans. Shouting is not a good idea when one's head feels as though a porcupine has taken up residence within.
Wagging a finger at Berthold she continues. "Especially YOU! you know following Otto's lead always gets you into trouble and yet there you are, again and again, right by his side! I swear you never learn!"
She grudgingly swallows down a mouthful of pancakes "One things for sure, these have GOT to be the WORST pancakes I've ever had, almost as bad as that time Otto thought he could turn dog meat into steak. Let us pray we never get that desperate for food again."
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
The pit fighter pulled another swig of morning ale through the gap in his teeth. Arguments were good... got the blood moving. Luckily, with the two of them, there was always a disagreement to be had about something or other. Made for good business, that.
Sigmund gave a hearty laugh as he crossed the room. "Mornin' boys," he said, slapping everyone on the back. "And madam," he added as he kissed Alda's hand. His mustaches were perfectly styled and the bristles tickled.
"How's the ale in this place? Better than that swill Otto tried to brew in the washpot back on the Traveler I hope!"
"Otto... hadn't you cooked that dog in the washpot the night before you started brewing that grog?"
"Entirely beside the point, Bert! Don't blame the dog for your shoddy pot-washing!"
Otto grumbled, swigged down the last of his ale and attempted to steer the subject back to the task at hand.
"So when are we leaving this stinking pancake house, Sigmund?"
"But - "
"Wouldn't want me to steer the boat into the bank due to hunger, eh? Right then! Order up some of those flapjacks, they smell delicious!"
Sigmund sat down and the chair creaked in protest. Soon a plate of steaming gray pancakes was in front of him, and he began shoveling them down.
Otto got up from his seat, his trappings janglig against each other as his bulky frame unapologetically hed through patrons until he'd made his way to the bar. He signaled the barkeep.
"I'll have another one of these if you don't mind."
"I can't believe you can eat those pancakes with such fervor. I'll just sit here and nurse my ale, as it's really the only palatable thing here." With that she takes a long pull on her mug, savoring the full flavor.
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
"Seriously Sigmund, how can you call those delicious? I ate a few and they're almost as bad as some of Otto's experiments. Just finish eating and let's get going."
The big captain laughed. "Well, m'boys? Shall we hit the river?"
--
It is mid-morning and the Happy Traveler has made decent progress. Sigmund leans over from the wheel, squinting down river. He points.
"Eh, boys? D'you see that?"
"What is it?"
"I dunno."
The Happy Traveler sails closer, and soon the party can make out a boat. Even closer, and they realize it is listing heavily to one side and slowly sinking. Not an uncommon sight on the waterways of the Empire, but regrettable nonetheless.
"Ugh, huh. Ok, I think that's the last of it. I feel better now. Now what did you see?"
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
Pretty soon the boat was alongside the wreckage, and the heroes could make out the words Divine Retribution on the hull.
"Let's make it quick, we don't want this scow to sink with gold aboard it!"
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
However, what draws your attention after a cursory examination is the sound of someone moaning from inside the deck house.
Knock on it as hard as he could with a hobnailed boot, of course.
Had the door actually been locked (or even latched), he might not have ended up with his face hitting the floorboards. He'd lost his front teeth in a similar incident. Picking himself up amidst a slew of loud cursing, he looked about the room, vision slowly coming back into focus.
HAHAHAHAHA
consulted with arc via aim on this
From a further, curtained doorway - most likely the captain’s quarters - the moans continue.
"Alda, get in here and check if there's any good loot left to be had. I'm going to see what's left of their unfortunate captain."
The pit-fighter slid the curtain to one side with his blade, looking into the room.
"Oi, Alda, Bert, we've got a mover!"
As the pit fighter calls to his companions, the man in black tries to stand, a weird light in his eyes.
He screams, "WHAT!? More vultures come to pick my bones! I tell you, by the Hammer, you shall never find it!"
With unnatural speed, the man in black replaces his warhammer at his hip and draws his guns. He trains them both on Otto. Two loud shots ring, piercing the morning silence. The acrid stink of spent gunpowder fills the air as Otto gasps at the two blossoming red patches on his armor where the bullets penetrated.
The man tosses his pistols to the side.
Gunnar shoots Otto (1d100=16)
Gunnar shoots Otto (1d10+4=6, 1d10+4=11)
Ouch, Otto takes two bullets for the team. He has medium armor and a toughness bonus of two, meaning he drops the first shot down to 2 damage and the second one down to 7, meaning he loses 9 wounds total.
Throwing her crossbow down in disgust she unsheathes her cutlass and prepares to mix it up toe-to-toe.
use a fortune point for a re-roll. 1d100 → [74] = (74)
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
Berthold is momentarily taken aback as the situation descends into bedlam. But regaining some measure of composure, he mumbles some words of power and a jet of energy flies from his outstretched hand, striking the madman.
Casting Magic Dart: 1d10=9. Success.
Dart Damage: 1d10+3=6 = 1 dead witch hunter.
He falls, hitting the deck with a thump, which is the period ending the short sentence that was the combat; the sound of the river Reik outside the deckhouse is the only thing that pierces the silence.
"AAAAAAAGH! That son of a bitch shot me! Can you believe it? UGH that hurts!"
Berthold looks around the cabin, perhaps expecting another assailant to jump from the shadows, "Maybe we should be a little more cautious in the future, just in case."
Otto struggled to get to his feet on the blood-slick deck, which was now lubricated with some of his own.
"Shut. the. Hell. UP! We just killed a witch hunter, regardless of what happens if people know what we did today that's it, we'd be done for."
Then in a normal tone. "Now are you calm enough for me to remove my hand?" After a terse nod she repeats herself "Now don't start screaming again when i let go." She slowly removes her hand, waiting for the inevitable screaming.
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan