Prequel to The Enemy Within
Between Adventures Session following Episode 13
3/29/2020 Narrative Summary
Day 29 through 53: 13 Nachgeheim through 5 Erntezeit (span of three weeks)
- Event 1 (Godabert): Unexpected Esteem - see interlude for details
- Event 2 (Kris): Riots - no income endeavors for Karl; banks dangerous
- Event 3 (Beau): Festivities - see interlude for details
- Event 4 (Karl): Local crop failure - no income for Godabert
Shopping (prior to endeavors):
- God: fine (1) hat; fine (1) Ranald token; fish hooks; boots; coat; lock picking tools; various amulets (three of fine 1; one regular one healing draught; durable (2) leather jack; two vitality draughts; religious symbol of Morr; lightweight backpack; (sells regular bow)
- Kris: mail coat; grappling hook; deck of cards and dice; lute; three healing draughts; telescope
- Beau: lasso
- Karl: five healing draughts; anti-toxin kit; hand mirror
- As a group: invest 10GC with Franz Lohner to help rebuild the Red Moon Inn
Endeavors
- Karl: learns Melee (Fencing) +5; career advance > Spy; learns Ranged (Crossbow) +5
- Kris: income (guild work = 20 silver career advance > Seaman; learns Play (Lute) +5
- God: career advance > Mystic; learns Swim +1; learns Pick Locks +1
- Beau: career advance > Bounty Hunter; commissions special one-handed weapon - see interlude for details
Interlude:
Removed from one another’s company for the first time in over a month, members of the infamous Wrecking Crew finally get a taste of Ubersreik on their own, experiencing the highs and lows of big city life in the shadow of the Grey Mountains.
* * *
Kris dives headfirst into guild life. The consistent regimen of loading/unloading, ferrying, and maintenance is strangely comforting. After a few sober days in a row he heads down to the Artisan’s Quarter to snag a lute so he can jam with some of the other guys. Writes about a dozen songs about seabirds - but the boys say they’re each fine in their own way.
Morning - wash, scrub, load, report
Afternoon - dock to dock
Evening - dice, cards, jamming at the bar (no drinking)
Night - not much sleep
Rinse, lather, repeat
After a few weeks some of the guys make fun of him for drinking elderberry juice all the time. “You on your moon-cloth, Karly?”
So he says what the hell and shows em how to down a bottle of brandy. That’s when the dark thoughts creep back in. He offers up a high-stakes card game that most of the drunken lot proudly gather round. ”We’re playing for slaps! No more elderberry juice for anyone!”
He’s getting pretty good at card palming and eyes a few of his mates while dealing for no recountable reason. Even though he’s crushing the table, he ups the ante a little more while feeling around in his pocket.
Wham - his next slap sends a guy lights-out to the floor. The ol’ knuckledusters really pack a punch. Everyone can see the gleaming hand accessory and a genuine bar brawl breaks out.
Kris is on the losing end and ends up in Karsten’s office the next day.
“Suspended! No pay for a week!”
Kris asks him to speak a little more quietly and nods to his punishment. Karsten laughs at the hangover and tells him to get the hell outta his office and maybe dedicate a song for some of the mates he bloodied.
Pretty good idea… So Kris starts to write with that in mind. But the song soon changes setting from the stools of the Guildhall to the dank sewers under the city. It’s a morose and frightening song that people can tap their feet to, but the lyrics stand out as haunting and disgusting. Every night Kris adds a new verse or two to nobody’s request and he refuses to play anything else. He ignores the boos and tossed glasses as his opus gets more and more refined.
The last night he ever plays the seven-minute epic leaves him in frightened tears and the audience quiet. Everyone’s face says oooo-kaaay. That night he gets a deep sleep the likes of which he can hardly remember. The next morning he wakes up late and writes a cordial letter to Karsten about his unspecified availability in the near future. Straps Saif to his waist and gets fitted for a nice piece of chainmail. Then promptly heads to the remains of the RMI to see if Franz could use a hand...
* * *
Godabert spends some time getting to know himself. He spends a lot of time meditating and practicing his foretelling abilities. He also tries to further his practical skills by setting up on street corners in lower and middle class neighborhoods and tries to practice his skills. Eventually, he ascends to the next level and becomes a Mystic.
In his free time, Godabert stops by the Boatsman's Guild and asks Karsten to hook him up with a swim instructor. Karsten kindly obliges, and Godabert meets Fritz at his van down by the river. Fritz shows Godabert the basics of the dog paddle, then throws him in the water. Godabert happily survives his ordeal, and learns to swim.
Finally, Godabert meets up with Stephan in the shady back room of a tavern on the docks. Godabert explains his need to sometimes get places he isn't strictly allowed, and Stephan agrees to help. He overcharges Godabert for a slightly used set of lockpicks, then teaches him how to use them.
On his way out of the tavern, Godabert donates 2 GC at Ranald's shrine and offers a short prayer. "Ranald, I've always been your faithful servant. I've had several harrowing brushes with the forces of Chaos, and I feel my soul is in danger. Please help me--I'll do anything you require to relieve my soul of this terrible burden. If you send me a sign or message, I'll get right on anything you need done to prove myself."
This leaves Godabert with about 5 shillings left, which is a couple week's worth of earnings. This is a nice safety cushion, and Godabert figures he can dip into these savings if he has any days where he doesn't bring in as much money as he normally would (Godabert is of course doing his job and earning income whenever he isn't distracted by endeavors). However, shortly after he starts working, the crop shortage hits. Within a couple weeks, Godabert actually IS living on the streets, as he can't afford a room and has to save his last couple shillings for food. He's forced to sell anything he can't carry or doesn't need for food and shelter (which equates to a sling bag and a waterskin). He's completely out of money, VERY hungry, and has been living on the streets for a couple weeks by the time the next adventure starts...
“Brother Tougan..?”
Godabert has been stretched out between stone columns on the underside of a dockside pier, desperately trying to steal a few minutes of rest before venturing out in search of food, employment, or camaraderie (in no particular order). But he senses the stranger’s approach even before he hears his voice. And after sitting upright, but before his eyes can focus clearly on the robed figure approaching him, Godabert is greeted by a swirl of color and creation the likes of which he hasn’t ever experienced.
“I’m sorry… I feel like I know you and yet… I can’t say that I’ve ever seen you before.” Godabert is in awe. The man kneeling down beside him is indeed familiar, but God surely would have remembered meeting someone this intense, brimming with such magical and mystical potency.
“We met a few weeks ago, Brother Tougan. Though I suspect that, at the time, perhaps you were not quite so attuned to the Winds of Magic as you are now. I am Alexander Grün, my brother. You saved my life. I came back into town today to visit with Cordelia and have been looking for you since late this morning.” The Hedge Witch then sits next to Godabert and reaches into one of the many folds of his robe.
“Oh… yes. You were being hunted by that rogue witch hunter.” The adventure pulls back into focus. To Godabert it seems like a lifetime ago, when he was someone else, part of something else… But it really couldn’t have been more than a month since he and his crew mates had stopped Hannah Baumann from killing both Alexander and their friend Cordelia.
“I have been preparing something for you.” Alexander pulls out a tiny, delicate glass phial filled with a few drops of light green ichor. “It took me some time to perfect, and I also needed to give you time to… ascend, as it were.”
Godabert reaches out in slow motion, his eyes now transfixed on the potion. “What is it?”
“If your spirit accepts this distillation, you will be granted the ability to Walk the Hedge for what time that your Will allows.” The bearded witch smiles warmly. “I sense that this may serve you well in the future. Your path still has so much in store. And perhaps it will open your eyes to the wonderful powers that, perhaps, you may yourself one day master…”
“Walk… the Hedge…” Godabert stares at the tiny glass phial. After several moments, Alexander stands up, puts his hand on God’s shoulder, and drifts away into the twilight. [potion of Mirkride: pass Average (+20) WP test to succeed]
* * *
Karl uses his sabbatical from the Crew as an opportunity to improve his information-brokering abilities. Karl’s new companion (the young merchant’s daughter Roberta Roussel) manages to keep his nights occupied, and her somewhat unorthodox bedroom predilections have also taught Karl a few new tricks in the art of disguise, and acting…
In the more respectable light of day, Karl has also developed a growing network of contacts among the city’s vendors, customs officials, and a few lesser nobles. With an outbreak of food riots halting much of the City’s trade and commerce, the brandy merchant “Hung Karlson” finds that his generous drink-buying and gregarious storytelling at the city’s taverns often earns him introductions, invitations, and information far more valuable than gold.
However, Karl’s illiteracy proves somewhat of a hindrance to his budding career, and he seeks assistance from Beau (the only member of the Crew who can read and write) to teach him letters. Unfortunately, Beau’s current endless diet of drinking, gambling, brawling, and whoring makes him woefully ill-equipped for such a responsibility at the moment. Instead he refers Karl to Frau Berta, the proprietor of the Kat House. Berta is literate, it turns out, and agrees to tutor Karl during the brothel’s slower morning hours, which have grown particularly slow of late due to the riots. As the madam eloquently puts it: “I don’ give a toss how a man wants to spend his time here, long as he pays for it.”
Beau and his revolving door of hired companions’ constant racket from upstairs proves somewhat distracting to Karl’s tutelage with Frau Berta, but within three weeks he has learned enough basic script to understand shipping manifests, guild logs, trade correspondence, and other simple documents useful to his pursuits.
Things are generally progressing well for Karl, with the exception of one drunken evening at the Raspy Raven. While trading information with his old informant, Stickybun, a misunderstanding over a bar tab leads to a pair of angry dwarfs at the next table threatening to kill the halfling. Karl’s attempts to defend his friend end in calamity when he tries to draw his sword, trips over his own boots and falls face-first into a cask of ale - earning him a black eye, bruised ribs, soiled clothes, an angry barkeep, and the ridicule of the entire establishment. Even the offending dwarves are so amused by the spectacle that they burst into laughter and buy the humiliated pair a sympathy round.
Realizing his amateurish combat abilities may eventually prove a fatal liability to the Crew (and himself), the next morning Karl seeks out the assistance of his old watch captain, Andrea Pfeiffer, for help learning how to fence and shoot a pistol crossbow.
“Do I look like a godsdamned drill sergeant to you, Hungus?!?” The watch commander screams incredulously, the precinct headquarters a maelstrom of activity due to the recent unrest in Ubersreik. “I have a precinct to run, riots to put down, and neither the time nor the inclination to give fencing lessons to the likes of you. Wait - why are you even still here? If I recall, you and your friends had been released from my command and were leaving Ubersreik weeks ago!”
“Had some loose ends to tie up.” Karl replies with a wink, his clumsy attempts at flirting drawing little more than an eye roll from Captain Pfeiffer. “Maybe the quartermaster could give me a few pointers? I’ll pay him for his trouble, of course.”
“How generous. My men have real work to do, Hungus. Waste one minute of their time, and I’ll teach you a very painful lesson in swordplay.” Captain Pfeiffer adds, her voice lowering to a terrifyingly-calm register. “If you want someone to play sticks with, go bother Klumpenklug. He’s been useless to me anyway ever since that business with the river troll. Gods knows he could use the activity. And the coin.”
“Rudi’s only got one arm!” Karl protests.
“Good thing you’re not trying to learn greatswords, then. Get out.”
Karl, sulking his way out of Pfeiffer’s office and heading towards the barracks, grumbles under his breath: “Rudi. I HATE that guy...”
* * *
“This has been... an adventure.” Beau said to the group. “I wasn’t sure that bounty hunters COULD work groups… seem like the whole point is to be answerable to no one…” Pausing to take a large bite from from the pork chop he was wielding in his left hand, he looked contemplative; even a little sad. “Well…” he started, mouth half full of unchewed pork “I’ll be making a thorough tour of the bars here in town … so if you ever want to find me and maybe earn some coin or hunt down a debtor of yours, ask around for the Mauler.” He took a moment, then added “I’ll work for 7/8ths commission...since we’re friends…” After a half a beat, he let out a hearty belly laugh, bits of pork of flying out in all directions; then turned and walked out into the fog.
Beau wandered around for a few hours, looking for a tavern to entertain with with tales of his recent exploits. Either by chance of fate or subconscious desire, Beau eventually found himself riverside. It was late. And Dark. The bars and hangouts on this side of town were all closed; at least to strangers like him. The only hint of human activity was a single, flickering rose colored lamp in the distance…The Kat House.
The next few days were blurred in a thick weirdroot haze. Beau’s pockets were fuller than they had ever been in his life and her legs went all the way down to the floor…
* * *
“Well, we had the boy wait outside and keep watch...it looks like his tips were actually good. Surprising, since he looked like a common street rat… If it was up to me, I woulda kicked that little urchin outta the RMI; Godabert had other ideas…He was always coming up with a way to NOT smash things...hehehe. I kinda miss that clever little guy…Anyway, we ran our way inside...up the stairs and right into a room with an ogre and a few well armed halflings”
“So what did you do…” she asked, wide eyed and naked, next to Beau on the bed.
“Well, the only thing I could do...I yelled ‘WORLD!’ and charged the ogre.”
“WORLD? Why would you say that?” She asked.
“Ohhh, well, after I yell ‘WORLD’, normally Karl would jump in and yell ‘CLASS’ ! Bwah ha hahaha, yea...Karl really loved to make a show of things...I wonder what he’s up to…”
“So….you just hit the ogre with that mace and that was it?”
“GOD no….I stood there and took a beating...meanwhile Kris slid underneath the monster’s legs, slashing the back of the ogre's knees. Sigmar bless him...it was spectacular”
“...that Kris sounds like amaaazing” She said with a wry smile “I’d sure like to meet him…”
“He’s not really into women” Beau said quickly. “More of a theater type….”
“Ohh Beau, don’t be jealous. You’ve got my undivided attention…as long as that purse still has a few coins.” Beau laughed heartily and finished his story
* * *
“Beau… If you’re going to spend all your money and time upstairs or at the bar entertaining our patrons with tales of your adventures...maybe it’s time you consider working for me.” The madam said to Beau as he worked on his breakfast.
“I don’t do employment. But I’ll help you collect a debt or two if you keep the light on for me,” replied Beau.
“PERFECT, because that fop who just walked out the door stiffed one of my girls again.”
“Isn’t that what he paid for?” Beau snorted.
“Funny” she replied in a flat tone.
“OK.. OK...I’m on it” Beau said as he stood up and headed for the door.
* * *
Beau spent the next two weeks falling into a happy pattern. Meat in morning, debt collecting in the afternoon, sex and drugs at night. Most of the jobs were simple. People were pretty happy to pay Beau and get off with a warning. The money was good, the sex was better, but something was missing…
* * *
Beau found his next debtor fairly easily. He was hiding in a stone saferoom of his well appointed home.
“Look…I don’t WANNA thump your skull, but you owe. What’s fair is fair. I KNOW what you made that poor girl do…” Beau said, though the slit in the stone wall.
“What can I say…I like big ladies” replied the dwarf. “Look, I’m HAPPY to pay… Just can’t leave...there are others looking for me. If I step outta this house, they’re going to KILL me.”
“Did you rip them off too?
“What? No! They just demanded that I take half pay for the weapons I’ve sold them. When I complained to the police, they beat me up and stole the half they had paid me. That money was meant for the Kat House.”
“Yea, cops in this town are worthless…from what little I can see you are beat up pretty bad.”
“I know...the bastards! They aren’t even affiliated, just 3 humans who don’t have big crossbows and no ethics”
“Weapons sales huh…I have a proposal for you”
After some deliberation and many threats, the dwarf agreed to a deal. Beau would recover the stolen money, bash the head of the thieves for good measure, and return the money to the lecherous dwarf. In exchange, the dwarf would pay the Kat House the owed and would find for Beau a mace to worthy of bounty hunter.
* * *
While events in our heroes’ lives proceeded apace with little diversion into what could be termed exciting, or even interesting… the powderkeg that is Ubersreik continued to sizzle.
A local crop failure in the southern part of the Vorbergland, so close to harvest season for farmers around Ubersreik, put a sudden burden on the populace. And in the absence of controlling nobility in the fortress town, the local merchants were ill-equipped to deal with a crushing food shortage. Those merchants who already had agreements with farmers downriver, including those in the vicinity of Bögenhafen, were accused of price gouging and advantageous cruelty.
Two weeks into the food shortage and the riots began. Jungfreud supporters became increasingly emboldened just as the Altdorfers, now looked upon more than ever as invaders, consuming precious resources without giving anything in exchange, were being accosted and harassed at every turn. General Dabernick hadn’t been seen in days, and it was rumored that he had accompanied the Lady Nacht with a retinue of Imperial forces on an urgent mission to Nuln.
For the Crew, Ubersreik had been a crucible, and with reputations established and skills newly forged, they seemed ready to see what the Fates had planned for them outside those great stone walls…
* * *
“No! That’s a stone wall. It has to be.” Franz stands, barechested and dripping with sweat, in what used to be the kitchen of the Red Moon Inn. And what would be its kitchen again, if his laborers and suppliers would only cooperate. “I don’t care how long it takes to rebuild, but I’m not cutting corners here. Where are you getting timber anyway?”
The long-mustachioed trader and his dwarven companion fumble through their sales pitch as Kris steps over a pile of rubble to say hello.
“Franz! I see our investment is in good hands. You almost have a kitchen again.” Kris laughs and unloads a heavy sling bag in the corner, then absently starts scrutinizing strewn rock and scorch marks along the tiled floor.
“It’s the first thing that needs to be rebuilt! Even though these shady merchants want me to buy their second-hand wood to frame the new walls.” Franz looks past the trader and leans down to address his cohort. “And you call yourself a dwarf!”
The two traders scurry off and Franz, wiping his hands on his breeches, walks over to touch Kris’s shiny new chainmail shirt. “But what’s all this?” Franz motions to the piles of belongings on the floor. “Did they kick you out of the Guild? And is that a… lute?”
“No, it was my decision to leave and yes, that is my lute. Buy me a drink, and I’ll play you a tune.”
Franz laughs and claps his hand on Kris’s shoulder. “I’d love to hear it. But something tells me I’ll be buying more than just one drink.” He lifts his eyebrows and nods in the direction of what was once the Inn’s taproom. Standing in the opening where, just a few weeks ago a door was reduced to splinters by an undead Nehrekaran, are Karl and Beau.
“Oh, were we interrupting something?” Karl steps gingerly into the kitchen, careful not to get soot or grease on his fine boots.
“I want to hear the part in your song about me.” Beau spreads his arms wide. “And then I need to help you write the next few verses!”
Franz steps over to the old prep table and picks up a folded piece of parchment, then turns to the trio. “I was going to bring this over to the Guild tonight, but seeing as how most of you are here...” He holds his hand outstretched, offering the letter. Beau closes his eyes and opens his palm with a flourish, but Karl steps in front and snatches the paper defiantly from Franz’s hand.
“Why don’t I read this for the group?” Karl opens it, swelling with pride, and clears his throat.
“Yeah, but can any of you dicks play an instrument?” Kris fingers his lute.
“That Bretonnian fop came by this morning looking for you.” Franz explains while Karl strains his eyes over the scrawling penmanship. “Guess he hadn’t heard about the bar, or maybe he was outta town? Anyway… it’s for the four of you, he said.”
“What are we waiting for?” asks Beau. “I’m famished. Come on… I know which pier Godabert curls up under. We’ll pick him up on the way.”
* * *
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