The intrepid group, having reached the Barony of Eslohe, dock and head ashore, towards the forbidding castle perched on the cliffs.. ARRIVAL IN ESLOHE The beggars pressed in, leaning towards the boat. Cyrus addressed the wretches, as the others could only look in horror. He unwrapped a ration, the beggar's eyes coming alight when the food was revealed, and they began jostling with one another. 'What has happened here, you wretches?' asked Cyrus, holding the food aloft. 'Cursed! We're cursed!' came the reply, as the beggars pushed one another to get closer to the food. 'What do you mean cursed?' came the reply and the beggars howled 'We dont know, Oh Great One! Please, feed us!' and with a curse, Cyrus hurled some of the food at the beggars, causing a general melee ending with one beggar running off with the dried biscuit, pursued hotly by several others. Another fell into the water between the docks and the boat with a splash, having been pushed in, and began to sputter 'I CANT SWIM!' he pleaded! Dronk swung into action, expertly hanging over the boats edge and grasping the floundering man, before hauling him aboard. The soaked beggar cried out 'Sir! Thank you good sir dwarf!' with tears in his eyes, flinging his arms around Dronk to squeeze him tight in a bear-like hug. Dronk could feel the mans hands roaming around his belt and grasped the beggar, throwing him off the Wayward Derelict and onto the dock, where he landed with a crash, his rags aflutter. More beggars came now, replacing those that had ran off, making it difficult for the party to step off the boat and onto the rotten docks. Hugo and Drake headed belowdecks, and began to change into their heavy armors. Dumpling came up from below, a look of anger across her face, and began berating the group as she "Hadnt seen one lick of payment since we left Grissenwald nigh two weeks ago. First you left me in that dreadful place near the Falls - Ill be thrice-damned if I'll let you leave me in this forsaken place!' - she seemed near tears. As she finished her tirade, Drake emerged from belowdecks, the sigil of Sigmar gleaming on his armor. 'Here you go, Dumpling - consider it a down payment.' and handed her a heavy pouch with no less than 30 gold crowns. Dumpling's eyes sparkled and she thanked Drake profusely, then disappeared below. STEPPING ASHORE 'We should go ashore, though this place looks unhealthy.' said Drake. The group nodded in assent and they headed ashore, with Cyrus tossing another ration onto the ground, which caused the beggars to disperse somewhat - the rag-tags also kept a healthy distance from the party, but never stopped begging for food and money. All of them reeked heavily of alcohol and appeared extremely dirty and unkempt. As they made their way inland, Hugo stopped. 'Someone must remain with the boat, to guard our possessions.' Dumpling looked considerably relieved and smiled broadly. The rest nodded, leaving Hugo sitting on the decks of the Wayward Derelict, hammer at his side, a pair of beggars hovering nearby, on the dock. Cyrus questioned one of the nearby beggars. 'Who rules this town?' At first, they seemed too timid to reply, too stupid, or too drunk - then one burst out 'The Lady Eslohe rules here!' with a whisper, looking around as though terrified. A PICTURE OF ENTROPY The town itself was a shambles. The dirt roads were choked with garbage and weeds. Here and there clusters of beggars sat in doorways or lay sprawled between buildings. Of the buildings themselves, most appeared collapsed or otherwise ruined. Only a few appeared relatively undamaged, and most had their windows boarded up. A few mangy, sickly looking dogs prowled the streets. Near the docks stood one such building, a large edifice with a sign swaying gently in the breeze, marking it as an inn. The Shooting Star, it read, a comet etched into the surface by a woodwooker, the paint long faded. The sun had already started to set, giving the entire scene an even more ominous look. To the north-west, a small wooden bridge cut across a stream and onto the opposite bank where the forest was dense. Some stone ruins could be glimpsed through the trees but it wasn't clear what they were from where they stood. As they walked south down the main road, past the Shooting Star Inn, Dronk peeked into the building from where the beggars had emerged when they first arrived. Looking through a broken window, he could see a number more of thin, sickly looking figures laying about, with many empty blue bottles laying discarded. 'Want to make some money?' he asked. One of the beggars looked at him clearly 'Work? We're too weak to work! Please, spare us some coin master Dwarf!' causing Dronk to sigh and shake his head, before walking away. The group continued to head south on the main road, passed shells of burned-out buildings and other dilapidated ruins. As they passed one well-kept building with a sign outside reading 'Lewpold's Generale Stores' the door opened and a bald man stuck his head out, looked at the party quickly, then ducked back inside, slamming the door. They could hear the sounds of locks being closed, first one - then a second, and finally a third. The candle in the window was suddenly snuffed out. The shadows lengthened. 'Friendly people here in Eslohe..' mused Dronk, aloud. Edmee picked up one of the discarded blue bottles and smelled it, and nearly gagged with the strong alcoholic - and acidic - odor. FIGHT FOR THE BONE As the reached the edges of the town, and could see the thick forest, they noted the old mill perched on a hill to the southwest. The windmill, despite showing signs of wear, still turned gently, and a light flickered in a window, visible now in the dusk. From an alley between two ruined houses they heard the sounds of a struggle, and as they passed could see a mangy dog fighting with one of the beggars over a bone. The dog, snarling and frothing at the mouth, attacked the beggar's ankle, bloodying him and sending him tumbling to the ground. Edmee intervened, stepping between the rabid animal and the injured beggar, knocking it back with her shield. The dog snarled, then hid its tail between it's legs and ran away, disappearing behind a nearby ruin. The beggar moved to embrace Edmee in thanks, and she quickly backed away but before she could felt his spindly arms wrap around her. She quickly shook herself free and took a few steps back, then quickly reassured herself that nothing had been stolen. As the beggar scampered off, long bone in hand, Cornelius and the others could not help but notice that the bone looked distinctly human, and still a tiny scrap of desiccated flesh hung to the bone. Cyrus and Drake scowled. 'Come, we will call on this Lady Eslohe, and ask about the cause of these conditions.' said Cyrus, one hand on his pistol-belt. The others considered a moment, then followed, with Drake in the lead. As they passed the boundary of the town of Eslohe, the beggars who had been following stopped, seemingly afright and stared as they disappeared into the quickening dark. TOWARDS THE CASTLE The sun set completely as the moved down the muddy road. Set not with stones, it was more path or track than road. They could see a number of heavy mailed feet had passed in directions recently, as had someone on horseback, but the recent rains had destroyed cleared indications. The woods nearby assumed a sinister aspect. The trees were covered in a strangely luminescent fungus, and fireflies danced. In the sky, Mannsleib and her cursed sister Morrsleib seemed identical in size, facing one another as two halves of one whole. This light was caught and reflected by the fungus, casting strange and curious shadows. After an hour or so of travel, the group could see the battlements of the castle they had seen from the river rising over the forest, where it lay perched atop the cliffs. From the ground, it was only accessible down the very road they traveled, through the dense forest and up the cliffs along a winding track to the gatehouse of the outer keep. The woods were cleared here, creating an opening in which the walls and gate became fully visible. The doors themselves were ironbound, 20 feet in height, with a massive iron door-knock. The walls were nearly 50 feet in height, with battlements, and the gate was flanked with a pair of close-set towers, each covered in firing apertures - or murder-holes - from whence bolts or gunfire could be directed at the ground below, in front of the gate, leaving the one shooting almost completely protected from return fire. A TERRIBLE FATE Some distance in front of the gates was something else - a number of heavy iron cages, large enough for a man. Inside one, a manacled hand emerged, thin and emaciated. Edmee thought she could hear a weak voice, calling for help, and advanced, cautiously - with Drake following behind, his hand on his greatsword. Reaching the cage, Edmee could see even in the dim moonlight that a manacled female prisoner, appearing intensely thing, was trapped there. Her hand went limp as the priestess of Manaan approached, and as she tried to give the prisoner water, realized she was dead, having given her last gasp. 'Who would punish in such a hideous way..?' she mused. Cyrus rejoined 'For a heretic, purifying fire is preferred, but this is not so bad.' 'But we do not know what, if anything, this prisoner did - she bears no marks of Chaos.' - said Drake. Having arrived at the gates, the group decided to press onwards and call at the castle directly, despite it being the dead of night. They could see lights dimly emerging from the level of the towers closest to the battlement overhanging the entrance, probably torches. Edmee and Drake approached first, the others close behind, and Edmee rang the heavy iron-door knock once, twice, three times. They waited..and waited. No reply. AN UNFRIENDLY RECEPTION Cornelius, tired of this wait, strode forward, forming his hands around his mouth and amplifying his voice magically. 'You have..visitors..' he said, and the voice echoed in the still night. Not long thereafter, they heard heavy booted steps echoing on stone somewhere inside the edifice, and climbing upwards. A strange figure emerged on the battlement, clad head to toe in plate armor, wearing a mask that looked like a handsome youth, cast in gold or brass. A heavy longsword swung at his hip, and a shield was strapped to his back with a design the group couldnt make out in the dark. Without waiting for an address, he blurted out, in a heavy, thick voice 'Get away from here you scum! No beggars are allowed the castle!' Cyrus, angered by his insolence, replied 'I am a Witch Hunter on official business. I am here to call on the Lord or Lady of this castle. Open the door!' 'I dont care if you're the Emperor himself!' laughed the brute. 'Get away from the gate, or I'll call up the men!' The group decided to wait, and the man disappeared inside the tower, before long a loud bell could be heard ringing from nearby. Before long, many booted feet could be heard, they could see figures appear behind the murder-holes, crossbows at the ready. On the battlements, more figures emerged, clad head to toe in plate armor, with only thin visors. No words, no shouts were heard, as the heavily armored figures marched into position with efficiency. The group watched the force on the walls grow, and then heard a voice boom from within the tower - Gold-Face's voice - 'Now I've warned ye, on the count of 3, we will fire on you!' He began to count immediately..'One!' THE RULE OF THREE The group began to discuss the situation. Cyrus believed they could fight their way into the castle, if these men wouldn't open the door. Drake, who had been preparing a prayer to force the cocky, Gold-Faced knight to open the door, waited for him to emerge from the tower. Dronk produced his grappling hook and suggested they climb up onto the battlements. Edmee looked concerned, and raised her shield above her head, while Cornelius readied the words of Power. 'Two!' Dronk threw his grappling hook up onto the battlements, getting a secure hold with a well-aimed toss. Cyrus grinned and readied a pistol, pressing his body against the gate such as to minimize exposure to the crossbow bolts. Drake looked at the group, then back to the woods, and considered the tactical situation - 'We should withdraw for now, and return late-' he started to say, moving away. Dronk began to scurry up the rope and reached the top in a single bound, standing on the battlements, the tower wall to his left, the stone battlement to his right. Before him was the flat surface of the wall top, on which stood several of the mailed figures, who drew their longswords. Cyrus, seeing the dwarf scramble up, grabbed the rope and followed, but only was about twenty five feet - or half way - up, when.. 'Three!' a hail of crossbow bolts pelted the area in front of the gate. Cornelius, Cyrus and Edmee were hit, bolts sinking respectively into shoulder, torso and leg, and biting deeply. Cyrus, clinging to the rope, fired, his bullet ricocheting off the tower wall just wide of the window where one of the mailed figures stood, crossbow in hands. Dronk tried to squeeze past the figures, who had rushed him, leaving him little room to maneuver, but their size kept him penned in. He thrust out with his rapier, the strike turned aside by his foe's heavy armor. In return, a flurry of longsword blows which he parried - but even a swordsman of Dronk's caliber couldn't block all the attacks, feeling one blade open a slash across his chest, damaging his armor and causing his blood to splatter across the flagstones. STORMING THE CASTLE Meanwhile, Edmee called forth the power of Manaan, and a thunderous explosion could be heard inside one of the towers flanking the gate. Debris, rocks and dust flew from the open windows, but no cries of pain or anguish were heard. She then moved closer to the tower wall, hoping to take cover. Drake chanted his prayer to Sigmar to Command as Gold-Face emerged from within the tower, but to no effect, his having resisted the spell. Cornelius followed suit after Edmee, hitting the opposite tower with an explosion within causing another explosion of noise and clouds of dust and debris to fly from the open windows. The Gold-Faced knight advanced onto the battlements, and Dronk thought he could hear him laughing. Drake addressed the group 'It is foolish to fight, we must withdraw!' and ran towards the cover of the woods from whence they had came. Another hail of crossbow bolts poured down like rain in the night. Cornelius and Cyrus were struck again, bolts tearing their flesh. Edmee again channeled the power of Manaan, and an explosion of force could be heard inside the tower she had struck the first time. Tiny cracks could be seen forming around the foundation stones as the entire tower shook, and dust exploded from the windows - yet no cries, no curses of men. 'Whatever is inside, its taking a beating!' she thought as she raised her shield to block the crossbow bolts she knew were about to come flying seeking her life. AN UNEQUAL STRUGGLE Dronk squared off against the mailed men who had him penned on the battlements. Cyrus could only curse from where he swung on the rope, below, unable to reload his pistol without his hands free. Dronk lunged with his rapier, but the mailed figure skillfully knocked it away and countered with his own stab, catching Dronk in the foot and causing sparks to fly from the stones. Dronk was now heavily wounded as he avoided the other attacks. It was only now Dronk noticed the foul odor coming from the men he fought - the smell of rotting flesh - it was nearly overwhelming and he fought the urge to gag. Drake turned, seeing his companions hard-pressed, and cursed under his breath. 'I cannot leave them to die!' he said to himself, and charged back towards the gate, raising a javelin and hurling it with all his might. It arced through the air and caught the Gold-Face on the shoulder, spraying the ground with blood. 'For Sigmar!' he cheered! Yet the knight did not cry out in pain, only pulled the javelin out, and threw it to the ground, fluid oozing from the wound A FIREY REVELATION Cornelius now stepped forward. He thought he could see his own fate - his corpse falling here before this foreboding castle, before his true destiny realized, covered in the darts of his foes -if he was unlucky. In any case, it was time to reveal himself, here, at the precipice. He ripped his bloody robes from his figure, leaving only his common clothing, dark with his blood. Here and there crossbow bolts burst from his chest. He raised his hands high, chanting the words of a spell he had mastered only days earlier at the Colleges, the words of Fireball. 'You know me as Cornelius Heinrich - but I am Cornelius Centaurii, heir to the Centaurii name, and I claim my birthright!' With that, the power surging into his hands coalesced into a glowing ball of pure flame, and Cornelius hurled it upwards, onto the battlements. Dronk felt the explosion before he heard it, a rush of blasting hot air followed by tremendous, searing pain. His reflexes allowed him to turn one cheek to the stone wall, keeping only part of his body exposed to the blast, but it was enough to burn him severely, and leave his beard aflame and smoking, his ears ringing. When the smoke began to clear from where the fireball had exploded, directly at the feet of the Gold-Faced knight, he could see all his opponents still stood - their armor blackened by the heat and force of the explosion - but they still carried their weapons and moved to slay Dronk. Gold-Face himself was scorched, but his helmet and the golden face was curiously untouched. A FORMIDABLE DEFENSE Cyrus at this point, still hanging on the rope, stuck due to Dronk above, hurled himself with a mighty effort onto the battlements, catching the ledge with his fingertips and hauling himself to his feet, and drawing his rapier and second pistol after holstering the first. 'For Sigmar!' he cried as he flung himself onto the battlements, striking at Gold-Face. Another burst of crossbow bolts rained down from the towers - this time Drake catching one, that just barely managed to penetrate his armor and draw his blood. Another bolt headed for Cornelius's head, who skillfully knocked it away with a splatter of blue energy - a Shield spell. Edmee felt another strike her shoulder. The scene was looking grim, for they knew many foes remained hidden within the twin towers. Dronk scurried down the rope, skillfully landing, bleeding heavily, beside Edmee, who held her shield high, projecting light onto the gate. Cornelius, behind her, considered their options, while Drake concentrated on his prayer to Sigmar, protecting the Celestial Magister with a Shield of Faith. Gold-Face hacked at Cyrus, who deflected his attacks with some effort, and whose counter blows similarly missed. The rest of the mailed figures on the battlements above the gates, Dronk having fled, turned to face the Witch Hunter... Meanwhile, belowdecks on the Wayward Derelict, Hugo and Dumpling are playing Three-Dragon Ante for silvers, and Dumpling, unbeknownst to Hugo, is holding Three Pegasus with a pile of sparkling silver on the barrel..
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The WizardIn time, you will come to know the tragic extent of my failings... Past Journals
September 2017
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