[IC] Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

[Penny]

"You don't look so bad yourself," Emmaline approved, her blue eyes roving up and down the now official engineer. It didn't occur to her to wonder how much the finery had cost, in Emmaline's world you spent what you had and a little bit more if they would give you credit. Holding on to cash just made you a target or else your mentor would use it betting on the races at the Imperial Hippodrome. Even so it must have been a pretty penny even if Rogello was as good a friend as he seemed.

"A carriage?" Emmaline all but gasped as they went out onto the street to see a large coach paneled in black with gold and crimson moldings. A pair of black horses were harnessed to it, though Emmaline's alchemical nose detected a slight whiff of something that was probably die concealing white fetlocks. The driver was a genial looking man with a massive broad brimmed hat and a cloak of black velvet which had been brushed until it shone and a jaunty white sash. With some fanfare he dismounted and swept the hat off in a bow before pulling open the door and pulling down the stairs. Emmaline allowed Neil to hand her up into the red upholstered back seat before he climbed up and the door was closed. The looked every bit what people thought of as nobles, though Emmaline had seen enough of the actual nobility to know that few were as handsome as Neil was and more than a few suffered from a little too much enthusiasm for maintaining their 'noble blood'. Even so she doubted any of that class were likely to point out that they didn't have enough of the tell tales of inbreeding to be of the really high aristocracy.

There was a theatrical 'Yah!' from outside and the horses began to clop down the street. Like most horses in Nuln they had grown up around the sound of gunpowder and cannons and so didn't flinch or shiver the way more provincial beasts would have done. They promenaded down the street and out into one of the main boulevards where other coaches were already plying their trade. Some of the nobility maintained their own carriages, as did the richest of the merchants, but most of those out tonight would be rented. Emmaline smiles and snuggled herself against Neil, taking care not to disrupt her hair too much as she did so.

"So where are we going?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil was high on Emmaline's gleeful joy, smiling like she was and wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled up to him. Her effervescence was addicting to the ne'er-do-well. He did his best not to mess with her hair, trying to keep her curls out of his mouth as the carriage jumbled and bucked. He could peek out the window and spy the occasional aristocratic carriage passing them by or turning down a side street. Neil had blatantly wanted to be there fashionably late, so the horse cantered at a leisurely pace.

"No, it's a surprise..." he teased, lips by her ear. "You'll like it, girly."

He hoped he was right, but he remembered the first time he saw the Glorious Griffon, he was slack jawed. Sitting comfortably in the center of a square between Altestadt and the Griffon Gate, it was a three story establishment of grandly hewed marble. Twin beacons lit the entrance where one could ascend three large steps and pass through yew doors with pewter handles. The inside glowed like gold. They waited for a few minutes as others were let out. Neil recognized a Count Vilgefortz stepping out of the carriage in front of them with an Arabyan beauty at his side, who was very much not his wife back in Marienburg. The count had fled the city a year after Neil had left due to some business going awry, and the young thief Edwards had always joked amongst his friends he would steal from the man. Not that Vilgefortz knew who Neil was. And there would be no theft tonight, of course. Things were expensive enough, and Emmaline was worth holding off on a dare for awhile.

Next, Neil untangled himself from Emmaline and straightened his suit as the door was opened for them by jaunty driver, who took his hat off as Neil stepped out, feeling very out of place but not uncomfortable with the part he was playing. Reaching out, he took Emmaline's hand and helped her down onto the cobblestones, leading her inside with all the grace of a gentlemen, though his grin was anything but. Within, the walls, side barriers and stairs were made of the finest mahogany, rich and red in the firelight. At the center of the establishment were short walls that surrounded a pit on four sides where a collection of ornate braziers stood, the outsides made of steel and wrought in the shape of Magnus and his loyal followers, so to all who looked they appeared as if the flames of all the empire were within their hearts.

"May I announce you, sir?" A cultured and crisply posh voice declared, drawing Neil's attention from the splendor.

"Hmm? What?"

"You are Lord and Lady...?" The chauffeur asked expectantly. He was an elderly gentlemen, and like as not he could claim to have introduced the emperor during his childhood if he worked here as long as Neil theorized.

"Erm, I am Baron Neil von Hresvelg, and this is my date for the night, Lady..."

[Penny]

"Mathilda Othenburung-Ziegser," Emmaline added helpfully, allowing the elderly gentleman to lift her hand to his lips in a traditional greeting. The Othenburung and the Ziegser families were both from Averland and were both in the habit of sending their children to Altdorf for 'finishing' as well as the traditional rounds of diplomatic matchmaking which was the usual fate of second sons and younger daughters. The Averland custom of combining surnames made it all the more difficult for anyone to prove she wasn't who she claimed to be, even if there was someone from distant Averland present. It was an identity that Emmaline had tried out a year ago while attempting to swindle a particularly rich, but somewhat dull noble out of a dowry payment. The scheme had fizzled but she recalled enough about the fictional Mathilda that she wasn't worried about being called on it. The greeter straightened and nodded his head before stepping into the main chamber.

"Baron Neil von Hresveig and Lady Othenbrung-Ziegser," he declared in a stentorian bellow. Heads turned to watch as the pair of ersatz nobles stepped through the door, Emmaline's hand resting gently on Neil's arm with proper dignity. The paused conversations resumed after a moment and a small orchestra struck up faintly martial air.

"It is Othenburung," Emmaline corrected the greeters pronunciation though too softly for that worthy to hear her.

"Though I don't suppose anyone minds too much," she giggled. As they entered the restaurant Emmaline realized that there were actually three subtle tiers that sank towards the impressive artwork at the center, the upper tiers provided more privacy but the inner ones carried the greater prestige with larger tables and more elaborately carved candelabras lighting them.

"My Lord, my Lady, if you would follow me?" a dashing young man in black and white livery asked, executing a proud which would have done the Emperors own bodyguard proud. He rolled his hand in a practiced theatrical gesture and led them towards a white silk covered table. However much Neil had scammed out of the gunnery school, Emmaline suspected tonight was going to take a serious dent out of it. Of course he could just tip extravagantly and ask for the bill to be forwarded to his major domo, a charge that would come as something of a shock to that gentleman, if he existed in the first place. That too made Emmaline giggle as she settle gracefully into the seat which the waiter had drawn back for her.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil plopped his butt on the cushioned chair across from her, crossing his legs as if he were born to ostentatious presentations on a throne. Cocking an eyebrow, he held out his hand and snapped it. The escort stalked away to fulfill his wish, and Neil swept his gaze over the crowd to gauge just what kind of people decided to spend their night in such luxury. Fortunately, most were nobles and wealthy merchants, speaking topics from gossip to trade agreements. Unfortunately, he saw more than a few eagle-eyed guards, some brought in and others working for the establishment itself. Notably he also saw a witch hunter, sitting at the table with an old man wearing an ulrican torque, the witch hunter in riding leathers and telltale jacket. He hadn't even removed his hat, speaking with the elderly man alone. Everyone gave them a wide berth. The group that appeared just as strange was a fat merchant entertaining a group of Dwarfs of different professions off at the corner, likely speaking business.

The servant returned and placed a cigar in Neil's fingers, already lit. Neil gave Emmaline a wink, taking a drag of the cigar and opening his mouth to let out a stream that coalesced into a smoke ring. Neil wasn't a big smoker, but he knew how to impress with small skills. He was a man of many talents, most of them useless or used for petty thievery. Somehow he was ok with that.

"Wine sir? We have the latest from Brettonia," The waiter offered, graciously inclining his head.

"N-" Neil coughed suddenly, the smoke still in his throat seizing it for a moment. He coughed another few times and blinked his eyes, fully aware how embarrassing it was, holding up a finger. "Khishlev Whodka" he wheezed. The waiter in his doublet and fluffed sleeves, looked at him and then glanced at Emmaline, deciding not to embarrass Neil further by asking if he was alright.

"Yes, Herr Hresvelg. And for the lady as well?"

"_Yes." Neil's voice was tight, so he didn't cough again. The waiter promptly left.

Moments passed, and Neil breathed through his nose to regain his composure, knowing her eyes were on him. He took another, more careful drag of the cigar and did not mess with any presentation this time, just appreciating it for the sensation. Thankfully his voice returned, just as the Vodka bottle was placed down, the waiter pouring two cups for them.

"So, impressed yet?"

[Penny]

Emmaline picked up her glass and held it in her palm, the stem hanging between her index and middle fingers. It was very fine glass, catching the firelight from the display in the center of the room and and lighting it with an inner glow.

"Very, they way you have chocked on the smoke was most impressive, how like a mighty dragon you are," Emmaline giggled, before clinking her glass against Neil's and taking a sip. She suspected this was very fine Vodka, though it didn't taste that much different from the firewater she had drunk in any number of Reikside taverns in the last few years. She tried to avoid looking at the Witch Hunter, possessed of a wizards instinctive fear of the ruthless hunters of evil. In theory, Emmaline had the writ of the Emperor to allow her to practice magic and in Altdorf that meant something, away from the capital however... well wizards ran afoul of the Sigmarite Templars all the time, and it was doubtful whether Albrecht's protests would render her any less flammable. She found it much easier to gaze at the finery and jewelry that many of the guests were wearing. A number of the merchants were turned out in particular splendor. Emmaline cast a look back towards the door where a number of hard looking nondescript men lounged. In many cases the merchants wouldn't be able to afford the finery that bedecked them, but jewelry houses would rent the use of pieces in exchange for the exposure of their work and a generous fee. The men, most of whom had the hard faces and easy grace of soldiers, were here to protect the merchandise from thieves, and from the merchants themselves absconding with them.

"May I take your order my Lord? My lady?" a mustachioed man in a white jacket enquired politely. He was clearly a cut above the rest of the waitstaff, perhaps an owner or a head chef who made a point of meeting the 'high and mighty' personally.

[POOHEAD189]

Before the lady, the waiter placed down a glass dish of Sauerbraten, the beef pickled and savory and layered in heaps of flavored rice and fixings one couldn't guess. The maitre de accompanied him, personally placing a bottle of their finest Nuln Lager. Neil himself had a variety plate of bratwurst with potato skins and minced onions. Hot, soft bread rolls were placed between them in a basket, ladled in hot butter. Neil's mouth watered nearly as much as when Emmaline wore the justicar suit. He saw her wiggle in excitement, muttering 'scrumptious' just before she began to dig in.

"This looks wonderful. That'll be all gentlemen," Neil waved, dismissing the staff who had come to survey the well-tipping lord and lady they knew so very little about.

The Lord Von Hresvelg hooked a bratwurt link and a few more items on his fork, waiting until Emmaline was too engaged and the onlookers distracted so he could shovel it all in his mouth for an explosion of flavor. It was everything he could have expected and more, but the braut was too hot and he opened his maw, letting the air cool it while he covered his mouth with one hand. Once he acclimated to the heat, he buttoned up quick and cooled himself off with some of the lager. These kinds of drinks were never served in Marienburg. If the Empire could brew a drink, it was a lager.

"You got your eye on anything in here?" Neil asked his date, resting his chin on his hand as he watched her down a frothy gulp of the drink. A few droplets landed on the top of her chest. Thank Sigmar for lowcut tops and Emmaline Von Morganstern. Not in that order, but he got distracted easily.

"There's a few too many guards..." She reasoned with a quirked eyebrow, though he could see the yearning in his blue eyes.

"We won't grab anything in here. But whoever you want to steal from, we'll follow them out once they leave." He said, and he reminded himself to finish his meal. He wasn't planning on take-out. Which was a shame. "As long as they leave after dessert, though. I heard this place has incredible Schwarzwälder cake and I'm trying some before we leave. That or I'm coming back and stealing some, and you wouldn't want me hanged over some cake would you?"

[Penny]

"You probably don't want to go down in history as the frosting thief," Emmaline agreed with a snicker before taking another forkful of her meal an popping it in her mouth. She picked up a napkin and blotted at her breasts to remove the majority of the ale.

"Although I suppose in the grand scheme of things you are just as dead if you are hung for stealing the crown jewels," she added philosophically. Naturally she had already been scanning the rich and powerful of Nuln society while she ate, taking stock of their fine clothing and jewelry. The trick was to pick the right mark rather than the richest or easiest. She dismissed a gaunt looking older man and his equally dissaproving wife, while they were bedecked with jeweled rings and fine chains they were clearly of the high nobility. Lofty personages like that could afford to spend time and money hunting for thieves. Similarly a young man whose face was flushed with drink, he had the gaudy extravagance of a recently successful merchant, that sort would have plenty of guards, still too close to poverty to be comfortable. Her eyes finally came to rest on a plump man in a shockingly bright red and gold tunic, the gold chain with an impressive sapphire hung around his neck and a beautiful brunette hung decoratively on his arm, every finger wore a ring which flashed with precious stones. The woman wore a tiara that flashed with diamonds above her much more tasteful dress of cloth of gold.

"Him," Emmaline said, indicating the merchant with a slight nod of head.

"He has had his wealth long enough to take it for granted but not long enough to put on airs," she explained.

[POOHEAD189]

"Yeah, but the crown jewels would make for a much better story." He remarked, making a vague gesture with his fork. Neil had never heard a history lesson on a great figure, beyond the bullshit propaganda, that didn't emphasize the need for a legacy. It's why most people wanted kids, too. Though what legacy they wanted to leave behind other than "person with baby" was beyond Neil. "I hear that's what most unsuccessful people worry about. Other than them losing their lives."

Inwardly he was slightly disappointed when she passed over the older, more esteemed couple. Neil was always up for taking the rich and powerful down a peg. He supposed the rich and the moderately powerful would have to do. At the end of the day, he wanted Emmaline's expertise. He would have fun regardless. "Gotcha, babe. And then we-HEEEEY-" His face lit up as the waiter arrived again, asking if all was in order.

"Yes, the meal is lovely. I was wondering, do you have any Schwarzwälder cake left?"

"Yes, we have just a few slices left." He said, pouring more lager into their mugs from the bottle they had left. With a small tool, they wiped off the froth and caught it in a cloth they brought. Neil wiggled his eyesbrows at Emmaline. A few minutes later, they were enjoying a strawberry creme cake as soft as a cloud and as rich as the establishment's clientele. The thieves were finally enjoying something they hadn't stolen, and while stealing added extra spice to a meal, Neil appreciated the fact they had someone just give it to them, and no one would chase them afterwards. They could finish it in their leisure.

That was, until Emmaline's mark began tidying up and paying their bill. Neil looked at her and then guests, and then back to her with a wink.

[Penny]

Emmaline and Neil rose, dropping a few gold coins to the table to cover their own reckoning. They headed for the door but Emmaline paused at the doorway.

"Fetch me my cloak," she called to one of the servers. The servant looked confused and Emmaline guestured to a fine cloak of white fox pelts that was cinched with a gold chain set with a ruby. The server fetched the cloak and brought it over, draping it over her shoulders with an expert motion. Emmaline nodded her approval and then allowed Neil to lead her out and hand her up into the coach.

"That isn't your cloak," Neil observed.

"Afraid not," Emmaline returned with a smile.

------

"I think we will shall take a walk along this charming street," Emmaline declared as they entered an affluent boulevard lined with the houses of merchants. It was a reasonable request, many of the houses had open gardens which made the promenade pleasant, bright lanterns hung with expensive clean burning lamp oil. The driver obediently pulled over as Emmaline kept her eyes on the manor to which their marks carriage turned into. They climbed out of the carriage and joined the handful of other couples promenading. They took their time as they walked scoping out the area as they went.

[POOHEAD189]

The promenade wasn't bustling, but the crowd wasn't small either. The night still had life in it, which suited Neil just fine. Oftentimes, a plethora of people did well for thieving. It put people at ease and made a good excuse to try and go off alone, or to meld into the crowd itself. Most of the crowd was the old blood of Nuln, tracing their lineage back at least two centuries, he'd heard. To his surprise, he did see a few wealthy Kislevites and what he thought were a few rieklanders.

Neil escorted Emmaline with a hook arm down the street, eyeing one another and whispering about the manor, noticing the grounds and the street around it. Like most imperial buildings, it was built for defense, even in the middle of the rich section of Nuln. No windows were on the lower floor, all the doors were thick oak and reinforced with iron. Luckily, it was easy enough for Neil to climb up to the second floor window. The arch above the front door (and the side door) was wide enough to simply stand on. That, and there was a locked cellar leading under the manor was just to the structure's right.

Emmaline's new coat tickled him when he went to suggest either of those two options, and when he did he saw the gold lust in her eyes, bedecked in the furs. Without warning, stopping by the next house, Neil grabbed her and planted a passionate kiss on her, grabbing her blonde head and taking what taste he wanted from her, and then went. "Let's go in, and after this we'll finish what I just started."

[Penny]

"Well in that case we should get on with it," Emmaline declared breathlessly. They stepped into the garden and slipped quickly along the side of the manor house concealed in the darkness beneath the overhang of the second floor. The white coat was not particularly suited for the task but they would only be in the open for a few seconds. They reached the cellar door and Neil bent down over the lock for a few seconds. The engineer didn't need more than a few seconds to spring the lock and throw back the door. They stepped down into the darkness and found... another door. It wasn't the kind of heavy utilitarian door that would be expected in a cellar. It was fine polished timber that seemed to glint in the moonlight.

"What is this," Emmaline asked in puzzlement. Neil shrugged in the darkness.

"Maybe its a vault?" he suggested uncertainly and leaned close to the lock. His tools flashed and he jerked he hand back with an oath.

"Ranald's balls it had a trap," he said wonderingly.

"Did it prick you?" Emmaline asked in rising concern trying to think of spells that might serve against poisons. Neil snorted derisively.

"Not even close, just surprised me is all," he reassured her and then clicked the lock open. Emmaline touched the door and it swung open noiselessly. The interior glinted as moonlight struck metal. Emmaline stepped into the room, her nose wrinkling at a strange scent on the air. It smelled like a fire in a candy shop she had once smelled, combined with a spice merchants pots. Emmaline stepped inside and raised her hand, whispering an incantation. Golden light shone from the ring on her finger. The interior of the basement was paved with green veined marble and etched with symbols in copper. The walls were heaped with books bound in purplish leather and strange objects that defied description. Heads suspended in fluid, the twisted talons of great beasts, jars of strange powders. Emmaline's eyes widened comically as she took in the vista.

"Neil we need to..." the door slammed shut sealing the thief on the other side, arcane runs springing to light in pale fire. The fire spread down the walls and onto the copper sigils.

"Ranald's balls!" Emmaline squeaked turning to pound on the door. She felt the mystical energy gathering into a blue blur and felt her stomach turning as the spell raced towards completion. Something horrifying wrought in blue fire stepped from the center of the sigil reaching for the blonde wizard. Emmaline grabbed up a brass candleabra and smashed it across the things jaw then darted passed towards a set of stairs on the other side of the room, screaming as she went.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil's eyes bulged in surprise. Just as he was going to step through, the door slammed shut from some unseen force. Magical or through a mechanism, he didn't have the time to tell. Then he heard Emmaline scream, and then her scream moved from the left to the right and then up what he guessed were a set of stairs. His blood ran cold, but he knew if he let it get to him, he wouldn't be able to figure out how to help her. Damn, were these people sorcerers or cultists? Ranald really rolled the dice on this one. Taking in the measure of the door, he went to work on the lock and realized the lock wasn't the way to go.

Thankfully it was but a mere wooden door, so he decided to brute force it. Emmaline hadn't the muscle, but he probably did. Neil shouldered the oaken door twice, and with a lunging kick that had all of its weight behind it, the door handle broke off and it swung open. Whatever had been on the other side of it was hit by the swinging object and slammed into the wall. Neil reached inside his suit and took out his flintlock, cocking it and stepping forward to save his damsel in distress.

Once he passed the door, he saw a writhing mass of limbs and internal organs made external slowly getting up from being shoved. It had three arms and two legs...at least he thought. One of the arms and one of the legs had four joints. He couldn't tell where the head was, or what the thing had once been if anything. He gave a very unheroic squeal and shot it without hesitation. The bullet punched into its sponge-like flesh, and though it didn't kill the thing, whatever it was spasmed and screeched. Neil leaped back with an expression of surprise and disgust and grabbed the first vial he found, throwing it on the creature. The clay pot busted, sending cascading purple flames to envelope it. The thing mewled as it was burned.

"Sigmar's fucking hammer," He cursed, seeing the runes on the walls still flaring brightly. Nothing else stepped through the gateway, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Emmaline!" He cried, rushing up the stairs and reloading his gun.

[Penny]

Emmaline didn't look back as she fled up the stairs. The magic in the air had a stink to it that compounded her fear. She had never been in the presence of Chaos magic before but she had heard descriptions of it, both lurid denunciations from priests and more academic descriptions from Bright Wizards at their occasional public lectures back at the College. It was nothing she wanted to be anywhere near. She reached to top of the stairs and crashed through a much less formidable door and into a hallway of dark paneled wood with elaborate tapestries hanging to either side. A servant burst though a doorway holding a baton which he swung at Emmaline, she ducked under the blow and ran for the door he had entered from. Sounds of alarm were spreading through the house and she knew there were only moments before the whole place was in an uproar. Darting through the door she slammed it in the servants face and shot the bolt a moment before a heavy shoulder crashed against the door. A woman in a night gown stood by a large bed, Emmaline recognized her as the merchant's wife from the restaurant, the woman raised her fist and purplish light gathered in her fist. Emmaline squeaked in terror and tore of her cloak throwing it over the woman's head before kicking her over onto the bed. Her husband was climbing wild eyed from beneath the covers grasping for something to use as a weapon. Emmaline leaped up onto the bed and shouted a word. The leaded glass of the window exploded outwards and she dived through after the fragments, hitting the ground outside and then colliding with the stone wall. She sat dazed for a moment and the shoved herself up onto her feet running for the street and hoping Neil had the sense to have bolted already.

[POOHEAD189]

As Neil ascended the stairs, he smelled something he couldn't quite pinpoint. A mixture of oils, but also something inherently unpleasant. There was still baleful light from the cellar burgeoning along the walls and stamped on his back, and with another cry for Emmaline, he opened the door to his left and pointed his pistol instinctively. Inside the candle-lit room adorned with skulls and thigh bones, he saw two men having raucous sex on a table, and normally he wouldn't judge but one of them had the head of a goat with fangs in its maw. The man and beastman both turned to regard him, and though Neil could have shot them, all he had otherwise was a long knife and he needed the ammo and time.

"Sorry for disturbing you gents, go back to business." He said listlessly, closing the door again and propping a chair up at the doorknob to keep them from coming at him. It took less than a few moments for them to begin pounding on the door, and he continued.

He was scared, which wasn't usual for the rakish ne'er-do-well. Neil had never been the most devout man, but he likely should have paid more attention to the sermons. The afterlife seemed distant, but the present was very reminiscent of hell. There was a strange buzzing in the air that somehow seemed to put pressure on his psyche and make him think in strange ways. Thankfully he was Neil Edwards, who already did so, so it didn't really effect him as much as it would have a run-of-the-mill empire serf or citizen.

Another door opened, and out stepped a naked, muscled man with tattoes and scars, and his left pectoral had a missing nipple in which puss continued to boil out. Somehow he didn't seem surprised to see Neil, and the engineer could just barely duck under a blow that embedded into brick. Neil grabbed for his knife and plunged it into the man's midsection even as his let his gun barrel discharge right below his chin. It was a move he had learned from Solozzo Delatori the assassin back in Marienburg, though Neil executed it here rather boorishly.

The mutant dropped, though surprisingly it wasn't dead. Just as the door behind him burst open and the two lovers he had rudely interrupted groped out, Neil heard a window crashing from across the hall and a familiar scream. His heart leaped in hope, and he realized it was time to go. He rushed into the room the mutant had walked out of and made a running leap at the window, glass shattering and cutting him on the neck painfully, but he landed in a rough roll and wasn't too deeply wounded. He clambered toward the low wall and bushes around the edge of the grounds, wiped the glass off and gave the two lovers who watched him from the broken window the finger, before climbing over and spotting Emmaline on the alleyway.

[Penny]

Emmaline breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Neil climb over the wall and drop down into the alleyway. Her skin crawled and she was struck with and overpowering desire to visit Marieunburg or Tratino or Cathy for that matter. So far there had been no alarm raised, doing so would be more dangerous for the merchant who owned the house than it would be for the abortive thieves afterall and even gunfire and shattering glass were not so strange during blackpowder week that it attracted more than curious glances. Emmaline and Neil climbed back into their carriage and set off. They looked disheveled and Emmaline was missing her cloak, but fortunately the driver drew a predictable but entirely incorrect conclusion, grinning at the pair of them before turning his attention to the road.

"Chaos worshipers," Emmaline whispered urgently, as though that had not been painfully apparent.

"What should we do, can we... I don't know report it to someone?" she asked. Theoretically the answer to that question was a simple one. Yes, report it to the witch-hunters but that ignored the fact that Emmaline herself was, by some definitions, a witch, and that Sigmar's Templars were not renowned for their careful sifting of the innocent from the guilty. As a practical matter what sifting did occur tended to be through the ashes after they pyres died down.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil wasn't quite as shaken up as Emmaline, but it was likely because it was a bit more surreal to him. He still didn't know quite what to make of it all, even if he did feel real fear in the house. Sigmar help him, he was glad Emmaline and he got out in one piece. Perhaps it was a sign by the gods for them to stop their thieving ways? He doubted that would happen even if it were true, but the possibility was one of many that popped into his head.

"Hey, hey look at me," He whispered, cupping her cheek and sliding his hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head so she would turn to him. Luckily, neither of them had the mind to steal anything. For all he knew, any of their jewelry had the tainted warpstone on it. Then again, if it had, the Witch Hunter might have noticed them at dinner. "Emm, let's just take a second. That was just surprising, but I'd rather go back into a house of mutants and cultists than face a dozen charging orcs, but we survived that, right?"

He placed his forehead against hers gently. "You know Witch Hunters better than I do. We can send an anonymous letter telling our friend at the restaurant that there is weird happenings going on at a certain location and he'll barrel right in and expose it. But worse comes to worse, we do lie for a living. You're still a Justicar if you want to be, and I promise it's not just to get you into the suit again." He gave a boyish smile and tickled her nose with his. "Whatever we decide, all it'll take is to lie or plant some evidence pointing there, and it'll be ousted in no time."

[Penny]

Emmaline found herself beginning to calm down, thinking of the Justicar costume put her in a better head space than the feeling of dark magic and chaotic corruption that had lain heavy upon the manor house did. The last thing she wanted to do was get mixed up with a witch hunter but she was, at bottom, a loyal daughter of the Empire. Well loyalish.

"Ok, but it will have to be done quickly," Emmaline replied, squeezing Neil's hand to calm herself.

"I'm sure that cultists are every bit as good as thieves at covering their tracks if given any time to do so, but we can't talk directly to a witch hunter," she said, mind clicking into scheming mode as she ran down the mental pathways towards the various conclusions. She tapped on the roof of the coach and then leaned out.

"We are feeling pious tonight, take us to the Temple of Sigmar if you will," she called to the driver.

______

The Temple was a massive building that stretched towards the heavens. Its massive spire was rivaled only by the Cathedral in Altdorf in Emmaline's experience. In some ways the Nuln cathedral seemed more majestic, because it didn't share space with the Colleges of Magic and the Imperial Palace. Blackpowder week was not a church holiday, but Temple Square was not deserted even so. A few more enthusiastic flagellents shouted about the impending end of the world, though onlookers eyes were more frequently on the distant bursting fireworks than on the ranting holy men. Pillgrims walked from statue to statue, lighting candles or laying flowers or scraps of papers at the feet of images of Sigmar and, almost as frequently, Magnus the Pious as well as other holy men who had been immortalized in stone. Incense smoke wafted lazily into the darkness, ignored by various temple scribes and functionaries who lounged at outdoor wine shops now that services were concluded for the day.

Emmaline hopped out of the coach pulling Neil borrowed cloak around her body. It was finely made but less distinguishable than the white fur cloak she had lost at the mansion. Its hood allowed her to hide her distinctive blonde hair which was her primary goal. She hurried across the square and up the steps of the cathedral, placating a drowsy guard by pressing a silver piece into his palm as she passed. The inside of the cathedral was a dark expanse. Faint candle light reflected off the massive stained glass windows without adding much to the illumination. Emmaline hurried up the central nave, boots clacking on the worn stones. An aged priest turned from the alter to watch her approach, looking skeletal in fine robes which seemed to hang from his limp body.

"The Temple is closed my daughter," he began before his rheymy eyes widened as Emmaline ran sobbing into his arms, he was stronger than he looked fortunately.

"Father," she bleated pitteously, "I have seen a terrible thing, an unholy blaphemy!" Wrackign sobs shook her body as the priest got a hold of himself.

"What are you speaking of child?" he demanded, eyes wide with alarm. In between sobs she told a version of the nights events, in which she had seen through the windows a great and terrible blasphemy, using just enough actual description to prevent him from writing her off as a hysterical madwoman.

"This is a buissness for the Templar child, come," he lead her into a vestibule and sat her down on a chair.

"Remain here daughter, I will fetch a man who can deal with such things!" the priest hustled off, his step quicker than it had been in years, excited by the thought of stamping out real heresy. Emmaline gave him a few minutes and then hurried back out of the temple as quickly as she could. Better to let them find her gone and investigate themselves.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil only heard snippets, but he had no doubts she performed the deed well. Even stressed and half frightened, she was an impeccable actress. As she scampered into the coach, Neil pulled her close, still wrapped up in his cloak. He held her protectively, still a bit freaked out himself but mostly worried about her. He decided he would make the rest of the night worthy of forgetting the earlier bits of the evening. He grabbed the top of the cloak and gently pulled it back, exposing her soft golden waves of hair.

"There's my little liar," He said, his voice husky and low in pitch. He twirled a lock of her hair in his finger. "Making trouble where she goes, yeah?"

"Where to now, sir?!" The coachmen yelled in his rural vernacular. Neil was going to tip him generously, if for nothing else than quick, quiet service.

"Take the lady and I to the river by the docks, mein Herr." Neil called back, eyes not leaving Emmaline's. "We'll walk the veranda and you can take the rest of the night off."

The minutes rolled by as the coach teetered and tottered amongst the stone work, Neil teasing Emmaline and giving her small kisses, strong hands grabbing her just gently enough to keep her wanting more. At first it was to distract her of her fears, but soon he found it was a good way for him to do the same, and he almost didn't want to get out of the coach when the fellow halted and opened the door. Neil took his cloak back, if for no reason than to hide what had woken up below the belt. Even with that, he helped her down like a gentleman, hand outstretched and head bowed.

The coachman received three gold krowns as a bonus, laughing with glee and bidding the two farewell as they walked into the misty night, toward the boat that would bring them over to Aver Island and what had now become 'home' once more. Once they were alone, Neil knelt down and sweeped Emmaline off her feet. Once she collected herself, she saw a flower between his teeth as if he had simply willed one to appear.

"Nice dinner, fine clothes, condemning blasphemers to torture by witch hunters? Good date, right?" He asked her, eyebrows wiggling. "Not that it's done yet."

[Penny]

The warmth of late spring sunlight woke Emmaline in a series of twitches. Eventually the gentle pounding in her head overcame her natural reluctance to open her eyes and she crawled out from under the covers long enough to snatch a jug of wine from beside the bed and down half of it in a series of swallows. That accomplished she took the water pitcher and filled the wine bottle back up, diluting the thick resinous vintage. She settled back the ache in her head fading from the fresh infusion of alcohol. It was several hours after dawn already but she didn't have anything more pressing to do than ponder the results of a night spent over imbibing as she sipped watered wine from the neck of the clay bottle. There were other more pleasant aches as well making her smile and glance at Neil's slumbering form. Pulling herself physically out of bed she half stumbled half crawled across to the wooden tub that served as the bath and wash tub. A slight sheen on the surface indicated the water had been used one too many times. Emmaline muttered a spell in the cracking language of spell craft and then plunged her fist into the water. It cleared instantly becoming pure. Without further delay she plunged herself into the tub with a splash, gasping at the icy temperature that had lingered over night. A second spell and the water warmed to near scalding, a pall of steam rising from the surface as Emmaline plunged herself under once again. As usual the combination of sudden cold with sudden heat purged her of the worst effects of the night. There were still a few sore spots where she had scraped herself in the abortive robbery but the water was rejuvenating in more ways than one. The cuts closed as the minutes passed and the bruises faded. Emmaline's command of her abilities was haphazard but she had been in the Tower long enough to work a few charms. She made the usual promises to actually study the next time she had the leisure and then lay back, breathing out a long breath which carried away the final impurities of the night.

Neil stirred from beneath the covers, looking considerably less worse for wear than Emmaline had felt. He looked over at her and the steaming bath tub suspiciously. She shrugged her shoulders and began running a wooden comb through her hair. Restorative the effects of the bath might be, but they didn't extend to removing knots from her hair. The various hair musing activities of the previous night demanded some attention before she would be presentable to go out in public.

"You're up early," Neil murmered pressing himself up out of bed and casting around for his garments.

"It's nearly noon ja?" she asked, her Altdorf accent emerging to clip the end of her sentence. Neil shrugged, he had spent years as an apprentice engineer but for the first time his day was his own.

"I suppose..." he paused and sniffed at the air. Emmaline paused in mid stroke unsure what this portended.

"Something's burning," he said after a moment. Emmaline giggled.

"They probably set off a thousand pounds of gunpowder just last night," she pointed out. Neil smirked as he pulled on his shirt, covering his abs most regretabley.

"More," he admitted, "but its not powder, not cookfires either." Emmaline supposed that he probably knew enough about the city or combustion or both to know.

"You think the city is on fire?" she asked, genuinely alarmed. Fire was, literally, the great leveler when it came to urban life. Great blazes could spring up in minutes, incinerating hundreds or thousands of structures before they were checked.

"Something is... you don't think..."

____________

A half hour later they stood across the plaza from the towering inferno that had been a noble manor the night before. A chain of men were passing buckets up from the river and tossing it on the blaze. A group of bare chested dwarves had some kind of engine that was fed by copper pipework that ran all the way down to the river. The dwarves pumped furiously on a see-saw like lever, each compressing vomiting out quantities of water that, no pun intended, dwarfed the bucket brigade. Before the burning building stood the sinister form of a Witch Hunter. He held a hammer in one hand and a sword in the other as he harraunged the onlookers.

"...And so is Chaos always met by the strong of heart! With fire and with faith!" Emmaline made the sign of the hammer with the rest of the crowd. Pleased to be able to blend in, and pleased that she had dressed simply in a cream top with green corset and a skirt. This was no time to attract attention.

"... The foul denizens who lurked within this place thought that their wealth would protect them, but Sigmar sees the soul, not the purse!"

"... by his Holy name I have cast them into the fire that rages more eternally than any flame that burns here, into a pit deeper than any gravedigger could excavate! Sigmar, blessed be his name is..." Whatever Sigmar was was lost in a sudden rending crash as the building collapsed in a spray of ash and cinders. The Witch Hunter, to his credit, didn't flinch or even react, merely continued his litany as a storm of sparks raged around him.

"The God King is ever..." THere was a sudden chilling sensation and the flames turned a lurid shade of blue and began to twist in unnatural sinuous shapes.

"Magic!" Emmaline exclaimed.

"Yeah, we had already figured that out Em," Neil responded dryly, reaching for something in his coat. With shrilling cries burning shapes lurched out of the blaze. They looked like beastmen save that flame seemed to drip from them like candles cast into a fire. The burning beasts charged at the crowd, howling and brandishing flaming weapons. For all the fire that covered them their muscles and bones didn't seem to burn away. With commendable skill the Witch Hunter pivoted and smashed in the skull of the closest attacker with the hammer. Golden light exploded from the blow and flung the body back into the flames. His rapier slashed out at another cutting ineffectually. The crowd which had been gawking a moment ago was screaming in terror and rushing away now, bodies packing into the platz' few exits. One of the flaming beast men leaped into the fleeing civilians cutting down a pair with the swipe of a great scythe. Guns cracked, though they were as likely aimed at clearing a way through the panicked
crowd as at the hell borne attackers.

"This isn't good," Emmaline whined.

"Yeah we figured that out too Em," Neil replied dryly.

[POOHEAD189]

The chaos of the situation was mounting. Neil doubted they were unlimited in capacity or number, but as the beastmen that dripped flame continued to stream out of the collapsed heap of the building, he was justly concerned for the people in the near vicinity. They screamed in a wild, haunting manner as they raised black iron axes, eviscerating men and women. Dozens of commoners were burned or cut down, and even a noble with cavaliers flanking him was overrun. Three brawny mutants with flame-flecked lips brayed and leaped like mountain goats, bowling the men over and burning them to death even as they hacked their bodies apart, their iron weapons clipping the stone, parting the blood smears.

Emmaline back up a step, arm up as if to shield herself from the reality of the situation. She turned around, eyes wandering hurriedly to find Neil before she realized he was still right beside her.

"Neil, we should go." She advised him, putting a dainty hand on his arm. He didn't say a word in response. Instead he methodically loaded his custom-built black powder pistol. What guards there were within a mile began to hurry over. Some held shields emblazoned with Emmanuele's house symbol, but most had the famous Nuln-forged Halberds. They were given pause when they saw the flame radiating off them and the mutilated corpses burnt in the street, but most held their ground and made a quick formation.

"Last night was great." Neil muttered to himself, venting. "Fucked all night, had a good morning, the world felt like it was sunshine and happiness. Beautiful girlfriend, graduated as an engineer. Then this fucking place burns to the ground and we're getting fucked over by beastman? Can't I just have a good time and let it lag before we get the shit end of the stick? Is that too much to ask?"

"Neil?" Emmaline asked, bit more worriedly. She glanced left and right, from the struggle of the beastmen to Neil calmly loading his gun. "Let's go!"

"Em, please." He told her, finally meeting her in the eyes. "We'll go back as soon as we're done here. But do me a favor real quick." The scoundrel handed her his gun, letting her take it in her hands awkwardly as he took out a long knife from within his left sock. There were still a few casualties to be butchered before the beastmen not engaged with the guards would get to them, but the line of civilians was thinning. "Change the iron bullet in the gun to silver, please? Or bronze, maybe. Tin might even work. Wait, no no. Silver."

When she looked at him blankly, he just smiled and said. "Trust me."