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    1. Blueskin 7 yrs ago

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Fair enough! Just the same, I'll share a little wip profile for you to take a gander at, but if you'd prefer I'd be happy to come up with something a little more traditionally local!

"Thinlings came in great wheel huts...We ate them and took the shiny things...
They gave us small metal suns...Bad to eat but good for trade...
The tribes grew and grew too much...Now we follow the sun once more..."
—The Saga of the Ogres, as interpreted by Yohan the Honest (declared eaten)



Howdy! Is this thing still on? Sounds like great fun, was thinking of making an Ogre tribe in the mountains there!
Sorry for my inactivity guys, I am up to my ears in Covid-19 meetings right now.


Tell me about it! Work has been rather interesting and only one topic.

That said, it’s been 11 days and isolation is good for writing. Presumably we can keep posting at each other a bit?
Likewise!
As Roderick spent time with the local clergy, Brandt had settled their accounts at the in an wrangled some extra supplies for the pair. It was an unspoken arrangement that Brandt was more than happy with. The way he saw it, his slightly increased contribution towards their kit and their food was easily offset by the contributions Roderick made to the War Gods church, and by extent, their favour in Sigmar’s eyes. The balance had worked well so far. Brandt also tended to use that time to chase skirts if the opportunity arose, as the sort of women he usually flirted with always became sudden saints when his partner was around; fussing with their hair and smoothing their skirts. His efforts came to naught however, for it seemed in this unhappy town he was just a stranger and ill omened outsider. A reminder of their hardships.

When they set out with, Brandt had claimed the back of one of the pack animals for he and Roderick’s gear, happy to be able to travel light. In truth, he’d never sat astride and animal in his life, though he’d driven a cart a handful of times. Feet on the ground, that was the way forward.

The party wasn’t particularly chatty at first, and that was fine enough at first. Brandt’s mind turned back to the mayor, his office, and the immense sword hung on the wall. It was a truly fine weapon. His own was of good quality, with small embellishments of brass wire on the grip, and finely wrought quillons and pommel. He could probably make better, but had never had the heart to take it apart. It had been a gift from a dying companion - not a friend, exactly, but a fellow survivor. That is, until he wasn’t. The blade, however, was a work of great craftsmanship. The subtle even curves of the flamberge were regular and the steel was excellent.

Alvin interrupted Brandt’s daydreaming with a treat, which Brandt accepted with a happy “thank you.” It was tough as a root, but the flavour was good, and the blacksmith-turned-mercenary happily cheers away, returning his thoughts to that mighty sword, and then to the man that owned it…

As the halfling wandered off with his hound, Brandt finally managed to swallow enough of the jerky to be able to speak, admittedly with his mouth full. He addressed the party at large, guileless.

“Does anyone else think it’s strange that the mayor just paid us such a sum without doing a damn thing? Lesser men - and women - might be inclined to just saunter on down the road and leave that burg to its troubles. With a pouch significantly full of coin - gold, no less, proper gold - and our own wagon train even! Call that a job well done.

“With that sort of coffer,” Brandt continued, “Johanbock back there could pay a proper garrison of soldiers to keep his people safe, yet he’s turned to us rabble. It seems too good to be true, and I can’t help but feel we’ve been duped. Are we about to get bent over?”
Sorry team, been super busy at work this last week! I’ll try to remedy that in the next day or two
I’m rather busy this weekend but as Brandt will likely be very impressed by the sword on the wall, I can probably come up with an easy little post. Nobody need wait for it however
We’re going on an adventure!! :D
@The Wyrm Honestly not sure how Roderick could guess Beastmen from essentially nothing/no tangible clues, but I'll allow it anyway. I'll try to keep time in Schartenfeld down, so we meet them all the sooner.


Process of elimination as outlined in the post, seemed to make sense. The only likely baddies in the Old World who like capturing people are beastmen or cultists. Ogres would be less subtle, same as orcs, and nobody west of the mountains really knows about Chaos Dwarfs. o.o
Patience was not one of Brandt’s virtues. Certainly he was able to walk long distances without growing too bored, for there was nothing to be done and the view changed around every bend of the road. He could lie in wait for prey, or to avoid pursuit, for hours if need be, as there was a certain amount of excitement to that as well. The siege of Lorch had been mostly waiting, in fact. Brandt had taken well to the adventuring life, however, and was not so accustomed to waiting in an office. Or foyer? Maybe he could ask one of the Bretonnians what a foyer was if either of them decided to show.

Brandt felt a pop under his fingers. He’d been looking out the window, hand resting against the back of a well made leatherback chair, and had begun fiddling with the great brass upholstery pins. They were fine work, no mold lines from the casting process. One of them was a little loose, and for a while he was content to idly spin it. It had been worked loose without his realising, and come out. It’s absence would be quite conspicuous and Brandt froze, wondering if he could fit it back where it came from without Fancy Johan noticing.

The moment was saved by the robed sister who had been tending to the boy. Asthe three men turned to greet her, Brandt bowed, and stuffed the pin into a pouch at his belt.

“Sister,” he said awkwardly. She delivered her explanation of the boy. In truth the talk of cages and crows gave him the willies, but he’ refused to show it. “Bugger me, another Johan…”

“Bandits maybe?” he suggested. “With a crow banner. If the boys so hysterical he might’ve seen a plain red robin in the night for all we know, eh Roderick?”

The dwarf joined them then, and Brandt couldn’t hide his grin, his excitement for fighting next to one of the stout folk. Burundi discounted grobi, and the swordsman nodded..

“Aye, if that’s your word for greenskin, I’m inclined to agree. My spiritual companion and I have had to deal with them a few times, and capture doesn’t ever seem like their plan. What do you think, Roderick? Bandits, or some sort of foul witchery?”

A bit of cockiness came easily. He was going to get to fight beside a dwarf, and maybe even impress a lady! Schartenfeld was looking up, so long as he could survive the collections of Johan’s.
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