All was quiet in the town of Durburg. It was gone midnight, the inns had closed and the town gate had been locked. Four guards stood watch at the gate, double the amount that usually held that post. Ever since the recent ogre raids into the surrounding settlements, the mayor had demanded that security was tightened. If the ogres came here, the guards were instructed to blow on the horn of Durburg, an ancient artefact that had dwelled in the town ever since its official founding 200 years ago. The horn would awaken the town’s soldiery, who would rush to the walls to defend their homes. Durburg was prepared for war, but with the savage ogres in the vicinity many wondered if it would be enough. The mayor’s doubters criticised him for not sending a force into the ogre kingdoms to attempt to stem the tide. He however, denounced his critics, publicly stating that they didn’t understand how war worked and that a direct assault on the ogres would result in a huge backlash from the monsters. Behind the scenes, however, it was a very different story.

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Five figures sat around the mayor’s banquet table, watched over by one of the town’s few nobles. Two of the guests were dwarfs, of the slayer cult judging by the crests of orange hair upon their heads. One had a long beard flowing right down past his chainmail shirt, with blue tattoos and scars decorating his person. Two axes were rested at his side, the first containing common dwarfish runes, the second decorating with a dragon’s head. The other, surprisingly for a dwarf, had next to no beard, with merely a small amount of stubble decorating his chin. His orange hair hung down to his shoulder, seemingly trying to make up for his lack of facial hair. He had six throwing axes attached to his belt, and a much larger, more intricately designed great axe slung over his shoulder. This second dwarf was seemingly examining the first’s beard.

There were also humans sat around this table, three of them. The first, a Reiklander by his accent, was tall and athletic with pale skin. He wore a chainmail vest, a weathered steel breastplate, leather gauntlets and iron greaves. Next to his person sat a long, decorated sword and a war hatchet of iron. He seemed withdrawn from the others, barely speaking to his fellow humans and not at all to the slayers.

The second human was hugely contrasting to the first. He didn’t seem to be able to stop talking, and was telling the female next to him about the time he slayed a dragon. She nodded occasionally, but clearly wasn’t at all interested in what the man had to say. If he noticed he gave no indication. A cloak of far too many colours hung over his muscular shoulders, and a crossbow and dagger were clipped onto his belt. Long black hair covered his eyes.

The final human was a woman, a mage of the Amethyst College judging by her purple college robes and wooden staff. The staff was tipped by a golden serpent, containing an alluring purple gem. The mage herself was easily as beautiful as the gem, her strangely lavender-coloured eyes merely adding to her appeal. On her person she also carried an Arabian scimitar, as sharp as any blade in the mountain town. It was she who spoke up first:

“Would you care to explain why you’ve brought us here, noble?” she asked, somewhat impatiently but not unkindly.
“We’re still waiting for another,” the noble replied, before adding something rude about the unreliability of mercenaries under his breath. It was at that moment that the door swung open. A small greenskin strolled into the room, clad in tattered clothing that was nonetheless recognisable as that of the Empire. He leaned on a staff of bone, and his body was covered in tattoos of spiders. Close inspection would have showed that some of the tattoos were in fact living spiders. Although dressed as a man, the creature was undoubtedly a goblin.

“Foul Grobi!” the bearded slayer yelled, leaping to his feet. “I’ll have your head!” He ran across the banquet room, bellowing a battle cry. He drew his axes, charging towards the greenskin. He reached the goblin, and brought his axe down… the goblin was gone, magically transported to the other side of the hall.

“Ah, you must be the other wizard my informants were telling me about,” said the noble, as if finding a goblin in the banquet room was an everyday occurrence. “Do sit down, both of you.” The slayer, somewhat disgruntled, returned to his seat, the goblin choosing the stool furthest from the dwarfs.

“Good, we can begin.,” said the nobleman. “First, what are your names?”

OOC: Your turn :thumb:

"Rondis sir. Rondis Goobarrel. I´m quite surprised to be here, well you know I´m actually not very surprised ´cause I´m such a good fighter and all. Did you know I killed a dragon. I´ll tell you the tale. Well, it all started when I was looking for a good place to rest. I had found this lovely inn and next thing you know, this big man in this eery cloak comes out and..."

Having run out of air, Rondis took a deep breath to continue his story. Unfortunately he was rudely interupted by another mercenary.

"Skalf"

This was the only word to leave the dour dwarfs lips, too intent on the grobi. The dwarf axe lay across his knee, eyes remaining on the greenskin. Before it entered he had chance to look at the manlings and woman, not really impressed he wondered if any would even stand against an ogre.

He blatently ignored his fellow dawi, beardlessness even for a slayer. Skalf sighed.






KU

The mage watched with bemused intrest as the winds of magic swirled throughout the room, converging on both herself and the goblin. Between the braggart human, between the slayer dwarves, between the Greenskin... the journey would prove to be quite interesting.

"I am Sahra, and as you probably know noble..."

The candles which light the room suddenly dulled for a moment, blackening their surroundings. An eriee silence hung over the darkness that eveloped the room for a moment, before the candles suddenly issued forth light once again, revealing a slight smile on the face of the Arabian.

"... I am the Amethyst mage you hired."

Marius looked around. The strange, garrulous opening of the man on his left and the curt, growling interruption of the dwarf had left an awkward silence which the showboating of the mage had only served to enhance. He shifted in his seat, sitting straighter as he regarded the goblin with something between distrust and mild interest. He clearly wasn't going to make friends in this particular cadre of strangers - but then that had never been his speciality. He looked back at the noble.

"I am Marius Brossman."

"Er, Erik.."

Erik spoke, though nobody turned to look at him, perhaps he hadn't said it loud enough. He cleared his throat.

"Erik Stormbrows the name.." he repeated, slightly louder

He too then fell into a lapse of silence, one eye staring intently at the Goblin, it's use of magic almost as insulting as its very presence, the other fixed on the other Dwarf's beard. Skalf, he called himself. Even his name was enviable. Erik sighed, scratching for the hundreth time that day his stubbled beard, before hastily stopping in the fear it would attract attention to its disappearence.

Globrin twitched nervously. "I'm...ah...Globrin. Friend o' Spiders, an' now the rest of you as well!"

He glanced around at the group. A pair of dwarves and a trio of humans- none of whom seemed kindly disposed to the greenskin. "Maybe not friend then. But I can help, at least. See, I'm a shaman anna good one too. I'll help. I'll be useful. I'll...not get in the way, dwarves, I promise. I'll help and stay out of the way..."

He continued rambling, but it was clear that no-one was paying attention, and so he eventually stopped and waited for the mayor to speak. He stroked a fat spider while he waited, muttering about 'friends.'

"Good, good, so we're all here." The nobleman said, checking his list of names. "As you all know, you are here to be employed by our honourable mayor..."

"Where is he, then?" Marius interrupted. "Can't he be bothered to come? Typical noble." This clearly concerned the nobleman addressing them.

"Yes, well, quite." he mumbled, his air of confidence rapidly disappearing. Mercenaries often had this effect on him. He never knew what they would do next. "Anyway," he continued. "You are here to undertake a mission for our honourable mayor. The payment will be four hundred reiksmarks, divided between you once you succeed, plus 75 each before you depart. Anyone who has no intention of doing so may leave now." He paused, but none moved. "Good, then I can detail the work. As you all know, our town of Durburg is located on the edge of the ogre kingdoms. This has never been much of a problem in the past, with nothing but a few minor skirmishes and raids to speak of. In recent weeks, however, the ogres have been out of control. They have destroyed all of our surrounding settlements utterly. Farms, hamlets, even villages have been razed to the ground, with no known survivors. After the first few attacks, we decided to investigate. Fifteen dwarfen gyrocopters were hired to undertake the work. They patrolled the countryside, looking for signs of the ogres. Three times they witnessed the hordes of monsters attacking, and three times they saw the townspeople murdered to a man, woman and child. Three times." He let the words sink in. "Every time, however, there was one link, other than the fact that they were ogres. There was one, clearly the alpha male, who stood a full head and shoulders above the rest. A jet black amulet hung from his neck, which shimmered with dark power. They say this ogre fought like a daemon. None could stand in his path." The noble looked out across the room; he had their total attention now. The slayers in particular were fascinated. "After the most recent assualt, the gyrocopters followed the ogres back into their foul kingdom. They crossed the river Ruin, and headed across the mountains. The gyrocopters followed for days, from a distance so as not to be seen, until the ogres stopped at a comparitively flat area littered with ruins. My historians tell me these were the ancient giant lands. Here the ogres remained until they spotted our hired wings. All but one of the gyrocopters were downed by their crude cannons and magic, and the only remaining pilot died after recounting his tale." The dwarfs looked particularly saddened at this news. "Your mission is simple. I want the alpha male's head hanging above my desk. It is the opinion of the mayor and myself that if we kill the alpha male the attacks will stop. That is your mission."

Erik was the next to speak up. "Where do we go, manling?"

"Our finest cartographers have prepared a map." He rolled it out onto the table.

"As you can see, this is Durburg. You have two possible routes. The first is to head up the river Ruin by boat - which will be provided - then through the caves to the ancient giant lands. The second takes you across the river and up the mountain path. This is a far more perilous route, as it passes through the citadel of the dark dwarfs. You will know these as chaos dwarfs, but we prefer not to write that evil word here in Durburg. The second route is more dangerous, but no doubt faster. The decision is yours. The fate of Durburg rests in your hands."

"About these caves," muttered Erik. "What are they like? Were they fashioned by dwarves? Or by Skaven and the like...? I wouldn't feel comfortable travelling in anything not done by our.."

He risked a glance at Skalf,

"...kinsfolk. Might fall down on us otherwise."

The nobleman spoke up. "Centuries ago, as I'm sure you know, the kingdoms of the dwarfs spread far across the world. It is believed that they once held residence in this part of the world, and my historians are of the opinion that the caves were once dwarfish work. However, the rat-folk and..." he glanced over at Globrin, "greenskins have inhabitted and expanded them, so some sections may be safer than others."

"As long as we stick to the Dwarvish parts, and it'll be obvious by the craftmanship,"

He winked at Skalf. Perhaps he was trying to hard with him, he should probably back off.

"...then I'm for going through the caves. It'll be nice to be back underground, and I havn't killed a skaven in days."


Erik waited nervously for everyone's reply, drumming his fingers on the side his chair. Would they say something about his imbaressingly short beard?

"I have no intent to travel through an area that is infested by Chaos knowingly. And if speed is not our objective, I see no reason to take a route that will be more dangerous. But, in the end, I suppose I will take the path the rest of you take."

Sahra smiled warmly as she looked around the room, taking better note of her companions. A strong balance- plenty of warriors who were accustomed to the rigours of melee fighting, two Dwarves and a human Swordsman. Then there was the warrior- Rondis- with the crossbow; he would serve as a ranged warrior. Lastly there was herself and the Goblin, both mages. These would be her comrades for the next few weeks... and she hoped they could contain their own hatred toward one another.

Globrin shrugged, "I know nothing 'bout caves. If the dwarves here think the caves are safer, then the caves are safe. Dwarves know caves. But I thinks that going near the fort of the slaver-dwarves is a bad idea. Many kin suffer under their whips- we don't want that for us, nope."

"Let's go up the river. I likes rivers. Swamps are better, but rivers are nice and wet. Lots of spiders," the little greenskin finished, grinning.

"If the grobi suggests river, I say caves. As said our race knows the underground better than any other, if t'was dwarven made then it'll still be safe and standing. Besides I fear no grobi or rat."


Nor the dark kin of ours

Skalf's words were said slowly but with the harshness of the dwarven voice it was hard to tell if he meant anything towards the greenskin sat at the table.



KU

Marius looked down at the map, silent while the others spoke. He looked up again.
"I suggest the second route. While the caves may be suitable for our dwarf friends, I do not doubt they are equally dangerous to us if they have - natives. Humans were never very good at seeing in the dark, and it seems this cave system traverses two peaks. We would need a packhorse to carry all the torches."

"I know nothing of Chaos Dwarves," said Marius, "but the second part of their name seems to imply to me that they are slow. Easy to avoid." He leant back, the ghost of a smile on his face. "With a castle on the peaks, you can see it and move around it. In the darkness of a cave network, the... goblins or what have you, could be breathing down your neck and you wouldn't notice it."

He paused, as if listening, before speaking again.

"The route seems to me faster, and I'm sure we three," - he gestured to the humans - "will be far less of a hindrance in the open air. Besides, I am sure our dwarven friends would not particularly enjoy a journey by boat."

He fell silent.

Liar, muttered his hindbrain. You read enough of them in Altdorf. The books in the cellars. "Dwarves of the Place of Fire".
How long do you suppose these red-crested thugs would let me live if they knew that? Or that sorceress? You did hear her? Dissimulation is necessary here.
The thought, a troubling, niggling presence that had dwindled over the years, sulked.
You are not Dietrich Brossman's son.
I understood that when he told me himself. Shut up.
It did. Of this internal exchange, not a speck of emotion showed on Marius' face.

Throughout the entire conversation Rondis has been mumbling under his breath. Now, without warning he spoke up.

"I say we go through the mountains. I went through a cave once and it wasn't nice. I had to kill at least forty of them! They came from every direction but I managed to kill them all!"

More words were tumbling from his mouth, like water from a waterfall but none of the warriors listened anymore. Rondis had said his share and was already blocked out of the conversation.

Erik Scowled at Marius in response to his comment about the speed of dwarves.

"Just because dwarves can't quite run as fast as a human, doesn't mean that in unfamiliar land, they can't outmanoever you. You see a castle on a mountain top, you can betcha they've seen you. Within a day you'll be ambushed by a score times your number. Surrounded.."

Erik thought back to the day he took the slayer oath as he let his comment sink in. He had no intent to relive that kind of experience again.


Looking over at Rondis, Erik grinned
"You should have no trouble in the caves then."

Audibly gulping Rondis shot the Dwarf a weak smile. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his ale (we do have ale don't we?). Taking a very big gulp, Rondis replyed the Dwarf.

"Aye, I fought them but I don't feel like doing it again. Their faces, I can still see them. The foul stench of them as they slowly burned......"

Taking another gulp, Rondis launched hismelf into another unbelievable story about a were-wolf he had once met and killed with his bare hands.

"Scared of the dark manling?" a dark chuckle spilt from Skalf's lips.

"Bah! I fear nothing of the dark, or those who dwell within it. I just hope their's enough." His eyes flickered from the manling Marius to the filthy grobi close by.


KU

"I'm scared o' the dark. There's bad things underground, I've heard. Lots of 'em. Little mutant things, dedicated to bad gods. But I still think we should go via the river, then underground. I can be helpful on river, dwarves good underground! We win both ways."

"If we go near the castle, we risk being dead. Then we help no-one and get no gold. Might be quicker, but we might be dead."

Globrin nods a few times. "River-and-caves are bestest."

OOC: Make a decision, guys, then we can get on with the exciting part.

"Very well, then," said Marius, apparently unperturbed. "Caves it is, if the majority wills it so."

"Right den, glad thats settled." Erik turned to the nobleman.

"Anything else, or shall we just get to it? We'll need supplies though.."

Eying the Dwarf, Slaf, Skaf, Salf, what was his name.....ah yes Skalf, Rondis quickly finished his ale. Apparently none of his comanions were interested in listening to his fine tales of glory. Noticing his purse to be rather empty, Rondis found himself asking a reasonable question instead of blabbering nonsense.

"What about payment? I ain't fighting no Giants and Dragons without a good filled purse."

"Of course, the money. As I said, you'll get 400 reiksmarks divided between you when you succeed, and 75 reiksmarks each now." The nobleman placed six bags of gold on the table, one for each mercenary.

"My, my, look at the time! We've been chattering away for hours! It's seven o'clock in the morning! That's good, the shops will be beginning to open. No doubt you'll want to stock up on various things before your quest begins. Here in Durburg we have an armoury, an inn, a food store and - ahem - a brothel for your needs. Also, feel free to visit the town wall and speak to the guards, they'll be happy to share some pearls of wisdom. The boat will leave to carry you up the river at dawn tommorrow, so make sure you don't miss it."

OOC: Post where you want to go, and what you want to do (brothel, teehee...) then I'll "take you there".

Marius looked at the man. He spoke a if he was nervous - perhaps the journey they were set was more dangerous than the fellow was comfortable with. Moving his eyes aside before the man could notice he was being stared at, the Reiklander stood, picking up his share of the gold.

"I'll get us some provisions. I doubt there's much worth learning about ogres, even from the guards."

Skalf decided the inn be the best place to waste his time.

"Lets hope they have some decent ale here, not the piss weak stuff manlings call ale" he grumbled under his breath.


KU

"As much as I appreciate it Marius, I doubt you'll be able to get provisions for everyone. I'll come too, if you dont mind. You get the manlings food, I'll get the dwarves'. He can get his own."

Erik gestured to Globrin, before grabbing his own gold, pushing back his seat and preparing to follow Marius out.



OOC I'll also want to go to the armoury afterwords. Find some armour, a helm perhaps. Sharpen my axes etc...

Considering for a moment following the other two to purchase her own provisions, Sahra decided they would be better left to their own devices. She could go later if it was required.

"Tell me noble, do you have any mages in your town that would be able to sell be certain items to me? Perhaps there would be some at the inn?"

OOC: I'll wait for Benedictus and Tsunami so I can deal with each of your individual actions in the town in one post. Makes it easier for me. :thumb:

Rondis looked around him, slipped out the door and headed for the nearest inn where he could share his tales and drink his ale in peace.

Globrin shrugged and headed out the door to get some provisions.

[OOC: I'm not a huge fan of wasting time on these little pre-adventure bits. Feel free to assume I get myself food/proper bedding/etc. I'm not asking the guards anything....the mission's pretty clear to me.]

Marius and Erik
"Welcome to the store!" the plump merchant called from behind the counter, seemingly undaunted by a slayer and . "How may I help you?"

"We're stocking up on food for a little trip we're taking." Erik replied. "We need to feed five for a few weeks."

"Five of you, you say? Where exactly are you going?"

"That's private." Marius snapped. "Have you got any food or not?"

"Yes, certainly. Tell me, does your quest involve the ogres?" asked the merchant.

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Sahra
"A wizard? I don't know of one living here in Durburg, but whenever the great caravans hire mercenaries they recruit them from the inn. I'd say that's your best bet. Or you could try the guards. They're supposed to keep records of everyone who's entered or departed this town."
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Skalf and Rondis
The inn was loud and warm. Mercenaries sat all around, drinking, trading weapons, gambling and telling the tales of their last adventure. In one corner sat seven former soldiers of the Empire, still wearing their uniform. Deserters, Skalf thought. In the next corner there was a group of Tileans, seemingly just back from a job judging by the gold they were flinging around. In the third corner sat a dwarf, his beard long and grey. His handgun sat in his lap, ready to fire at a second's notice. He was glaring at the occupants of the final corner - two ogres. They, however, didn't seem bothered about him. They looked far more civilised than the ogres that Rondis had heard about in tales as a child. They wore a bizaar mix of clothes from all around the world: imperial leather armour on their arms, and Cathayan silks among other things.
********************************************************************
OOC: You all have options now. Just RP what you're doing e.g. going to order a drink, questionning someone, going somewhere else.

Skalf looked around the inn, a pathetic bunch of manlings sat around drink and singing. Cautiously he eyed the large ogres drinking as he made his way to the bar

"Bartender!" he barked

"What ale you got? Anything decent? Bugmans XXXXXX preferably, otherwise the strong ale you have"

Glancing round he looked at the lone dwarf.

I though only me and the beardless one were the only dawi here.


[OOC - Skalf's going to get the strongest drink possible, at least 5 tankards and join the lone dwarf for a chat.]


KU

"You want Dwarf ale?" the bartender replied. "That'll cost you. It's hard getting decent beer around here, it all comes from the damn merchants and they charge a fortune. Anyway, I've got some of ol' Thorri Gimlisson's best. 3 reiksmarks a tankard." Skalf slid 15 marks over the bar.

"Keep it coming all day." the slayer proclaimed. Lifting his first tankard, Skalf strolled over towards the other dwarf.

Globrin
As the others went their separate ways to drink themselves silly or stock up on weapons, Globrin headed off to find some of his kind. Goblins really weren't that uncommon in this part of the world - most merchant caravans were willing to hire any mercenary that could help their cause, human or not, so Globrin was quite hopeful. Soon enough, he found another greenskin, rummaging through the bins at the back of the inn. To the untrained eye it was another goblin, but Globrin knew better. The greenskin was a gnoblar, one of the runtish pet race of the ogres.

OOC: Ask him whatever you want.

In the food store, the atmosphere was hotting up.

"Didn't you hear the good manling? It's private," snapped Erik, impatiently."Just give us some food, and hurry up about it."

Erik took out his purse of Gold.

"The others better pay up after this," he joked, trying to ease the tension between himself and the human.

--------------------------------------

EDIT: Spelling. and OOC: Goblit, after purchasing food take me straight off to the armoury, see if theres some cheap mail or something.

Erik and Marius
"Holy sigmar, I was just trying to make conversation. Anyway, here's some food. It should be enough to keep your group going for a while." The merchant placed two sacks of food on the counter. "There's a lot in there - I want ten marks per bag."

Erik handed over ten gold pieces, grabbed a sack and began to walk off. "If anyone needs me I'll be at the armoury."

The merchant then turned to Marius. "What about you, friend? Care to take this other sack off my hands?"

Erik
Erik left the store then strolled down the road to the armoury. He entered and looked around.

"Hail, fellow dawi!" said the dwarf behind the counter. "Welcome to the Durburg armoury! It's mostly manling-forged, I'm afraid, but I can adjust it so it fits you. Take a look around."

OOC: You find:

• Bow - 10RM
• Crossbow - 25RM
• Crossbow pistol - 25RM
• Hammer, mace or club - 3RM
• Axe - 5RM
• Sword - 10RM
• Great Weapon - 15RM
• Light Armour - 20RM
• Heavy Armour - 50RM
• Shield - 5RM
• Helmet - 10RM

Eriks face cracked into a huge grin as he saw the dwarf behind the counter. It was a long time since a dwarf had greeted him like this, most being cold and heartless, or even ignoring him on account of his lack of beard.

"Alright there!" Erik greeted the dwarf smith warmly. "Must be tough running an armoury in this place," Erik mused.

He hefted a helm, open face unfortunately and placed it on his head. Though it wouldn't cover his beard, it would be good protection nonetheless. "I'll have this. Though I think ten marks is a bit steep, dont you? Seven for a fellow dawi and we have a deal."

Lifting up a light mail shirt (light armour) Erik was surprised to see it flop round his ankles. "You said you could make adjustments?"

Erik paid for the two items, and decided to stick around. It was nice talking to a dwarf whos eyes didn't drift constantly towards his beardless chin, and soon Erik was spilling the story of his shaving to the sympathetic dwarf smith.


OOC: Eriks money at 75 - 10(food) - 10/7(helm) - 20(LA) = 35/38

"Aye, tis a sad tale," the smith said, removing links from the chainmail. "I couldn't live without my beard. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge you the full ten marks for the helmet, though. It could save your life if you get clubbed by an orc."

Rondis
Rondis strutted up to the bar, and called the bartender over. "Hail, friend." the teenager said. "One pint of your finest ale please. None of that dwarf stuff, mind you, I might end up doing something dangerous. There's a story behind that, actually. There was this one time, when I was dining with the High King of the dwarfs, I had a bit much to drink..." Rondis launched off into a long tale ending in him slaying a giant and marrying the daughter of the King of Bretonnia.