1st Day ~ Noon:

In the Mercantile District

You walk through the streets of Altdorf, the Jewel of the Empire, the gleaming flagstone streets wind through the Mercantile Section of the city. You gaze at the hand painted signs depicting every good or service imaginable. At measured intervals there are breaks in the shops leading to back alleys whose cobblestone and filth contrast sharply with the gleaming street you’re walking on. Suddenly you feel the gentlest pull at your garment you turn to find an old woman dressed in the garb of nobility.

She hands you a fine piece of parchment and says, “Tell no one of the message contained within.”

She then turns and walks away quickly getting lost in the crowd.

The message reads in Gilded Flowing Hand:

You have been invited to Count Handrake's Manor, The Long Orchard, to discus a business proposition. Your superior or superiors if needed have been notified of your engagement. Meet at the front gate at ten tonight.

(OOC: One reply or one day whichever comes first feel free to describe what you do with the remaining ten hours and/or how you react to the message)

Cal'Adaith raised an eyebrow, staring at the wrinkled parchment in his hand with well-concealed astonishment, but by the time he managed to find the words to ask a question, the mysterious woman had disappeared. Strange. He had never liked surprises, even when they were good. And he had no idea whether this one was good or bad. He would have to find out this evening, at ten o'clock... Weird, how quickly a day could take a different direction.

He had just gone to buy a few books and some ingredients for potions, and suddenly he found himself with a meeting with a count... How did the old woman recognize him, anyway, with the hood he wore on his head to hide his pointy Elven ears?

He hoped this meeting with Count Handrake would not lead him into an adventure. His travel to study in the Empire was enough of an adventure for a century or two.


OOC: Cal will buy a few supplies and books until four o'clock, then come back to his school of magic to study alone in the depths of some dimly-lit vault.

.

Urthan raises an eyebrow as the lady hands him the invitation. He had only been in the city for a short while. Assigned to protect an Ulrican priest, he had been without work since his charge reached the safety of the local church.

The past few days have been spent in scouring the city, and amazing himself at the sights it had to offer. He could clearly remember the awe he felt when first visiting Middenheim. He hadn't thought it possible that any city could be larger than that. He was wrong. Altdorf was everything people said about it, and more. He had been wandering around for days, and still kept seeing new sights.

So he wasn't completely surprised when he was approached; after all, anything was possible in Altdorf. And with his tall build and wild beard, he clearly stood out. Even in this crowd he was easily recognisable as one of Ulric's finest, in a city dominated by Sigmarite worshippers.


OOC: Urthan will spend the rest of the day going to pubs and rumourmongers, trying to uncover some information about this count.

Bjorn frowned as the woman disappeared into the crowd. He felt dismayed to see that politics had catch up with him. Why else would a count invite a Priest of Sigmar to his Manor? But there was nothing he could do about this, his superiors had already agreed with this. He raised his warhammer onto his right shoulder and grinned to the prospect to a decent evening dinner at Handrake's Manor when he arrives there at five.

(OOC: Bjorn 'll go to his superiors at the Sigmar Temple in Aldorf and ask why he is invited to Handrake's Manor and who he is.)

EDIT:
(OOC: Then Bjorn 'll go to the Manor around five.)

Graedar looked at the piece of paper in his hands. He quickly turned back to the woman who gave it to him.

"Madam, excuse me I can't read this!" he exclaimed. But it was too late, she had allready slinked back into the crowd. He looked back to the paper and asked a local man what it said.

"My My," said the man after finishing reading the letter outloud. "A meeting with the Count, you must have something important about you for such an honor."

The dwarf shook his head, "Not at all." He then remebered what the old woman had said. "Could I offer you a drink?" Graedar reached for a flask on his belt, and let the man take a swig.

"Why thank you, what was that exactly?"

"Well, its an ancient dwarven mix of mushrooms and ales. It has one special property though, the drinker forgets anything they learnt in the last, ohh.. maybe 5 minutes, seeing as how much you drunk."

"Hold on, why am I talking with you again master dwarf?"

"I was just asking directions for the Count's Manor, do you know where it is?"

"Just head straight up main road, that will get you there"

"Thank you sir. Good day." With that Graedar left the man standing in the middle of the road looking back at the dwarf, thinking there was something strange about the dwarf.

Graedar kept his thoughts to himself the rest of the day, and waited in his in room for ten o'clock to arrive.

(OOC: Sorry to keep nagging about this, but what about my stats and such?)

Vicente frowned as he look at the back of the messanger. He wasn't used to recieving messages like this. Usually they were delivered more discreetly.

Your superior or superiors if needed have been notified of your engagement...

Vicente had no idea who this count was or where he lived. It sounded like something he should pay attention to, however. He was always on the lookout for "business propositions."

"Best find out where this count lives...Excuse me, sir? Could you direct me please to the manor of Count Handrake?"

1st Day ~ Two in the Afternoon

At the Potion Shop:

Business had been extremely slow thus far and Lienz Hanran was just about to slip into a light sleep when the door to his potion shop slammed shut.

His eyes opened and he found himself eye to eye with an elf, but it was an elf he knew well. Or as well as any elf Lienz knew which is to say not very well. Perhaps its best to say Lienz saw him regularly, “Cal” as he was known because his full name was impossible to pronounce, shopped at the Blue Moon Potion Shop often.

“What are ye looking for this fine day Master Elf?” Lienz inquired after the elf.

In the mercantile district:

Urthan continued walking the streets after his encounter with the elderly woman looking for a decent place to find a brew. Happening upon a pub called the Wolf’s Howl he decided to see what lay inside.

Inside the pub was a disorderly mess of furniture.

“We had a bit brawl last night.” A bald man behind the counter stated in a way that seemed like this was an everyday occurrence. “A bit early for a beer though, haven't got the day's shipment. What can I help ye with?”

The Grand Aldorf Sigmar Cathedral

Bjorn always loved turning the corner into the main Cathedral grounds. Despite putting the fear of Sigmar into the average parishioner, to Bjorn it was a physical representation of the Empire reverence for the one true god, Sigmar. It was powerful and awe inspiring just as Sigmar was. It was a prayer given form.

Opening the side entrance doors used by his fellow priests Bjorn entered the cloister. He followed the long winding corridors through the large stone building stopping finally at the door of Monsignor Heimlich.

Knocking three times as is custom Bjorn heard from inside, “Please come in.”

Upon entering Bjorn saw the Monsignor hunched over some ancient text.

“What can I do for you Bjorn?” the Monsignor continued.

At The Long Orchard:

Sergeant Gruenberg had only been posted by the city guard captain at the residence of Count Handrake yesterday. Evidently the last guard of the manor went missing,

“Probably deserted” mused the sergeant.

Lost in his thoughts and unprepared, Sergeant Gruenberg turned back towards the gate to find a stranger there.

“State your business!” Sergeant Gruenberg exclaimed trying to cover his obvious surprise at the man he now found at his gate.

“My name is Vicente. I am here at Count Handrake’s request.” The man claiming to be Vincente handed over an official looking document that clearly spoke to a meeting at ten later that evening.

“Well best ye come back later the count’s not to be bothered now.” Sergeant Gruenberg stated as he returned the note and turned away.

At the Worn Barrel Inn

Graedar flopped down on his oak hewn bed. He felt at home in the dwarf quarter. The beds and tables fit better the beer richer and the food tastier, still Graedar had an itch, an itch for adventure that he still had not quite fully scratched. It was time to be on his way and it seemed like this count had some business for him. Perhaps it was for the best maybe he could leave the manling town and see more of this world.

(OOC: Feel free to post a few actions I think the next post will be at 10:00 pm when everyone meets at the The Long Orchard Manor.)

"Monsignor Heimlich" Bjorn said while he bowed his head. "I was given a message today by someone. It said I was to go to the manor of count Handrake. It said you agreed with this... I yust wanted to know what is so important that I go there? You know counts Monsignor, they're slimy eels following their own political agenda."

Urthan surveys the damage and shrugs his shoulders. "At least they didn't burn the place down."

"As you might have noticed, I'm new in town. It happens that I'm expected to attend to some nobleman's party tonight, but I haven't the faintest where the nobility lives in this town. Can you help me out with directions?"

"Good afternoon, herr Lienz," Cal'Adaith said, his Riekspel flowing beautifully with a slight musical accent. "I am out of powdered Snotling bones, Rhinox hair and dragon scales. I shall also have a little bit of warpstone and a pint of unicorn milk."

He paid his supplies. It was expensive, but his College paid all expenses related to his alchemy studies. He thanked the potion shop's owner and headed back to his favorite vault. He still had several spare hours and he was going to use them all.

(OOC: Quick update to keep on top of this)

1st Day ~ Half Past Two in the Afternoon

The Grand Aldorf Sigmar Cathedral

"I like you know full well that the Nobility are rarely noble. In this case the Count personally asked if you would be kind enough to hear his proposal though he wouldn't go into any great detail. I protested at first to which he assured me that your talents would be useful, that you wouldn't be a simple figurehead."

The elderly priest chuckled but soon his laughter turned to a hacking cough. Clearing his throat the Monsignor continued,

"He also mentioned that your assistance would provide to light of Sigmar to a place where it has been absent for sometime. With that the Count made a generous donation to the Order and left. Now I don't trust the Nobility any more than you but I wish you to be present as this is an opportunity at best to swing a supposedly influential noble to the light of Sigmar or at worst an opportunity to gather some information on this new venture to put to our use. I would like you to do as he says so long as it doesn't break any of your vows obviously."

With that the Monsignor gestured towards the door, "Now if you don't mind I must rest I am getting old you know."

A smile is all that the priest was able to get out before another series of hacking coughs overtook him.

In the mercantile district

"They probably would have burned it down if the night watch didn't step in, but what's done is done. I thought you might be new around here. We don't get many of your order in these parts but more in Altdorf then the rest of the Reik. And this bar is a popular spot for Ulric followers, so I wasn't sure. You have a meeting with that new count; you make friends fast and in high places. All I know about him is that he came from parts of unknown, he's wealthy, and a newcomer to the Altdorf political scene."

A hurried looking dwarf came bursting into the tavern with a huge cask of ale strapped to his back. " 'Ere's yer shipment, sorry I am late, damn busy outside."

The tavern keeper turned to the dwarf paying him in coinage and with that the dwarf turned and stiffly walked out.

“A beer on the house for the Order?” The tavernkeep asked turning back.

Cal'Adaith’s Vault

The door’s bolt magically locked behind Cal’Adaith and silence decended the doors of the college made a soundproof seal, the better for the mages study.

Cal’Adaith’s vault was located in the College of Life’s Quadrangle as it was thought to be more pleasing to the elven sense of architecture. It was handed down to him from its previous occupant, the elf that came before him. It was roughly leaf shaped with the point of the leaf pointed skywards and the fatter portion making up the floor. The walls were made of fine light colored wood as was the matching furniture. Books and bottles for potions were everywhere but with a certain organization and system.

Cal’Anaith walked to his desk placing his new potion ingredients above his desk on the proper shelves filling his inventory again.

Cal'Adaith prepared his alchemy set, gathered his ingredients and washed his hands. He also put a hourglass on the table: when he was concentrating on his work, hours or even days could pass without him even noticing, and he did not want to be late to his appointment.

Then he took his book of alchemy and opened it to the page of an extraordinarily complicated potion that had the power to momentarily increase a seer's ability to predict future. He himself was no seer, but he made this potion just because it was an interesting challenge. It could also be sold for a pretty good price, but he had no real need for money, contrarily to those humans who had yet to realize the unimportance of material things.

Cal took a Minotaur's horn and started to meticulously grind it into powder while the unicorn milk was boiling on the fire.

"A beer eh? Might as well. I still need to see my order and you can't walk on an empty stomach!"

Urthan downs his pint, savouring the flavour.

It aint dwarven, but still quite good.

After thanking the innkeeper profusively, he walks out of the Wolf's Howl and heads towards his chapter house.



OOC: Urthan will go and ask his superior officer about the mission and the count.

Vicente smiled indulgently at the guard.

"Perhaps I have not made myself clear. I have an appointment with the Count. If you could tell him that Vicente Valtieri is here, I would be most grateful."

Though Vicente was still smiling, the sparkle in his eyes died away and his words seemed more artificially saccharine.

"I'll leave you to your rest then Monsignor. I'll come back when I've more information."

Bjorn left the the Grand Aldorf Sigmar Cathedral behind him with one last look over his shoulder. So Heimlich had the same suspicions about nobility as he had. That was interesting.

(OOC: Bjorn 'll now go the Manor of teh Count.)

Vicente squinted at the guard, and, seeing no change in his stubborn expression, sighed inwardly.

"Well then. I suppose I shall come back later then. Good day."

With that, Vicente set off, back towards the city proper, to a certain inn in the southern district...

After a long time of meticulous work, Cal'Adaith glanced at his hourglass. The time for the appointment was near, but he was finished. The young Elf poured the lime-green potion into a small glass bottle and put it in a bucket full of water and ice cubes to cool it down. Time to prepare to go to the count's palace.

Cal quickly put on his most beautiful dark-blue robe and the chain he used as a belt, combed his unruly blond hair and went up the stairs.

1st Day ~ Ten at Night

The Long Orchard Manor

The gates of the Long Orchard Manor were shut tight silhouetted against the night sky. There was a light rain but nothing to uncomfortable considering it was a nice fall day. Waiting outside the gate was a strange sight: Three men who could not come from more different backgrounds judging from their dress a Priest of Sigmar, a Initiate to the Order of the White Wolf, and a Altdorf merchant. Even stranger, a elf and a dwarf rounded out the strange group. A passerby would hardly believe that such different men would share business let alone business with a dwarf and an elf!

A guard appeared out of the darkness, out of the guardhouse he withdrew a torch and lighting it he headed to the gate. Unlocking the gate he beckoned the group to follow saying, "Come with me if you please."

Following the guard towards the manor house the guard knocked on the door three times. "I am not allowed in please wait here." Opening the door as the guard rounded the side of the house a butler greeted the wet group. "Please come out of the rain I apologize for the weather. Follow me to the Billiard Room."

The entrance hall was immense several thousand taxidermies of multitudes of animals hung from the vaulted ceilings.

Turning left into the billiard room the group was confronted with hand carved wooed vaulted ceilings and red upholstered furniture. In the middle of the room a large billiard table dominates the room.

"Please make yourselves comfortable the master will be down in a moment. Feel free to get to know each other better, help yourselves to some cocktails, or play some billiards."

With that the butler withdrew closing the door behind him.

Cal'Adaith was a little puzzled. He had thought the count wanted to see him in private, but he had not expected to also meet a priest, a knight initiate, a richly-clothed man and... a Dwarf. The Elf's mood darkened. He did not like Dwarves. Blunt and stupid brutes, most of them. All the finesse and subtlety of a drunk Ogre.

He decided to ignore the Dwarf. With any luck, maybe the Dwarf would ignore him too. Cal nonchalantly walked to the cocktail and poured himself a glass, patiently waiting for someone to say something. He was not much of a talker.

Vicente squinted slightly, taking in all of his surroundings as well as his companions.

This count is obviously a man of means. Certainly not like some of the poorer nobles that I've seen, clinging to their titles like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. No, this will certainly pay well...

Vicente walked calmly over to a carafe filled with Tilean wine, pouring himself a glass and then settling into a plush chair. He smelled the wine, but did not seem too interested in drinking it.

Quite an eclectic mix we have here. They don't exactly look like nobility, but not he run-of-the-mill mercenaries either. At least one Sigmarite, if I'm not mistaken. And a knight of Ulric. At least you know where you stand with those types. Even if it is often on the wrong side. An elf, looks like a bit of a fop, but then again, so do they all. Elves are hard to read. Unlike dwarves. Stunted brutes though they may be, they're not as deep-contemplative as the elves. They don't act as if they're trying to solve the mysteries of the world.

Vicente's eyes moved from the glass of wine they had been staring into towards his companions. He smiled. It was difficult to tell if the smile was condescending or genuine, but there was something about his eyes and his smile that made his gaze difficult to hold.

"Good evening. My name is Vicente. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

There was just the slightest hint of his Tilean accent audible in his slow, carefully chosen words.

"May I have the pleasure of learning your names?"

Graedar gathered in his surroundings. The elf was already helping himself to the bar’s content, and one of the men was following suit. He walked over as well, seeing if he could find even remotely good ale.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found a barrel of Bagman’s ale. He poured himself a large mug, and let the delicious dwarven brew trickle down his throat. If there was one thing he missed about Karak Norn, it was the ale.

He didn’t know what to expect when he came to the gate of the Count’s manor, but he was surprised to see an elf. Questions were racing through his mind as he stood in the rain with the others. Why were they there? What was going to happen next? What had he been brought into? A voice brought him back to reality.

By the time he had his drink, the man who had got the wine was talking. “Good evening. My name is Vicente. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” The man was staring each of them down in turn as he spoke. "May I have the pleasure of learning your names?"

“Graedar Huglaekinson,” Graedar replied, locking his eyes with the man. He took a gulp from his beer and then turned his attention to the next speaker.

"call me Priest, and I'm here because I've heard some disturbing things about this group." Bjorn said with a firm voice filled with arrogance and contempt as he seddled down into a chair next to Vicente. After a few awkward moments Peotre started laughing, a loud and cheerful sound filled the Billiard Room.

"I'm sorry i could not resist. You can call me Bjorn, Vicente. Graedar Huglaekinson I'm honoured to have you here in our city, your kind has helped the Empire more then once throughout the history."

"I am called Cal'Adaith," said the Elf. "Most of my human friends call me Cal."

He emphasized on the word friends to make sure the others understood that they did not know him well enough to call him Cal yet.

He sipped some cocktail and added:
"Am I the only one in this room who does not have the faintest idea of why we have been summoned here?"

"Cal'Adaith" Bjorn stuttered, "Thats a mounth full isn't no wonder they call you Cal." Bjorn smiled friendly to the elf as he contiued. "I went to the Cathedral before I came here. Monsignor Heimlich thought it was important that i came here to see why we where summoned here. But he knew nothing more."

"You can call me Urthan" The barrel chested Ulrican said, working his way towards the barrel of Bugman's. Slowly drafting a pint of the dwarven ale, he took a sip and let the incredibly strong aroma linger in his mouth before swallowing it.

He could not repress a loud "ahhh" after his first sip.

"By Ulric's hammer, that tastes good."

"Master dwarf, I'm glad to have your kind here as well. You are helping me right now by having brewed this wonderfull ale."

The young Ulrican leans back and surveys his present company.

Now this is the oddest group I've seen together for a while. A dwarf who carries bottles which probably don't contain alcohol, a fancy dresser with shifty eyes, a poncy elf and a poncy Sigmarite. Correction, a BIG poncy Sigmarite.

Looking over the group, Urthan decided that he definitely was curious about their get together.

"I have no idea why I'm here. I was told to come here and not mention the visit to anybody."

Vicente gave his wine another deep sniff, still seemingly uninterested in its taste.

"You all are completely clueless as to why you were summoned here? How very odd."

Vicente's smile broadened ever so slightly, his dark, veiled eyes seeming to waken from their dormancy.

"Though the missive I received was hardly lengthy, I think I can guess why I have been asked here by the apparently illustrious duke."

"I, for one, have no idea," Cal admitted. "If he had needed only me, I'd have thought he wanted a wizard. But what do we have in common?"

He sipped some cocktail and asked:

"Why do you think we're here, sir...?"

Vicente turned to the elf adressing him."I never claimed I knew why we are here, though as you have made it abundantly clear, you posses magical talent, which is a commodity in and of itself."

Vicente's smile lessened a slight degree, his eyes hardening beneath his brow.

"Why I am here, well...my business, I'm afraid, master elf, is just that. My business. I am a merchant and I have traveled far in the interests of my profession. I daresay I have seen things that you have only dreamed of. I know why the count wants me here.”

Cal was a little annoyed by the man's slightly arrogant attitude, but he chose to pretend not noticing it. Instead, he politely asked:

"Do you think the count wishes to do business with you, noble merchant?"

.

Graedar stood near the keg, taking occasional swigs at his ale. What good was all this specualtion? It was obvious that the elf was to arrogant to accept that he wasn't the only one needed by the count, and the merchant wasn't going to reveal anything, his eyes told that much.

He reached the bottom of his mug, and went to refill it. Even though he didn't enjoy the elf's company, he was just as clueless. I hope that the count will just meet with us. I'd rather assault Karak Eight Peaks myself then have to listen to this elf's overbearing talking for much longer

As the dwarf walked over to refill his mug, Urthan held out his empty mug to him.

"Can you fill mine as well? A shame to waste it on the uninitiated."

Just great. The elf and the merchant are trying to outstage each other.

He ponders a second on his last thought, and voices his conclusions out loud:
"We do not know what we are here for, but it is safe to say that some possibilities are off. If you *nudging his head to vicente* are merchant. And you *indicating Cal* are a wizard, then we can be sure that this will be no enforcement duty."

"In fact, it appears that I am the only one here capable of wielding a hammer." He says, blatantly ignoring Bjorn.

"Did you yust openly insulted a warrior priest of Sigmar Urthan?" Bjorn replied without emotion at the same time he lifted his two handed warhammer from the ground. "Do you really think i would run around with this if I couldn't wield it Urthan? Are you that naïve boy?"

"Let's stay polite, gentlemen," Cal sighed in a pained voice, sensing violence in the air. "Please don't abuse the hospitality of the Count by fighting in his house."

He paused, then added:

"Where is he, by the way? I hope he won't keep us waiting."

"I wasn't planning to fight at all Cal'Adaith" Bjorn assured the elf. "But Urthan if you insult me again I will make shure you will never speak a foul word again."

"My, my, what a pent up agression. How much I would love to compare our martial prowess, the master elf is, off course, right. We are guests here, and it wouldn't do to come to blows before we even heard the proposition of our host."

"This isn't about pent up agression, white wolf, but about the principles of society. You can't just insult anyone you like and certainly not a priest."

"I wasn't planning to fight at all Cal'Adaith, But Urthan if you insult me again I will make shure you will never speak a foul word again."

This is getting ridiculous, thought Graedar. We aren't here for 5 minutes and they are allready at each other throats. But what can one do? They're humans. Once they get hold of a hammer, they think they're as powerful as Sigmar himself. The Ulric one isn't so bad though, atleast he understands real beer.

"My, my, what a pent up agression. How much I would love to compare our martial prowess, the master elf is, off course, right. We are guests here, and it wouldn't do to come to blows before we even heard the proposition of our host."

Graedar turned his attention towards the other human, Vicente. Now here's an intresting human. He has more up his sleeve then that mess he calls a crossbow, that's for sure.

And then there's the Elf. He took another swig from his beer as he moved his head. It wasnt that Graedar hated Elfs, it was that Dwarfs hated Elfs. Cal'Adaith! Next he will be wanting us to call him high mage of everything. Why trust magic, when you can do just the same things mundanely.

"This isn't about pent up agression, white wolf, but about the principles of society. You can't just insult anyone you like and certainly not a priest."

Graedar had had enough. "Will you two babes shut it? Or will I have to tan your bottoms?" He motioned with his mace. "Let's think for a moment. What do the lot of us have in common?"

Hopefully this will get us somewhere.

Urthan looks slightly annoyed. His plan to tease the Sigmarite had degenerated in to a discussion about ethics. It was to be expected, but he originally hoped that it would provide more fun. Oh well, the man surely was a priest.

Letting out a theatrical sigh, he says: "Very well priest, I will try to maintain the peace."

"As to your question, master dwarf, the answer would be nothing. There is not one thing that binds me to the next person here." Urthan takes a large swig of his ale, and closes his eyes for a second as he enjoys the taste.

"We all have different allegiances, different believes, hell, there are even three different races here. We're only missing the friggin' halflings to make the set complete." He says, feigning exasperation.

"The one thing that binds us, are our differences. We are versatile. And that's the reason that I am so interested in what our host has to tell."

"What we have in common, master dwarf? It is obviously not intelligence, judging by the conduct of our compatriots here. I suppose it would be too much to ask that we go five minutes without arguing over who has the bigger...hammer."

Vicente smiled superciliously.

"I suggest we just wait quietly for our host to arrive. Which he should do any minute, if he has the slightest bit of courtesy."

"I think our friend Urthan has raised an interesting point," Cal'Adaith intervened. We are indeed versatile. This said, I wonder why the count chose us in particular if he wanted people with various skills. There are many wizards at my college who are much better than I am. And I'm sure we can also find a good number of fully-fledged priests of Sigmar and Knights of the White Wolf here in Altdorf. Why take just apprentices? I hope the count won't take long: I need an explanation about all of this."