Janwin
    Adventures in Mordheim   
  
Bissendorf in the year 2000IC is a semi-unremarkable town.  It had once managed to profit from its meager port on the River Stir before Mordheim was destroyed by Sigmar's Comet, by offering accommodation and trade to those using the river to move goods to or from the city, but since the city's destruction, fewer and fewer use the river to travel from the main body of the Empire to the eastern edges of Ostermark or Sylvania.  Instead, most prefer to use the River Talabec these days due to Bechafen being the new provincial capital and center of trade.

However, some businesses had managed to rebrand themselves or pivot to the new industry that seemed to make itself at home in Bissendorf: adventuring.  Those who had previously moved lumber, spices, or food up and down the river now moved weapons, armor and all manner of equipment to be purchased, used and probably lost by those braving the ruined city.  The inns, which had once roomed and served traders and travelers, now roomed and served drinks to ruffians and brutes.  Everyone who lived in Bissendorf had found some way to make a living off of these new visitors to their town; many of whom would be seen once and never again, but hopefully only after they'd spent their coin.

On the First of the Third Month in the year 2000IC, Bissendorf carries on its business like any other day; though a heavy rain falls and swells the banks of the River Stir.

   
The Falling Comet Tavern is a relatively small inn near the riverfront.  Its outside is nothing impressive; it looks almost entirely like every other ramshackle coaching in scattered around the Empire, with visible wear and a lack of upkeep beginning to take its toll on the roof.

Inside, however, the tavern is bustling with life.  A portly old man tends to the bar while a younger woman makes her way from table to table delivering drinks to the patrons.  A pleasant smell emanates from a back room; perhaps a stew is the special of the evening.

Almost every table in the common room is filled; and you would wager that all of them are here for more or less the same reason you are: staking their future on being able to claim some of the riches of Mordheim.

One table, however, stands out from the rest.  It seems to be set up somewhat like a recruiting station; a middle-aged man with brown hair is seated at the table with a stack of papers in front of him.  While the man doesn't wear anything excessively gaudy -- likely a security measure as much as anything else, considering those present in the tavern -- his garments are of a finer quality and his well-maintained hair and beard certainly indicate that he is somebody with money at his disposal.

   
At the moment, he seems to be talking with a man who, like all of you, answered his call for capable employees.  However, the man's demeanor and appearance seems more to be that of a desperate beggar than anything the Baron might wish to employ, and eventually a stern looking man wearing chainmail armor guides the man away from the table.


 

 OOC 

Everyone can make a Gossip Test if you would like to listen for any rumors among the crowd.

In addition, you can each approach Baron Strecker, sell your usefulness to him and negotiate the terms of your contract.
u-b
Ralf enters the tavern, has his first impression of the situation, reserves a place in the queue after those who got here first, orders a meal and a drink, drops his backpack near one of the tables and gets seated himself. He's not even close to being the first one to come and his table is otherwise occupied, so, naturally, he asks:  "How's going?" 
 
 Spoiler 
Gossip 25:  (1d100)[ 85 ] 
 
-Sentinel-
Konrad Bruckner is a regular at the Falling Comet, since it is one of the main recruiting areas for those brave, foolhardy or desperate enough to head into the ruins of Mordheim in search of riches. The guide and smuggler does not advertise his services, at least not directly—he greases the publican's palm to direct treasure hunters to the corner of the smoky room that he always occupies. Most prospective clients seem unimpressed with the scrawny man with the pockmarked face and a short, greying beard, and among those who will talk to him, many are put off by his high rates. Yet those who do choose to hire him are much more likely to return than those who go it alone.

Tonight, though, treasure hunters who enter the tavern do not even ask the publican who to hire or be hired by, as the table with the richly-dressed man is the center of attention. It is the first time Konrad sees the Baron in the flesh. He abstains from approaching him for now; better see what kind of crew is being put together before Konrad offer his services. The most dangerous-looking warriors do not always make the best team in a city like Mordheim. Konrad once saw a trio of Bretonnian knights and their squires, all fully armed and armored and filled with righteous zeal, venture into Mordheim, never to be heard from again; just as he knows a little old lady who looks like a stiff breeze might knock her over, but with a keen eye and a sharp mind, who has returned from four forays into the city so far.

Konrad leans towards one of the serving maids.  "The Baron. What kind of reputation does he have around here?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Gossip 41:  (d100)[ 15 ] 
 
Janwin
 
 Originally Posted by u-b 
   "How's going?" 
 
 Spoiler 
Gossip 25: [roll0]
 
 
 

 "So I's figurin' da merchan' quarter be where some o' da best loot kin be found.  Rememb'r all sorts o' shinies goin' through Quayside on th' way there when I was there." , a gruff and haggard looking man wearing raggedy leather armor says to his companions right before you walk over.
As you walk up, his equally shady looking companion with one eye shushes him and they both give you dirty looks as you sit down, uninvited, at their table.

Your best guess is that one of them is sizing you up to figure out if he could take you in a fight, while the other is sizing up the size of your coin purse.

It seems they both decide, almost simultaneously, that they probably can't take you on easily, and the gruff man replies,  "Jes another day lookin' fer work.  Assume yer 'ere fer that too, loik ev'ryone else." 
 
 Spoiler: Ralf Gossip Information 

You hear nothing of note being whispered throughout the tavern.
 


 
 Originally Posted by -Sentinel- 
 Konrad leans towards one of the serving maids.  "The Baron. What kind of reputation does he have around here?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Gossip 41: [roll0]
 
 
 

Even before the fall of Mordheim, the staff of the Falling Comet Tavern were used to Konrad's comings and goings, though the tavern had a different name back then: The Rolling River Inn.  As he enters, one of the serving maids smiles at him and comments,  "Is a pretty busy night, but I think we can find you a table if'n ya want."   She gestures over to one of the few empty tables in the room; a tiny shelf with a couple of tall stools in the corner of the room.

As Konrad asks about the Baron, she seems almost surprised.   "Oh, the Baron?  Well, first time I've seen 'im.  'E's got all those papers, but 'e hasn't hired anyone yet.  Guessin' 'e's got some high standards.  Seems friendly enough, though, and paid Klaus well for the use of a table for the night." 
 
 Spoiler: Konrad Gossip Information 

You overhear the following bits of gossip:

"Y' remember Gunter an' 'is boys?  Good chap.  Said 'e were go'n check out th' Palace, 'e did.  'E 'eard abou' some crazy noble wot took up res'dence and wan'ed t' rob th' place.  Tree weeks ago!  Ain't seen 'im since!"
"I think someone must have robbed the Temple of Morr.  Last time I went in, the dead roamed the streets around the Executioner's Square!"
"Ah, yes, good man.  You and your compatriots seem to be a fine escort to the Great Library.  Consider yourselves hired!"
 
rax
Placeholder for IC post to be edited in tomorrow, presently just using it to roll Gossip.

 
 Spoiler: Gossip test 
 (1d100)[ 40 ]  vs. Fel 28
 
JbeJ275
Sam was at home in places like this in a way few others were, when evicted from his old home the lodging rooms and drinking stalls of places like this and he learned a lot of things while doing it. Part of that was the value of giving people what they want, burgers want a reasonable enforcer who needs to send money up the chain but won't take too much. Other common thugs want a trustworthy but unambitious mate who can watch your back and won't as for too much in return. Your bosses want loyal men, where the gang is your family, when other bosses one it's time to be a dethatched opportunist who doesn't give a crap who they're working for. Sometimes you can't be who they're looking for, if our too old too green or too ugly but in this case the Baron's gonna want someone competent, someone calm enough to follow orders, smart enough to run and dumb enough to wait until someone else starts running first but they're gonna want someone actually eager to be there so they can forget about dragging them back on course every three seconds.

Thus Sam gave his trademark split toothed smile and approached the baron's table eagerly, giving a nod to the lad in chainmail before settling to the table,


 
 Spoiler: Gossip 

[roll]1d100 vs 29
 
ScottL
Stomping through the endless puddles of the streets of Bissendorf, a cloak-wrapped figure smothers a torrent of bitter curses.  Were one close enough to hear over the downpour, their ears would surely burn from sheer malice.

A thin, calloused hand clutches at long skirts, straining to lift them above the mess that comes with pounding, flooding rain.  Water streams past high black boots, bearing clumps of loose debris.  The figure slips a moment, then recovers.  One does not walk the roads of the Empire without growing used to harsh weather.

The young woman grimaces.  It would have been so easy to weave the dancing Winds to shield her from this- this-  this!  

A muttered growl passes her lips.

She pauses outside the tavern.  It shimmers in her eyes, heavy with storm and portent.  The Falling Comet, they say it says.  Gods grant that be a good omen.

Kicking the dirt from her well-worn boots – and blessed be their durability! – she straightens her garb to appear as best she can.  The person she would seem to be would strive to be presentable.

With a prayer to whatever powers may listen, she steps toward the future.

   *            *            *   
Shrugging off her dark hooded cloak, the young woman shakes it, aiming the rainspatter out the door.  That task accomplished, she turns to regard the tavern room.  Those who regard her in turn see a woman with cornsilk hair in a long off-white dress and a yellow stole;  durable and good enough, but hardly signs of a person of means.  Those with a more observant eye may see her blink a few times as she adjusts to the inn’s ambience.

Blessed warmth fills the room.  Somewhere a stew simmers, thick and pungent.  Somewhere a man’s voice calls.  Everywhere men talk, and men drink, and men go about their business.

Some men are limned in red;  fire shines on them, bright with courage and boldness and adventure.  Some are touched by grey;  shadows and secrets and mystery.  Some are only men.

It is hard to know who is who and what is what and what is merely the mischief of light and darkness.  She has learned not to place too much meaning in what she sees.  Truths and lies conspire to reveal and mislead.

Rather than force a place at a table and deal with whomever fortune throws her way, she heads to the bar and the old fellow tending it.

 “May I’ve a drink, then?"  she asks after catching his attention.   Somethin’ light, if ye will.

“An may I be askin’, issat His Lordship the Baron Strecker?  I seen his paper, and I’ve a word if’n ’e’s ’im.

“If ye’ve kept an eye out, what manner o’ folk been comin’ to ’im so far?” 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Gossip 44:  (1d100)[ 15 ] 
 
dojango
Pyotr entered the tavern.  The place was packed with disreputable elements.  He was not terribly interested in mingling with them overmuch, and so he went to the table where the baron was waiting.  He headed over to him and offered a stiff, formal bow, as for a servant to the master of the house.  He said, " Mister Antonovich at your service, " he says.  " As it happens I have spent several social seasons in Mordheim, before the fall, and am well acquainted with some of the noble districts.  While no doubt many of the scavengers have picked over the most visible items, I am confident that some of the finer and more subtle items have been overlooked.  Such items would no doubt fetch a good price amongst the nobles of the region, and I am certain that we can fetch a good haul of some of the items that the less... cultured salvagers may have overlooked.  I would be more than happy to help lead such an endeavor for a fair slice of the profits... "

 
 Spoiler 
Haggle v. 51   (1d100)[ 92 ]   passed in OOC thread, basically wants to focus on looting high-end furniture, art and other luxury items that will sell well to the nobility.  Trying to get a better percentage of the profits by selling his ability to pick the stuff out.
 
BananaPhone
 Hans Lydecker 

The road from Blutfurt had been long, worn but relatively safe thanks to the pro-active measures taken by troopers such as himself. For months Hans and his unit had been patrolling the travel routes, following leads and pursuing beastmen and orcs into the woods and clearing dens and hovels where they found them. That meant a lot of fighting, a lot of violence, and now the chance for some leave with half his years pay.

Were he a sensible lad, Hans pondered as he leaned back against the wall of the inn, his blue eyes scanning the room, he would enjoy the time off with some lovely company - his attention focusing on the pretty barmaid that busily pased by, smiling in her direction. Were he an older man, such unspoken interest would likely have been received in a more sinister light, but with his youthful, decently handsome features it was easily brushed off.

 "Oi, boy, you listening?"  a gravely, aged voice before him snapped Han's attention back to the present.

 "Hmm? Oh yeah, something hurts doesn't it?" 

Seated opposite the young soldier was a man who was easily in his fifties, with the years and harsh weather of the land having left his face a tight ball of leather from which peered two surprisingly gentle eyes.

The man next to him, only marginaly younger by a few years, stifled laughter into his ale as the older of them scrunched his fists and exhaled in irritation.

 "Grrr, boy! Get yer' head out of the clouds!"  he blanched, Hans unable to suppress a smile,  " that  there!"  he stabbed his with words towards the firearm that was leaning against the wall next to the soldier.  "That thing work or not?" 

Hans tilted his head to observe his very modern, and very  expensive  weapon, then turned back to the old man with a lop-sided grin.

 "What, ol' Hilda? She'd blow your hair back if you tried handling her, old timer,"  he nodded cheekily.

 "Wouldn't be the first time..."  the other man muttered with a snicker, arousing a glare from the oldest.

 "But can ye hit anything with it? I saw one used years ago, damn thing co'nt hit a man ten paces ahead of it!"
 
 "They're accurate enough if you know how to use them. But it's not about using one at a time, it's about using them in volleys. Think of takin' a punch to the face every second,"  Hans explained, leaning forward and taking a sip of his ale. As he did so, he brought up his right hand and made light 'striking' gestures with a closed fist.

 "You do  not  want to be on the receiving end of a lead shot from that thing, and when dozens are hitting your ranks every two seconds, punching through armor, splattering guts everywhere...few things can maintain ranks under that kinda fire and they break up. That's when the halberdier boys charge in and finish them off. I've seen orcs, big tough bastards, hollering, howling, swingin' those big choppa's around, turn into a panicking mob of no-hopers when their cohesion breaks and get picked off. Alternatively, my sergeant told me a time when a mob of armored knights, big bastards on huge steeds, had their charge completely dissolved by some ranks of volley fire. It's not about trying to stab or shoot every bastard in front of ye, it's 'bout breaking the enemies cohesion and morale, makin' them panic and flee, turn'em into a mob of headless chickens running around. Routes are contagious, you do that then you got'em by the balls." 

The older man listened with fascination in his eyes, a genuine interest as he shifted glances between the boy in front of him and the weapon of which he spoke. Nodding and exhaling as if he had just been told the secret of life, he took a sip of his ale and gave Hans a little toast.

 "Well, thank ye for the company young fella, but ye better get going if you wanted to rub elbows with that fella,"  he gestured to the Baron. Hans looked over in the direction of the finely dressed man whose mere presence seemed to clean the table at which he sat. Hans nodded at the suggestion.

 "Take care out there fellas,"  Hans said, giving a tilt of his mug.

 "Ye, look after yerself young fella,"  the older man returned the sign, as did the one next to him as they begun to quietly chatter among themselves. Hans downed the last of his ale, set the mug down and stood before picking up his firearm. Cradling the weapon safely, he approached the seated Baron and waited with a straight posture until it was his turn to speak. He was not wearing his uniform, but he had his identifying badge on his person if needed, and it was clear by the way he stood that he came from some profession that instilled discipline.
Janwin
 
 Originally Posted by rax 
  
 Spoiler: Gossip test 
[roll0] vs. Fel 28
 
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Tankred Gossip Information 

"I'm from Burgenhof, and thought the fastest route here would be through the woods.  I remember them being dark, but not this dark.  Somethin' unnatural going on in there these days, mark my words."
 


 
 Originally Posted by JbeJ275 
 Thus Sam gave his trademark split toothed smile and approached the baron's table eagerly, giving a nod to the lad in chainmail before settling to the table, 
 

When you sit down at the table, the Baron greets you, perhaps more warmly than you would expect for a noble speaking to a lowly, common thug.

 "Good day, my friend.  I take it you have seen my flier, then?"   He looks you up and down, with piercing blue eyes that seem to scream that he knows exactly what he is looking for.   "Let me guess: I should ask few questions about your background or where you're from, but instead simply consider you on your merit as a fighter; the sort one is bound to need when venturing into the City of the Damned these days?" 
 
 Spoiler: Sam Gossip Information 

You hear no rumors of note.
 


 
 Originally Posted by ScottL 
  “May I’ve a drink, then?"  she asks after catching his attention.   Somethin’ light, if ye will.

“An may I be askin’, issat His Lordship the Baron Strecker?  I seen his paper, and I’ve a word if’n ’e’s ’im.

“If ye’ve kept an eye out, what manner o’ folk been comin’ to ’im so far?”  
 

The old man tending the bar smiles in a way that you're pretty sure he'd give to the highest lord or the lowliest of beggars who stumbled through his door with coin to spend.   "Well, yer in luck, lass.  The only ale I have is light."   He glances around the room and lowers his voice a bit.   "Keeps 'em from gettin' too rowdy too fast, y'see."   A conspiratorial wink follows after, which causes a brief question of whether he is serious or jesting.

Never-the-less, he pours an ale from one of the kegs sitting on the bar into a worn tankard and sets it in front of you.

 "Aye, that be the Baron.  And the usual, really.  Ruffians and those who fancy themselves to be future ruffians."   He appears momentarily uncertain about your question, but then seems to shrug off a thought.   "If yer askin', you must be here to see him too, and while it doesn't look it if I may be so bold, you must have something of a skillset to offer him." 
 
 Spoiler: Anke Gossip Information 

"Me pa, Anbar Thunderhammer, were th'  foinest  smith in all th' dwarven district!  What?  Ye ne'er 'eard of 'im?!  Bah!  Damn  umgi  'ave no sense o' quality!  But Oi'll find 'is shop, Oi will!"
"Well, in my studies of the after-affects of the comet's fall, it seems that the largest concentration of stones are scattered around the Pit; naturally, it also seems to be an oddly lethal area judging by the accounts I have discovered of those seeking to go there and never being seen again."
 


 
 Originally Posted by dojango 
 " Mister Antonovich at your service, " he says.  " As it happens I have spent several social seasons in Mordheim, before the fall, and am well acquainted with some of the noble districts.  While no doubt many of the scavengers have picked over the most visible items, I am confident that some of the finer and more subtle items have been overlooked.  Such items would no doubt fetch a good price amongst the nobles of the region, and I am certain that we can fetch a good haul of some of the items that the less... cultured salvagers may have overlooked.  I would be more than happy to help lead such an endeavor for a fair slice of the profits... " 
 

As you approach and offer your bow, the Baron seems visibly perplexed for a moment before taking it in stride.   "Welcome, Master Antonovich.  For the sake of propriety, though I'm sure you already know, I am Baron Wolfram Strecker.  A pleasure to meet you."   He offers you a slight bow of his head.   "I note that you did not provide a noble title, nor is your surname one I recognize from my studies of genealogy, yet you claim familiarity with the noble district.  I assume you served a lord, then.  Interesting.  I pray he did not perish in the city?" 

 
 Originally Posted by BananaPhone 
 Cradling the weapon safely, he approached the seated Baron and waited with a straight posture until it was his turn to speak. He was not wearing his uniform, but he had his identifying badge on his person if needed, and it was clear by the way he stood that he came from some profession that instilled discipline. 
 

As Hans approaches the table, the older man standing guard seems to be perhaps a little wary about the firearm cradled in Hans' arm, though that likely has more to do with the close proximity of it to his lord than anything else.

The Baron, however, if he has any concern at all, masks it well.   "Ah, lovely. A man with some training.  In what regiment did you serve--"   As the word comes out of his mouth, he reconsiders you briefly.   "Or perhaps what regiment do you still serve in.  You seem a bit young to be retired.  I'm sure you're no deserter though." 
 
 Spoiler: Hans Gossip Information 

"I swear t' Sigmar, it 'ad fur and teef!  An' it got Ralf!"
 
u-b
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  "Jes another day lookin' fer work.  Assume yer 'ere fer that too, loik ev'ryone else."  
 

 "Sort of. I mean, I'll first hear what exactly the man is offering and see who ends up in his team."  And, Ralf, does not add, I'm not in hurry anywhere, given the weather like this. Eventually he gets fed and mostly dried up. The baron seems to be picky. That's good. In fact, that's good enough to try discussing the actual terms. When those coming in before him have completed their negotiations with the baron, Ralf finishes off his ale, picks up the backpack for this was not the place to just leave it lying around, then heads to chat with the baron himself.

 "Ralf Hussell. A hunter, generally in hereabouts, big game, small game... I guess, all sorts of game, if it comes to that."  Ralf lets the baron lead the conversation.
ScottL
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 The old man tending the bar smiles in a way that you're pretty sure he'd give to the highest lord or the lowliest of beggars who stumbled through his door with coin to spend.   "Well, yer in luck, lass.  The only ale I have is light."   He glances around the room and lowers his voice a bit.   "Keeps 'em from gettin' too rowdy too fast, y'see."   A conspiratorial wink follows after, which causes a brief question of whether he is serious or jesting.

Never-the-less, he pours an ale from one of the kegs sitting on the bar into a worn tankard and sets it in front of you. 
 

Anke slides the barkeep the proper bits of coin and drinks from the tankard approvingly.


 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  "Aye, that be the Baron.  And the usual, really.  Ruffians and those who fancy themselves to be future ruffians."   He appears momentarily uncertain about your question, but then seems to shrug off a thought.   "If yer askin', you must be here to see him too, and while it doesn't look it if I may be so bold, you must have something of a skillset to offer him."  
 

 "Aye, an' where's there's ruffians there's sufferin'.  An' the need to put it right.

"Might be I've some skill in healin' that'll be of use.  I'm not a woman of letters, nor o' much, but I know more'n most of some things.  With all these-"  she glances around the room-  "doughty lads, there'll be need to patch 'em up.

"And whoever's survived the comet, well..."  her grey eyes grow more serious,  "they'll need their own mercy, won't they?" 



Anke chooses not to dawdle overlong at the bar.  Today this place resounds with Purpose, and it is best to let it be fulfilled.

She gives the barkeep thanks for his words and moves to join those around the Baron.  With luck, and wary eyes and ready elbows -- and the implicit threat of the Baron's disapproval -- rowdy men will not grow too rowdy with her.

Still, it is an uncertain wait.  When her time finally comes to address the nobleman, a mix of relief and anxiety unsettles her.  The curtsy she attempts at least has the virtue of sincerity, and the ease of slight practice if not grace.

 "I am Anke, may it please my lord the Baron.  I'm no fighter like them around, but I've a fair hand at healin' 'em-  Uh, your pardon," , she murmurs, making an effort to enunciate more properly,  "I have some skill carin g  for them who're hurt.  Bindin g  wounds and treatin g  fevers and makin g  poultices.  In a place like your band'll be going, there'll be need.

"And as much as I respect the words an' deeds of Shallya an' hers, I'm no priestess.  I can act to defend myself." 
BananaPhone
 Hans Lydecker 

Hans stood at composure once the Baron addressed him, though not completely stiff and staring forward. This was a tavern, after all, a rather informal gathering and so Hans used his initiative to not look awkward by utilising too formal a custom.

 "Aye mi'lord,"  the lad answered with a nod, heels square.

 "I serve in the 14th Ostermark Handgunners Regiment stationed out of Blutfurt. We have increased patrols along the trade routes and here, clearing out beastman and orc hovels, ye see mi'lord. We were in some pretty nasty entanglements, but we got the job done, so my company is on two months of recuperation leave, and your offer seems better for keepin' the skills sharp than me just gettin' drunk and sluggish." 
dojango
Anton replies, " Thank Sigmar, Count von Blucher and his family were at their home estates, as was I.  Unfortunately, the Count has been forced to make some... economies... with his household... "  He shrugs.  " He said he would be happy to provide me with a reference, if needed. "
JbeJ275
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  
 Spoiler: Tankred Gossip Information 

"I'm from Burgenhof, and thought the fastest route here would be through the woods.  I remember them being dark, but not this dark.  Somethin' unnatural going on in there these days, mark my words."
 




When you sit down at the table, the Baron greets you, perhaps more warmly than you would expect for a noble speaking to a lowly, common thug.

 "Good day, my friend.  I take it you have seen my flier, then?"   He looks you up and down, with piercing blue eyes that seem to scream that he knows exactly what he is looking for.   "Let me guess: I should ask few questions about your background or where you're from, but instead simply consider you on your merit as a fighter; the sort one is bound to need when venturing into the City of the Damned these days?" 
 
 Spoiler: Sam Gossip Information 

You hear no rumors of note.
 
 
 

 “We’ll that’s exactly right mi’lord. You have a need for something I am quite capable of supplying, and the same is true in reverse, I see little gain for either of us in making it more complicated than that.” 
-Sentinel-
At last, Konrad rose and got in line to see Baron Strecker. It seemed the people answering the nobleman's call were an eclectic lot, likely with a wide array of skills, rather than a bunch of zealous do-gooders or overconfident soldier types. That boded well for the success of the expedition.

 "Name's Konrad Bruckner,"  he introduced himself. His manner towards the baron was businesslike, rather than deferential.  "Mordheimer by birth, and survivor of the disaster by Ra—Sigmar's grace. I've been moving things and people in and out of this city for almost two decades with my rowboat, and I know the place better than most." 
rax
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  
 Spoiler: Tankred Gossip Information 

"I'm from Burgenhof, and thought the fastest route here would be through the woods.  I remember them being dark, but not this dark.  Somethin' unnatural going on in there these days, mark my words."
 
 
 

 "Ah well, seems like there's always something unnatural going on in the woods, eh? First thing we learned back home - the woods are always watching!"  Tankred replies with a hearty laugh.  "But thanks for the warning - guess I'll be sticking to the roads and the river." 
 With the Baron 
 "A fine good day to you, yer lordship!"  Tankred greets the nobleman with a respectful nod.  "The name's Tankred, but some call me the Bull. You'd be the Baron Strecker, I take it?" 
Janwin
 
 Originally Posted by u-b 
  "Ralf Hussell. A hunter, generally in hereabouts, big game, small game... I guess, all sorts of game, if it comes to that."  Ralf lets the baron lead the conversation. 
 

At Ralf's approach when it comes to be his turn, the Baron politely bows his head to the newcomer.   "A hunter, you say?  Hmm, you wear Ostermark clothing styles, which implies you're a local.  Do you have any experience in the woods around Mordheim?" 

 
 Originally Posted by ScottL 
  "I am Anke, may it please my lord the Baron.  I'm no fighter like them around, but I've a fair hand at healin' 'em-  Uh, your pardon," , she murmurs, making an effort to enunciate more properly,  "I have some skill carin g  for them who're hurt.  Bindin g  wounds and treatin g  fevers and makin g  poultices.  In a place like your band'll be going, there'll be need.

"And as much as I respect the words an' deeds of Shallya an' hers, I'm no priestess.  I can act to defend myself."  
 

As Anke makes her way to the table when it opens up, the Baron rises to his feet and offers a polite bow.   "A pleasure to meet you, miss Anke.  One with skill tending wounds would certainly be of use to our endeavor."   He sits back down in his seat and gives Anke a considering look.

 "I'm sure you could also offer additional knowledge that tends to not be had by those willing to swing a sword for coin, if you've acquired the knowledge in how to bind wounds." 

He glimpses over at his bodyguard, who simply nods in return, and then he begins writing on one of the pieces of paper on the table in front of himself.

 "Anke, you said?"   He makes a quick scribble on the form.   "The standard share of all plunder is ten percent of its recovered value, with the remainder unclaimed by those of the expedition in wages going to myself to offset my costs.  On my part, I will provide you with all the equipment necessary to do your jobs, information in regards to where we might find valuable items within the ruins, and any support you may seek out while under my employ in the form of training, information and the like.  I assume you find these terms to be fair?  If so, please make your mark." 

He turns the paper around to face Anke, and rests his inkpen at the top of the form.  There is a small line toward the bottom which, presumably, is where one would mark their name (or if illiterate, whatever they wanted to mark it with).


 
 Originally Posted by BananaPhone 
  "I serve in the 14th Ostermark Handgunners Regiment stationed out of Blutfurt. We have increased patrols along the trade routes and here, clearing out beastman and orc hovels, ye see mi'lord. We were in some pretty nasty entanglements, but we got the job done, so my company is on two months of recuperation leave, and your offer seems better for keepin' the skills sharp than me just gettin' drunk and sluggish."  
 

Baron Strecker raises an eyebrow and appears to be impressed as the young handgunner tells of his battlefield experience and nods once.   "Well then, a young man who has seen action.  You do surprise, mister Lydecker.  And what, may I ask, would your proposal be if my needs for your services extend beyond your two months leave?" 

 
 Originally Posted by dojango 
 Anton replies, " Thank Sigmar, Count von Blucher and his family were at their home estates, as was I.  Unfortunately, the Count has been forced to make some... economies... with his household... "  He shrugs.  " He said he would be happy to provide me with a reference, if needed. " 
 

Baron Strecker waives his hand dismissively at the suggestion of references.   "No, of course not. If von Blucher would vouch for you, I'm sure you are of an upstanding character.  A shame that he was forced to make those cuts, though understandable considering how many of his holdings were destroyed in the city."   His voice carries a distinctly neutral tone; that of a well-practiced nobleman, the like Anton had been around most of his adult life.  Very little can be made from the tone that might betray how Baron Strecker feels about Count von Blucher.

He considers for a moment before apparently coming to a decision.   "Well, you're not exactly what I was originally looking to put together into a company, but oddly enough I think you'd still be an asset and I'm not enough of a fool as to turn down a good opportunity.  A man who knows the value of what he's looking at could be the difference between a truly profitable excursion and a trip with nothing to show for it." 

He takes one of the sheets of paper from his stack and begins scribbling quickly on it.   "I am offering ten percent of the recovered value of all plunder from the company's operations in the city, with the remainder going to myself to offset my own costs.  Those costs being upfront equipment investment, including horses, the acquisition of information and intelligence on where we might focus our efforts, and any support needed by those of the company while in my employ.  I assume these terms are fair to you?  If so, would you please make your mark?" 

He turns the paper on the table so that it faces Anton, and places the inkpen on the table.  To Anton's eyes, which can read and have some understanding of economic contracts, the form before him is a contract of employment with what was stated by the Baron.


 
 Originally Posted by JbeJ275 
  “We’ll that’s exactly right mi’lord. You have a need for something I am quite capable of supplying, and the same is true in reverse, I see little gain for either of us in making it more complicated than that.”  
 

The Baron chuckles at the man's words and considers him for a moment before coming to a decision.   "Direct and up front.  Excellent.  Then we shall talk directly on the rest, yes?" 

He takes one of the papers from the stack on the table and jots a couple scribbles onto it.   "You get ten percent of the value of everything the company recovers from the city.  I provide you with what you need to do the job, and information to get the job done.  Simple enough, and even ten percent can make one a rich man with all that remains unrecovered in that city." 

He turns the piece of paper on the table.   "If it sounds good to you, please make your mark." 

 
 Originally Posted by -Sentinel- 
  "Name's Konrad Bruckner,"  he introduced himself. His manner towards the baron was businesslike, rather than deferential.  "Mordheimer by birth, and survivor of the disaster by Ra—Sigmar's grace. I've been moving things and people in and out of this city for almost two decades with my rowboat, and I know the place better than most."  
 

At the mention of his name, the man standing guard over the Baron clears his throat and leans forward to murmur something into the Baron's ear.

The Baron, while listening, raises an eyebrow somewhat and finally nods to his guard who goes back to his original position.

 "Well, Mister Bruckner, interestingly, the head of my household guard here has actually heard your name.  I'll admit, that's a first for this evening and this place."   His eyes narrow somewhat.   "It seems you're a wanted man, though most thought you perished with the rest of the city so nobody has been looking for you.  You've quite the reputation as a smuggler; and someone who could get anything into or out of the city.  In truth, it wouldn't surprise me if I've indirectly hired you at some point or another." 

He slowly strokes his beard in contemplation while he considers Konrad.

 "Anyway, your past doesn't really concern me at this moment.  Sure, I could throw you in a cell and have your hands removed for smuggling, but that's honestly not what I'm here for right now, and it seems to me that a man who can get anything into or out of that city could be of value to my company's success.  I'm sure the ruins aren't quite the same as what you're used to, but I'm sure the skillset remains applicable." 

He lifts one piece of paper off of the stack sitting on the table and scribbles something onto it with an inkpen.

 "So I will make you this offer: the same ten percent offered to each member of the warband, with the same benefits and requirements as any other.  You provide me with all items recovered from the city, and in turn I provide you with your share of the revenue from said items, necessary equipment to do your job properly, information to do your job accurately and efficiently, and support as necessary during the duration of your employment."   He smiles somewhat.   "And since it would be truly improper for me to employ a wanted man, I'll even have the decency to ensure that the warrant disappears and your name is cleared." 

He turns the piece of paper toward Konrad.

 "If you agree, please make your mark." 

 
 Originally Posted by rax 
  "A fine good day to you, yer lordship!"  Tankred greets the nobleman with a respectful nod.  "The name's Tankred, but some call me the Bull. You'd be the Baron Strecker, I take it?"  
 

As Tankred approaches, the Baron offers him a polite nod.   "I am indeed, mister Tankred.  Let's see...  A hulk of a man, armed, named "the Bull".  You must be a scholar, yes?"   The jest is clear in his voice.
u-b
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  "A hunter, you say?  Hmm, you wear Ostermark clothing styles, which implies you're a local.  Do you have any experience in the woods around Mordheim?"  
 

 "Some. The woods were picked pretty clean by organized hunts, so not my primary hunting grounds, but I did track game for the city's huntmasters when it was off the furbearer season. The game is now slowly returning though, so I should be able to catch something to eat, or at least guide you around." 
rax
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 As Tankred approaches, the Baron offers him a polite nod.   "I am indeed, mister Tankred.  Let's see...  A hulk of a man, armed, named "the Bull".  You must be a scholar, yes?"   The jest is clear in his voice. 
 

  "That I am, yer lordship, that I am! Professor o' the school o' hard knocks, that's me!"  Tankred laughs.  "Though my studies have a more practical bent than most. My specialty is cause an' effect, y'see. People make trouble for my clients, I cause 'em pain until they learn to leave well enough alone!" 
-Sentinel-
  "Well, Mister Bruckner, interestingly, the head of my household guard here has actually heard your name. I'll admit, that's a first for this evening and this place."  His eyes narrow somewhat.  "It seems you're a wanted man, though most thought you perished with the rest of the city so nobody has been looking for you. You've quite the reputation as a smuggler; and someone who could get anything into or out of the city. In truth, it wouldn't surprise me if I've indirectly hired you at some point or another."  

Konrad gives a noncommittal shrug.  "All sorts of people have hired me. But truth to be told, I'd rather have no reputation at all than a good one." 

  "Anyway, your past doesn't really concern me at this moment. Sure, I could throw you in a cell and have your hands removed for smuggling, but that's honestly not what I'm here for right now, and it seems to me that a man who can get anything into or out of that city could be of value to my company's success. I'm sure the ruins aren't quite the same as what you're used to, but I'm sure the skillset remains applicable."  

 "Most of the buildings have been laid low, but they haven't moved,"  says Konrad in a bone-dry tone.



  "So I will make you this offer: the same ten percent offered to each member of the warband, with the same benefits and requirements as any other. You provide me with all items recovered from the city, and in turn I provide you with your share of the revenue from said items, necessary equipment to do your job properly, information to do your job accurately and efficiently, and support as necessary during the duration of your employment."  He smiles somewhat.  "And since it would be truly improper for me to employ a wanted man, I'll even have the decency to ensure that the warrant disappears and your name is cleared."  

As far as Konrad is concerned, there is little reason to surrender to the baron any of the loot he gathers, let alone all of it, because the nobleman's ability to enforce his own rule in these parts is at best limited. Konrad would need to take it on faith that Strecker would indeed give him his ten percent. Still, he nods along with the baron's terms of employment. He will have ample time to think about whether it is in his advantage to abide by them.

He then takes the quill, dips it in the inkwell, and traces a blotchy "K" at the bottom of the contract.
ScottL
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 As Anke makes her way to the table when it opens up, the Baron rises to his feet and offers a polite bow.   "A pleasure to meet you, miss Anke.  One with skill tending wounds would certainly be of use to our endeavor."   He sits back down in his seat and gives Anke a considering look.

 "I'm sure you could also offer additional knowledge that tends to not be had by those willing to swing a sword for coin, if you've acquired the knowledge in how to bind wounds."  
 

 "It's true I've learned some things 'at the soldiers don't."  For now, she chooses not to be more specific.


 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 He glimpses over at his bodyguard, who simply nods in return, and then he begins writing on one of the pieces of paper on the table in front of himself. 
 

Anke watches the letters form with interest.  The spark of fascination in her eyes is not as concealed as she might think.


 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
  "I assume you find these terms to be fair?  If so, please make your mark." 

He turns the paper around to face Anke, and rests his inkpen at the top of the form.  There is a small line toward the bottom which, presumably, is where one would mark their name (or if illiterate, whatever they wanted to mark it with). 
 

Following the Baron's direction, she grasps the inkpen and draws a quick, rounded " X " on the paper.

 "An' done is done, Your Lordship." 

She straightens then and regards him, folding her hands modestly before her.   "If you'll spare the tools, and I find the right fixin's, I can brew healing draughts for 'em, too." 
BananaPhone
 Hans Lydecker 

 Baron Strecker raises an eyebrow and appears to be impressed as the young handgunner tells of his battlefield experience and nods once. "Well then, a young man who has seen action. You do surprise, mister Lydecker. And what, may I ask, would your proposal be if my needs for your services extend beyond your two months leave?" 

Hans drew his free hand up to stroke his jaw.

It was clear he was  not  anticipating long-term employment. Likewise, the fact he didn't try to hide that, showed him to be more of a straight-forward individual. Sign up for one job when the opportunity was presented and that was it. But an extended contract?

But there was another suggestion hidden in the vines: what if venture was very profitable, would you retire from the service to pursue it full time?

The idea of making lots of gold coins appealed  very  much to the poverty-born youth. But he had to admit, over his nearly two years service, he had grown attached to the uniform and what it represented, particularly in the last few weeks of clearing out beastman and orc hovels to keep the trade and travel lanes safe for citizens.

Thinking, Hans finally answered.

 "After two years yer given three choices. Stay on. Retire. Or enter the reserves." 

A pregnant pause lingered.

 "If I choose to enter the reserves,  maybe  I can get transferred to somewhere more local 'round here. Enter the retainer market, as it were. If such services are warranted, o' course." 
JbeJ275
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 The Baron chuckles at the man's words and considers him for a moment before coming to a decision.   "Direct and up front.  Excellent.  Then we shall talk directly on the rest, yes?" 

He takes one of the papers from the stack on the table and jots a couple scribbles onto it.   "You get ten percent of the value of everything the company recovers from the city.  I provide you with what you need to do the job, and information to get the job done.  Simple enough, and even ten percent can make one a rich man with all that remains unrecovered in that city." 

He turns the piece of paper on the table.   "If it sounds good to you, please make your mark."  
 

 "Well, I do like the sound of that. You'll get no messing from me." 

With that Sam leans over and puts his mark, a loopily drawn S with a line through the middle of it.
dojango
Once again Anton bows.  He glances over the contract, just long enough to show that he can read it but not so long as to imply that he distrusts the noble, and then signs his full name with a flourish.  " I hope so, milord, trying times for all, and I earnestly hope your trust in us proves a worthwhile investment. "