conversations: human
conversations:  Heidelberg, January 1, 1400. 
   The cathedral bells strike eight.  The sun has long sunk below the horizon and the usual rabble in the otherwise busy streets of Heidelberg have long retreated to their shacks.  Drunks stumble about, prostitutes make kissing faces to passerby's, and guards patrol the back alleys.  Drawn to the lights and noise of the Die Bierstube, a well known tavern, you stand before the wooden door and reread the letter personally delivered by a royal courier. 
   "To whom it may concern,
  
  If you have received this letter, my father, a powerful political figure, has passed.  In his passing, I was left with a sizable sum of money totaling ten-thousand florins and my father's estate.  Unfortunately, the money is lost and my estate seized in a legal dispute with a rival lord.
  
  I have spent much of my time as an oblate and as such I am inexperienced with the ways of the world.  Using my father's connections, your names have become known to me.  I send you this invitation in hopes you will help me recover my inheritance.  If we are successful, I offer a share of 5% to each of you; enough to purchase fifty acres of land and live comfortably for the rest of your natural life.
  
  If you agree, meet me in person at the Die Bierstube in Heidelberg on the first day of the new year.  I will explain in detail my thoughts after we've filled our bellies with sausage and beer!  Go with God.
  
  -HS" 
   The spacious tavern is teaming with life as drunks, bards, and fools sing and carouse with each other.  The buxom bar wenches showing toss heavy pewter meads and perform a variety of tricks for the slavering onlookers.  Eying you carefully, the bar tender points to a small table by the roaring fire.  Sitting at the table is a tall man with a shaved head, trimmed blond beard, and wide shoulders.  He wears simple brown robes with a green mantle and a wooden cross around his neck.  Sitting at the table are three other strangers who regard you impassively.  The robed man offers you a meal from a large plate of sausage, potatoes, kraut, bacon, and honeycomb. 
   "Greetings and I'm glad you've accepted my invitation.  My name, which I could not mention in a letter, is Hans Stuka.  For ten years I have devoted my life to the church but my father Burgomeister Werner von Stuka, has passed.  I was to inherit his estate and fortune but a legal battle has denied my claim.
  
  I believe something truly foul is afoot but my duty is to the church, first.  I am offering you a cut of the fortune should you choose to help me.  Now, you don't have to make that decision tonight.  Please, enjoy the smorgasbord and free drink and board on me!
  
  Ah, and please, do introduce yourselves!" 
conversations: jmbrown:
conversations: human
conversations:  The chill air whipped past the somewhat thin figure standing before the door to the tavern, barely disturbing the heavy cloak of dark red fabric and leather that eclipsed the man's form.  Morgane snorted slightly as he, again, read this strange summons.  A fortune to be gained would be happy motivation for many, but Morgane knew that was just an entryway for the devil's subtle influence.  Still, someone had been put to some expense in the delivery of the letter, and it had raised a curiosity in the young man as to why.
  
  He kicked his boots at the edge of the doorway to remove frozen mud, then pulled the heavy wooden door aside to reveal the scene within.  The chamber was quite at opposites with the quiet, cold, and dark of the night he had dwelled in a moment before.  He removed his wide brimmed, dark hat, and glanced about for any indication of his summoner, taking in many of the sights of the revelry around him.  The bartender met his gaze readily, directing him as if he had been expected.
  
  The man at the table was not at all what the Burgundian had expected.  His simple attire immediately made Morgane more at ease, and his pleasant introduction had changed the witch-hunter's initial demeanor to a softer one.  This man claimed to be a pious follower of Christ, and he was in need of assistance.  If he was worthy of it, Morgane decided, he would be willing to lend a hand.
  
  Morgane unfastened the heavy clasp of his cloak, revealing a small silver crucifix of his own around his neck.  He wore a simple doublet of very dark cloth over a clean, white shirt, with leather pants and boots.  At his waist, a long, pointed poniard was his only menacing feature, beyond the ominous pin of the Dominican Order that served as his cloak clasp.
  
  He hung his cloak and hat nearby, and seated himself, partaking of the offered food and drink while taking an eye to the man's other 'guests'.  He waited for a moment to see if anyone was more zealous than himself at introductions.
  
  [OOC]
  The Order of St. Dominic is the order of the Catholic Church that was entrusted with the duty of inquisitions.  Anyone openly displaying such an emblem was often associated with such activities in these times.
conversations: Lord Bayushi:
conversations: human
conversations:  The first to speak was a brown haired, brown eyed shady looking man with a rather unwelcome expression on his face. From the neck down he is clad in dirty brown leather clothes, and it looks like he hasn't had a bath for years. While chewing on some food he opens his mouth and introduces himself.   "As I have told the others, Florian is the name. Florian Adlerheim."   He pause for a short while to drink a bit of ale and put some more food in his mouth. While chewing on the food he continues:
    "The place I call home is a city called Freiburg located many miles north-east of this city. I have traveled quite a few days to get here and arrived only this morning. I have yet to get acquainted with the city. With me I have brought some metal friends. You don't want to talk to them, trust me when I say so! Now the one sitting over there is..."   He pointed on the person next to him, and his focus returns to the meal and ale in front of him while the next person introduces themselves to the newcomer.
conversations: Wckd:
conversations: human
conversations:  The name's Hannes von Bendtheim. Perhaps you've heard of me; if not Iam a man of swords and steel,not words and poetry, but I can say that I am able to deal with your probelms."  
  
  Hannes is a small, stocky man with broad shoulders and dirt blod hair and a bodkin beard. He wears the colorful sliced shirt of a Landsknech, but the clothes, alike the man himself look as if they have seen better days. Behind him in the shadow, a young girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen years stands and looks into the group with large eyes, but without saying anything.
  
   "The girl's Hanna. She is my ward. Doesn't talk much, but is a good girl, and prudent - and to make this cear, she's also well protected."  
  
  Hannes carefully reagrds the other men around the table,  and then smiles, a lot more friendly than the first imprtession looked like:  "Well, seems we have to safe a young man's inheritance. Sounds like a noble task to me, and a profitable one at that."  
conversations: Satyr:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander Bristow 
   " Alexander Bristow. "  The seated man replied as he tore a chunk of honeycomb from the piece her had held in his powerful hands. Alexander's dark -almost black- brown hair tussled about his head as he turned a beaming smile to the unwashed man next to him. His own hard features and leathers bound body was much cleaner. He was clean to the extent you suspect he had washed his clothes and even bathed within the last week.
conversations: Valgunn:
conversations: human
conversations:  Morgane was of average height and, with his cloak removed, it was also apparent that his build was long and lanky.  His features seemed somewhat... pointed.  His long nose ended in a point.  Below it, his thin mustaches ended in points at the ends of his mouth.  His chin supported a small beard, also ending in a point.  He had pale green, almost gray, eyes, that were narrow, but attentive.  He looked to be a young man of perhaps twenty five years, but he had deep lines in his face suited to one much older.  He was a shade pale, and had the look of a man that spent most of his time indoors.  His fingers were long and narrow, and moved with grace as he picked around some of the sausages before him.
  
  He had followed each of the other men with his eyes, as they spoke, and seemed interested in the child when she was mentioned.  Once each had spoken, he cleared his mouth with a drink of wine, and then addressed them, and their host, his accented words smooth and even.
  
  "My name is Morgane Renard.  I, also, am a man in service to the Church.  I hail from Burgundy, and have been here in the Empire for some time in my duties.  I would be interested in why I would be summoned in such... company, but I am sure you will explain if I allow you the time."
  
  Given a moment, he will lean closer to Hannes, and speak in a lower tone.
  
  "The girl, Hanna did you say?  Has she no parents?"
conversations: Lord Bayushi:
conversations: human
conversations:  With a sad smile, Hannes shakes his head.  "Not anymore. Killed by marauding soldiers, for hiding the few silver they owned. But she got me, an' that's good enough for now."  
  
  There seems to be more to the tale than that. but it doesn't seem as if the man with the moustache would continue to tell it.
conversations: Satyr:
conversations: human
conversations:  The young Brugundian nods sadly.
  
  "I will pray for her."
  
  He then looks back to their host and allows him to continue on.
conversations: Lord Bayushi:
conversations: human
conversations:  Stuka watches with his hands folded as the weathered men introduce themselves.  He silently offers a chair to Hanna upon noticing the girl for the first.  When implored to continue, he breathes deeply and sips on his beer.
  
   "Now that we're no longer strangers, I shall be forward and honest.  I've requested this task because your names have been whispered to my ears from various services.
  
  Mr. Bristow, you have access to people, and I won't say whom as that's your own business to discuss, that can 'get things done.'
  
  Morgane, your dedication and reputation among the church may be necessary.  I may be a man of the cloth, but my devotion has come into question since it was discovered I am the son of a noble.  May God forgive me for speaking ill of my superiors, but many of the upper clergy have forgotten The Word and focus on money and politics over virtue.  I became an oblate to escape from the pampered life of nobility but alas it seems man is encapable of running from destiny.
  
  Florian, to be frank you're a man of ill repute but I shan't speak more out of fear for my own health.  The important thing is you finish a job with no nonsense.  The men I'm dealing with are rotten, greedy souls who would sell their own mother for a groschen.
  
  Hannes, you know how to throw a punch and take one too.  Your methods aren't as careful and 'sophisticated' as Florian's but with all due respect to him, you are perhaps more 'efficient.'
  
  My inheritance shall go to founding a research center for modern medicine.  I believe God himself visited me in my sleep to deliver this goal.
  
  The money itself is hidden and to discover where my father placed it is our longterm goal.  To obtain the estate is a matter of court and will be our first goal.  Tomorrow, we shall visit the local banker.  I know a friend who will tell me more.  I ask that we travel together as I am being followed." 
  
  Hans points to a corner where a man in a hood smokes from a pipe and sips on beer.  There's a knife poorly tucked into his boot and he nervously looks away when Hans points.  It's blatantly obvious he's a spy or killer.
  
   "The fool won't try anything in this tavern but if I step out into the open he'll surely follow.  Anyways, our lodging here has been paid for for seven days.  It's the last of my money, unfortunately.  Enjoy yourselves until tomorrow." 
  
  Hans turns towards the fire and sips his beer.
conversations: jmbrown:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
   " I'm sure we will. "  The smiling man said in a cheerful tone.  " I'll make a special note of such a virtuous man tonight. "  While the man stood in his late twenties his face gave the impression of his late thirties. His own arms and legs were sculpted from hard living as was common but also from hard fighting. Lifting up his cup he continued to raise it higher towards their patrons chair.
conversations: Valgunn:
conversations: human
conversations:  The church bells strike eight when Hans gathers everyone in the common room and orders a large breakfast of fried eggs and hen.
  
   "Eat up, friends.  I've spared no expense for the next month.  Unfortunately it's the last of my expenses!
  
  My first lead into my stolen estate lies in the hands of a banker, Albert Bachmeier.  He's in charge of property within the district and knows much about property acquisition.  Ah, my special friend has awakened." 
  
  Hans points to the cloaked, pipe smoking man sitting in the same corner.  He looks away and whistles nonchalantly.
  
   I swear, that guy is so oblivious he'd walk into an oncoming cart.  He'll most likely follow us.  We'll take the main roads to the bank.  He won't try anything stupid while in plain sight but if he continues to be a nuisance we may have to lead him away from prying eyes and handle 'business' in private." 
  
  The streets are still busy with people celebrating the new century.  Shops sell merchandise at massive discounts (most of which amount to 5% off esoteric items which is practically a sale liquidation in these parts) and children set off Chinese imported explosives called fire-works in the streets.  Taking the main street from the market, Hans comes up to the largest bank in the city.  Sure enough, the thug from the tavern clumsily stalks twenty feet behind, making himself an obvious target as he knocks over crates and pushes aside pedestrians.
  
   "Mr. Hannes, if you could please watch the door.  If Hanna is like other children, she loves to 'watch the clouds' and I certainly don't want to rob her of the pleasure."   Hans winks and thrusts his head in the direction of the thug who's standing on the opposite side of the street trying hard to light his pipe.
  
  Hans enters with Alexander, Morgane, and Florian.  The foyer is completely empty.  A bell on the table with a parchment reading "ring for service" are the only distinguishing features.  Hans slaps the bell a few times and waits.
  
  Hannes sees the thug cross the street and stop by the door.  He looks at Hannes, then at Hanna, then at Hannes again.
  
   "Nice day, isn't it?  You got a spare tinder stick?" 
conversations: jmbrown:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Five minutes and no answer.  Verdammt!" 
  
  Hans steps behind the counter.
  
   "Hello!  Anyone he-" 
  
  He's cut short by a clerk, his throat slit, sprawled across the ground.  Every cabinet is jerked open, papers and coins scattered across the ground, soaking up the blood from his open wound.
  
  There are sounds of movement from upstairs.
  
   "Robbers?  There's a stairway around the hall, I-I-I think I should find a place to hide." 
  
  Hans says a quick prayer and takes cover underneath a desk.
conversations: jmbrown:
conversations: human
conversations:  Florian motions for the others to be quiet. He whispers  "I'll have a look upstairs"   and hastily makes his way upstairs trying to make as little noise as possible in the process. When he is out of sight of the others Florian's fingers automatically finds their way to the hafts of his  two favorite knives , readying him for whatever might await him on the upper levels of the building.
conversations: Wckd: