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 Around the Rim Of Marienburg

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 753
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Around the Rim Of Marienburg   Tue 13 Sep - 12:55:13

Around The Rim Of Marienburg

We left the lonely Temple and found some accommodation beyond the rim of the square, a tavern where Giz spent the evening demonstrating his considerable talents for gambling. Everyone subbed the slippery thief with funds which, for a modest commission, he managed to multiply profitably on his comrades’ behalf.

He soon cleaned out the other patrons and clearly set some criminal tongues wagging, as later on that evening an attempt was made to break in to his chamber* to relieve him of the unwieldy baggage that he had managed to accumulate. Ever one for caution, he engaged pit fighter Borri as his personal bodyguard, and spent the night dreaming of plans to eliminate any vulnerable cracks in his armour.**

*Ooh er missus
**No one likes vulnerable cracks after all


Unable to afford dwarven steel, the wannabee wizard Plotter took even more extreme measures to protect his funds, and let’s just say that sometimes money laundering is fully justified and indeed should be compulsory. I certainly won’t be asking him for change for a Guilder any time soon.

We reported back next morning to Neuman, who was a little unhappy at our failure to return the previous evening and promised to rip us a new one if it happened again. He was pleased at the reports we brought back though, and asked us to continue to rummage even more deeply in the furthest reaches of the city’s netherworld for information on the witch hunter Osric and the fake scion. He confirmed rumours we had heard of unusual share trading at the Exchange. It seemed that the Lustrian scheme/scam was in full swing.

We decided our objective was best approached from two angles and Beatrix and I took the slums area and the rest the temple district. Our investigation wriggled thoroughly into every nook and cranny, and we were rewarded with a rendezvous in a dark back alley with a mysterious shadowy stranger.*

*Of course we are treading a path already well worn by Wizard Larry

He directed us to the a drugs den located in the very bowels of the city, the Lotus Flower, and gave us a token that would gain us admittance to what might be the current resting place of the witch hunter, badly hurt in the fracas around the proclamation of the Sigmar child.

Our wizard knocked at the tightly closed hatchway at the entry point of the place, no doubt an orifice regarded by its many visitors as a portal of pleasure; however Plotter showed no finesse, allowing the precious and hard won token to be snatched by the doorkeeper who fortunately then ushered us in to the aromatic interior.

The drugged and near catatonic state of the customers confirmed our suspicions as did the powerful stench of black lotus and worse. We were tasting the depths of depravity in this constricting confined place, the very air was a poisonous fume and the siren-like beckoning of the illegal concoctions permeating the atmosphere penetrated deeply into our bony skulls through our non-bony noses, a careless design flaw that threatened to suck us in to the world of swirling, flickering pleasures that could only lead to oblivion and ignominy.

A little greasing of palms then took place* which led us to a clearer area of the den which contained the missing Falconheim himself. He was a site for sore eyes; swaddled in dirty bandages and clearly out of it under the all pervasive influence of the establishment’s narcotics. A brisk application of cold water seemed to effectively revive him though, and we managed to establish a rapport of sorts.

* Proper Lubrication is vital

The veteran was a brusque no-nonsense sort and recognised Neuman’s name even as his had been known to our master. He recounted the tale of how seven years before he had raided a cult ritual in progress in the cursed marshes, his force acting like a tightening sphincter to choke off the foul refuse of chaos. The babe in arms rescued he had indeed entrusted to the Shallian orphanage. He had thought no more of it until he was drawn back there by the rumours of the scion

He had recognised the child at once and acted to purge the situation but had been struck down by the crowd even as the fool priest Helmut declared the child a god. His followers had dragged him to safety by the skin of his teeth. His suggestion was that we investigated the place where he had plucked the child to safety those seven years past, a place that his guide of that time could show us, a place that should still exist as its clammy filth had prevented a cleansing burning.

We moved on re-invigorated and slightly high with several things on our minds: To locate and enlist the aid of scout Jekyll Sumpfund in scouring the cursed marshes for the place that had spawned the Karl child; To go shopping; To follow the pink elephants that danced in the air ahead of us and track them to their nests; and in the case of our head of Acquisition and Procurement; To knock over any quality armour vending establishments that we should happen to chance upon. This last was duly achieved in quite short and proficient order.

Meanwhile our befuddled dwarf continues to contemplate one worrying thought that increasingly is forcing all other synaptic activity to the very rim of his cranial cavity: Why has he never seen a skeleton with a nose or penis bone?


11.9.11





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