31st Ulriczeit 2511 (from late afternoon): Plain Sailing; Backstory

From Salundra’s perspective…

The children played. Janna and Jerte invented a game with Sali, the rag doll. Something had upset Joris, but Maglyn didn’t seem too fussed. Salundra, for whom the doll was named, reckoned young Joris often had his nose out of joint by the play of the older children. The light was already fading and they were only an hour east of Ubersreik. Salundra decided she’d chat to the captain.

Gele said they’d need to put in and moor in about another hour or so. River travel was too dangerous in the dark. They had undertaken it once before, when Felix had been badly injured. They were desperate times. Despite the dangerous day they’d had, things, for now at least, seemed calm. Gele also outlined the journey ahead – four or five nights on the river, initially routing towards Auerwald, then up the Grünberg canal to Altdorf. The captain hoped to take on cargo on the way for sale in the capital.

The hour of travel passed smoothly, the light trailing wind offering little additional speed over the natural flow of the Teufel. The day had been a bright one, a nice day for a white and green wedding she reflected, but now the last of the light was rapidly fading as Söll was setting in the west. Gele issued instructions and everyone jumped to do their part, even Gunnar. For a Dwarf who claimed to dislike river travel so much, he was becoming quite adept. Salundra did her part too and soon the boat was secured against the northern bank.

She hadn’t noticed the smell of cooking until now, though fragrant aromas were emanating from the galley. Maglyn and Yasmina most likely, though she the smells reminded her of a certain pie stall on Marktag in Ubersreik. That’s right, the sisters had given Eugen a bag of food when they’d all left the wedding reception so abruptly. Salundra was suddenly hungry and decided to make her way below decks. The lanterns had everything well lit. The children were already set up, food being mopped up from their wooden plates while they guffawed and chatted.

The food was good, a selection of pies both savoury and sweet on offer. It went down well and she noted Gunnar and Ferdinand relishing their meal. Afterwards Franz nodded for them to come up on deck.

“I guess I owe you an explanation”, he started as they sat, blankets keeping those who wanted them warm against the clear night sky. He carried two bottles, a good Tilean red wine and Kislevian Vodka. There was no pretence, Franz handed the clear liquid bottle to Gunnar and produced wooden goblets for himself, herself and Ferdinand to enjoy the wine. She sipped and listened. He’d mentioned before that he had been a Grudgebringer and had seen time in Tilea. Indeed, he’d fought in the War of the Beast, specifically seeing a lot of action in Vedanta clearing ratmen from the sewers that threatened to offer them ingress into the besieged city. It was Skaven from the unnamed, yet identified by a distinctive lightning scar, that were responsible for the attack earlier.

They all listened intently and when there was a pause, Salundra asked about his brother, another Grudgebringer, and the farm near Altdorf. Franz had wondered whether the Skaven were also responsible for his disappearance, but he doubted it. They would have likely struck simultaneously, some preordained celestial occurrence their likely sign. As it was his brother had gone missing over a week ago. As for the farm, it had been in his family for years. They tended stock animals for the nearby Kreatur Hürde, where the Imperial army raised and trained Demigryphs. They sipped and listened. Well, Gunnar glugged and listened, but seemed none the worse for the generous mouthfuls.  

Gele and Maglyn joined them, the captain whispering something in Franz’s ear that made the veteran mercenary, come hardened barman, come new husband and father blush. Noticing that the kids had quietened down, he went to check in on them. On his return they made plans for watch, Ferdinand first, followed by Gunnar, then Salundra and Franz taking the predawn watch. The fact that this was his wedding night and Gele had obviously just offered the newlyweds her cabin had escaped Salundra’s attention. Salundra caught on when Maglyn took his hand and led him away.

From Ferdinand’s perspective…

It had been a nice day… well, apart from the attack of ratmen, but even then there was a positive to take from that: he hadn’t been paralysed by fear in their presence. Gunnar never would have let him live that down. He’d fought well and felt his healing skills had come in useful in treating Franz.

Why, then, did he feel so ill at ease?

As the boat moved down the river, Ferdinand watched the life all around him: the children playing, Salundra chatting easily with Gele, Franz helping out where he could. Something drew his eye to the horizon. There wasn’t much daylight left, but he felt a malign presence. There it was, the ill moon, Morrslieb, just lingering by the horizon, the barest sliver visible. His head flashed with pain, a fresh scar in his mind being poked at. A face he did not recognise flashed before his eyes. Then the headache, that damned pounding as though his brain no longer fitted within his head.

From Gunnar’s perspective…

Killed lots of ratmen, then a large vermin ogre thing, protected Salundra and Janna, and enjoyed some good Kislevite vodka. Gunnar’s day had been pretty straightforward. He didn’t care for the boat, but the rest had been fine.

32nd Ulriczeit 2511: The Coach and Barge; Gamble; Bird Brain; Pain

The sailing was easy. The flow of the Teufel and wind that had turned westerly carried the Deft Dance along nicely. Maglyn and Franz emerged from the captain’s cabin. Salundra tried to figure out which of them looked more embarrassed. It was sweet really.

The meals were prepared and enjoyed, everyone helping out onboard the boat where they could. In the early afternoon Gele began to complain of something fouling the Dancer’s rudder. It wasn’t severe, but she wanted to take the earliest opportunity to check on it. Mostly likely the steering chain was a little unseated. An easy fix when moored. 

The Coach and Barge was an obvious place to stop. Gele promised good food and fare, along with a warm welcome from Gustav. A little too warm actually, he was a renowned chatterbox. She guided the Dancer to dock, not long after an eastbound coach had pulled into the Coach and Barge. Gele, Fritz and Yasmina stayed aboard to look at the steering problem while there was some light left in the day. The rest made their way along the short path into the coach house. 

The welcome was indeed warm. Words spilled from Gustav, each mimicked by Blackie, a tame crow flitting between the rafters, though the words were often in a jumbled order. There were a few patrons in the bar, probably the recent arrivees from coach. A lavishly dressed moustachioed man sat in a booth where he sipped a drink and played with cards; a slender man, younger than the other, sat at the bar, his attention absorbed by a book; and two coachmen were already working on tomorrow’s hangover.

Soon they had food and drink. And it was good. The kids sat at one table, Janna and Jerte continuing their game at the kids’ table. Franz and Maglyn chatted quietly, glancing towards the children occasionally.

Gunnar, Salundra and Ferdinand enjoyed the calm, though the coachmen were becoming increasingly raucous. It was good natured, but everyone was getting to know Gunnar (one of the coachmen) and Hultz (the other one!) through their indiscrete conversation, which was interspersed by some shanties with colourful lyrics. No one seemed to mind too much. Relative to killing a score of ratmen, it was all relatively normal.

Blackie was showing more and more attention to the slender man at the bar, the bird’s speech pulling him from his reading. Irritation was writ large on his face. He could be heard asking Gustav if there was something that could be done about the crow, but Blackie was family.

The moustachioed man approached Salundra, Ferdinand and Gunnar (the Slayer, not the increasingly drunk coachman) and invited them to a game of cards. Gunnar was happy to stay put with his drink(s), keeping a protective eye on everything. The man introduced himself as Philippe in a thick Bretonnian accent. The games were fast and Ferdinand proved a natural, but he was being cautious, both with the gambling and the drinking, and decided to quit while ahead. The Bretonnian was obviously disappointed, but politely wished them a good evening as they returned to the table.

Just as he sat back down, Ferdinand felt his stomach gurgle ominously. He quickly excused himself and moved towards the back of the bar where he hoped there was an outhouse of some form. Meanwhile, the kids were getting ratty and Maglyn decided it was time to bring them back to the boat. Salundra and Gunnar decided to go with them, the dangers of the previous day still fresh in their minds.

Ferdinand felt awful as he stumbled into an outhouse stall. His head was now pounding to add to sick stomach. He fell against the wall, the headache overtaking him. No, headache wasn’t quite right… it was an intense pain in his face.

As they walked towards the barge, the drunken singing abruptly stopped. Screams came from the bar. Gunnar and Salundra ran back inside to see the slender man cast his book to the round, smoke emanating from the pages. But that wasn’t all… a feathered arm had begun to emerge from the tome. It shifted into being, a grotesque face of eyes crowned by horrible tentacles. Taloned arms slashed at anything in reach, only contacting the furniture, the man deciding to flee out the back.

Gunnar and Salundra weren’t phased by the horror and waded in with blade and axe flashing. Several strikes seemed to pass through the creature without harm, but enough contacted that it began to fold in on itself, returning to whatever realm it had manifest from.

The pain was more than Ferdinand had ever felt. His hands went instinctively to his face, desperately hoping that kneading the skin would ease it. What he found at his fingertips disturbed him more than any pain could. The face he felt was not his own. The pain suddenly abated… he could feel a beard and hair on his scalp. He couldn’t comprehend what this might be as his hands desperately moved over the new face he found. 

He slowly stood, shocked at what was happening. The pain struck again, like a bolt of violent energy and he collapsed again. He wasn’t sure if he’d blacked out. His hands reluctantly moved to his face again. It was his own again .The pain began to subside.

Two words rang through his mind, “Change. Soon.” 

Until next time,

Owen