[WFRP 2e] Relics of Nehekhara Prologue 2

Erik Holt - Human Tomb Robber

My companions
Lunn - Dwarf Gaoler
Bungo - Halfling Grave Robber
Fyodor - Human Badlander
Pappy - NPC Human Beggar
Mr Cheesers - Lunn's pet rat

(Previous Notes)

Last time Fyodor and Erik were caught trying to enter a dwarf tomb and were taken to gaol.

“Quiet down, ya lot! Or y’ll got a taste o me stick!” The dwarf gaoler was bald, with a fuzzy red beard. He was irritated that his cells were full of beardless ingrates who lacked the coin to bribe him for release. He tossed a chunk of stale bread to Mr Cheesers and went to investigate the barrel of wort from the brewery. "These lot have it too good that they get fresh wort for dinner.” He grumbled.

One of the battered humans (Erik) perked up. "Yes, sir. I don't suppose a visit from a healer is possible with incarceration?"

“A healer? Ya bloody well want a healer does ya? Fer a coin I might see that ya dinna kick it, fer two I might see ya get buried if’n ya do.”

"A coin. Yes. I believe I have a coin in my belongings. Don't much care about burying. It's not like Morr will want me either way."

(To be read in your thickest eastern European accent:) "Psst. Hey! Squat man! Listen..." Fyodor pushed his face between the bars and stared intently at Lunn and Erik's conversation.

Lunn took the coin and deftly patched up the worst of the human's wounds. Then he turned to the window. “Arr ya talking ya me?”

"Yes! You like money, da? Who does not? I know of way to make many riches. Much money! Let me out, I take you to burial place of once great king." At this, Fyodor looked at Erik, "You come too, yes? I hear of great opportunity for much loot, more even than newly-dead noble here. We could be kings ourselves once we have what sits for us to take. You could buy rat guard friend, yes? Much bread and cheese too! What you say?"

Erik looked up from his spot on the floor. “If you can get me out of here in one piece, I’ll go anywhere.”

Fyodor looked back to Erik and grinned. Stupidly. Then looked back at Lunn, expectantly.

The dwarf rolled his eyes. "Umgi, you are deb to me. Wan makes ya think I would wander off in search of azgal? Sounds like kruk ta me. An' I be not doh. Ya want yer friend here, ya make it worth me while."

Erik laid his head back on the floor. “You’re looking for a bribe? I respect that in a guard.”

“Bribe, ack, no, umgi. Tha would’na do. But a few fer services. Aye”

Fyodor smiled. "Is good, is good. How much?"

The conversation was interrupted when more guards brought in a rotund halfling who smelled strongly of ale. A crazy old man in a cell across from the party's started jumping up and down. "Yes! He's here! They're all here! Just like the dreams! Tell him about the dreams!

"Shut up, Pappy! I'm working over here." The dwarf poked a stick through the bars at the old man.
The other guards looked around at the full cells.

"The bosses want us to release any sober prisoners...free up space." The halfling perked up.

"Let me assure you gentlemen, though I smell a bit ripe, I am quite sober. I just happened to fall asleep in that barrel."

Erik perked up again. "I'm sober! And innocent, too. I just happened to fall through a storm drain. Surely that isn't a crime!"

Fyodor joined in. "And I just helping him up! We go! We all go! South! To riches!"

"We should take the old man, too. Surely that will be worth the cost of our release, us getting him out of the jail's way. We'll leave immediately. Consider it self banishment!" Erik was pulling at strings while trying not to sound desperate.

"Do you umgi have a map?" The gaoler started to waffle on the subject.

"Let's get out of town ASAP, and ask for a general map from the first person we find heading north."

Less than an hour later, five people and a pet rat made camp a short distance outside of Barak Varr's walls. In the morning, a dwarf caravan, secretive about their wares, allowed the party to join them on their trek south. Destination, Padua-upon-Avon.




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