[WFRP 2e] Renegade Princeps Interlude 50.5

My PC
Vaervenshyael - Female Elf Assassin (suffering from a Host of Fiends disability and carrying a magical stone linked to gluttony)

My companions
Tankred "Silver Bear" Tenneckermann - Human Artisan/Mercenary/Champion

Wilhelm Hechland - Human Pistoleer/Engineer/???

Doctor Johann Wilhelm Woeller - Human Physician

(Previous Notes)

GM: Johann and Tankred awkwardly step toward the door of Mathilde Manse. Their clothing sticking to their wet skin and in the Kaldzeit chill giving them the look of a freshly plucked hens. The wet hair pulled back and dripping down their spines didn't add to the look.

They know the man just inside the door speaking franticly with Mathilde and several of her house guard. He holds two cast iron pans, one in each hand, and is shouting about an elf and drunkard killing the newest hire of Mathilde, Jacque the Rat Gripper.

"Minding his own business he was! Skewered him, and his dog too! Just like before, but without cause I tell you! Murdered the witch! But a witch is different, no?! I tell you I escaped barely. She tried to stab me in the kitchen with that skinny sword! Blocked it with my pans I did. But I got the message. I left. Came straight here!"

The innkeeper keeps talking so fast Mathilde waves her guard out the door and scowls disapprovingly at Gertrude, then Tankred. Beyond door, framed in mid-afternoon gray, is a gathering crowd outside the Drunken Donkey. Maybe twenty, but more running to the mob.

Mathilde shouts to her town guard of Myrmidains gathering at the outskirts of the growing mob, "Get them away from the tavern!" Mathilde turns to Johann and Tankred, seeing Gertrude to the latter's side. "Get your shield! Sheildmaiden! Your sisters may well need you shortly!" The word 'maiden' delivered with a touch of scorn. Gertrude darts to the garrison's "barracks" in the manse's "barbican."

"Damn that elf! Tankred! She strains my patience with your Princep and his 'pony'!" she states without waiting for an answer. She moves with commanding grace to the growing mob.

Tankred follows, his massive, scarred frame undeterred by the chill and the frost now clinging to his beard and hair. His heavy axe resting in his off hand, ready to spring into action. He looks every bit the soggy man-bear, and every bit as grumpy and dangerous.

"I'd as soon throw them both in the pit until this is sorted." He mutters none too subtly.

In addition to being a giant with toughness 60, and strength 70, Tankred has the Menacing talent. 

Vaervenshyael: (As Tankred and Johann arrive at the tavern.)  “Tankred. You finally showed up. You could have come a bit sooner. One of the locals assaulted me. A rat catcher who didn’t like to be reminded there was a rat problem last time we were in town. He wouldn’t back down, so I hit him with my tankard. The fool should have stayed down, or come up with his fists, but the fool pulled out some knives AND sicced his small, vicious dog on me. I had to put the man down. Thankfully Wilhelm was here to help with the dog.

“Doktor! There you are. I think I need you to look at this ankle. It looks bad from up here, but I’m sure I’ll be fine with your master ministrations.

“Would either of you like to try to the half-baked potatoes? They are surprisingly good.”

Tankred: "V, you couldn't kick the dog, and knock him out like a normal bar brawl? You had to skewer him? Do you know there is a crowd out there that wants the blood of the murderous she-elf?"

(Vaervenshyael's reply assumes Mathilde is NOT in the room yet.)

"There is a crowd of superstitious muck dwellers who don't know when to leave their betters alone. I gave him every opportunity, and didn't draw until drawn upon first. And look at this ankle. It would not suffice to just "kick the dog." I'm starting to think this backwater town has no use to us other than slowing down greenskins."

Tankred: "None of which matters, V. There is a lynch mob out there who wants your blood because you killed a local. Mathilde is talking to them now, and any minute she is coming through that door. She is going to have to do something to appease them. We need them, if, for no other reason, than we have precious few allies and safe harbors here. We have to get you... and Wilhelm out of here."

V: She finishes up the pot of potatoes. "Luckily, I have no desire to be here anyway."

Hopefully the doktor is almost finished with her ankle.

Tankred: "What is with you and eating lately? Are you with child?"

V: "I am not. I am just...insatiable. We are traveling a lot, it's cold out, I don't know. Are you sure you're eating enough?"

Tankred: "You are eating almost as often as Wilhelm drinks. If this is how you cope. Fine. But no more killing civilians when we aren't being paid to do it. That brings nothing but trouble, and burns the places we can go to ground when things get rough. Right now we need a way to get you past the crowd. And fast, Mathilda is coming. Can you walk on that ankle?"

V: "It is not broken or sprained, just a bit lacerated. And I most certainly do not promise to not defend myself against attacks to my body. Most humans are just...more frail than you. And more difficult to reason with, if possible at all."