Sunday 28 February 2010

Rumblings Of A New Beginning

Ladies and Gentleman, I have some interesting news that I will share with you now. Tiemen and I are back in touch! He is still very busy but has a section of time opening up where he feels like he would like to look at any new ideas I have for a script, and a possible Comic Therapy relaunch could of course be the end result. You never know...

I can tell you this much though. If I do relaunch Comic Therapy, it would be on a purely fun basis, with updates on this blog section here, as and when I want to, rather than a schedule to work to. That's because I have so many other things going on, and I would potentially have to work with other artists too, seeing as "T-Man" doesn't always have this amount of free time either.

Keep tuned in here and you won't miss it if it happens.

Friday 26 February 2010

Their Fated Travels...(Chapter Four)

This time the team gets in way over their heads, forced to fight or die.

http://robafett.deviantart.com/art/Their-Fated-Travels-Chapter-4-155484391


Their Fated Travels…




By Robert James Freemantle

Plot Events by Lory Cozens



Chapter Four

Blind Justice – The Discovery





They had arrived at the Temple of Verena and stayed outside to discuss their next move. Though the afternoon had crept on, the sun was persistently shining through the clouds, like a piercing eye of justice of some God looking down upon the world, awaiting divine retribution…



Dieter squinted his eyes cautiously, as if straining his peripheral vision to the limits, the sun wasn’t helping. Rissandrea saw this and enquired, “What is wrong? You’ve been doing that since we first set off for the nameless tavern”.

Before the man could answer, Tordrad shouted enthusiastically, “Drinking?” before Maestro dashed his high hopes.

“No Tordrad, we need clear minds for this.”

Tordrad grumbled quietly, saying a few words that no one else understood.

Dieter finally replied, “Yes, I have felt suspicions ever since we started this investigation. Something making the hairs on my arms stand up.”

“And what do you suspect?” Tobias asked.

“That we are being followed.” He replied. “Two of them, I believe it is the witch hunter’s men. Shadowing us. One on the rooftops, one on the ground.”

Maestro looked around blatantly, searching for any sign of something suspicious.

Dieter scowled, “They won’t give themselves away that easy. They have probably been following us to make sure we do not try to run from the city.”

“It is perhaps a good thing” started Rissandrea, “after all, they are on our side. If things turn bad, perhaps they would help.”

Dieter frowned at this suggestion, “No, that is not likely at all I’m afraid. They would let us die so as to view the power of their enemy. It is what I would do were I them.”

The others stared at Dieter with a little concern before he himself broke their thoughts with, “But the minutes hand of the clock still moves ever onwards, perhaps pointing towards our fate tonight if we do not hurry along and solve this case.”

There were certainly no arguments with that.

Maestro was straining, an attempt to scout the witch hunters positions from the scrying technique of mage sight. He couldn’t manage it. Tobias could tell as he stared at the wizard’s embarrassed expression.

Comments were privately made in the notebook, the halfling enjoyed writing this particular piece Maestro noticed, as his tongue was stuck out a little to the side in his concentration.



Maestro couldn’t shake off the anxious feeling that was building up in his stomach. He wasn’t experienced enough to know if this was his magic senses speaking or just the usual butterflies in the stomach he would get before a college test, which would be invariably failed of course.

Maestro was a little too old to still be an apprentice wizard, after all, he had now studied for quite a number of years. Everyone else seemed concerned about this fact, everyone except Maestro himself. He didn’t see what all the fuss was about. He liked his life. It was safe. Tame. He already hated adventure and he hadn’t even started yet.

The others who were in Maestro’s first apprentice classes which he attended when he wasn’t studying privately with his master, were all ahead of him now. Every single pupil had advanced to at least journeyman level of wizadry. Some had advanced even further. He didn’t care about that either. It was a case of motivation, being that he had none. Even his master, the great Magnamus despaired at what to do, but never once did he ever seem to give up on Maestro. Never once did he suggest ending their tuition. He didn’t understand that. Why?



Rissandrea spoke out, “Verena is the Goddess of learning and justice. My order have close ties with them in our procedural arrangements for city wide protocols. Were the city invaded for example, our orders would work together to swiftly set up a coalition of local preparedness.”

Tobias shook his head in some distress, “There surely cannot be something wrong with the Temple of justice itself! That would be ridiculous.”

Dieter smiled darkly, “Malvanius would disagree with you there...”

Rissandrea and Maestro looked around worriedly, as if the merest mention of the witch hunter captain’s name might make him materialize somehow.

Rissandrea continued her train of thought, “I will go in first. You should remain out here. I will talk to them, in my official capacity and learn what I can. If I do not return within thirty minutes, assume something is wrong and go on without me.”

Maestro replied, “Right you are.”

Tobias almost hit the wizard in the arm, and then reckoned his leg would be an easier target, then realised he’d taken too long to decide and the moment had passed but he did say, “You would let this girl walk into potential danger alone?”

Maestro was about to reply with something that would have perhaps gotten him into even more trouble with the halfling, but Rissandrea smiled and spared him with, “It is alright. They would not harm me. I will have come to them on official church business. The front area is a public place as well. I shall remain only there.”

This seemed to calm the halfling down again.

Tordrad chuckled at how funny he thought the small man looked. He didn’t meet many of The Moot folk in his country. This was quite a novelty for him.



It was decided then. Rissandrea opened the great doors and disappeared inside. All they could do was wait patiently.

Dieter remained in a constant frown. Tordrad saw this too, laughed and pointed. The Kislevite thought his attempt at a frowning face made him look more comical than anything. Dieter was suitably offended of course, internally.

The initiate of Shallya had been gone for only eight minutes when she returned again, putting her hand up to block the sun that shone into her eyes. The daylight beamed against her glasses making her seem like she had two glowing white balls of energy where her eyes should be.

Maestro was the only one to notice the effect. He made sure to not let his imagination wander into something inventive that would work in a story he might one day write and forced himself to hear what she had to say instead.

Rissandrea looked glum, “I spoke to them. They were convinced that I was there on official business to talk to the Magistrate. They told me he was busy. I did not like it. There was something in the woman’s tone that suggested to me that she did not believe her own words.”

Tobias frowned suspiciously as Rissandrea continued, “They said that the temple was now closing to the public for the day…That isn’t right. They think because I am just an initiate that I am simple, that I will think nothing more of the word of superiors. There’s more too. As I left, I curtsied and took the attendant’s hand in my own respectfully. As soon as I touched her skin a wave of emotion, her emotion struck me. It made me sweat with panic. She was scared - too scared to even tell me.”

Tordrad could tell where this conversation was going by the tone and expression on everyone’s faces. He knew a fight would not be far away. Good, he thought, his muscular limbs were feeling stiff and could use a workout.



Dieter began, “We can not barge through the front door and push everyone aside until we find something to incriminate them, even though I am sure Tordrad here would quite enjoy that.”

The Kislevite looked suspiciously at the man as he continued, “So what do we do?”

His attention was caught by Maestro who was stood wavering on his feet. He then blinked his eyes and kept them open, wider than normal.

Dieter followed the wizard’s gaze. It led down towards the ground in front of them.

Rissandrea noticed and asked, “Maestro? What can you see there?”

The wizard looked nervous, as if he was on the brink of a breakthrough. To his eyes he saw a faint trail beginning to appear before him, growing stronger by the moment as it ran along the ground. It was a purple to pink hue with wisps of black running through it. Every time he thought his eyes could perceive the colour exactly, it appeared to shift out of understanding again. Even its texture looked like an ever shifting elongated snake of smooth shapes, then rough, then spiky then cloudy. It made him start to feel queasy trying to focus too hard on the specifics of its surface so he instead tried to follow where it went.

He spoke, “I, am seeing in witch sight now. I believe it is…a dhar manifestation of one of the daemonic elements.”

Tobias raised his eyebrows impressed. Maestro noticed that the halfling hadn’t written it into the notebook however. Typical, he thought.

Dieter lied and asked, “In plain Reikspiel please Maestro.”

“Of course, I’m sorry” came the wizard’s reply. “I am seeing a residual effect from the presence of chaos power. I believe it is… Slaanesh.”

At the mention of that name, Rissandrea marked her finger through the air, signing the sigil of several different holy orders into the space in front of her just to be on the safe side.

Maestro squinted through his spectacles until he saw the trail open up further in the distance too. He pointed at it, remarking, “The magical trail, it goes towards the Temple and in through the front door but it is fading weaker there.” He briefly wondered if perhaps Rissandrea was the cause of it, if she was the killer. She was a woman after all. Then he saw that the trail led a different way additionally.

He continued, “My witch sight shows me that the trail continues strongest and thickest down the side of the building itself, past those bushes there.”

“Perhaps there is a side door somewhere there.” suggested Rissandrea.

Maestro dearly didn’t want to have to follow it. However, he didn’t want to be tortured by Malvanius either, for a crime he did not commit. That settled it. Malvanius to him at that moment in time was far scarier than any chaos cultist could possibly be. He pressed on, following the trail like a blood hound on a scent. The others shrugged and followed.



Soon they had gone around the outside edge of the building and still no door was to be seen, aside from the servants’ entrance, but Maestro had steered the group away from that as the trail clearly led this other way…straight to…a wall.

The wizard looked a little embarrassed by this.

Tobias asked, “You are sure it leads here? Truly?”

Maestro responded, “That or my magic is on the blink.”

“Don’t count that option out” added Tobias who made a note in his book.

Dieter tapped his walking stave to the brickwork. It sounded solid enough.

“Perhaps a secret door?” asked Maestro.

“You don’t say?” Dieter replied, sarcasm dripping venomously as if from the fangs of a cobra. It was lost on Maestro.

The wizard instead looked at the ground for possible scratch marks from where a door might open there. The ground was clear, but bending down as he had, brought something else interesting to his attention – a large gap under this particular section of wall. It had to be a door!

Dieter tapped another section and this part sounded hollow instead. He nodded smugly to the others as Maestro began yanking at the gap, his fingers underneath it trying to find a suitable purchase.

He strained and pulled with all his might, which was considerably less than perhaps anyone else in the group. Or that’s what Tordrad thought. He considered that this weak man could probably lose an arm wrestling competition to the holy woman here as he bent down and pushed Maestro out of the way, almost knocking him over with his sudden strength at the man’s shoulder.

Tordrad slotted his large calloused fingers under the gap and stared at the section of wall above it, top to bottom for a good few moments. Then removed his hands from underneath and pressed very deliberately at a certain point of the wall, about a third up from the bottom. The stone began to push inwards and a door shaped opening suddenly revealed itself in the wall.

Tordrad considered that this door reminded him of the secret escape passages the Tzarina used in her palace back in Kislev…

Tordrad pushed on the door and it began to move. Maestro helped, believing that his strength was contributing something.

It certainly disturbed many of them that this door was so heavy, making Tordrad strain to push it open.

Whoever frequented this secret area would have to be very strong indeed, thought Dieter. He smiled knowing that a terrible evil must lie inside, ready to be vanquished.



Once they were inside they turned around to a heavy grating sound behind them.

The door spring had activated, drawing it slowly towards a closed position again. Rissandrea allowed fear to spill over and asked, “Do you think we should get out again?”

“Too late for that” said Dieter, “What was the point in opening the thing otherwise?”

Reluctantly she accepted this as the last of the outside light was snatched away. They were in total darkness now.

Several group members breathing heavily attested to the trauma of the situation.

Tobias asked, “Did any of you think to bring a lantern with you perchance?” with a voice that was too smug this time, for everyone’s liking, all except Tordrad who wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

No one had a lantern or torch at hand.

Rissandrea tried to calm her breathing, keeping it forcefully deep and even.

Maestro whispered a few arcane lines of a well rehearsed spell and nothing happened. Then, as if strained by another presence nearby, the end of his staff gradually illuminated until there was a bright light to see by.

A passage stretched on as far as the light could shine.

“There we go” said Maestro.

Tobias responded, “Yes, very good. First grade college students are taught that one Maestro. But did you notice anything strange about it?”

“Well it worked” replied the wizard.

“Yes, I’m sure that might be strange to you, but anything else? Like perhaps the fact that it struggled to illuminate? There is another power here perhaps, inside the place where the wind of azyr does not blow so strongly. Concentrate, what do you see ahead down this passage? Use the witch sight.”

Maestro concentrated with every ounce of his mind, staring into the gloom. The faint purple trail began to appear again.

“Found it!” he attested in an enthusiastically loud tone.

“Shhhhh” came the reply from everyone else.

“Oh.” Said Maestro, a little frustrated that this one annoyance to everyone would overshadow his accomplishment of finding the trail again.



Meanwhile outside, the two witch hunters who had been following the group came together at the secret entrance.

One looked at the wall grimly and commented to the other, “I will wait here to see them come out, if they come out.”

The other nodded quickly and spoke, “Good, I will get the captain at once. He will want to see this.”

The second man sprinted away and didn’t find that he needed to part the busy crowds. They recognized his uniform and parted themselves…



As the group proceeded down the rough passageway, it became obvious that it was much longer than they had realised. They were also sloping down at a constant rate.

Wooden plank supports were to be found all the way along both walls, looking very much like a mine shaft in some respects.

An ominous dripping sound could be heard, plip plopping constantly, somewhere out of sight, perhaps through the walls in another section somewhere.

The party’s mood for the first time had become unanimously sombre and serious. They were silent as they quickly but quietly made their way along the passage.

They had given each other worried looks when they began to hear a distant pulsing sound. Something deep and powerful rhythmically pressed a pressure into their inner ears, echoing their own frightened heartbeats that involuntarily raced to match it.

With every step they took, they knew that they could be walking ever closer to their doom.



“It’s a door” noticed Maestro, as quietly as he could.

Tobias raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

The wizard pointed his staff this way and that and it looked like solid oak all over.

Dieter pressed his ear against the surface and listened. He kept his voice low as he commented, “Whatever is causing that sound is on the other side of the door.”

Everyone’s face was grim.

The pressure coming from the pulses was irritating their ears enough to be considered painful.

Dieter quite enjoyed the sensation though.

He grabbed the brass rounded doorknob and twisted it. The door was locked.

Tordrad barged forwards, becoming impatient with proceedings. He readied himself side on and charged the door with all of his strength. His shoulder and body impacted hard against it but still it did not open. The centre had momentarily bent inwards under the strain of the impact however and the Kislevite had seen it.

He charged at it a second time, this time with his axe blade positioned directly for the gap that had opened before. As his weight crushed against the mighty door, the gap presented itself again. He quickly thrust his axe into the space, partially splintering the wood in the process but, he had succeeded in creating a wedge now. The extreme edge of the blade was indeed lodged into the door’s gap.

He let go of the axe and it remained in place. He smiled with satisfaction and brought his foot in hard against the part of the axe that he could reach.

The kick drove it a little deeper into the wood again.

He kicked it once more. There was a heavy split inside the wood, hidden by the door frame. He braced himself and backed up once more.

With a prayer to Ursun, the father of bears he charged with all his might, looking every bit like a bear himself at that moment in time, Maestro observed.

As the Kislevite’s great body thudded against the door, the lock snapped and the axe clattered noisily to the floor.

It was a testament to the weight of the wood that it had not flown wide open, instead remaining ajar.

Dieter reached his stave forwards and pushed the door open.

Maestro raised his staff to aid in illuminating the room before them.



They stared in astonishment, their faces bathed green from the glow of the strange rough faceted emerald coloured chunk of stone that sat upon a pedestal in the centre of the large room.

It glowed with an eerie illumination to match the pulsing sound that came and went.

“Gentleman…and lady sorry” Maestro began, “what you see before you is a piece of Morrslieb itself - warpstone.”

It didn’t take him long to realise that his knowledgeable lecture meant nothing. He wasn’t looking at a text book somewhere. This was truly in front of him! Maestro had learnt well what powers warpstone contained and its link to the taint of chaos was famous amongst the intellectuals of society.

Tobias too knew of the substance, himself being a scholar and a scribe he had been with the Celestial College since before Maestro was even born.

It was impossible to tell how old the halfling was, but in human terms he would be considered around forty years old.

Warpstone was known to do terrible things to those exposed to it. It could mutate one’s cells, making them more chaotic as a result. It was believed among some of the highest scholars of note to be the cause of the skaven being what they were – what they still were even today, though considered mythical they surely did exist, those terrible rat like creatures that walked on two legs like cruel parodies of humanity’s grand design.

They looked at each other. There was no turning back.

Tobias took a deep breath and shouted, “Follow me”. He ran through the large rectangular room, trying his best to avoid the darkness around him, for the warpstone was the only illumination present, aside from Maestro’s glowing staff.

As soon as Tobias had entered the room, the pulsing began to speed up, as did the terrible glowing.

The pressure in their ears was now terrible. Blood began to trickle from Dieter’s ear a little.

The others followed close behind Tobias, through the thick and murky pools of darkness that looked like dread tendrils threatening to pull them to the ground between the glowing light source and their own shadows moving rapidly.

Keeping as close to the wall as they could, Tobias led them to a door which was locked! “No” he shouted with panic rife in his voice.

Tordrad was taking no chances this time. Be brought his axe out as he came to the door and brought the great blade against it, once, twice, three times, a fourth, five times.

The pulsing had become alarmingly fast now, with the vile defensive trap’s cut switch not activated, it was out of control.

To bring it under control, someone would need to utter a daemonic prayer in dark tongue. Only then would the enchantment upon the stone leave it as a relatively harmless glowing light, as long as one didn’t step too close that is.

Six times, seven times the axe bit into the wood, cutting the lock directly out of the door. The Kislevite turned his axe around and smashed the end of the handle straight into the vulnerable section of wood that his axe had disintegrated in several places. There was a clatter on the opposite side as the lock fell through.

Tordrad instinctively pushed the door open and hurriedly fell forwards out of the room.

The sound emitted from the stone was now pulsing at a speed that almost sounded like one long tone to the naked ear.

The others piled out of the room as fast as they could when the warpstone shard exploded with a terrible magically imbued explosion.

Pieces of the jagged substance flew in a multitude of directions. One struck Tobias in the back of the head, for he was the last one out. He had taken a portion of the explosion too which pushed his tiny frame forward and out of the door past the rest of the group, before landing face down on the floor beyond. He was not moving.



Normally all eyes would have been upon the halfling’s prone form but there was something a little more distracting for everyone to look at in this new room instead, everyone but Rissandrea that is, who ignored what the others were looking at and knelt down beside Tobias in an attempt at administering aid in any way she could.

The others stared in disbelief at the sight before them. Not even Tordrad could accept was his eyes were seeing.

They had emerged into a filth encrusted underground area, a large chamber that had at the other end of it a wide staging platform with a terrible circular metal ring upon it, large enough for something of gigantic size to step through.

The centre of the ring shaped construct was awash with a myriad of twisting energies in a foul vortex that gave them an uneasy feeling when they stared at it, as if something inside was staring back. However, this did not hold their attention for long compared to the four beings present in the room as well.

Four terrible champions of chaos stood before them, fully armoured and armed.

Nearest to the crackling gateway on the left side was a terrible man who went by the name of ‘Tcharzeye of Tzeentch’. His yellow eyes were terrible, in wide open concentration upon the portal before him, like two terrible torches in hell they glowed with a dark intelligent magnificence. His dark grey skin was mottled and rough in places. He seemingly wore a cloak of black feathers. He kept his glowing gem-tipped staff as his channelling focus on the portal. His clenched fist outstretched at arm’s length towards the intruders without any other part of him regarding their presence. The fingers of that hand opened to reveal a terrible yellow eye inside the palm of the man’s hand! It looked at them cruelly, assessing them as a threat.

To the right of the portal was another foul creature, this time a female.

‘Soulflayer of Slaanesh’ concentrated with all of her terrible mind focused on the portal. She was perhaps the most experienced of the four. Certainly she was the oldest. She was beautiful beyond compare. Even Rissandrea had to admit her splendour was on another level, like that of a Goddess, she thought, then realised her blasphemous thoughts and fought them off to continue treating the halfling.

She was divine in her terrible beauty. She too held a staff in one hand, using it to focus channelling energies on the portal. She had six arms in total. The others lay at her side peacefully for now.

Down on the floor closer to the group on the left side was an oversized monster of a man, a clear foot taller than the six foot five height of Tordrad! His muscles were so large that the blood vessels inside his skin could not handle the strain and had broken in several places. Here stood the mighty ‘Bonesaw of Khorne’, his grizzly name seemingly derived from the saw that hung from his belt, though it was not his weapon. It had another purpose.

The champion’s right arm, shoulder, neck and face on the right side were all effected similarly by the same mutation – accelerated bone growth! His arm was not a recognizable thing, in humanoid terms. Instead of having a hand and fingers, his entire arm area was one large lengthy block of bone that would continually grow, every single day. If he didn’t saw it down regularly, it would grow out of all manageable proportion and soon become too heavy to even lift!

What would have been a disability to most men was used as an advantage here. He knew how to make the most of Khorne’s dark gift that had been bestowed upon him so gloriously all those years ago.

He would use the saw on his crude limb and carve it into the shape of whatever weaponry he fancied wielding at that time! That is why no weapon could be found on his person. He was a weapon!

The bone rose up at the shoulder, into a jagged needle like point.

The bone of his jaw had grown out of control, bursting through his cheek on the one side. His teeth too had grown as a result, becoming large misshapen cracked stumps inside his mouth. He could barely speak. But again, he knew that lord Khorne did not need men for their silver tongues. No words were needed in his service - merely terrible slaughter, skulls in a trophy pile and blood by the river load.

He attempted to shout at the group, with his booming hard to understand speech impediment, “ZHOOO! AHGHH WREEEEL SHTAAKE YER SKEHOLLS!”

Lastly, equidistant to the group from Bonesaw, but on the right side stood another terrible monster of a man: The champion known as ‘Blackrot of Nurgle’.

His skin was a terrible deathly colour of whitish grey. His nearly bald head had six blonde locks of long hair that ran down from the back of it, each an equal distance along the back of his head. His skin was a thick leathery looking mess all over. This was all the more horrific at his face, with his mouth and lips even covered by the same substance. His rheumy bloodshot eyes dripped a dreadful mucus-like dark green substance that ran down his face casting his features off like a sickening mascara of snot encrusted filth. It seemed that nearly every vein in his body was at the surface, bulging up close but not able to push past the hardened skin of his body. Every vein was pure black in colour, contrasting frightfully against his pale skin tone, especially across his exposed bald head.



Tordrad drew his great axe, raising it in defiance of the taint before him, pointing the weapon at the Khornite champion while screaming a battle cry of, “Do Tor!”

As if in reaction to this, his scimitar seemed to crackle with lightning for but a brief moment. Some part of him that wasn’t consumed with battle rage in the face of his most hated of all enemies, must have known that this was strange. He knew that the weapon was not magical in nature.

The Khorne champion, recognizing the challenge roared back a terrible curse in his own language that even the other champions wouldn’t understand.

Both men charged each other, looking like two stampeding rhinos about to meet somewhere in the middle.

They clashed. Tordrad’s axe lashed out and was parried aside easily time and time again. The Kislevite brought his shield round in time, forgoing his axe to block a powerful counter attack. Tordrad then shield bashed the champion to push off his second counter attack but the impact did nothing to stop the hulking brute this time. It flurried a series of attacks back at Tordrad which quickly overwhelmed the man so that all he could do was raise a shield and concentrate on blocking each impact of solid sharp bone as it tested Kislevite workmanship to the limit.

Then a massive foot came up and kicked Tordrad’s shield centre on, with a strength that notched it from the creature’s toenails that also grew unstably, out of his armour clad boots.

Even though the shield absorbed the blow, the sheer strength of it pushed the man backwards. He found himself skidding along the ground and almost off of his feet. He kept his balance with a stagger, shaken up at this, the most powerful foe he had ever faced.

If his shield hadn’t been there, in all probability that blow would have shattered his entire ribcage, he knew.

He would die in this battle. He knew that too but faced the champion, looking him in the eye with the dignity of a warrior born.

Before he could charge again, this time to his death, he saw that Tobias was quickly standing to his feet once more. He had armed a sling shot with the largest stone in his collection and fired it at Soulflayer.

It hit her in the side of the face, breaking her concentration for a moment.

Her eyes desperately wanted to turn angrily towards the halfling for daring to mark her sensuous skin, but she could not afford to do it. She had to keep channelling the spell.

She screamed something in a high pitched wail and the Nurgle champion Blackrot grunted in understanding. He began to walk towards the halfling, his overweight mass and hideous mouth looking every bit like he could swallow Tobias whole!

Tordrad saw this and was torn between attacking the Khorne champion or Nurgle’s one. Bonesaw made the decision easy because he too began stepping towards the group.

Tobias looked on in terror, his little legs were trembling, his sling shot hung feebly by his side, looking about as useful as a child’s toy right now.

Dieter had begun moving backwards into the room that had contained the warpstone. He wanted no part of this fight. They had found the chaos champions that the witch hunters would want to see. It did not mean that they had to die to prove their innocence, he thought.

He waited though, to see who would die first at least.

Rissandrea looked around at the situation about them. She saw her allies in trouble.

Her terrified voice pleaded to Maestro, “Do something! Stop them!”

Maestro up until now had frozen to the spot, confronted with true champions of chaos like this. He had never been witness to the real thing before. They were only stories in a book to him – someone else’s problem. But now he was that someone else, he and the people around him who he had began to enjoy the company of. He didn’t want to see them die. He didn’t want to die either. He’d convinced himself that his pause was simply an attempt at preparing his mind to channel a spell. In truth though, he knew that his petty magic lore training would not be enough to stop the threat that lay before him now.

He then accepted that it was him standing in these shoes, truly him. He knew that he had to step up and take this seriously. He had never wanted to be a wizard. He had fought his training at every step. Now more than anything though, he wished he had tried harder and become more powerful. It was too late for that now, he told himself, far too late.

His face became grim. His eyes focused. The purple ring around the grey of his eyes seemed to ignite and swirl. Suddenly the winds of azyr were drawing towards him. His face remained an unchanging mask as confidence took over.

He shouted at the champions at the top of his voice, <”WAIT!”>.

The nearest two champions stopped where they were and looked at the wizard in surprise. He had spoken their language. He had spoken in the dark tongue!

Of the four languages he knew relatively well, that was one of them.

Maestro continued, <“You may individually be the champions of your own daemonic gods…”>.

This got the attention of all four of them, looking at him in doubt that what they were hearing was even true.

The wizard continued, “But we men of the Empire are UNDIVIDED!”

The devout of Tzeentch looked suddenly worried by this statement. Then perhaps as if reading some insight into Maestro’s aura shouted, “NOOOO!”

Maestro spoke the arcane words of a spell, directed towards Tcharzeye, champion of Tzeentch. His magical safeguards were in place to protect his body from harm were it to come to that, but there was nothing to protect his staff from a drop spell!

The champion’s crackling gemmed staff was suddenly torn out of his hands. It fell downwards and impacted against the floor with an echoing clatter that was replaced in a half second by the shattering sound of glass! The impact had shattered the energy filled gem on the end of it.

There was a huge surge of magical backlash that swept up and swirled into the vortex of the portal itself.

A huge silhouette of a winged beast could be seen taking shape inside the great magical opening, but as soon as the exterior energy struck the portal’s centre point it exploded, ripping the ring apart in three places, sending twisted white hot metal flying across the room, followed by an explosion that engulfed the entire chamber, including the four champions.

The party were pushed back by the massive explosion and magical backdraft that knocked them all off their feet into the other room.



Once the smoke had cleared, there was no sign of the champions at all.

Quickly they stood up. Those who were stood up first helped the others to their feet.

Tordrad helped Dieter to his feet who quietly thanked him. He had after all fallen into him to knock him down in the first place.

Dieter was internally surprised. Somehow the wizard had done it. Had done something anyway. He couldn’t believe this group had actually won the fight.

He was just glad that this “adventure” was almost over so that he could get rid of them. He worked better solo and being heroes like this attracted too much attention from the higher powers. As it was he had been forced to restrain himself, with the witch hunters being around as they were.



Very little was said as they returned back up the passage as quickly as they could.

Once they hit daylight from the secret door’s exit, an entire squad of witch hunters led by Malvanius came into view.

Maestro noticed for the first time that the witch hunter captain wore a particularly eye catching signet ring. Upon it a crossed sword and hammer were depicted across a background design of the twin tailed comet of Sigmar, with the letters O and F inscribed upon it. He was sure he had seen this design somewhere else before…

Quickly the group explained what had happened and half of the witch hunters ran down the passage in a sprint.

Malvanius nodded his head very slightly, clenching his jaw in consideration. Yes, he thought, there was something special about this group...



Two hours later they were finally free from questioning. The witch hunters had gathered the proof they had needed to corroborate the group’s story, but there had been no sign at all of the chaos champions themselves, save for the broken remnants of the golden staff that Maestro had spelled out of the Tzeentch champion’s grip.

It was even decided by someone in the higher ups of Altdorf that a reward of gold crowns would be bestowed upon them, for saving the city from, by all accounts daemonic outbreak.

From their statements, it sounded to Malvanius like the first daemon to step through would have been a greater daemon, perhaps the avatar of Tzeentch to help summon more, quickly.

Decisions were being made as to what everyone would do next.

Tobias had taken his leave from the party first, heading back to some official place or another to deliver a report about Maestro.

Maestro himself knew that he would have to leave the city by the quickest means possible to avoid getting into any more trouble. He vowed that he would not make the same mistake again and spend just “one more night” in the city.

This city had stunted his growth as a wizard. He had become too fond of safety, of comfort. The tutors and his own master held the same opinion, that he would flourish better out there exposed to real danger, where he would be forced to cast spells and need to get them right to save himself, rather than the placid threat of yet another test failure. He had become all too used to them over the years.

Tordrad of course would have to go with him, he knew. The Kislevite knew that he was worth more money than the wizard was paying him, but when he had arrived in Altdorf seeking work as a hired sword, he had been demoted to the lower brand of payees simply because he couldn’t speak Reikspiel. Maestro should have ended up with someone less skilled than he, he knew. The wizard didn’t know how lucky he was, having a man such as he as his bodyguard.

When he knew he was leaving to wander the wilds alone, Maestro naturally decided to hire some protection. Though he had come from a wealthy background, his family’s money had run out.

The last of his coin had been spent on tuition fees for the College, bizarre oddities that Maestro had a tendency to waste his money on and the very last of it went on hiring Tordrad, making sure to pay him a good long while upfront so he could worry later about re-hiring fees.

Rissandrea too had to leave the city. She had been instructed to study, to learn the world and give aid to those who needed it as were the foundations of her order.

She sensed a grave darkness in the future of mankind and knew that her duty lay somewhere there, wherever war might bring suffering. This wizard, she knew, was on a path of conflict, a road that led through great affliction. She wondered how much of that affliction and suffering might be at the wizard’s own hand! Then there was the fact that the daemonic gods knew of him now. They must surely be angered…or impressed.

When she heard that Maestro and Tordrad would be leaving the city by river barge, she too decided that this would be her route. Destination anywhere, she told herself. She wouldn’t necessarily disembark when the wizard did. She would just be present so that she’d have the choice to do so, when the time came.

Dieter made his excuses and left the group, explaining that he would concentrate again on becoming a doctor and aiding the city in that way…It was nearly night he thought, he had better get home and get some sleep, before Morr’s gazing eye was about, looking for him in the night sky as he always did. He did not doubt that.

Thursday 25 February 2010

Their Fated Travels...(Chapter Three)

The WHFRP fan fiction continues as the group begins its investigation to save themselves!

http://robafett.deviantart.com/art/Their-Fated-Travels-Chapter-3-155358587


Their Fated Travels…




By Robert James Freemantle

Plot Events by Lory Cozens



Chapter Three

Investigative Means?





Once they were clear of the area, the halfling introduced himself. “I am Tobias Wilwart, a master at the Celestial College of magic.”

Rissandrea nodded her head peacefully.

Tordrad pointed at himself and replied in his dark monotone, “Tor-drad”.

“Dieter”, came the trainee doctor’s unenthusiastic introduction as he did his best not to even make eye contact with the newcomer.

Maestro gestured emphatically like he’d done before in the Two Headed Goose, “I am Maestro Rophel…”

“I know who you are you nincompoop Maestro!” Tobias butted in, “I’ve been calling you by name haven’t I?”

Tordrad smiled. He enjoyed seeing this little man get flustered.

Tobias began to walk on and the others followed with him, like lost sheep.



Maestro started, “You…wait a moment, you say you are a master at the college? My College?”

Tobias answered sharply, “I am.”

Maestro was left dumbstruck at this, “How…can… that be? Halflings as you so clearly are the race of.”

“Oh thank you for noticing.” Interrupted Tobias.

Maestro continued without understanding the sarcasm, “That’s perfectly fine. Well Halflings are perhaps the least magical of people in the entire world! There has never and could never be a halfling wizard, so they say.”

“Indeed they are right as they say it.” answered Tobias smugly, enjoying the fact that this confused Maestro further still, as was clear upon his face.

The halfling peered at him through the thick lenses of his round rimmed spectacles and started, “It is for…” only to pause a moment, interrupted by spotting the strange spectacles that Maestro wore before continuing, “It is for that very reason that I am hired. It is useful to have an academic amongst the cosmological illumine who will never present the threat of magical backlash or even sudden involuntary spell casting, for those sensitive times…Of course my folk are also naturally resistant to magical effects from others too. That is why I am here for you.”

Maestro stared as if he half understood. Rissandrea saw this and asked Maestro, “What is that supposed to mean, Maestro?”

Maestro took a noticeably audible breath and spoke to the group, wanting to clarify things in his own words before the halfling could do it for him. “My magical attunement is a little unusual…My own spells though only considered petty magic focus on the blue wind, the Azyr lore of Heavens for their power. Eventually I will learn the actual spells of that school, to control elements of the sky and the stars. However, when I am around others who are magically imbued, I have a tendency to let their winds of focus, no-matter which of the lores - seep into mine. It’s quite involuntary I assure you. It might mean that instead of seeing the spell come out as lightning for example, I might see fire if around my master who is a bright wizard. It hasn’t been serious yet. I mean, the intent of the spell still comes out the same, but it’s usually just a different colour…heh heh…”

“It’s not just a matter of colour!” snapped Tobias, “Colour! You think that is all there is to it? Once you have learnt more of our college’s lore you will have a bigger variety of spells to draw from, and therefore greater danger of mishap because of this.”

Maestro felt embarrassment flush his cheeks, “Well I suppose there is that. My tutors call it ‘empathic channelling’. They say it’s quite a unique problem. So unique that before me, there has never before been a case of it. Heh…”

Tobias looked up at Maestro with one eye sharply focusing upon him, like a magistrate looking at a nearly convicted criminal.

Tordrad listened but could understand barely anything from what was being said between the others. He felt so alone, so distant. It was probably for the better though, he told himself. They were not like him. The people of the Empire could never truly understand what it was to be a Kislevite, to live the life and grow up in that cold and harsh land. He had understood the word “magic” though. In Kislev, male casters were thought of suspiciously. Kislevite males who became magically gifted would not be allowed to practice the art in their kingdom. Terrible things would then happen to them, he remembered. Only women were considered pure enough to safely wield magic. The Tzarina, supreme ruler of his country was so pure that the power she wielded was not from the winds of magic at all, but from the land itself - an ice magic, a different sort of power altogether. Tordrad knew this as he had spent quite some time in the presence of the great lady…but that was in the past. That was a time that was long behind him now. Tordrad considered Maestro to be dangerous, by his people’s standards. He silently told himself that if he saw any element of foul chaos ever mutate in the man, if he saw any taint come about him at all he would slay him immediately, regardless of how much he had been paid to protect him. Tordrad inwardly challenged Maestro to prove him wrong. He hoped he would…sometimes he hoped he wouldn’t. That was usually when the wizard would blather on and make his head hurt from senseless talking. Though he couldn’t understand much of it, he always knew from other people’s faces that his suspicions were true.



Tobias continued, “I have been instructed to make sure that you leave the city as promptly as possible. At which point our paths will part I assure you.” The halfling was quick to make that particular point and continued, “Unfortunately that means helping you out with your current predicament. The masters wanted someone to give you one last initial assessment, seeing as you had remained in the city one last night. I am the safest candidate to deliver that final report before you leave. After all, I have no magic to interfere with yours as you attempt to…deal with this situation you’ve foolishly gotten yourself into.” His last words were particularly scornful and snobbish. Tobias promptly pulled out a notebook and began taking notes in it, as if this new point he’d angrily made inspired him to write something already.

Maestro stared at the notebook nervously and then looked back at the group, “Well there we are then, uhh, so, where do you all think we should start our search?”

Tordrad was quickest to respond, “Tav-ern!”

Maestro and Rissandrea looked a little disappointed with that. It made them realise that they were really a team of four, as far as this murder investigation went.

Tobias replied, “No, I think your shaved ape may well have it. That’s a perfectly good place to start.”

Rissandrea looked questioningly at the halfling who continued, “Not to drink you silly girl, to gain information. One of those men is a sailor. He must frequent other bars in the area. I know of one in this district that captains tend to frequent together. Perhaps we can find this man’s superior.”

The group decided to follow Tobias. At least someone knew what to do. This seemed to make him all the more smug. Maestro decided that he didn’t like this fellow. He’d be glad to be away from him after all of this.



They arrived at a tavern that they couldn’t discern a name from by looking at on the outside. A sign did hang from the building, but it had been defaced with a strange black liquid. Perhaps very old and dry blood thought Tordrad.

Rissandrea became nauseous at the thought of entering yet another place of drinking, where men would become uninhibited. This usually meant stupid as well, she thought.

The halfling squinted at the building with a smile, “This is the place, the nameless tavern. I was instructed of the place before coming to meet you.”

The group peered at Tobias with a look of surprise. He answered their questioning gaze, “Once your situation became apparent last night, a master wizard did use his gift of future sight, thus divining that we would end up coming here and informed me of such. I then did my research about the place before coming to meet you. It shall be the first step on the path to…getting you out of Altdorf, Maestro.”

Maestro sighed and slumped his shoulders at this. Yes he thought, that did indeed sound like the way the masters of his college operated.

Tobias continued, “And before you ask, no they saw nothing more. We were pressed for time as it was.”

Dieter listened and said nothing. He found the idea of future sight interesting. It reminded him of his ability to divine in dreams. He considered that Morr had perhaps selected him for a greater purpose, but for Dieter that was unacceptable. He would never follow someone else’s purpose - even a god. No, he would follow his own course. He had ample proof of what letting fate carry you along achieved. It created unhappy bullied people like Maestro, he thought.



Tordrad was first through the door, followed by Tobias. Next come Dieter. Lastly Maestro and Rissandrea entered together at the back, feebly pushing the door open between the pair of them. They both instinctively waited by the entrance. Tordrad went straight to the bar and ordered vodka. He had not eaten breakfast yet he considered, and asked for a raw egg which he cracked in it and drank down. Luckily the Kislevite word for egg was similar to the Reikspiel word for it. It had then just been a case of Tordrad stopping the barman from putting it into a pot by taking it from his hand. The barman had been the only staff member working at this hour.



The others looked around the bar. A few men sat at tables here and there, slumped heavily over them or drooping down in their seats, still effected by the last night’s drinking.

Tobias cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the bar as a whole, “Is there a man here who recognizes a ship mate by the name of Marlbrow? He would be a man in his middle years. Always smoked a cigarette.”

One man grunted a little, from a seat further along the aisle off to the right. He seemed to not care enough to actually speak or rise from the chair though. Tobias and Dieter proceeded to walk over to him.

Maestro walked into the tavern a little more and looked at Rissandrea again. When she looked across at him he quickly looked away. She had noticed him doing this since they first met. She was used to men behaving bizarrely around her, but never one to actually look nervous like this man did when he glanced at her. She wanted to get to the bottom of this. Maestro inched away from her and walked over towards Tordrad at the bar.

The human trainee doctor was small by human standards but he too was much larger than the halfling. They had looked at the man at the table and seen that his eyes were now closed again. Dieter shook the man’s arm, “Are you alright? Perhaps I can help? I have medical knowledge.”

“Whuu?” came the captain’s reply, “Bahh, doctor is it? Sod off. The day Cap’n Barbickle needs helpin’ after splicin’ the main brace allowed of his rank, is the day he don’t deserve it no more.” With that, the man leaned back in the seat and started snoring loudly, with his eyes still open.

Dieter looked a little cross and frustrated at this. Tobias saw this on his face and raised a calming hand. “No Dieter…what, what is your surname anyway?”

“De’ath” came the man’s reply in between the captain’s awake snoring.

“Death?”

“De’ath!” Dieter stated again trying to keep his cool.

“Yes well…well I was going to say, we can’t handle this in a way where we get frustrated and agitated in our tone. It will agitate this man here too.”

With that, the halfling turned to face the captain straight on, braced himself and delivered a quick short sharp kick to the man’s shin.

The snoring sound took a quick upturned tone, “Snooorrrraaaark” as the man sat up attentively with eyes wide.

“What was that?” asked the man in the seat.

Tobias replied, “I’m not sure, I came over to ask you a couple of questions and you seemed to jump awake. Perhaps you were having a strange dream.” Before adding, “What do you remember of it?”

The captain considered this properly and blinked his eyes five times quickly trying to remember. “Ah” he said at last, “Fer some reason I ‘ave a passin’ recollection o’ thinkin’ o’ Marlbrow. He’s me second ta half cousin ‘n’ shipmate ‘im.”

“What a coincidence” Tobias said humouring him.

Dieter looked at the drunkard as if he was a pathetic waste of space as Tobias continued, “It is strange indeed, very strange that you should be dreaming of him Sir because I bring you news of that very person.”

The man looked expectantly at Tobias with an impatient gestured hand. The halfling took the cue and continued, “I bring you most terrible news. He has died Sir.”

“Died?” the captain exclaimed. “You must have someone else, the man has skin thicker than the sails of our ship.”

Dieter answered the man, privately inside his own head. His internal reply was: Well that is good news then, because you are going to be able to use it for your ship now, with him being a corpse as he is. He was very glad he hadn’t said it, but it amused him to think it.

Tobias replied, “I’m sorry Sir, it must have come as a shock, but I saw the body myself. I am an official of the city after all.”

Captain Barbickle looked at the halfling, summing him up and came to a conclusion of agreement. Aside from his clothing, his snooty self assured way of speaking was enough to convince him of that. A look of sorrow came over his face. The captain considered never getting to have a drunken fight with the man ever again and it was appalling. He clenched his bottom lip upwards in a sign of sadness.

Tobias continued, “Yes, it is terrible and it was a dreadful murder too. Chaos symbols were involved…”

The captain became interested when the halfling had said this, “Chaos you say?”

The halfling nodded.

Dieter decidedly asked, “Do you perhaps remember anything that could help us determine who his killer might be? Had he been under suspicion of mixing with chaos cults or the like recently?”

The captain nodded as if he knew something.

Dieter stated, “If you know something, tell us. The ruinous powers are your enemy too. We are on the same side.”

The captain stared at the bar, considering if it was too late or perhaps too early to have another drink. He wasn’t quite sure what the time was right now. He didn’t want to risk looking at the window, it looked bright. That would perhaps suggest day he thought and then saw the look of concerned anticipation on the faces of the two who were bothering him here.

“Alright, if it will get me some peace.” He began, “Old Marlbrow’s friend, a landlubber who had grown up with him here, well I started to have my concerns about him recently. There were rumours about him…you know?”

“No, I am afraid I do not, please enlighten me Sir” said Tobias.

“Oh come on, you know?” started the captain, “That he was into the sex scene around here.”

Dieter considered that this was taking too long and they didn’t have all day…he hurried the conversation along, “A sex club, connected to a pleasure cult perhaps?”

The captain nodded. “Well, it’s not a sure thing, but men who frequented that place too long were often found attending much darker places, after getting offers, you know, from mysterious strangers who’d approach ‘em.”

Tobias asked, “This friend, what was his name?”

The captain answered, “Hal Fausten is his name.”

Tobias gripped his beautiful notebook with its ornate carvings upon it and confirmed, “Yes, well that is the name of the other dead man.”

The captain looked truly shocked at that and added, “Look, I’m sure there’s more to it than I know, or want to know, an I’m startin’ to sober enough to realise that it’s better the less I know. My ship ain’t set to sail for another two days. In that time a man can find a knife in his ribs from knowing too much.”

Dieter considered the captain’s words privately and spoke, “Then we will leave our line of questioning at that. Thank you for your assistance. We will be gone as soon as you tell us the address of this…club.”

The captain seemed unwilling to speak its name, instead grabbing for the halfling’s notebook. Tobias took exception to this and held it firm, despite the man’s tugging at it. A stern look of requested common sense came from Dieter. Tobias let it effect him and he loosened his grip. In truth, Dieter already knew the address of this club, but it wouldn’t do the others knowing that he knew of it, he assured himself.

The captain wrote the address into the page as Tobias lamented his fine book being touched by such filthy unwashed hands.

As soon as the book was returned to him, they made their way to the door and called the others. Tordrad drank down his vodka in one and came outside to join them.

Notes were compared and the next destination was set. As soon as it was revealed that they were going to a strip bar, Dieter remained silent, Maestro had managed a quavering expression, Rissandrea looked horrified and stated that she would have to wait outside. Maestro agreed and considered that he should do the same. Tordrad had cheered loudly and said something crude in Kislevite. Tobias sighed long and expressively.



The walk took them quite some time. The middle of the day was looming up ahead of them already but eventually they had arrived at their destination. It had looked like any other building in the run down area. That’s because it kept that appearance to maintain its business being able to operate under the radar. Only those who wanted it would look hard enough to find it and finding it was strictly word of mouth.

Maestro reminded the group, “I don’t want to go in here. I would rather delve into a tomb filled with Nehekaran bodies than enter here! No if Rissandrea can wait outside, so can I.”

Tordrad looked at him questioning the man’s masculinity. This one seemed to be a bit too concerned, even for a weakling like a wizard.



As the group approached the door, a well built man dressed in black who had been stood outside came over to meet them and asked, “What can I help you with?”

Tordrad indicated a finger towards the door. The man nodded his head sarcastically back, what else could he want?

“Alright” he started, “Only nobles may enter here. This one amongst you,” and he pointed to Maestro, “you’re a noble I can tell, you’re the leader of this group are you?”

Maestro took a moment to realise that the large man was talking to him. Dieter elbowed him sharply in the arm from the back which made the wizard jump and begin speaking immediately, “Ah yes, they are my entourage my good man.”

It was then that he realised that he had been cornered into having to enter now, or else no one would get in.

Rissandrea waited outside as the others went into the inconspicuous enough looking building.



Inside, it looked like a normal bar. They could see that the interior was dimly lit, with red and white lighting barely giving indication of the floor space around them. There were too many shadows in the club for Tordrad’s liking.

Dieter led the way, taking the initiative to move over to the coat depository cupboard. He began looking through the coats at once.

Tobias looked around and noticed that there were quite a number of people in there, more than he had expected at this time of day. They were busy with discussions amongst themselves, card and rune stone games or just leaning back listening to the weak warbling skinny woman singing softly on a tiny makeshift stage to the left of the bar. Her clothes looked dirty and ragged, as if she had been dragged here straight from a kitchen somewhere and made to sing for them. Maestro doubted that this could be the case though…

Tobias understood Dieter’s idea and helped him in his search of the coats. Maestro didn’t even care. He was more concerned with what was going on around him.

Tordrad kept his eyes fixed on one place, a section of wall with nobody in his line of sight, but it was a spot that his peripheral vision could perceive the rest of the club from on both sides, just not with any great detail.

“That’s one is damp.” Said Tobias as he ruffled one coat in particular.

“What is its ticket number?” asked Dieter.

“Good thinking” replied Tobias, “Number twenty-three” he added. Dieter nodded solemnly in response.

Maestro’s eyes focused on something strange across the room. An innocent looking man that was moving towards a back room had pulled a brown leather glove back to reveal the back of his hand, the skin of which was tattooed with the symbol of Slaanesh.

Maestro’s heart began beating faster, as another man waiting at the exit saw this and gave the first man an envelope. He then went through the opened door and disappeared into darkness.

Maestro hurriedly told the others what he had seen and it was soon decided that he and Dieter should proceed after the man, on Dieter’s insistence. The other two were forced to agree and decided they would keep checking the coats. Whoever owned them will have been out in the rain last night and for some reason had decided to stay at the club, perhaps laying low thought Tobias.



As they approached the door the man had left through, Dieter whispered to Maestro out of the side of his mouth, “Stop looking so nervous, you’ll blow our cover.”

Maestro for a moment looked even more nervous and then corrected himself appropriately.

The security guard waiting at the door hadn’t believed it, but laughed to himself. He was used to seeing nervous nobles entering this area. He gave them a nod. Both men nodded back politely as was expected of them, they thought.

Dieter opened the door and was surprised to see a short passage that ran on for perhaps only six feet before ending in a black velvet curtain that went all the way down to the richly carpeted floor.

Dieter gestured with his head as if to say, come on, and pushed through the curtain. Maestro followed with much trepidation.

In that cramped space, both men had realised that the other had about them a curious smell, hard to identify but unlike anything either of them had known before.



As Maestro pulled the curtain back, he saw Dieter already walking into the room, unbothered by the half naked women walking around him. The patrons weren’t likely to notice him either, with their eyes firmly being elsewhere.

Dieter quickly moved forwards and took a half full glass of some orange coloured drink from an empty table so that he would have a prop in hand to blend in with.

Maestro kept his distance from Dieter, knowing that he they split up they would stand out less. He tried his best not to look at the topless women spinning seductively around the poles on stage, to music provided by a band of miscreant weasel faced traveller types.

The man they had seen previously was over by a corner talking to a second man, smiling enthusiastically. Dieter was closer to them but his eyes were fixed down and away, somewhere near the floor. Even though it would have been out of earshot for most people, Dieter was able to overhear some of the conversation, a particularly skilled ability at hearing that he decided he wouldn’t share with anyone else, yet.

Maestro was watching the men and trying his hardest to understand what they were saying. He had managed to lip read several phrases: “Temple of Verena” and “today” were two in particular that caught his attention.

Soon after the two men left the room together.

A short while after they had departed from the room, Maestro and Dieter made eye contact and established at a distance that they should leave now.

Upon getting back to the rest of the group they confirmed that the two men had passed through the bar area and left out through the front door.

Dieter mentioned that he had overheard them talking about daemons and that today was the day. Maestro quickly compared this to what he had been able to lip read.

Finally Tobias explained that they had found a second damp coat. It had the number seventy six on it. He quickly referenced these numbers against the visitors log book as Dieter and Maestro kept the book keeper busy and they found that the log in times were suspiciously late last night. What really did it, was when he turned the page and saw that the two men who had logged their coats out just now were numbers twenty three and seventy six.



The entire group walked outside where a concerned looking Rissandrea was remaining inconspicuous across the street by standing underneath a fruit and vegetable shop’s canvas roofing, protecting the stalls set up outside and bathing the area in a lot of shadow.

Rissandrea quickly made her way to the others and surprised them all by speaking first, “Those two men who just left, I know them. They are members of the cult of Verena.”

The others looked surprised but grateful for this knowledge. It confirmed that the information they had learnt pieced together in a way that was suspicious. They realised as one that they should investigate the Temple of Verena at once. Tobias stated as much and there were no objections.

They set off immediately, with Rissandrea showing them the way.

Wednesday 24 February 2010

Their Fated Travels... (Chapter Two)

http://robafett.deviantart.com/art/Their-Fated-Travels-Chapter-2-155297010

The three accused are brought out of the inn and to the murder scene. The rest of the group finally appear and the party is complete.



Their Fated Travels…




By Robert James Freemantle



Chapter Two

The Scene of Murder (Seen and Unseen)





Malvanius led them outside - Maestro, Tordrad and Rissandrea. They were expecting to see a coach there ready to take them away to the city jail, but no such thing happened. They were led across the mismatching cobbled street with a squad of witch hunters in tow, to an alleyway two roads away from the inn.



Upon reaching the murder scene, Tordrad’s jaw firmed up and his eyes took on a look of wild shock and anger.

Rissandrea looked at the two mutilated bodies and assorted macabre paraphernalia about them, with a look of sympathy draining the last of her high spirits away. Even though they were dead, she guessed what they must have suffered, what they still were suffering! - judging by the symbols present!

Maestro dropped the last of his apple and the piece already in his mouth stuck out where he couldn’t bring himself to chew any longer.

The witch hunter captain had been studying their faces for a sign of anything that could incriminate them, any sign that this scene was not a new image to them. He found nothing suspicious but remained silent anyway.

Malvanius started, “Two bodies, these men knew each other. They were in the inn with you all last night. This one with his insides spread across the wall in a pattern, he was seen mistreating you last night, Miss Vhor.”

Rissandrea nodded sadly.

“The other, a sailor was present and also had a discussion with you, Miss Vhor. That makes you a dangerous woman to be having words with.”

The woman held her tongue in place, as she did not like the feel of the words that were trying to come out at that moment. They were not befitting of a lady and especially not of one who sought to become a Shallyan Priestess.

The witch hunter asked, “When they left, you were angry at them weren’t you?”

Rissandrea nodded, “Of course I was! They are…were both beyond belief. I would remind you that those of my order maintain an oath to aid the sick and dying not add to them.”

Malvanius laughed coldly and for longer than seemed appropriate, “Corruption is everywhere, you’re too young and naive to realise this and that makes you a danger in itself.”

The weight of the arrests he’d made in the past were there in the back of his tone. People in the highest seats of superiority had come under his watchful eye and been judged as criminals. He wore his cynicism on his sleeve for all to see, but only if you were perceptive enough to realise it. Rissandrea was.

Maestro remained silent. Tordrad was less upset by the gore, for he had seen it all before on the battlefields of Kislev. He was more shaken up by the chaos imagery drawn across the walls in the blood and entrails of these two men. They were severely mutilated. Someone who was truly evil had to be responsible for this, he was sure.



Just at that moment, a small man around five feet three inches tall joined them in the alleyway. The witch hunters were about to pounce on him but Malvanius waved him to come closer.

The man had an awkward build – thin, too thin even for his height and somewhat stooped in his resting stance. This didn’t show in his walk however. He moved along on a walking staff, the like of which would be carried by men when they went into the hill pathways or simply if they were becoming less steady on their feet. He did certainly seem to rest his weight into the staff as if he needed it.

The new man looked at the bodies and nodded his head. Malvanius asked, “Refreshed from last night I assume?”

“Perfectly, thank you” came the man’s reply. His voice sounded educated. Those who were gathered outside could see that they were in the company of an academic.



Earlier that night, shortly after Malvanius had found the bodies; he had looked up and to the left where his eye had caught the bright lantern light shining through the window of the house at the end of the alley. Its light naturally illuminated part of the outside surroundings including a portion of the alleyway.

A decisive smile had crept across his face as he made his way towards the house. He’d given a secret hand sign to another witch hunter standing nearby. This second man had sprung away immediately down the side alley of the house.

Three sharp knocks were answered by am irritated voice calling “Wait a minute!”



Soon the door was answered by a short man. His curled black hair could not be seen under his surgeon’s hat. His face was rough, as if suited to a less refined class, yet he dwelled in an expensive house. Mental notes were being made.

Malvanius stared at the man standing at the door and enquired, “Do you know what has happened out here tonight?” his eyes darting just past the man and into his hallway beyond to look for anything of interest on display.

“No, I’ve been too busy working on this cadaver” came the reply from the man. Malvanius almost fell over backwards. How blatant a confession! But then he realised the man had been gesturing to the inside of his house. “Come, you can see if you wish.” He’d added.

He led a silently shocked Malvanius through into the front room containing the bright lantern that had caught his attention so readily before. He could tell that the room and indeed the house belonged to a physician, but based on the furniture and art pieces, one of considerable years beyond this man’s - who he estimated to be around 27 years old.

The man gestured to a work slab that had a corpse upon it. It had been cut open and its insides were being removed and stored in large brine filled medical jars.

Everything had been done professionally, methodically, medically Malvanius noticed. The proper tools that one would use he observed, were upon a nearby metal tray atop a small trolley.

The man seemed to read the witch hunter’s mind and stated, “This is one Mrs Jareyn. She died of an overdose, so they say. My teacher has assigned me the task of finding the truth in the matter, as part of my medical study.”

Malvanius’s quick eyes surveyed the paper lying on the desk, with its official death certificate wax seal upon it and quickly got back to summing up the character of the man standing before him.

“I see,” Malvanius said, “so you have been in all evening?”

“I have been working here all through the night, yes” came the man’s reply. “Becoming a doctor is no easy feat and working with the dead is of course part of that training. How can I assist you though? Can I get you any refreshments?”

The witch hunter captain scratched his chin and blinked his eyes. He was still tired from sleep deprivation tonight. The last few nights had been bad as well. “I carry my own canteen thank you.”

“As you wish” answered the man.

“But you can answer some questions for me.” said Malvanius.

The man calmly nodded at this.

Malvanius continued, “The murder scene is close to this house. Did you see anyone move in or out of that opposite alleyway tonight?”

The man replied, “I saw or heard no one I’m afraid. My work kept me busy here. What a shame that someone had lost their life so close to me. I might have been able to help him? Her?”

Malvanius knew his trap hadn’t been set off so he loosed the truth from its restraints he’d kept it in, “Actually there were two bodies, both men. Some suspicious marks are upon them.”

The young apprentice doctor started, “Sorry, where are my manners, I am Dieter De’ath. This is my tutor’s house but I stay over to complete my training on his assigned nights.”

Malvanius asked, “Why only nights?”

The man replied, “I work nights because I am an insomniac who also suffers from onieromancy. Morr would have words with me... I dread what I might see when I close my eyes, I do not want to see the future anymore.”

Malvanius considered the man’s name – De’ath. It wasn’t too uncommon but it was always interesting to encounter. Families would often put an apostrophe somewhere in the name to lessen its morbid meaning. Truth be told though, the word was truly death, regardless of how many apostrophes were used.

Malvanius asked, “Where is the master of the house then?”

The man answered, “I haven’t seen him all night. He has been out, perhaps on calls. I’m not worried, it’s perfectly normal for him.”

Malvanius growled at the man. If anyone else were present they would think he looked like a child against the witch hunter’s huge frame and terrible size, “There are no secrets from a witch hunter!”

The man politely bowed his head in understanding, obviously taking no discomfort in the witch hunter’s presence. Malvanius was not used to this. Normally he might be suspicious, but this time he simply wasn’t getting that bad feeling in his gut that he would normally get about someone when questioning them. He quietly liked this man, his confidence and professionalism, his strength under the pressure of his company made him stand out. Perhaps this was a man who could end up working on his team once fully qualified, thought Malvanius. Suddenly he heard himself and took a step back internally, unsure of what had just happened to him then. Every time he tried to connect the possibility of the murders outside to this man, it just seemed to make less and less sense, as if he encountered a mental block that forced his normally sharp mind to find it hard to concentrate.

“One of my men will remain here if that is okay? We will wait for the good doctor to return. Meanwhile, I want you to get some rest at the very least and join us outside just after dawn. Don’t try and run, we have this house monitored completely.”

“Of course” was the man’s reply.

The man then saw Malvanius to the door. The witch hunter’s sharp eagle like eyes came upon the coat and hat stand. None of the garments upon it were wet. The man’s shoes were not wet either. He checked the floor. The door had no mat with which to wipe one’s feet upon but the carpet was not previously wet or dirty except for his own recognizably large footprints upon it. “That will be all for now, I shall expect you later today.”

With that he was gone. Once the door was closed, the witch hunter who had previously disappeared around the back had reappeared and shook his head at his leader.

Malvanius wondered why he was really inviting the man to the scene of the crime later on. Perhaps to test him to see if he would make good student material, perhaps to attempt to trick him once the others were present to throw him off. He still wanted to speak to the man’s master, the doctor of the house. That remained a concern.



The doctor did not return to his house that night and still no sign had been seen of him by morning. This had already been reported back to Malvanius and he was just glad to see Dieter appear. At least part of the proceedings of investigation could continue for now. He didn’t feel hopeful about getting much from the other three he had gathered here.

Dieter asked “May I?” and Malvanius nodded affirmatively. The man then proceeded to investigate the bodies.

Dieter began to deliver an assessment, “These men were bound to the spot but not by force. There is no bruising anywhere. Perhaps they were afraid of something? Lack of defensive wounds suggest their minds were clouded beyond the possibility of defence. The killer was six to seven foot in height and this could not have been done by somebody working alone. The slashes to the torso and neck here and here indicate the attackers were full of rage.”

As the man’s words echoed through Maestro’s head, a strange vision began to take over his thoughts. As the student doctor recreated the scene, the wizard too was able to see it vividly. There were the two men frozen to the spot, afraid of a looming darkness casting across them. The doctor continued, “Death was probably instant, by knife wound to their necks, as you can see, the heads were left in place upon the bodies but one was almost severed as you can see. You can’t do that sort of damage in any right state of mind.”

Again, Maestro was beginning to witness these things in his head - a blade lashed out and slit the jugular of one terrified man. His death gurgles did nothing to shift the second man from his fearful cowering position. Unknown to him, the wizard had now stepped out of the interrogation line Malvanius had set in place for them. He was wandering about as if in a dream. His eyes stared off into nothingness. His heart rate had increased considerably. The doctor continued, “The angle of the attacks indicate a right handed person, from this right to left swiping damage.” The man aided the group’s understanding of further by gesturing with his own left hand making a right to left slash of the air.

The man’s voice became a blur of sound and was gone as far as Maestro was aware. At that moment he was seeing everything as it had happened through the killer’s eyes! He could see the men being ripped apart and their organs and insides being positioned across the wall in a purposeful intricate manner, as if some symbolic relevance was to be gained from its gory attention to detail. Somehow the body parts were sticking to the brickwork, he did not know how. Maestro was frightened and panicked but still he could not break free from the vision. He saw the killer’s gloved hands drawing a symbol on the wall high above the alleyway. Somehow through the killer’s eyes he could tell he was elevated high off the ground. The symbol, it was familiar yet strange to him. What was it? He thought. Then realisation dawned on him. It was the mark of Chaos drawn in black chalk, the eight pointed star that had been seen on many a chaos warrior’s heraldry but not often seen in the capital city of the Empire itself, surely? Maestro wondered, as the rest of the symbol began to make sense. The mark of Slaanesh was carved into it aggressively over the top, in red gore encrusted blood.



Rissandrea called out “Maestro” as the wizard collapsed to his knees and coughed, spittle and bile making its way to the ground from his trembling lips. Meanwhile in his vision he saw the picture go black and saw those two men receiving weapons from a secretive meeting of men dressed in black, hosted in what looked like a cellar that too was painted black.

Suddenly Maestro’s mind was his own again and he shivered in trauma at the visions he had just witnessed.

Malvanius asked, “What is going on with you? Answer before I put you to the sword.” Malvanius meant his threat too. His sword was drawn and pointed at Maestro. He had seen the wizard’s eyes change and wasn’t taking any chances.

Maestro weakly pointed upwards with one shaking finger, up at the top of the alley wall, without even looking in person, his eyes averted downward. Everyone else looked upwards and there they saw the convoluted chaotic symbols, drawn across each other. Malvanius’s face took on a look of sudden supernatural zeal, “It is a message, from the pleasure god!” The last two words were uttered with great disgust, spittle had come out and remained on his lips as he furiously continued, “across the symbol of those men who are undecided…a power play by the servants of chaos.”

Maestro pulled himself to his feet, a little worse for wear.

Malvanius pointed the sword at the wizard’s throat, “Speak, how did you know that symbol was there?”

Tordrad reached down for his scimitar and was calmed by a look from Rissandrea. Tordrad’s hand still remained ready but he did not draw the weapon.

Maestro felt as if this ordeal had strained him, more than he could handle for this sort of interrogation, but he knew that his life would be on the line so continued, “I saw it, through the killer’s eyes.”

“A confession at last, you are the killer!” said Malvanius.

Maestro quickly defended himself, “Of course I’m not! The ebb and flow of powers that be”, he forced some more breaths in and out and continued, “born unto the Witchling Star granted me mage sight enough to see it happen.”

Malvanius knew that this was a common occurrence in wizards, but normally those of higher power, for visions as precise and severe as these. He disliked wizards, but he knew that he had to understand them to understand the path to chaos. All magic was at its core chaotic after all. The colleges of magic had their own police, the magistrates who would attend to rogue members of their order, so punishment of this one would be tricky politics…he decided he wasn’t going to tell the wizard that though.

Malvanius sneered, a sneer so fierce that it made his facial scarring itch, “You are a wizard studying to learn the lore of heavens. I saw it on your licence. You will have to improve wizard, because looking into the future is what is called for in the Celestial Colleges, not into the past!”

With that he seemed happy with his spiteful outburst. Still his sword remained at the wizard’s throat. “I don’t like you” he added.

“I’m…I’m sorry” answered Maestro, genuinely.

“There’s no need for that, witch hunter” chimed in Rissandrea, “He has just been under a mental ordeal, I would rather you...”

Malvanius’s sword at her throat cut her words off mid speech. “I don’t like you either, girl. I don’t like any of you.”

Malvanius turned to Dieter who was now standing watching the spectacle. He put a sword towards his throat too and continued, “Alright, this is how it is going to be. You say you are innocent. I have seen some suspicious things already. I will consider that a murderer might yet be amongst you. You want to prove you are innocent. You are a clever lot, all of you.” Malvanius was obviously taking Dieter into account too as he had stood back to address them all as a group now and continued, “So you will work together and find the culprit of this murder. You will do it before the sun sets again or I swear I’ll have the lot of you in my jail and find out things that your unborn grandchildren will be guilty of in years to come!”



Malvanius had decided that he was being fair, not taking them away here and now. He wanted the situation resolved, but he also sensed something interesting about this group. He knew the wizard’s surname from somewhere too. He’d have to look into that later. “Oh and don’t get any ideas about fleeing from the city, I will have eyes upon you at all times. The callous hand of justice will follow you into the daemonic planes if they must!”

Maestro shook his head worriedly. He hadn’t even made it out of the city yet and all of this had happened. “I knew I should have left the city last night instead.” He observed.

Before Malvanius could reply, a small higher pitched voice intervened from behind him, answering “Yes you should, why didn’t you just leave, Maestro?”

The wizard looked around behind him and couldn’t see anyone there. An invisible person perhaps! He wondered. A ghost! An invisible ghost? Before his train of thought was stopped again.

“No, down here you dimwit.”

Maestro looked down and saw a halfling standing in front of him. He was roughly half of Maestro’s height, wore the blue and white robes of the Celestial College, with no shoes upon his large hairy feet as were the norm for his kind and a face that hinted at terrible disappointment at Maestro.

Malvanius was handed a piece of official looking paper by one of his witch hunter fellows and read it. Great, he thought, more politics getting involved with a perfectly good investigation.



The witch hunter took his leave from the group.

The halfling herded the four of them along out of the area with arms out wide waving for them to carry on forwards.

With a small nagging voice he stated, “It’s no good standing around here, you’ve your heads to save before the night is out.” giving a deep stressful sigh. He expected to find they’d all be put to death come morning – all except him of course.

Monday 22 February 2010

Their Fated Travels...Early OLD Script treatment

So I started making a script treatment of my idea for this long before I wrote it in novel form. I stopped when I realised that it wasn't going to be a script. But here's the script that I'd gotten up to, to let you see a piece of working script in action, from me. Bear in mind, it was written in a Final Draft and I highlighed, copied and pasted the text. Pasting it in here formats it...differently. Please bear that in mind, that in the form I own, it's laid out correctly like a script should be  :)
From reading this and the novel version, you can see the disctint direction that I took it in, being different to this approach. A character like Rissandrea for example is not present in this treatment.



PAGE 1-

A MAP OF THE EMPIRE OLDE WORLD EMPIRE. MAJOR CITIES ESPECIALLY HAVE THEIR NAMES WRITTEN OVER THEM. ALTDORF’S HOWEVER IS BY FAR THE THICKEST AND LARGEST FONT TO DRAW ATTENTION TO IT.
1 CAPTION
ALTDORF, CAPITAL CITY OF THE EMPIRE AND RESIDENCE OF EMPEROR KARL FRANZ I.
2 CAPTION
HOME TO A THOUSAND DIFFERENT IDEAS OF HUMAN INGENUITY - BE IT FOR THE GOOD OR ILL OF HUMANITY.

PAGE 2/3-
A TWO PAGE ESTABLISHING SHOT ACROSS THE CITY OF ALTDORF.
EXT. ALTDORF - NIGHT
AN OVERHEAD ANGLED VIEW OF THE EMPIRE CAPITAL: ALTDORF. IT’S TWILIGHT P.M. WE SEE THE DOCKS BELOW WITH SHIPS AND BARGES COMING TO AND FRO THROUGH THE VARIOUS SHIP LANES THAT LEAD TO SEVERAL RIVERS AROUND IT. A VAST EXPANSE OF THE CITY CAN BE SEEN IN THIS EXTREME WIDE SHOT.
THE CITY IS QUITE PACKED WITH BUILDINGS. ONE OF WHICH IS THE INN THAT THE STORY IS SET IN NEXT.

1 CAPTION
THE EIGHT IMPERIAL COLLEGES OF MAGIC.
2 CAPTION
THE FAMED DOCKS THAT MEET THE RIVERS REIK OF THE MAJOR RIVERS OF THE LAND AT ONCE.
3 CAPTION
AND EVERY MAJOR GUILD THAT ONE COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE.












PAGE 2-
A TWO PANEL PAGE GIVING MORE SHOTS OF OUR SETTING.
1- A CLOSER SHOT OF THE DOCKS AREA THAT CONTAINS THE INN. MORE DETAIL OF THE SETTING CAN BE SEEN. PEOPLE, WAGONS, CARTS, WINDING DOWN AT THE END OF A BUSY DAY GOING TO THEIR HOMES. (SUGGESTED 2/3 PAGE PANEL). TALL SHIPS CAN BE SEEN A THE DOCKS WITH BARGES GOING TO AND FRO.
1 CAPTION

2 CAPTION
INCLUDING PROSPEROUS CRIME SYNDICATES AND -
3 CAPTION
- THE DARK AMBITIONS THAT MANKIND FALLS PREY TO IN THE NAME OF ASPIRATION.
2- SHOT OF THE INN WITH ITS GENTLY SWAYING CREAKY SIGN THAT READS: THE TWO HEADED GOOSE.
4 CAPTION
PEOPLE SHOW THEIR PATRONAGE TO AN INN FOR DIFFERENT REASONS.
SFX: CREE-EEEK
PAGE 3-
SHOTS SHOWING OUR CHARACTERS AS CUSTOMERS OVER THE COURSE OF THE EVENING.
1- SHOT SHOWING MORE OF THE INN NOW, AS WELL AS THE BACKGROUND AROUND AND BEHIND IT. SHIPS CAN BE SEEN OVER THE BACK AND PEOPLE IN THE STREET DOWN THE RIGHT SIDE. TWO WOMEN (THEIR BACKS ARE TO US) ARE ENTERING THE BAR SMILING AND LAUGHING (THEIR FACES CAN BE SEEN AS THEIR HEADS ARE TURNED). THEY ARE BEING PERVERSELY WATCHED BY A SMILING ANDE (OSS), A MARIENBURG FERRY/BARGE CREWMAN WITH TATTOOED ARMS, SCRUFFY THINNING HAIR, GOATEE AND MOUSTACHE - BROWN/GINGER IN COLOUR. AGED 28.
2- ANDE IS GOING THROUGH THE SAME DOOR THE WOMEN WENT THROUGH BEFORE.
1 CAPTION
SOME TO RELEASE TENSION IN THE COMPANY OF OTHERS AFTER A HARD DAY OF WORKING.
3- INT. INN - NIGHT
WE SEE THE DARK SHADED FIGURE WHO IS IN ACTUAL FACT DR PIETRO DE’ATH, HOWEVER, WE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SEE WHO IT IS. HE WEARS BLACK GLOVES AND IS EXAMINING PAPERWORK OF SOME SORT. SEVERAL SHEETS OF PAPER ACROSS HIS TABLE IN THE DARK CORNER. WE SEE THE CANDLE ABOVE HIM ON THE HOLDER IS SMOKING A LITTLE WHERE HE PUT IT OUT. HE HAS A BOTTLE OF WINE AND TWO GLASSES ON THE TABLE. THE OTHER GLASS HAS DREGS OF WINE LEFT IN IT. NO ONE ELSE IS AT HIS TABLE.
2 CAPTION
SOME FOR QUIET OR SECRETIVE CONTEMPLATION.
4- WE SEE THE MIDDENHEIM SQUIRE CRAIC PLAYING A DWARFISH GAME WITH RUNE PIECES AGAINST A HALFLING OPPONENT. FOOD AND ALE IS ON THE TABLE - MORE SO ON THE HALFLING’S SIDE. CRAIC WEARS MAINLY MUTED GREY AND WHITE COLOURS. HE’S WELL OVER 6 FEET TALL, DARK SHORT BROWN HAIR THAT LOOKS A BIT UNKEPT AND SOMEWHAT SQUINTING EYES. A BIT OF ROUGH STUBBLE. A STRONG AND HARD LOOKING MAN. AGED 21.
3 CAPTION
SOME TO SIMPLY UNWIND AND FIND A BED FOR THE NIGHT.
PAGE 4-
MORE SHOTS SHOWING OUR CHARACTERS ENTERING THE INN.
1- A 3/4 SHOT LOOKING AT THE DOOR NOW HELD OPEN WITH MAESTRO AND TORDRAD STANDING THERE. MAESTRO IS AN APPRENTICE WIZARD ALTHOUGH HIS ROUGH CLOTHING DOESN’T SHOW IT. HE WEARS SIMPLE BROWN UNASSUMING ROBES THAT COULD EASILY BE THOSE OF A RELIGIOUS MAN, ALTHOUGH THE MATERIAL IS VERY WELL MADE. MAESTRO HAS A SMALL BEARD AND MOUSTACHE, OVAL SHAPED GLASSES, LIGHT MEDIUM/LONG HAIR BUT QUICKLY GREYING THROUGHOUT. AGED 28. HE SEEMS OUT OF SHAPE, WITH A SLIGHT POT BELLY SHOWING THROUGH. HIS EYES ARE A LIGHT PURPLE COLOUR WITH SMALL BLACK FLECKS IN THERE.
TORDRAD IS A VERY TALL KISLEVITE KOSSAR. HIS APPEARANCE IS SOMEWHAT LIKE A RUSSIAN. GREEN EYES AND BLONDE HAIR. HE IS MAESTRO’S BODYGUARD. AGED 21.
MAESTRO IS STARING UP AT THE SIGN AND TORDRAD IS LOOKING AWAY AND SLIGHT DOWN AT HOW SILLY IT ALWAYS IS WITH MAESTRO.
1 CAPTION
AND SOME...
MAESTRO
GOSH, WELL LOOK AT THAT TORDRAD.
LOOK AT THE SIGN ON THIS INN.

REMINDS ME OF SOMETHING I SAW IN MY YOUTH YOU KNOW.
2- SHOT SHOWING MAESTRO MARCHING THROUGH THE DOOR, ARMS SWINGING IN A PRONOUNCED MANNER WHILE TORDRAD IS NOW STRAINING HIS EYES UP, LOOKING UP AT THE SIGN AS HE WALKS IN UNDER IT.
MAESTRO (CONT’D)
CONSIDER MY CURIOSITY WELL AND TRULY PIQUED, YES.
MAESTRO (THINKS) (CONT’D)
PERHAPS THE BARKEEP WILL HAVE SOME DARTS AS WELL, I LIKE TO GET SOME PRACTICE IN.
PAGE 5-
TORDRAD AND MAESTRO ORDER THEIR DRINKS.
1- MID SHOT OF TORDRAD STANDING AT THE BAR WITH TWO FINGERS HELD UP. HE CAN ONLY SPEAK KISLEVIAN.
TORDRAD (TRANSLATED FROM KISLEVIAN)
...VOD-KA

2- TWO SHOT OF MAESTRO NOW NEXT TO TORDRAD.
MAESTRO
NOT FOR ME TORDRAD, I’M NOT DRINKING THAT STUFF.
TORDRAD
.
3- TWO SHOT OF THEM. MAESTRO STARING A LITTLE TAKEN ABACK BY THE FEROCITY OF TORDRAD’S THIRST FOR ALCOHOL. TORDRAD KNOCKS A GLASS OF THE VODKA BACK IN ONE.
MAESTRO
WELL...WHATEVER YOU JUST SAID THEN, I’M SURE YOU GOT THE GIST OF MY MEANING...
1 CAPTION
...TO GET PISSED
4- WE SEE MAESTRO SITTING AT THE BAR WITH A TALL GLASS OF MILK, TORDRAD WITH TWO EMPTY GLASSES ON THE BAR ALREADY AND A NEW ONE BEING POURED INTO ONE OF THE GLASSES BY THE BARKEEP. A FAIRLY ROTUND BALDING MAN, WEARING A STAINED DIRTY APRON AND A SCAR THAT GOES FROM THE EDGE OF HIS MOUTH OUTWARDS. HE HAS A NOTICEABLE UNDER-BITE.
2 CAPTION
A FEW MOMENTS LATER...
MAESTRO
MY GOOD MAN I MUST CONFESS.

THE REASON I AM HERE IS BECAUSE OF THE NAME OF YOUR ESTABLISHMENT BEING SUCH.
BARKEEP
AHH, YOU’RE CURIOUS ABOUT HOW IT GOT ITS NAME?
PAGE 6-
CONTINUED CONVERSATION AT THE BAR.
1- TWO SHOT OF MAESTRO AND TORDRAD. TORDRAD IS ROLLING HIS EYES IN DISBELIEF WITH A HAND TO HIS FACE.
MAESTRO
WELL! I ONCE SAW A TWO-HEADED GOOSE.

OR I THOUGHT IT WAS AT LEAST.
TURNS OUT IT WAS JUST ONE GOOSE STANDING IN FRONT OF ANOTHER...HEH HEH.
2- REVERSE SHOT OF THE BARKEEP POURING THE OTHER DRINK IN TORDRAD’S GLASS. TORDRAD’S HAND IS REACHING OUT TO STOP HIM REMOVING THE BOTTLE FROM THE BAR.
TORDRAD
...PLEEZ, .
BARKEEP
WELL, THE DAY WE OPENED WE GOT A TWO HEADED GOOSE IN FOR THE COOKIN’ POT.

MORE MEAT FOR THE SAME PRICE. FIGURED IT WAS A LUCKY SIGN.
3- MAESTRO/TORDRAD TWO SHOT. TORDRAD IS POURING HIS OWN DRINK INTO THE ALREADY EMPTY GLASS. (LINES OF EXCLAMATION COMING FROM THE EMPTY GLASS PERHAPS.) TORDRAD LOOKS DEPRESSED TO BE WITH MAESTRO.
TORDRAD

MAESTRO
YES I AGREE TORDRAD, IT DEFINITELY DOES SOUND FORTUITOUS.
4- TIME HAS PASSED. A REFERENCE SHOT SHOWING MORE CUSTOMERS IN THE INN DOWNSTAIRS NOW. IT’S BECOME MORE CROWDED AND SMOKY. MAESTRO IS PLAYING DARTS IN THE BACKGROUND.
TORDRAD IS AT THE BAR SINGING A KISLEVITE SONG. CRAIC IS SITTING NEXT TO HIM ENJOYING IT. HE THINKS IT’S SOMEWHAT HUMOROUS. OTHER CUSTOMERS LOOK ENTERTAINED AS THEY WATCH ON.
THE DARK SHADED FIGURE IS STILL IN THE CORNER OUT OF THE WAY.
ANDE IS IN LIGHT CONVERSATION WITH THE WAITRESS AT HIS TABLE. SHE IS A YOUNG SERVING WENCH, NO MORE THAN 18 YEARS OLD, HAIR TIED BACK IN A GREYISH HANDKERCHIEF.
1 CAPTION
LATER THAT EVENING.
TORDRAD (SINGING)
.

.
PAGE 7-
ANDE CHATTING UP THE WAITRESS FOR CRAIC TO STEP IN.
1- ANDE IS CHATTING UP THE WAITRESS, SMILING AT HER DEVIOUSLY. THE WAITRESS SHOWS NO EMOTION TO IT YET EXCEPT SLIGHT PUZZLEMENT.
WE SEE THE SQUIRE IN THE BACKGROUND IS LOOKING ON DISAPPROVINGLY AT ANDE.
ANDE (DRUNK)
HEYYY *HIC* GORGEOUSH ANY CHANCE OF SHUM *HIC* DE-SHERT NOW?
WAITRESS
SURE...ER WHAT CAN I GET YOU?
2- MEDIUM CLOSE UP OF ANDE LEANING IN TOWARDS THE WAITRESS NOW AND WINKING AT HER. SHE IS LOOKING UNCOMFORTABLE. CRAIC IS LOOKING TENSE AND ON THE EDGE OF HIS BAR STOOL.
ANDE
AND PERHAPSH A FEW SPOONFULSH *HIC* O’ YOU.
WAITRESS
OH...NO, LOOK I’M SORRY IF YOU HAVE THE WRONG IDEA. I DON’T WANT-
3- SHOT OF ANDE GRABBING HER BY THE WRIST
ANDE
DON’ WORRY ‘BOUT ALL THAT *HIC*

I C’N TAKE CARE O’ YOU GOOD TONIGHT MY LOVE.
WAITRESS
PLEASE DON’T!

STOP!
4- CUT IN SHOT OF CRAIC’S HAND GRABBING ANDE’S ARM.
ANDE (OP)
HOH?
5- WE SEE CRAIC PUSHING ANDE BACKWARDS AWAY FROM HER, ALMOST STUMBLING OVER BACKWARDS.
CRAIC
THE LADY HAS TRIED TELLING YOU SHE ISN’T INTERESTED.

BUT IF YOUR EARS NEED MORE, I’VE TWO WILLING FISTS FOR ‘EM RIGHT NOW!
6- A DAYDREAMING SHOT OF ANDE THINKING ABOUT THE WAITRESS’S CLEAVAGE, PICTURING HER CLEAVAGE IN A DAYDREAM BUBBLE BESIDE HIM AS HE GENTLY LOOKS ACROSS AT IT GRIMACING AT THE LOSS.
CRAIC (OP) (CONT’D)
HOW IS THIS GOING TO PLAY OUT THEN FRIEND?

YOUR CHOICE.
7- ANDE PUTS HIS HANDS UP AND BACKS AWAY IN A “YOU WIN” GESTURE. WE SEE CRAIC AND THE WAITRESS IN THE SHOT.
ANDE
ER I FINK I’M GONNA RETIRE TO ME BED, I’M FEELIN’ LIGHT ‘EADED SOMEFIN’ AWFUL *HIC*.
CRAIC
...WISE CHOICE.

ARE YOU HURT AT ALL MADAM?
PAGE 8-
WAITRESS TALKS TO CRAIC.
1- THE WAITRESS IS IMPRESSED WITH CRAIC.
WAITRESS
NO, I’M ALRIGHT THANKS TO YOU.

MY SAVIOUR, A PROPER KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR YOU.
CRAIC (OP)
NOT QUITE YET...
2- POV SHOT FROM DARK SHADED FIGURE. WE SEE HIS RED WINE GLASS IN HIS BLACK GLOVED HAND AND SOME OF THE PAPERWORK IN FRONT OF HIM. SOME OF IT IS WANTED POSTERS FOR CHAOS DISCIPLES.
THE WAITRESS PUSHES HERSELF UP AGAINST CRAIC IN ADMIRATION.
WAITRESS
WELL YOU’RE MY KNIGHT...

...LOOK IT’S ALMOST MY SHIFT’S END
CRAIC
OH.
WAITRESS
YEAH, YOU COULD ESCORT ME HOME, HANDSOME.

AND PERHAPS YOU COULD SEE ME SAFELY INTO BED.
CRAIC
OH...N...
3- POV FROM SHADED FIGURE. CRAIC PULLING HIMSELF AWAY FROM HER. SHE LOOKS FULL OF SURPRISE.
CRAIC (CONT’D)
THAT WOULD BE...INAPPROPRIATE.

‘TWOULD BE A HURTING TO MY INTENDED BACK IN MIDDENHEIM.
4- CLOSE UP ON WAITRESS NOT LOOKING CONTENT.
WAITRESS
YOU’RE HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY FROM HER. SHE WOULDN’T EVER KNOW.

AREN’T YOU LONELY?
5- CLOSE UP ON CRAIC AVERTING HIS EYES AWAY AND DOWN.
CRAIC (THINKS)
PERHAPS YOU ASKED FOR IT FROM THAT SAILOR AFTER ALL.
WAITRESS (OP)
FINE!

BE THAT WAY!

YOUR LOSS!
6- SHOT OF HER LEAVING THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.
IN THE BACKGROUND WE SEE TORDRAD PLAYING DARTS WITH MAESTRO NOW. THE DARK SHADED FIGURE IS NO LONGER IN SHOT.
MAESTRO
MY ARMS ARE TIRING, THAT’S WHY MY SCORES ARE SO LOW...
TORDRAD
.



PAGE 9-
THE SHADED FIGURE TRIES TO LEAVE.
1- OSS OF DARK SHADED FIGURE APPROACHING THE BACK DOOR OF THE INN. A BAR WENCH STANDS IN THE WAY NOT LOOKING AT HIM BUT AT HER ORDER SHE HAS IN HAND, WITH SERVING TRAY IN THE OTHER WITH DRINKS AND FOOD ON IT. SHE IS LOOKING AT HER PAPER WITH SOME CONFUSION.
BARWENCH
SORRY, CUSTOMERS AIN’T ALLOWED OUT THAT W...
2- OSS OF HIM WAVING A HAND IN FRONT OF HER FACE, WHISPERING LOTS OF WORDS QUIETLY AT HER ALL AT ONCE. SHE LOOKS HYPNOTIZED.
DARK SHADED FIGURE (WHISPERS - TOO SMALL TO READ)
...................................................................................................
3- CLOSE UP ON CRAIC LOOKING AT SOMETHING IN SURPRISE. HE HEARS THUNDER AND RAIN.
SFX: KRAKOOOOM!
4- POV SHOT FROM CRAIC LOOKING AT THE VACANT OPEN BACK DOOR. A RAIN STORM IS OUTSIDE, THUNDER AND LIGHTNING. DROPS ARE FORMING AROUND THE DOOR FRAME TOP AND DRIPPING DOWN WITH HARD PATTERS.
THE BAR WENCH IS STILL STANDING THERE LOOKING SPACED OUT, BUT NOW IS STARTING TO LOOK AT HER TRAY INSTEAD.
THE RAIN SFX PERMEATES THROUGH ALL THE OTHER SFX.
SFX: TSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
SFX: RUMMMMMBLE!
SFX: TIP TIP TIP TIP TIP TIP TIP
5- MEDIUM CLOSE UP INSERT ON TORDRAD WITH VODKA BOTTLE IN HAND. MAESTRO LOOKS ON WITH SLIGHT CONCERN AT HIM.
TORDRAD
.
6- WE SEE CRAIC WALKING OUT OF THE FRONT DOOR (THE BACKGROUND SCENERY HELPS RELATE TO THE READER WHICH DOOR) WITH HIS JACKET PUTTING IT ON. CONCERN IS ALL OVER HIS FACE NOW.
CRAIC (THINKS)
THAT STORM...

I CAN’T SHAKE THIS NIGGLING DOUBT ABOUT LETTING HER GO LIKE THAT...