Hilde smiled at Cedric's display and at Isolde's obvious awe. Small town thugs were rarely a match for professional soldiers as the giant Hochlander had just learned. The problem was that they put so much effort into bluster and by the time the realised their opponent wasn't blustering it was too late. 

The hubub in the tavern was dying quickly, and Hilde was about to suggest they retire to their rooms, days on the road had done little to ease the weariness she had earned in the fighting in the Riekswald, when a bar maid placed two tankards of ale down on the table top.

"Curtesy of the gentleman across the way," the barmaid simpered with something between jealousy and excitement in her voice. Isolde and Hilde both looked up at a lean looking man with a sly grin on his face. Hilde guessed he was in his late 20s though he might easily have been a decade older. His clothing was faded silk which must once have been fine and he wore a utilitarian grey cloak. A sword and a pistol hung at his belt. Hilde smiled more at the pistol than at the drink but the stranger took it as an invitation and slid over to the table.

"Good afternoon Frauline," he greeted with a gravely voice.

"What brings two such beauties into this poor house this day?"

Isolde immediately bristled.

"We aren't whores if that is what you mean," she snapped hotly. If the man was shocked he didn't show it, merely held up his empty palms as bar.

"No no I don't imagine that," he added good humoredly, "In fact that is why I approached you. Both of you and knuckles over there," he inclined his head towards the triumphant Cedric.

"Have the look of people who can handle themselves, and im looking for people who can handle themselves."

"What are you looking for such people for Herr...?" Hilde asked, cautiously sipping her ale.

"Strickland, Johan Strickland," he responded, "and im looking for people willing to do Sigmar's work for you see ladies, I have the honor to be a Witch Hunter."

[@POOHEAD189]