The roll of thunder spurred them along and by the time they'd made it to the palisade they'd been keeping at a steady jog. Brandt rued the thought of scouring his kit for more rust come morning and had no intention of getting caught in the rain. Luckily, a holy man of Sigmar was rarely held to suspicion and the town guards allowed Roderick and his companion inside without much trouble. As it turned out, it was Schartenfeld they'd arrived at. The watchman directed the young men down the main street to the Ogre's Maw taphouse to sate their thirst, and told them they'd likely find lodgings there with the landlord.

"Ye'll know it well," the watchman had said. "Look for the bally great gut-plate hangin' above the door."

So it was; a humongous dished piece of rusted steel,large enough to cook soup for three families. Jagged triangles of black metal ringed its outer edge like a lamprey's mouth, ever open and hungry - the titular ogres maw.

It was at that moment that the sky opened and the rain hammered down, the sound of it bouncing off the gut plate loud enough to be clearly heard. Roderick was at least mostly dry, he wore a fine leather cloak given to him by a thankful Wood Elf that served to keep him cozy against the storm.

Maria trotted behind them, snapping at the heels of a passing donkey and baring her teeth at a stray mutt that slunk quickly away. She was soaked, her fur plastering itself into small black cone shapes that made her look even more feral than usual. Only the purple collar about her neck suggested she had a person to care for. Her long ears were twitching every time a raindrop hit them, making her look as though she was suffering some sort of a spasm.

The door into the Ogres Maw opened readily enough and Roderick pushed his way into the warmth of the room, Maria scooting in quickly before Brandt could follow his friend. A fire glowed in the hearth and an empty table offered a welcome respite for the two men. The tavern keeps hound lay in front of the blaze and lifted one eyebrow as Maria swiftly made her way over. She sat, her front paws together, ears still twitching, and gazed into the blaze.

Roderick took the table next to her, water cascading off the cloak as he swung it onto the back of the chair. It wasn’t much of a place but at least it was warm. Brandt joined him less gracefully, sitting on the edge of his wooden cloak which smelled heavily of damp and lanolin. He tried to adjust it, failed, and had to stand up and remove his huge swords baldric in order to drape the wet cloth over the back of the chair. He held the sword by its scabbard in his left hand; not defensively, but protectively, as if there wasn’t a place in the tavern worthy enough to lay it down.

The landlords wife soon came to greet them. “Ale,” Brandt said, indicating with his fingers he meant for the both of them.

“And food please,” added Roderick with a smile. “Whatever you have on offer.”