POOHEAD189

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢 | A Gothic Fantasy Dungeon Delving RP in an Soulsborne Style World

Maybe...

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Thargas Anvilmar

---

Thargas was not unused to politics. He was a senator for his homeland and had served in the seat for as long as a human lifetime, and yet he felt a bit out of place here. Had his King been present, there might have been some manner of acquaintance or camraderie, but as it were Thargas knew none of them and had only expected to come and reinforce the humans with their expeditionary force before Khaz Modan could mobilize properly. It seemed the war was starting sooner than expected!

He took hearty sips of the mead and listened intently as the varying leaders greeted and spoke with one another. Geradin did the same, though he held his head high and watched with an authority only a dwarf of the cloth could muster, holding his staff with the grandness of a statue wrought in the elder days of the titans. Thargas couldn't hold himself with granduer. He was just a warrior and a politician, and different people would tell you differently on which came first to him.

"While the Gilneans are taking their time, I'll take the floor and provide ye with a bit of information on our involvement in this conflict o' yorn." Commander Anvilmar remarked, stepping forward at their center to grab the gathered attention of the crowd. He was shorter than all of those present, but his bulk wasn't something to be ignored. He could arm wrestle the best of the orcs and still come out looking for more. Once Thargas saw eyes on him, he began...

"Ye have the support of me people, and the good citizens of Gnomeragan-" He conceded, extending a hand to the present Gnomes in acknowledgement. "And of our King. The Bronzebeards have always been staunch supporters of the Alliance, no matter the circumstances and no matter the foe. Our involvement here will be no different. In the coming weeks and months, ye can bet we'll bring more than our token force we've shown here today."

Twelve hundred veterans was nothing to scoff at, but it was certainly not the mobilized military of Khaz Modan. "But know that me king grieves for his brother, and while the dwarves are ever with the men of Lordaeron, some of our people feel that this war must be a war of gain rather than just passion and shared loyalties. Some want to protect our King, even from himself. And so after the war is won, and ye've rebuilt, we'll become trade partners again. We will have much business to discuss, and new roads both above and below ground if ye catch me meaning. If we are to fix this world, then we who have suffered from the Old Horde much as you who are suffering now will need to know we're in it for one another, not just when one of us is down. It took decades to free me homeland from the orcs and dragons, and some of me people felt abandoned during that time. Some felt that the men who ask now for help, delayed in their help earlier. Now, I know that's bullshit, and me king knows that's bullshit, and most dwarves worth their beard knows that's bullshit... however, some might need a bit of hard evidence by the time this is over, in trade and treaties."

Thargas managed a smile, because he knew just how ridiculous it was to even mention such a thing. But it needed to be let out to breathe and to be on the minds of the men and even elves present, because if it wasn't, then some dwarves might worry they would forget. And a dwarf that feels slighted is a dangerous and dogged foe.

"Thank ye for hearing me. Me forces and meself is at your service. Let's slay the zombies in their holes!"

Ill Met in Ostland

"That would seem the most prudent action..." Marius agreed, gazing around. The walls were made with heavy cuts of timber and well connected, but the lack of activity was concerning. Of course, he didn't know if he should expect to see anyone here, but it did send a chill up his spine to see a small piece of civilization now devoid of life after the encounter with the beastmen.

Marius dismounted from his new steed, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sidesword just in case but trying to keep his visage serene.

He approached one of the service doors near the silo and knocked with no small measure of trepidation. He winced when he heard the noise the knocking made. It sounded unnecessarily loud in the deep silence of the silo. He waited a few moments but heard no answer in reply. Well, so much for that plan. Still, they needed to get inside in order to check the shipment. The fact that there were guards here showed that nothing had ransacked the place. Perhaps it was just the roads that had led the shipments to stop operating.

"Excuse me..." A voice began, but was cut off abruptly as Marius heard an added kislevite curse. Marius turned and saw a man, having apparently come out from the back of one of the houses, sporting a brown goatee and a foppish hat holding his hands up disarmingly, Natasha's spearpoint at his throat. Marius saw the fear in his eyes and he couldn't blame him. If he had a blade to his own throat, he might have made less than masculine sounds.

"Who are you?" Marius asked, indicating for Natasha to lower her weapon. She did so after a moment of thought. The man swallowed and rubbed his neck, attempting to regain what composure he could.

"Wilbrecht Coureham. I'm one of the sub-supervisors for this location. Are you an agent of Grunwalk and Sons? We've been waiting for word from wolfenburg but have heard nothing in a fortnight. You have to be, yes?"

"We were hired to make certain the gunpowder was safe to be transported back." The merchant said, holding the reins of his horse to calm his steed.

"Oh, erm... yes, of course." He said, sounding like he just remembered something unpleasant. He glanced at the guards, who looked their way under their visored helms. Marius thought this was a strange encounter, but he wasn't going to strike any alarms and sic Natasha on someone without seeing things for himself. He decided to say as much.

"May we inspect the blackpowder?" Marius asked.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt laughed, and it was full of mirth. He might not be familiar with courtly intrigues but switching an arrow or having identical fletchings to make him look good sounded very much like a tactic he would try in the back alleys, or at least along the same vein. He lifted his glass in a cheers and shrugged, still smiling. "Well, if that's how it works I'm game." He said. Of course, he still wanted to learn all he could about archery, but this was a good shortcut while he attempted to figure it out. The description of her calling him a hero also kept his mood high, despite her news that she wouldn't be present at the lessons.

"Very well, I'm sure we'll get along famously." Galt said, trying to convince himself as much as Silke. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a poor experience. Maybe their initial meeting at the banquet wasn't a catalogue of how he was with everyone. Silke encouraged it and so Galt would do so, though he wouldn't hold his breath on whether her brother would do it out of charity or not. Perhaps if all else failed, he could learn how to use a crossbow. Apparently they had more punch and needed less training than a traditional bow.

As he thought of his misgivings, Silke continued and gave him a warning of her brother as if his thoughts had manifested through her lips. Galt sighed, smiling. "It takes a lot for me to really get angry at someone, especially if they don't harm anyone physically. I'll keep my mouth shut and my intentions of flirtation to myself. I appreciate the warning though, honestly." Galt relayed, and he scratched his fine chin, wondering aloud. "I suppose these next few weeks will be busy for me. What are your plans while I'm off gallivanting in the woods? Not that we won't have any more of these economics lessons."

A thought popped into Galt's head, and he remembered an offer he was going to extend Silke's way. He leaned in, placing his cup down and speaking softly, as if they were sharing some sort of conspiracy. "By the way, I wanted to extend a similar courtesy to you. If you want that is... In my previous line of work, a good knife means the difference between life or death, and your guards can't be everywhere at once. What I'm suggesting is: I teach you the proper etiquette of knife fighting, in case you need to defend yourself one day and a bow isn't at the ready. I promise it's likely prudent for someone in your high status. A knife is the oldest tool known to man and it's uses..." Galt produced a dagger, as if he plucked it out of thin air, and twirled it betwixt his fingers for emphasis. "-are endless."

He leaned back and took his glass in his hand again, taking a casual sip as he sheathed the blade. He doubted she would take the offer, but he wanted to extend it. Galt was used to a 'take what you can, give nothing back' mentality, but Silke was doing so much for him. It felt wrong to not at least give her a few lessons in an art he both knew and would be relevant in his new lifestyle. "Your choice, of course. I just feel like it would be beneficial for you. It's saved my life more than once."

Ill Met in Ostland

Marius felt like his head was made of lead. The adrenaline having long since faded away to just paranoid fear, he didn't know exactly how he should feel but it wasn't the exhilaration he had been told he might. Oh, at the time during the fight he did feel an excitement. An edge that one might delve into were they so inclined, but it didn't justify the sheer sobriety and hangover of anxiety that preceded and followed the experience.

"Yes," He breathed in a nervous sigh. "It was my first."

At least he no longer felt like he needed to lose his lunch. Initially after they had fled the movement of the horse and the sheer brutality of the experience had made him feel queasy, but now he wanted nothing more than to go back home and sleep for eighteen years, and he realized again that he had no home to go back to save some inn at Wolfenburg.

"I am alive. Whether I am ok is a deeper question, but I can settle for the former for now. Are you?"

"Da. Small skirmish compared to vhat I haf escaped before." She said, though clearly she had the frame of mind not to make so little of the encounter. "Yhou do gud. Many die furst coombat. If yhou beyeter dooler than horseman, perheps you eh...f... formedbal?"

"Formidable." Marius asked.

"Da, is what I meant to sey." She said, hooking her carbine over her shoulder and taking the reins of Konya. Once they had established that Marius could ride Dagbhert without crashing him through a copse of trees. "Now leet us go. Beatmahn stubborn like boor. Maybe dey still follow."

"They might have been the bloody things that destroyed the silo." Marius thought aloud and kicked his mount into a trot alongside Natasha and her mount.

Ill Met in Ostland

"No birds?" Marius asked dubiously, looking up at the overcast sky and squinting as he gazed around. The land was sparser here in a sense, though the forest was thick on all sides, the riverway left them in a relatively open space. "Perhaps there are just less birds near the mountains?"

He asked in a fashion that was more hopeful than sound in logic. She did not look his way, gripping the haft of her lance more tightly. Marius suddenly felt Dagbhert stepp with agitation, and he felt a quickening pace in his pulse. Somehow even he knew there was something wrong with where they were, and it for once it wasn't a dissatisfied customer.

"Should we turn back?" The merchant asked, but even as he spoke the brush behind them exploded in movement as mutants with the heads and feet and fur of beasts appeared. Their eyes were white and wide, with lolling tongues and frothing, fanged mouths. Marius almost vomited from the sight of their twisted forms, swallowing his disgust to gird himself. Even as he and Natasha spun their steeds around, another dozen beastmen appeared across the river. With antlered heads and wicked axes in their hands, they charged out of the treeline with roars and undulating cries to their false gods.

"We should have turned back!" The merchant screamed, fear gripping him even as Natasha spurred her mount toward the closer warband, crying out like an amazon out of legend and holding her lance out as she bore down on them. Marius did not quite know what to do. He was a better fighter on foot but he didn't want to be caught without his horse in case he was overwhelmed.

When it doubt? Charge. That had been the advice a Reiksgard had once told him when Marius had asked him how the man had survived so many years of combat. Bravado and the bulk of your horse would never fail you. So the merchant paid heed to it and drew his ribaldo, the sharpened sword gleaming as he set Dagbhert into a gallop just to the flank left of the screaming Natasha. Her black braid flowed in the wind as she rushed headlong into the throng.

Her warhose leaped to surprise the first spear wielder, reaching the goat-headed beastman and crushing it under its great weight before the thing could bring its short pole arm to bear. Natasha's lance skewered another elk-headed beast, pinioning its tall neck and ripping the spear point out to enhance the wound, blood spurting. Even as she spun her lance to strike a glancing blow against another, Konya kicked out with its rear legs and sent a smaller beastman flying.

"Sigmar!" Marius cried out desperately, hoping beyond hope the lord of men watched over him. Had Natasha not been so ferocious, they might have easily cut the legs off of Dagbhert, but as it were most of their attention was on her except for a smaller beast with the head of a dog-creature, its little sword and wooden shield pitifully small compared to Marius's new stallion. It dropped the shield it carried and ran, but it was trampled by the dark haired horse, Marius managing to stab the shoulder blade of another distracted mutant in the process. It bleated madly and swung its mace wildly, but Marius stabbed a second time and pierced its chest, ending its life before it could strike him with a true hit.

Ill Met in Ostland

Her confidence rubbed off on Marius and he returned the smile. The horse was a stallion, ungelded. Perhaps it was arrogance on his part, but he felt the beast needed a proper name. Something he could boast about at parties. "I'll call him Dagbhert," Marius decided suddenly, brushing the horse's mane with approval.

"Daegburt? Vhy?" She asked with an incredulous look. No doubt it did sound funny to a foreigner. It was strange how dissimilar imperials and kislevites were in language when they lived as neighbors. Then again, even the provinces had somewhat different dialects and naming conventions. He supposed it made some sense.

"It means bright day." Marius said, taking one of the sugar cubes he had been given and letting the beast eat it leisurely. It's tongue felt odd and its teeth were hard and snapping, but it did not wound him despite his nervousness.

"Boot iz derk color." Natasha pointed out.

"It's meant to be ironic." He explained, and she shrugged. They had already gotten what supplies they needed, though Marius was feeling a tad peckish. They had jerky, nuts, and dried fruits to last them almost a week, and water with it. Natasha handed Marius his stash of the goods so he could strap it to Dabhert and secure his own stock.

"So when do we go?" The merchant asked dubiously, changing the topic to something less savory. He was clearly feeling more than an inkling of trepidation on the journey. If he had known he was going to rough it in the woods, he might have brought a dueling buckler or a soldier's shield for the trip. Defense was key, not offense. Particularly when going into areas where one might be overwhelmed. His mind was filled with scenarious of rampaging, goat headed beastmen pulling him off his new horse and hacking him to pieces.

"You said ve leef immediately, da? Szo ve go now." She remarked as if it were set in stone. Marius grunted in reply, realizing if he spoke he might have a crack in his voice. Taking a deep breath, he placed his foot in the stirrup and hiked his other leg over atop the saddle. The horse, Dagbhert, sidestepped and let out a drolling whinny, but Marius gathered it under control after a few moments with the reins. The horsemaster watched them curiously, wiping his hands on his cloth. He likely did not quite know what to make of the pair.

"Well, I can't argue with your logic. The sooner the better." He told her, and then mumbled under his breath. "_{If I die I die}..."

Ill Met in Ostland

Marius took a moment to think, looking at the elm tabletop contemplatively. The last thing he wanted was for his father to receive a big payoff. He still held resentment burning in his breast and he wasn't going to let that go so easily. It would be the greatest irony to make it to Wolfenburg and then throw his father a fortune as a thank-you for banishment. But a part of him did want his father to also know he could be a boon for the company. Maybe this was a way he could prove himself?

He knew he would change his mind. But he felt in that moment that it was the right thing to do, at least for his own future.

"If you buy it from the Golden Kettle company, you'll tell them it was a purchase made courtesy of Marius the Merchant." He said, and Frederich gazed at him with a queer, curious look.

"Marius the Merchant, very well." He said, placing his hands together, the rings on his finger clinking from the gesture. "Please, check on my powder and report back here..."

"I also wish to be paid the same as your agents when going out to the Silo, both full payment for myself and the fraulien." Marius demanded, crossing his arms. He felt Frederick Grunwald might refuse, might point out if they did not, they wouldn't be able to get the powder anyway. But wisely the Wolfenburg merchant prince thought better of it, and acquiesced with a nod of his head.

"It will be done."

"Good, then we'll leave immediately." Marius said, taking up a small walking staff he had purchased that morning. He had his sword for dangerous encounters, but a staff was the usual mode of self-defense for a traveling tradesman and he wanted to at least look the part, even if he couldn't wield it worth a damn unless he needed a club. Marius glanced at Natasha, who pursed her lips and nodded her agreement. "Have the powder ready. We'll be back in a few days."

The two stepped out of Grunwald and Sons, and it was when the midday sun hit him that he realized he had just volunteered to go out into the wilderness and risk his neck for a woman he had just met. Yes, she had saved his life, but damn he wasn't here to start a charity! Sigmar guide me, Marius thought. Perhaps this was still the right thing to do. He wasn't beholden to her but this would at least give him a name to some extent, and she did have an important job to do he would be remiss if he did not see through. He had promised, after all.

"Into danger then?" He asked her rhetorically. "We'll need some supplies..."

At The Edge of The World

I grinned. Admittedly I was a bit nervous, but she didn't seem put-off by my question and even encouraged the conversation. Her pedigree notwithstanding, it all seemed pretty natural. I slid a bit closer, my dark eyes locked on her blue-eyed gaze as she awaited my answer. Gods, she was pretty.

I shrugged my big shoulders. "I do know this one guy. He's alright." I said, wiggling my big hand as if it were a scale, speaking like the person in question had just reached the bare minimum requirement of being acceptable to know. I smiled back at her wickedly. "I think you'll find him to be a...good 'social acquaintance.' Girl's like that kind of thing, right?"

"It's tolerable," she said facetiously, wrinkling her diminutive nose as she continued the joke, and like magnets we leaned in for a kiss. I could almost feel it before we brushed li-

"Room?"

Emmaline's eyes popped open and I wheeled my head around to see one of the Maw's overworked attendees standing there, pen and paper in her hand and bags under her eyes. She sported a brown hair bun to keep any hair out of the well-cooked food. I had never seen her before, but then again they switched out employees almost as often as customers. "Were you two wanting a room with the order? One bedroom, two bedroom? If you're done eating we need to clear the tables unless you're going to order something."

"Well...?" I started to answer, but really felt it wasn't my place. I looked at Emmaline questioningly.

Ill Met in Ostland

"That sounds a bit overzealous," Marius chuckled, though his face showed no mirth. Meeting Frederich Grunwald would have normally been an honor if he did not see the man was trying to swindle Natasha. Without preamble, Marius held his hand out to see the papers Frederich had in flowing script that indicated the formulae of the prices. Ars Dictaminis was a learned art that few could really become literate in. A full five years of schooling was served to learn how to doublespeak and converse in what they called the tradesman's tongue.

"I assure you it is all in order, herr...?" Frederich was the second son out of the three, master of the Wolfenburg branch, and he looked the part. His coat ended just above his knees in the merchant fashion, but it was purple and gold to display his station. He sported a much fuller beard than Marius's goatee and it likely hid varying levels of multiple chins. Even with a bulk order such as this, Marius was surprised he showed up so readily. The clerk had likely informed him of the accent and the sexist fact Natasha was a woman and thought it was an easy mark they could make good on if the master himself addressed her. There was a reason Marius had not spoken until he had laid out that every barrel of gunpowder was twice the going rate at the Nuln university.

"The assets here do not include the correct amount of saltpeter for the cannons, and we will only pay these rates for the first four barrels. After that we expect the price to lower by two hundred and thirty seven Krowns for every shipment after that. In these documents you have failed to tell us what ships would be utilized to transport it and by what metric we are insured."

"That is ludicrous! It is the standard rate of saltpeter for the imperial military regulation forms out of altdorf, and-"

"Altdorf does not know blackpowder from cigar smoke." Marius laughed, slamming the letter down and pointing at the sheet with an accusatory manner, poking it as he spoke. "Heinrich Falkhammer of Nuln has the Gunnery School's blackpowder mixture statement of military excellence at 75/100 and it used throughout the Empire as the standard for every major contingent of gun batteries since they were implemented in 2469 during the year of the Red Sky. We wouldn't want to give subpar powder and shot to our dear allies up north, do we herr Grunwald? I'm surprised your prices are so high with such little oversight on the quality of your merchandise." By Sigmar, at least when the letters of business were written by the clergy they were more often than not honest! Marius sighed.

"We follow the standards writ on the reik marque dictandi and have yet to be questioned in any such manner by any official of customs. And you must not know that black powder is in high demand currently and our stocks are low during the winter seasons. Perhaps if you and the fraulien here waited another season you would be granted better terms."

"Who would have such a high need of gunpowder more than the Kislevites who guard the Troll country from the ruinous powers and barbarians of the north?" The Nuln merchant scoffed. The Empire was ever at war, it was true, but from all the gossip Marius had heard there were very few conflicts that would warrant a nation-wide need of gunpowder save for greedy purchasing by a rebel group attempting a bloody coup. "Do not patronize my friend here. If you cannot give us a fair deal we can go to Middenheim or perhaps see if the Golden Kettle outpost in Talabhiem would be more accommadating."

"Wait wait...!" Frederich said, holding his fat hands out. He was around Marius's age but he seemed to have had more than a touch of good living. One of the benefits of being an unfavorite without a home was that Marius did not have enough time to devour so many delectable pastries. The rival merchant dismissed his clerk with a wave, the man leaving the spectacles and disappearing into the back. He sighed.

"The reason we do not have what we need in stock is that one of our silos was waylaid." He admitted softly, eyes darting back and forth. "We don't know if it was beastman or greenskins or bloody bandits, but something has taken half my stock and everyone I have sent out there has not returned."

Marius raised a questioning eyebrow to Natasha.