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Dungeons and Warhammers (updated March 17th)
- Thread starter NiTessine
- Start date
Hoffman's Island
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip
That started down in Kislev
Aboard this tiny ship
Aboard this tiny ship
The cook was a half-pint halfling
The skipper portly as a friar
Five passengers set sail that day
Bound for the Empire
Bound for the Empire
The weather started getting rough
The tiny ship was tossed
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
Das Minnow would be lost
Das Minnow would be lost
The ship set down on the shore of this
Chaos infested desert isle
With Franz Hoffman, Frederich too
The halfling, and his wolf
Kase the elf
And Khaelas the sorceror
Are here on Hoffman's Isle!
Sorry, couldn't resist.
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip
That started down in Kislev
Aboard this tiny ship
Aboard this tiny ship
The cook was a half-pint halfling
The skipper portly as a friar
Five passengers set sail that day
Bound for the Empire
Bound for the Empire
The weather started getting rough
The tiny ship was tossed
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
Das Minnow would be lost
Das Minnow would be lost
The ship set down on the shore of this
Chaos infested desert isle
With Franz Hoffman, Frederich too
The halfling, and his wolf
Kase the elf
And Khaelas the sorceror
Are here on Hoffman's Isle!
Sorry, couldn't resist.
Last edited:
NiTessine
Explorer
And the final installment of Chapter III! Sorry for taking so long with it.
---------------------------
The five adventurers burst from their cabins. As they soon ascertained, the source of the cry was one of the nobles, Marya von Hedon.
"Hans is dead!" she cried as she ran down the hallway, her eyes large with terror. Franz grasped the woman by the arm, and after some vigorous shaking and demanding questions, calmed her down enough to get her to lead them to the body.
The cabin was a large one, almost opulent, with carpets on the floors and a great bed, with silken sheets. On the bed lay the late Hans von Hedon, his eyes bulging out and black tongue jutting from his mouth, leaking green drool. There was a greenish cast to his pale skin.
"Poison," Fisibbei said, after a mere glance at the body. "And not any natural one, either. Alchemical one, I'm thinking, and a strong one at that."
* * *
An hour later they were in the captain's office. The white-bearded man was pacing back and forth in front of them.
"This be a really filthy piece of business, this is," he spoke. "There's me reputation as a skipper at stake, here."
He turned to look at the adventurers.
"I want ye to find that scurvy dog who did this afore we reach Marienburg. Ye'll be well paid, and I think the lords high and mighty have a few crowns in it fer ye, too. 'Less they killed the man themselves, that is." Versenkung barked a bitter laugh, and waved them out of his office.
And so, the investigations started. Franz assumed a leadership position so naturally that nobody thought to even question him. They began to work immediately, as they were only four days from Marienburg. Franz took it upon himself to do the interrogations, as he'd worked with a troop of witch hunters in his earlier days, and picked up a few things on how to get people to admit things. Frederich went off to question the guards and the sailors. Fisibbei, Kase, and Khaelas rummaged through the room, searching for clues.
Lady Marya was not very forthcoming with information. Waking up in the middle of the night to a strange smell, and finding her husband's face, contorted in agony next to him had been a rather shocking experience. Lady Marya's mother-in-law, the matronly Gertrud von Hedon was vehemently opposed to Franz's interrogation, and had to be forcibly removed from the room by the cleric.
In the end, Franz gleaned little from the woman. Hans and Marya had retired for the night soon after the adventurers. They'd slept peacefully for a while, and then Marya had awoken to a sharp smell. After that, she'd woken up the ship with her screams of terror.
* * *
Frederich's inquiries with the ship's crew and the nobles' guards were marginally more fruitful. One of the deck guards mentioned he'd heard a splash from the poop deck's direction, but when he'd gone to investigate, he'd seen nothing. One of the guard who'd patrolled on the lower decks had thought he'd heard steps in the shadows, but had seen nothing.
Fisibbei and the elves worked hard in the room, investigating the different manners Lord von Hedon might have been poisoned. They scraped lint off the carpet, went through the sheets with a fine comb, analysed the strange grease found on the doorknob, individually opened and tested each and every bottle and jar in Lady Marya's cosmetics chest, and even darkened the room to see if there were any cracks in the ceiling or walls. In the end, they came up with nothing. Kase tried to analyse the drool from Hans' body, but could not divine anything from it. They came to the inevitable conclusion that Hans had been poisoned at the dinner table. And that meant the guilt lay upon to shoulders of one of his kinsmen.
* * *
Franz, knowing that inquiring about the family's internal matters from the adult family members would only alert them to the fact that he knew something, requested permission to have a friendly little chat with Lisette, the eight-year-old daughter of Henrik von Hedon, Hans' brother. They were given an hour.
Franz sat on the chair opposite the little girl. She was dressed in noble finery, just a smaller version of what her mother wore. She also wore makeup, and her hair had been carefully plaited. The priest thought she looked rather like a porcelain doll. After regarding the girl for a moment with a friendly smile, he raised up the small hammer that hung on a silver chain around his neck.
"You know what this is?" he asked.
"Yes. That is the symbol of Sigmar, the god. Our priest, Father Ulrich has one, too," the girl replied in the clipped accent of the Empire's upper class.
"Good. I am also a priest, like Father Ulrich. I am Father Franz. Now, I am going to ask you some questions about your family. You should answer truthfully. Father Ulrich has told you what happens to those who lie, hasn't he?"
"Yes. Father Ulrich says liars burn in the fires of hell. I never lie."
"Good, very good… Now… Who were in the table at the dinner last night?"
"It was mom and dad, Uncle Hans and Aunt Marya, Uncle Bocher, Grandfather Adolf and Grandmother Gertrud, and Father Ulrich. Oh, and Canio. He's a bard, from Tilea. He's funny." The girl giggled.
"And who sat next to Hans?" Franz continued.
"Aunt Marya, and Uncle Bocher. Father Ulrich was sitting opposite to him."
"What did you all eat and drink, by the way?"
"Pheasant. The adults drank wine and I and little Peter drank water."
"How many bottles of wine were there in the table?"
"Many. All except Uncle Hans' Bretonnian wine were from our own yards."
"Bretonnian wine?"
"Yes… Uncle Hans does not like the wine of our yards, so he drinks Bretonnian. Uncle Bocher and Uncle Hans had a fight over it a long time ago, when he insulted our vintners."
"Did anyone else drink the Bretonnian wine?"
"No, I don't think so. Father Ulrich might have. He likes it, too."
"Hmm… Thank you, Lisette… You have been a great help. You may go."
The girl smiled, curtsied, and left. Franz departed soon after in a great hurry, to tell his comrades.
---------------------------
The five adventurers burst from their cabins. As they soon ascertained, the source of the cry was one of the nobles, Marya von Hedon.
"Hans is dead!" she cried as she ran down the hallway, her eyes large with terror. Franz grasped the woman by the arm, and after some vigorous shaking and demanding questions, calmed her down enough to get her to lead them to the body.
The cabin was a large one, almost opulent, with carpets on the floors and a great bed, with silken sheets. On the bed lay the late Hans von Hedon, his eyes bulging out and black tongue jutting from his mouth, leaking green drool. There was a greenish cast to his pale skin.
"Poison," Fisibbei said, after a mere glance at the body. "And not any natural one, either. Alchemical one, I'm thinking, and a strong one at that."
* * *
An hour later they were in the captain's office. The white-bearded man was pacing back and forth in front of them.
"This be a really filthy piece of business, this is," he spoke. "There's me reputation as a skipper at stake, here."
He turned to look at the adventurers.
"I want ye to find that scurvy dog who did this afore we reach Marienburg. Ye'll be well paid, and I think the lords high and mighty have a few crowns in it fer ye, too. 'Less they killed the man themselves, that is." Versenkung barked a bitter laugh, and waved them out of his office.
And so, the investigations started. Franz assumed a leadership position so naturally that nobody thought to even question him. They began to work immediately, as they were only four days from Marienburg. Franz took it upon himself to do the interrogations, as he'd worked with a troop of witch hunters in his earlier days, and picked up a few things on how to get people to admit things. Frederich went off to question the guards and the sailors. Fisibbei, Kase, and Khaelas rummaged through the room, searching for clues.
Lady Marya was not very forthcoming with information. Waking up in the middle of the night to a strange smell, and finding her husband's face, contorted in agony next to him had been a rather shocking experience. Lady Marya's mother-in-law, the matronly Gertrud von Hedon was vehemently opposed to Franz's interrogation, and had to be forcibly removed from the room by the cleric.
In the end, Franz gleaned little from the woman. Hans and Marya had retired for the night soon after the adventurers. They'd slept peacefully for a while, and then Marya had awoken to a sharp smell. After that, she'd woken up the ship with her screams of terror.
* * *
Frederich's inquiries with the ship's crew and the nobles' guards were marginally more fruitful. One of the deck guards mentioned he'd heard a splash from the poop deck's direction, but when he'd gone to investigate, he'd seen nothing. One of the guard who'd patrolled on the lower decks had thought he'd heard steps in the shadows, but had seen nothing.
Fisibbei and the elves worked hard in the room, investigating the different manners Lord von Hedon might have been poisoned. They scraped lint off the carpet, went through the sheets with a fine comb, analysed the strange grease found on the doorknob, individually opened and tested each and every bottle and jar in Lady Marya's cosmetics chest, and even darkened the room to see if there were any cracks in the ceiling or walls. In the end, they came up with nothing. Kase tried to analyse the drool from Hans' body, but could not divine anything from it. They came to the inevitable conclusion that Hans had been poisoned at the dinner table. And that meant the guilt lay upon to shoulders of one of his kinsmen.
* * *
Franz, knowing that inquiring about the family's internal matters from the adult family members would only alert them to the fact that he knew something, requested permission to have a friendly little chat with Lisette, the eight-year-old daughter of Henrik von Hedon, Hans' brother. They were given an hour.
Franz sat on the chair opposite the little girl. She was dressed in noble finery, just a smaller version of what her mother wore. She also wore makeup, and her hair had been carefully plaited. The priest thought she looked rather like a porcelain doll. After regarding the girl for a moment with a friendly smile, he raised up the small hammer that hung on a silver chain around his neck.
"You know what this is?" he asked.
"Yes. That is the symbol of Sigmar, the god. Our priest, Father Ulrich has one, too," the girl replied in the clipped accent of the Empire's upper class.
"Good. I am also a priest, like Father Ulrich. I am Father Franz. Now, I am going to ask you some questions about your family. You should answer truthfully. Father Ulrich has told you what happens to those who lie, hasn't he?"
"Yes. Father Ulrich says liars burn in the fires of hell. I never lie."
"Good, very good… Now… Who were in the table at the dinner last night?"
"It was mom and dad, Uncle Hans and Aunt Marya, Uncle Bocher, Grandfather Adolf and Grandmother Gertrud, and Father Ulrich. Oh, and Canio. He's a bard, from Tilea. He's funny." The girl giggled.
"And who sat next to Hans?" Franz continued.
"Aunt Marya, and Uncle Bocher. Father Ulrich was sitting opposite to him."
"What did you all eat and drink, by the way?"
"Pheasant. The adults drank wine and I and little Peter drank water."
"How many bottles of wine were there in the table?"
"Many. All except Uncle Hans' Bretonnian wine were from our own yards."
"Bretonnian wine?"
"Yes… Uncle Hans does not like the wine of our yards, so he drinks Bretonnian. Uncle Bocher and Uncle Hans had a fight over it a long time ago, when he insulted our vintners."
"Did anyone else drink the Bretonnian wine?"
"No, I don't think so. Father Ulrich might have. He likes it, too."
"Hmm… Thank you, Lisette… You have been a great help. You may go."
The girl smiled, curtsied, and left. Franz departed soon after in a great hurry, to tell his comrades.
Last edited:
NiTessine
Explorer
Okay, I am terribly sorry about the recent lack of updates. Real life interfered in the form of the exams week, which was a rather grueling experience. But, today is the last exam, and I have tomorrow off, so an update will be showing up soon. And for real, this time. I promise. 
...
NiTessine
Explorer
Chapter 4 – Man Overboard!
With the information Franz had gleaned from the little girl, the five adventurers were certain that Bocher von Hedon was somehow involved with the death of his brother. They needed further proof, however, as accusing one of the Empire's nobility of murder with merely circumstantial evidence was a rather quick way to the gallows. So, they devised a plan.
Fisibbei was the nimblest among them, and natural inclination towards larceny ran in his very blood. Thus, it was determined he would do the deed itself. When Bocher and his wife left their cabin for dinner, they were followed soon after by Khaelas, who sat in a table near the door keeping an eye on them. Kase and Fisibbei went to the empty cabin. Kase stood watch outside, while Fisibbei picked the lock and rummaged through the room.
When the von Hedons would rise from their table, so would Khaelas, who'd then run to the cabin and signal Kase to knock on the door, letting Fisibbei know it's time to split.
The lock on the door was a cheap piece of work and did not take long to pick. It clicked, and the halfling eased the door open gently, avoiding making noise. He slipped inside.
The cabin was much like Hans' in that it was richly decorated, and much larger than the small, bare rooms the adventurers were using. A large bed stood against one wall, flanked by a massive, forbidding wardrobe. The floor was covered by a thick carpet. Kislevite, the halfling decided after a moment. But he wasn't here to admire the furniture.
Armed with several spells to detect toxins, poisons, and venoms, Fisibbei examined Lady Elsa von Hedon's cosmetics box, as well as the several bottles of dwarven ale and wine from the von Hedon vintners that stood next to the bed. As he knelt to examine the bottles closer, he happened to glance under the bed. Of course, too obvious.
Carefully, the druid-turned-burglar drew the heavy ironwood box from under the bed. It was reinforced with steel bands, and bore three locks.
"Well, well," the halfling murmured as he examined the locks. Untrapped, at least by any conventional methods. Still, one could never bee too careful. Fisibbei grasped the small root hanging from his neck, and touched the box with it, murmuring words in Druidic. A verdant glow shimmered around the root, and disappeared. No magical traps, either. Too easy, he thought. Carefully, he began examination of the locks, feeling the insides with his picks, locating the tumblers, counting their number and noting their shapes.
After twenty minutes of work, all three locks were undone. As it happened, they had been identical. How foolish. Smiling faintly, the halfling moved on top of the bed, and carefully lifted the lid, with two fingers, pressing on the wooden parts. The metallic ones could be charged with electricity. No poison darts flew out at the opposite wall, nor did a deadly viper strike out. Copious amounts of deadly spiders also failed to manifest. Breathing a sigh of relief, the halfling moved to examine the box's contents closer.
The strongbox contained several pouches of gold coins, a large tome bound in black leather, and a pair of small amulets on silver strings. They were identical, and strange in shape. Fisibbei pocketed them. Then he opened the book. It was written in no language he knew, and used a most singular set of alphabets. The characters had strange forms. They were twisted, and shaped most obscenely. Fisibbei snapped the book shut, disgusted by the odd script. He stowed the book away in his backpack, shut and locked the box, and pushed it gently back under the bed. After quickly making sure the room was in proper order, he departed.
* * *
It was much later that they met in Franz's cabin to discuss the strange items Fisibbei had found. The Sigmarite's only reaction to the news they'd been stolen was a shrug.
"Ends justify the means," he said. "Now show me that book."
None of them could read the book. Kase actually felt ill after leafing through for but a moment.
"Unholy texts of Chaos, I'm betting," Fisibbei muttered.
"Perhaps we should show this to Brother Ulrick," Franz suggested.
"Perhaps, but he might be in league with the murderer," the druid countered.
"I doubt that. I spoke with him, and he is a good man. I say we take the book to him," Franz replied, the steely edge of resolution creeping in his voice.
And so they did. The cleric was not at all pleased with being bothered after he'd just gone to bed, but agreed to take a look at the tome when he noted their urgency.
"You were right to bring this to me," he said after reading a few pages. "It is a fell tome dedicated to the Chaos gods."
The priest looked at them, his chiselled face pale, and his expression grave.
"I must request that you relinquish this to me, so that I can have it destroyed and purified once we reach Marienburg. How did you come upon this?"
"It was among the possessions of Bocher von Hedon," Fisibbei replied.
The priest was taken aback.
"Lord Bocher's? Are you certain?"
"Positive."
"This is a grave matter indeed. That one of the most upstanding nobles I have met be a follower of the Dark Gods… But we cannot take action yet. We do not know his power. It is too dangerous to confront him on this ship."
The priest took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. Then he continued.
"We will do this… Wait until we get to Marienburg, and contact the local temple of Sigmar, and the authorities. With their help, even the most terrible powers he may summon should be countered."
They discussed the plan at length that night, and when the adventurers departed Ulrick's cabin, fear gnawed at their minds. Two days in the same ship with a Slaaneshi cultist, possibly more. What long days those were going to be.
With the information Franz had gleaned from the little girl, the five adventurers were certain that Bocher von Hedon was somehow involved with the death of his brother. They needed further proof, however, as accusing one of the Empire's nobility of murder with merely circumstantial evidence was a rather quick way to the gallows. So, they devised a plan.
Fisibbei was the nimblest among them, and natural inclination towards larceny ran in his very blood. Thus, it was determined he would do the deed itself. When Bocher and his wife left their cabin for dinner, they were followed soon after by Khaelas, who sat in a table near the door keeping an eye on them. Kase and Fisibbei went to the empty cabin. Kase stood watch outside, while Fisibbei picked the lock and rummaged through the room.
When the von Hedons would rise from their table, so would Khaelas, who'd then run to the cabin and signal Kase to knock on the door, letting Fisibbei know it's time to split.
The lock on the door was a cheap piece of work and did not take long to pick. It clicked, and the halfling eased the door open gently, avoiding making noise. He slipped inside.
The cabin was much like Hans' in that it was richly decorated, and much larger than the small, bare rooms the adventurers were using. A large bed stood against one wall, flanked by a massive, forbidding wardrobe. The floor was covered by a thick carpet. Kislevite, the halfling decided after a moment. But he wasn't here to admire the furniture.
Armed with several spells to detect toxins, poisons, and venoms, Fisibbei examined Lady Elsa von Hedon's cosmetics box, as well as the several bottles of dwarven ale and wine from the von Hedon vintners that stood next to the bed. As he knelt to examine the bottles closer, he happened to glance under the bed. Of course, too obvious.
Carefully, the druid-turned-burglar drew the heavy ironwood box from under the bed. It was reinforced with steel bands, and bore three locks.
"Well, well," the halfling murmured as he examined the locks. Untrapped, at least by any conventional methods. Still, one could never bee too careful. Fisibbei grasped the small root hanging from his neck, and touched the box with it, murmuring words in Druidic. A verdant glow shimmered around the root, and disappeared. No magical traps, either. Too easy, he thought. Carefully, he began examination of the locks, feeling the insides with his picks, locating the tumblers, counting their number and noting their shapes.
After twenty minutes of work, all three locks were undone. As it happened, they had been identical. How foolish. Smiling faintly, the halfling moved on top of the bed, and carefully lifted the lid, with two fingers, pressing on the wooden parts. The metallic ones could be charged with electricity. No poison darts flew out at the opposite wall, nor did a deadly viper strike out. Copious amounts of deadly spiders also failed to manifest. Breathing a sigh of relief, the halfling moved to examine the box's contents closer.
The strongbox contained several pouches of gold coins, a large tome bound in black leather, and a pair of small amulets on silver strings. They were identical, and strange in shape. Fisibbei pocketed them. Then he opened the book. It was written in no language he knew, and used a most singular set of alphabets. The characters had strange forms. They were twisted, and shaped most obscenely. Fisibbei snapped the book shut, disgusted by the odd script. He stowed the book away in his backpack, shut and locked the box, and pushed it gently back under the bed. After quickly making sure the room was in proper order, he departed.
* * *
It was much later that they met in Franz's cabin to discuss the strange items Fisibbei had found. The Sigmarite's only reaction to the news they'd been stolen was a shrug.
"Ends justify the means," he said. "Now show me that book."
None of them could read the book. Kase actually felt ill after leafing through for but a moment.
"Unholy texts of Chaos, I'm betting," Fisibbei muttered.
"Perhaps we should show this to Brother Ulrick," Franz suggested.
"Perhaps, but he might be in league with the murderer," the druid countered.
"I doubt that. I spoke with him, and he is a good man. I say we take the book to him," Franz replied, the steely edge of resolution creeping in his voice.
And so they did. The cleric was not at all pleased with being bothered after he'd just gone to bed, but agreed to take a look at the tome when he noted their urgency.
"You were right to bring this to me," he said after reading a few pages. "It is a fell tome dedicated to the Chaos gods."
The priest looked at them, his chiselled face pale, and his expression grave.
"I must request that you relinquish this to me, so that I can have it destroyed and purified once we reach Marienburg. How did you come upon this?"
"It was among the possessions of Bocher von Hedon," Fisibbei replied.
The priest was taken aback.
"Lord Bocher's? Are you certain?"
"Positive."
"This is a grave matter indeed. That one of the most upstanding nobles I have met be a follower of the Dark Gods… But we cannot take action yet. We do not know his power. It is too dangerous to confront him on this ship."
The priest took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. Then he continued.
"We will do this… Wait until we get to Marienburg, and contact the local temple of Sigmar, and the authorities. With their help, even the most terrible powers he may summon should be countered."
They discussed the plan at length that night, and when the adventurers departed Ulrick's cabin, fear gnawed at their minds. Two days in the same ship with a Slaaneshi cultist, possibly more. What long days those were going to be.
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