OOC alright, here's the tl;dr post I talked about where I'll put the most stuff we used to do back in perspective. Also, since we just barely started this mission, I would suggest that you read 2 of my last posts or 2 last pages to refresh your memory in an easier way than this

@Grall_Stonefist @DeranVendar @Jorimel @Maleth @TuskatheDaemonKilla @Keidivh @matt23 @BuriasDempsey

Alright, so here's the deal:
- you are all mercenaries under the employment of a man called Thomas Constantine
- the name of the mercenary guild is unknown (you can think of some if you wish), the main base is in Altdorf
- you currently have a base of operations inside a ruined fortress of High Rock, located in the Middle Mountains (Ostland part), which you took away from Vampire's army during 2nd contract
- you are in the business of getting some long lost artifacts and items of power. So far you recovered two of them, "Claw of Shazgutz", a magical totem from a goblin shaman and "Desert's Wind", an enchanted saber from the Vampire Grandmaster
- at the moment, you are hunting for the third artifact "Eye of the Storm", a blue jewel inside of a necklace in possession of Baron Kurt von Beringer

Current mission:
- take that necklace from the Baron (who used to be a famous pirate before he retired and bought himself the title) who is throwing a wedding party and is about to present the artifact as a gift to his new wife.
- Baron's city where the festivities are taking place is called Ravenstein and is located in northwestern Talabecland, on the banks of the river Talabec.
- we separated our team in three groups

<Group I Diversion> @matt23 @BuriasDempsey @Maleth @TuskatheDaemonKilla

- when the night falls, your task is to get aboard the Baron's ship in the port of Ravenstein and steal it\sabotage it\whatever you deem fit and create a diversion so the guards leave the estate where the festivities and the wedding are taking place, giving more chance for the rest of the guys to sneak in and steal the necklace.
- at the moment you are inside of the tavern "Drunken Hog" outside the city, where you are engaged in the talk with the tavern's owner, an ex-soldier or something.

<Group II Infiltration> @Jorimel @Grall_Stonefist @DeranVendar Constantine

- you guys are currently engaged in festivities. Tugg is eating and talking to a fellow guest, who tells him that there seems to be another Ogre present here as well. Harold is close by, eating, drinking and chilling and he overheard the talk.
- Khelandria is talking to some merchants about pros and cons of GMO crops. She is also spied upon by a shady looking fellow who is about to make his move (with my next post).

<Group III Tournament> @Keidivh Pierre

- Kristoff and Pierre, after the initial trouble, managed to join the tournament with the help of a rather famous person (leaving it to Kristoff to figure it out who the man was) and are about to get summoned for their first fight.


Alright guys, I think that is it. I will reply to your last posts when I do my new one and I will also play the afkers, so no worries there. I posted this intentionally in the main thread so you can navigate easier. Expect the real post tonight\tomorrow

@TuskatheDaemonKilla @BuriasDempsey @Maleth

Hearing the damned Orc instantly spit forth some of their plan, without any forethought, was frustrating to say the least. Not only did Mariah have to enter this disgusting place of drinking, but she was now stuck with an Orc would could not keep word from mouth. 'Thankfully, the lizard creature had some smarts,' Mariah thought to herself. So instead of verbally scolding the orc, which would do little more than start a fight, she took a rag from her belt a wiped off a stool at the bar, thoroughly, before taking a seat with a heavy sigh. She looked around the tavern a moment, taking notice of the state of the establishment, the degenerates within, and the trophies of battle. All this things came together to make an -interesting- place to be stuck in.

"Another Ogre? Sounds like we can expect this guy to be packing more than the average muscle. " Fingers burrowed into his beard in sharp jabs. Like a bird pecking for worms Harold was digging for crumbs from a particularly delicious piece of sweet bread he had helped himself too. None too concerned with the goings on about him the man was absent mindedly just enjoying one of the better meals he had eaten in a while. Feet kicked lazily at the ground like a restless child. The resemblance didn't stop there as passing party goers could see him dunking bread in a chalice of wine meant for someone else and generally just seeing what does and doesn't mix when it comes to 'fine' dining.

@Colapse
There were few things in the Old World that could surprise Kristoff, and fewer still that could truly impress him. But the man who had just spoken to him, the man who had gone out of his way to get Kristoff and Pierre into the tournament had him in stunned silence. That man was Ludwig Schwarzhelm, the Emperor's Champion, the Sword of Justice. And he had spoken to him. Now he had no choice but to win this tournament, at the very least to prove his worth to one of the Emperor's most respected confidants. Of course this all flew over Pierre's head, completely oblivious that they now had to prove their worth to one of the greatest mortal warriors alive.

Giving a nod to the sergeant, the Wolf Priest patted the Brettonian on the back. "Aye lad, let's see if these Talabheimers have something strong enough to knock us on our ass." He shouted in excitement, making his way into to find the strongest ale they had, filling a large flagon of it, Course it didn't take long for him to finish, taking down the entire drink in one swig.

Well, at least it was enough to get him buzzed at least. Taking out his hammer, Kristoff knelt down and began his praises to Ulric. "Wolf Father, Lord of Winter and God of War, lay your favor upon me, that I may the children of your brother what it is to be a true warrior, and show the Emperor's Champion the worth of Ulric's servants." That was ll that needed to be said, Ulric was not a god of petty words, but of action, and his worship and prayers would come with every hammer blow.

<Group I - Diversion> @matt23 @BuriasDempsey @TuskatheDaemonKilla @Maleth + @Casavay

@Casavay "Here you go, as agreed on - 15 gold pieces and a bottle," the merchant spoke as Milena got down from the cart, handing her the meager bag with the coins and a small, half liter bottle of red wine. Many caravans went from all across the province of Talabecland and towards the town of Ravenstein, all carrying the necessary items required for the great wedding of their wealthy Baron. One of those caravans was owned by a famous merchant from the capitol, in business of selling wine and other spirits, who always looked for more able hands to protect his belongings and escort it from one place to another.

Milena was lucky enough to find the job here and spend the last three days helping with the cargo, hauling it all the way up to Ravenstein, a task which turned out to be relatively uneventful because many of the merchants agreed to travel together, thus combine their forces in a greater number and prevent any sensible bandit or worse attacking them. Sadly, this also meant that the pay was quite low and it was even worse in a way because instead of the usual fee of around 30 gold pieces per guard the merchant was giving half of that amount in gold and the other half in alcohol. Some guards of course found that appealing, others not so much, but there was no negotiating with the types of Talabeclander merchants.

"Thanks for your services and off you go now," the merchant handed the rest of the pay to the group of men Milena was in and waved them away, continuing the last leg of the journey with only his servants, who even now made sure that the carts didn't suddenly break and that horses pulling them were calm, for this shipment of precious spirits was quite important for the royal wedding, as you would guess. This left the Kislevite woman outside the tavern with the interesting name - "Drunken Hog", and as the stormy clouds slowly gathered on the skies above the town and the mighty river on which banks it was located, Milena was left with little options and no reason not to enter the decent-enough looking establishment.


Once she eventually found her way inside, she would see a place filled with hunched and grim-looking patrons, lots of trophies from old wars and an interesting set of strangers - a female Knight, an Ork in heavy plates, a scantily-dressed Elf and a strange bi-pedal saurian creature talking to the tavern keeper.

"Worry not, we won't tell anyone," the tavern keeper said, nodding towards the flag behind the bar after hearing Xiuhcoatl's question, "You see that flag? It is the banner of our regiment, the "Hogs", or at least it was before the bastard Baron dismissed it. He said he don't need us anymore, that all the creatures of the forests have been wiped out, that the land is safe and whatnot..." a choir of murmurs followed his words as couple of nearby patrons added their voices in agreement, all of them obviously sharing the same fate of the tavern keeper. "Was a captain of the best artillery unit this side of the Talabec and now what, ended up with running this tavern..." he sighed and poured them more ale, the anger mixed with sadness clear on his grizzled features.

"So, how's the weather like in the North?" another person spoke, breaking the sudden silence. Question was ushered by a man sitting far back in the bar, most of his features hidden by a long dark green cloak. Besides him he had a short hunting bow and a pair of daggers could be seen clanging from his leather belt. He smiled beneath his cowl and turned to the tavern keeper. "Captain, I saw this lot crossing the Sarno's ferry couple of days ago. When they arrived, half of their group went to the city and this half stayed here, quite interesting if you ask me."

"Aye, you are right Derrick," the tavern keeper said, turning to face Xiuhcoatl, "So how far North have you been? There are interesting stories we hear from the travelers up there, so it would be nice to hear what you have to say?" there was a certain edge to his voice now. As he spoke, the rest of the patrons also started looking at the group, cautiousness and subtle hostility betrayed in their every gaze.



<Group II - Infiltration> @Jorimel @Grall_Stonefist @DeranVendar+ (Constantine)

"Gods?" the first merchant looked at Khelandria with a slightly puzzled look which was soon shared by the rest of his colleagues. "What do gods have to do with growing crops? No Miss, you are mistaken, religion has nothing to do with this, only pure logic of industry. That is where progress lies and you can't believe the old ways harbor..." he was interrupted as the man, who earlier spied upon the Witch Elf, suddenly approached them and placed a hand on the merchant speaking.

"If you would excuse us sirs, me and Miss Khelandria here have something to discuss. If you please," he said in a tone not allowing room for discussion and the sight of fear came across the faces of the merchant trio, who said their goodbyes and left them alone with all due haste. Satisfied with the outcome, the mysterious man now turned his full attention to Dark Elf, his eyes never leaving her.

"Tell me Miss Khelandria, how much would it cost me to hire you and your two associates over there," he nodded towards where Harold and Tugg were sitting, although still out of their earshot, "To do a job for me?"

While Khelandria was caught up in her own problem, Tugg on the other hand saw the fat man talking to him chuckle, "Nono, you silly! I'm not an Ogre, Gog is! In fact, he's right over there," he laughed and pointed further down, beyond the rows of tables and close to one of the walls surrounding the Baron's Estate, where a group of guards were sitting, joined by no less then another Ogre, who was at the moment, feasting upon the "carcass" of a huge wild boar, while couple of plates of armor clanged from his belly and shoulders and a massive club was idly placed next to him.

Harold, being the only one of their group who was so far left alone (excluding Constantine, but Sigmar knows where their Employer was currently at), giving him a perfect opportunity to spot both the Ogre the other guest was pointing at and the shady looking fellow currently engaged in conversation with Khelandria two dozen feet away from them. All of it looked as a fairly harmless situation but to a keen survivalist eye the Badlander possessed it looked as if it could go south at any moment...


<Group III - Tournament> @Keidivh Pierre

Both of the warriors spent their time in meditation and prayer, away from the main bulk of people, finding some peace in solace while sitting alone on one of the benches close to the main arena. Eventually, two servant boys arrived, bringing a list with their names on it. "Sirs Pierre and Kristoff, you are placed in different brackets in the main tournament," one of them spoke, "If you would follow us, we'll lead you towards the preparation chambers."

They followed them inside the makeshift arena, the big circular building made mostly out of wooden boards, especially for this occasion, and down the stairs into the underbelly. They also got separated eventually, every warrior going to his position and Pierre ushered a simple "Good luck" to the Wolf Priest as Kristoff was led further down. After couple of minutes he arrived in sort of an armory\medical area, where couple of servants walked around, placing armor on some of the nearby knights or tending to their wounds.

In the middle of the chambers there was an older man with big mustache and a patch covering his left eye, shouting around. "Alright ya gents, the main melee is about to begin. You are all placed in different brackets and will fight with your current gear, one on one. To win, you must draw three bloods from your opponent and who does that first wins, obviously. This is not a tournament where killing your enemy is allowed but," he pointed at the two servants who just entered the room carrying a mangled body of a dead warrior - who by the looks of his broken equipment used to be some sort of a guardsmen - and placed it further back in the chambers, "Accidents do happen," he laughed. "Alright, first one to go out is Kristoff, Wolf Priest of Ulric," he spoke, already making contact with the mercenary, "You'll be fighting against Sir Bolek of Estalia, member of the Knights of the Blazing Sun. Good luck," he finished and pointed at the door behind him.

Once Kristoff decided it was time to go out through the door, he would find himself walking through a narrow tunnel and into the arena beyond. The ground of it was covered in sand and he immediately saw that the stands above the circular walls were filled with the crowd, at least around a thousand people cheering at him as he walked out.

Across the sand, he saw his opponent - like the organizer below said, it was indeed a Knight of the Blazing Sun, armed in familiar dark and gold armor, armed with a sword and a shield on which the golden sun was painted upon. He stood en guard, patiently waiting for Kristoff to make the first move.

OOC alright, I'll do this like I did it in the past. You attack first and I'll write results. You win if you be the first to score three hits that will draw blood from your opponent or lose if the same happens to you first. There will be some dice rolls involved. Enjoy

'.....The Old Ones are punishing me, I know it.' The Saurian briefly thought to himself as his mind now raced to how to salvage the whole thing. It was a good thing he was of the cold blooded persuasion, otherwise he would have been sweating notably. Though he had wished he had a skink's swift thinking right now. 'Damn greenskin. ' he mentally cursed before he spoke, deciding to pour more truth this time. "Ostland, Highrock, not much of a fair place, were we had finished another job. Freeing a village from the sway of a Vampire lord and his servants. In fact she was the one to strike the killing blow." Xiucoatl said, gesturing toward Alozia, remembering the magic imbued that made the Grandmaster explode in light and fire after everyone else piled on strikes against the vampire. "Our comrades that went to the gathering are trying to speak with the man who owns the boat we ourselves came to take back, to convince him to give the boat peacefully as well as some trinkets he needs to hand over, which we of course doubt. So, we are waiting here till the time is right. The man in question is the Baron himself actually. I am no stranger to being stripped of purpose, I wouldn't even be here if I wasn't. If that fool doesn't need soldiers, then I do think he doesn't need a boat or trinkets either, wouldn't you agree?" he posed the question to the former captain. He felt sympathy for the soldiers here, stripped of their purpose, especially after such service, on the whim of someone else just because they had lots of gold.

Sometimes the absolutely smartest thing one could do when eyeing up possible danger was to do an equally absolute amount of nothing. Nothing of consequence anyways. More often than not trying to head off or even prepare for danger just invited it into ones life like a self fulfilling prophesy. So to those outside the world in Harold's head he looked like just another uncouth guard partaking in the feast on offer with one hand wrapped around a slab of Warwick Farm's cheese and the other buried under the table presumably scratching his unmentionables.

"Those fellas look mean. Good thing they're all the way over there and I'm right here with a fancy crossbow. One wrong move and I'll have them pinned up to the wall I will! It'll be right killy, right flash...think that's what the Orc calls it. I like that Orc. " Harold slowly rotated his head to observe the Witch Elf and her shady new compatriot. Dullard look did nothing to betray the gears turning in his mind, granted they weren't turning too much at this point... or were they? "Ehh, lad looks like he might be the grabby sort. Be in for a right nasty surprise I say. Honestly I feel like I'm in danger when I look at her. Wonder how much a scene it would make though... " Jaw flexed as he pushed an unnecessarily large piece of cheese into his mouth before chasing it down with more wine soaked biscuit. Soggy crumbs decorated his beard and the wine itself had formed several stain trails over his chin.

Mariah was snapped from her inspection of the bar when she heard the word 'regiment' exit the tavern keeper's mouth. She turned to face him on the other side of the bar, taking her shield from her back and placing it on the bar before speaking, "A regiment that is no longer needed? I have never heard such a thing before. To cast aside soldiers in these dark times is foolish, to say the least." Mariah then rose to her feet, and extended her hand across the bar for an introduction, "I am Mariah, last knight of the house of De'Leon in Lyonesse, Bretonnia. By the looks of those trophies, I would say, when you did have purpose, you were all quite skilled." She then smiled with an interested grin, "I am always on the look out for those that are skilled warriors and in need of a new and meaningful purpose...So I hope that you all have not permanently retired?"

Upon seeing his opponent, Kristoff cast a harsh glare at the man. Knights in general annoyed the Wolf Priest to no end, but the Knights of the Blazing Sun particularly enraged him. Followers of the Southron god Myrmidia, who dared tread upon Ulric's sovereign authority over the realm of war. What was most shameful was that men of the Empire actually chose to forsake Great Wolf, the one who watched over them since before the time of Sigmar. He would show them the errors of their way.

"Pray to your patron lad, for you face the servant of the true god of war!" Kristoff bellowed as he charged at the knight, his hammer raised and ready to strike. However at the last moment, just before his blow landed, Kristoff used his momentum to twist around the knight, pulling out his ritual dagger to get behind his guard and slice right beneath his shield arm. He may be a barbarian, but he was not without form and strategy.

OOC: So they said melee weapons only, but they didn't say anything against a god offering a blessing to his champ right?

Tuska raised whatever kind of drinking thing had been placed I front of him and poured the liquid into his toothy dark green maw. It's contents went down smoothly and he wiped his cheek with a black gauntlet wielding hand. "Da wetha is shite, da gobos datz liven in da forest is shite an da people liven der is shite." He said nonchalantly and loudly in his deep greenskin voice. He honest to gork doesn't care about the other's attempt to ease the situation because quite frankly a fight was exactly what he wanted but he also came up with a clever idea. "So youz gitz used ta fight da beasties in da forest? and now youz just sittin 'ear drinking like a bunch of sad snoties just cause dat baron git told ya he don't need ya anymore? Datz jus sad even for umies."