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gwangi32

Swords against Chaos

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Captain Fidelian seems to take strength from Ragnar's contempt for the vampire. "Have you fought beast like this before?"

 

The entertainers do not even stop to reply to Ragnar's statement. They are riding out of the clearing as soon as the day is bright enough to see and that is the end of it for them.

 

The soldiers that accompanied Fidelian do have something to say. They speak quietly among themselves and then one says, "Captain isn't this really a job for a Witch Hunter?"

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Ragnar, still steaming over being called a toad, turns to the captain at the man's question "'Course I've fought 'em before. Killed one, too."

 

He hears one of the soldiers speak of Witch Hunters. "Bah! Them faries can't tell their arse from a hole in the ground. You want this thing dead, I'll kill it, or meet my doom."

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"We will ride on to Frakstien" Fidelian indicates himself and the road wardens, "and take rooms in the inn of Frau Bluecher, it's called the Drunk Pig, when you arrive you will have rooms set aside, paid for as well. It should take no more than two hours to walk to Frakstein from here," says Fidelian. "We will convene in the common room of the Inn a couple hours before sunset. That will give you time to get anything you feel you might need. And I will consult with the Templar of Sigmar as well but I feel confident that you two warriors" he nods at Otto and Ragnar, "are all that will be needed to confront this menace.

 

And so within moments of the sun coming up the clearing has emptied leaving only Ragnar and Otto and some smoldering ashes.

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The day is lovely. The sun warm and there seems to be no insects buzzing about. No correct that, only the irritating ones are absent. Butterflys swoop and weave about. The road remains empty. And choices should be made.

 

On to Frakstein, recovering you belongings form the boat and meeting with Captain Fidelian. Or move off in another direction. Vampires might be a bit much, they have a tendancy to spoil a noble doom with their foul necromancy. There are always options.

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"What's takin' you so long, manling?" Ragnar shouts from up the road. "We hafta to go meet that Captain so's he can tell us where we can find that damn Vampire-b!tch!"

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The morning wears away and perhaps an hour before noon you are on the outskirts of Frakstein. It is a small town perhaps 500 people make there homes here. A rock wall four feet in height separates the town from the fields. The fields, mainly short grass and vegatable gardens separate the village from the forest by a half mile or more.

 

There are two interesting things going on just before you enter the town. There is a hired towncrier advertising for adventurous mercenaries by the "gate" and there is an archery competition set up in a field.

 

The mercenaries are needed to hunt down bandits, brigands or beastmen in the forest, payment to come from the local noble Knight. And the archery competition is between five foresters and there is a crowd of thirty or more spectators betting on the outcome.

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Otto smiles at Ragnar. "Why don't you join the Archery Contest? They could balance an apple on your head......."Dodging the expected blow, he goes to find out more about the mercenary offer.

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Otto apparently isn't as quick as he thinks he is, for as soon as he turns to go get information about the mercenary job, he is hit by 180 pounds of enraged, flying dwarf. They roll on the ground for a few feet before they come to a stop, Ragnar having maneuvered himself so the dwarf is straddling the human's chest.

 

"Alright, you smart-assed son of a snotling fondler! Listen up! It ain't wise to make fun at a Slayer, especially one who don't like to be in human cities an' hasn't killed anything or had a drink in the past few hours. You just be glad that I like you, or you'd be tasting my fist!"

 

Ragnar gets up off Otto's chest and looks at the small crowd that has switched their attention from the archery contest to the improptu wrestilng match. "Boo!" he says to them and bares his teeth. He turns back to Otto. "I'm gonna go an' choke down whatever they try to pass fer ale in this town. If ya get inta trouble, just holler." With that, he stalks off in search of the nearest tavern.

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As Ragnar stalks off the Town Cryer walks near to Otto and whispers, "Nasty temper on that fellow. He said something about being a slayer, didn't he?"

 

Most of the people who had been listening to the Cryer have turned to watch Ragnar as well.

 

 

**Otto** I am leaving an opening for your reation to Ragnar"s action. If you have nothing you want to do I'll post further action this weekend.

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Oto dusts himself off, and turns to the crowd. "Yes, he is a slayer, and one that has not met his daily quaota of senseless violence today. if you need anything slain, he's the one to see....."He turns now to talk about the mercenary hiring with the town cryer.

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"Killes Hidrek, the hired cryer," says the walking advertisement. "You look a robust chap, and such we need. A group of men, hardy warriors is needed to head south into the woods and investigate tales of mutants, beastmen and possibly worse. Farmers dead with their beasts slain and crops torn and trampled." The man pauses to sip from a hip flask. Now he speaks to the crowd now fifteen, including Otto. "Rumors come from the north of terrible hordes invading Kislev, from the east of battles in the mountains. It is a time of trouble. It seems that trouble has come to our neck of the woods. And the Baron will pay one gold coin and three silver per week for troopers and an extra five copper for scouts. Who will join? There is no more important business than this"

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