Off To Opava

Winnacer reaches into his backpack and produces a crumpled and now singed piece of parchment which he lays upon the table:

"This is the first document that told us that something here is amiss. We found it in the Nemotz' - the disease priests' - temple some two weeks ago. It was written by the High Priest of the Nemotz temple, addressed to a Lord Skritchit, whom we believe is the head of that ratman city we stumbled upon."

He looks to the letter:

"Let me read the relevant sections of it:"

Winnacer scans through it and then starts off in the middle:

"It is with great delight that I am able to inform you that we have now been able to perfect the formula for the disease XD-347, more commonly known by us both as the 'zombie slave plague'. I am happy to report that the earlier problems with the liquid's telltale odor and color have now been solved to ensure that the liquid is now completely undetectable by anything other than magickal means. In addition, we have been able to make two other improvements to the formula. The first is that we have increased the virulence of the liquid so that results are complete within seven days' time, and the second is that we have been able to enhance it so that anyone applying the infected liquid to the skin will be effected. Thus, those not drinking infected water can be infected by simply using the waters to bathe in. Knowing the drunken stunted mutants' love of ale, we thought this to be an important feature."

"Sir, together the results of the research by Your and Our staff, we have been able to develop the deadliest waterborne virus ever seen in this realm," Winnacer adds.

"As it took us longer than we expected to perfect the formula we have gone ahead with the next step of our agreement," the young Lord continues to read. "On 4 December, members of my staff set off for the city, taking all our production of the virus with them. This should give them more than a week inside the city in order to infiltrate the place thoroughly and locate all the sources of water supply within the city. As promised, they will then start to poison all of the wells on St Vaclav's Day, when the city will be enjoying the festivities and their guard will be relaxed. With the onset time of seven days, the city's populace should be completely at your mercy when your gallant servants break through into the city as the clock heralds the dawning of a new year - the year that will see Nemotz restored to His Rightful Place in the realm as the city becomes the first of many to belong to Him."

"And that's it," the LawBringer finishes, folding the letter back up.

"So, after reading the letter, we knew what the ratmen's plan was; we just didn't know which city it was that they were planning on taking over."

"Luckily we were able to find the notebook of a FaithHealer, a paladin of the Church of Lechit, God of Healing that helped to fill in the gaps."

He looks over at Rolex:

"Bastion Rolex, I believe that you have the FaithHealer's notebook?"

The dwarf nods and produces the book from his pack, which he hands to Winnacer:

Winnacer looks through the book and starts to read:

"29 October 3460," Winnacer starts reciting. "I have finally learned the nature of my latest assignment from Surgeon General Pasternak. He told me that reports have been coming in from the Opava area that an unusually high amount of illnesses have been occurring over the past couple of years. At first there were but a few, but over the past half year, more and more illnesses are being reported, including incidences of leukemia, cancer and a high ratio of stillborn children. Of those children that are liveborn, an alarming number of them are being born with mutations of some kind and there have even been reports of young children developing mutations of one kind or another."

"Some six weeks ago, Surgeon General Pasternak told me that he dispatched a team of four clerics to investigate the situation. Since the time that they left, the Cathedral has heard no word from them, and the Surgeon General fears that they may have run into difficulties. I am to head for Opava at first light in order to investigate the disappearance of the clerics."

"5 November 3460. I arrived in Opava some 48 hours ago. I must admit that I have already found the dwarves that inhabit the city to be particularly unhelpful to my inquiries. They seem to still hold a great deal of resentment against humankind and believe that matters relating to dwarves should be solely the concern of dwarves. I have witnessed a number of examples of the illnesses and mutations referred to, but in no case have I been allowed access to those effected as they prefer to deal with clerics of their own kind, despite the fact that they are less qualified in such matters as one of my faith. I have a feeling that this exercise is going to be more difficult than I originally anticipated."

"8 November 3460. I finally found someone who begrudgingly admitted that they saw four humans dressed in the white robes of Lechit in the city three or four weeks' ago. This is the only positive information that I have received to date."

"10 November 3460. I have continued to scour the city looking for more information regarding the fate of the priests. Last night I had a very bizarre encounter. I was heading back to my room just before curfew when I heard the sound of what appeared to be a powder weapon being fired. Immediately afterwards, I was passed in the street by a juvenile dwarf being pursued by a squad of goblin archers. I could see that the dwarf was already losing blood as a result of being wounded by an arrow. I decided to follow the dwarf and goblins and pursued them to one of the remoter quarters of the city. I saw the goblins corner the dwarf and they seemed to be about to kill him. As the dwarf was unarmed, I felt that it was my duty to intervene and so I told the goblins to disperse. Unfortunately, the goblins took no heed of my words and so, may Lechit forgive me, I was forced to despatch two of the goblins in self-defense, at which point the other three fled. I could see that the dwarf was very badly injured and so I naturally used Lechit's blessings to return him to full health. The dwarf was very grateful for my aid and proceeded to speak to me in a strange patois that I have not come across before. I was able to make out, however, that his name was Emsee Hammer and he wished to reward me for the service that I had provided to him. I told him that he could consider the service I had provided him with to be repaid if he were able to provide information as to the whereabouts of my missing colleagues. Although I cannot be certain, I get the impression that the young dwarf is well connected, and he promised to meet me at the Black Rock Tavern tomorrow evening in order to give me any information that he may be able to find out. I pray to Lechit that the young dwarf is able to find out some useful information for me."

"11 November 3460. Lechit truly listened to my prayers last night. The young dwarf was true to his word. He appeared at the tavern, as promised, and told me that they had been seen heading for the village of Litultovitze three weeks ago. He then promptly left before I could obtain any further information from him. Tomorrow I leave for Litultovitze in the hope that I can meet my colleagues there."

Winnacer closes the book:

"The notebook then goes on to say how FaithHealer Geisler was in the village during a previous raid by the ratmen and was able to trace them back to the fissure. Unfortunately, unlike ourselves, he never returned."

There is silence around the table once again:

"One other matter that we need to think about is what to do about getting the gunnes into the city," Winnacer adds. "Has anyone any ideas?"

Porter speaks up:

"Well, I wonder if those rat bastards have been infecting Opava for a while. If they're a bunch of disease-infested scum, perhaps they've already started infecting the dwarves for a while, and this zombie plague is just the coup de grace. Anyway, more importantly, I've got personal business to attend to Opava. I already got delayed screwing around in that rathole for two days, so I'm going to have to get right on as soon as we hit town."

"I believe the plan may be more insidious than that," Winnacer adds. "With the skaven coming to the surface and the dwarves being turned into automatons, it looks as if they plan on making an army. With the whole populace of well armed dwarves turned into a unified fighting force, Bohavia will have a third threat within its borders."

"There may be a silver lining to this though," the LawBringer continues. "The ratmen will probably break through expecting no resistance from the infected dwarves. If we can prevent them from being contaminated, the ratmen may find themselves in for more than they bargained for. If we can thwart their expeditionary force, the ratmen may have rang their own doom."

"Have rung," Rowan interjects, then, seeing in Winnacer's glare how very little he appreciates the grammar lesson at the moment, he adds, "Carry on...."

"There is nothing like a war to bolster an economy and nothing like a foreign culture to spur the greedy to covet their spoils," the LawBringer does, indeed, carry on. "If we are initially successful, it may be harder to stop the dwarves from attacking the ratmen than the other way around."

"We have much to do in very little time. We must first uncover the Nemotz agents within Opava and bring them to Justice. We also need to provide adequate protection for the three wells in case we fail at prevention. We also must locate the likely site where the ratmen are going to break through. I believe the dwarves themselves may be best at this task, if we can convince them to help. We also need to organize some sort of defense for Opava, as there is certainly going to be a fight in the undermines."

Winnacer looks at Porter.

"I know some of us have individual business that needs to be addressed in Opava. I pray that we can all hold off from such matters until we have the Opava situation in hand. If we fail here, all of our ways of life will be placed in jeopardy and the matters that seem pressing now will lose their urgency."

"However, those personal matters are important and will not be ignored. I promise to do what I can to help you resolve your situation once Opava is safe. And I believe that if we save the city, perhaps they will attend to your matters for you in appreciation."

"You all accounted well for yourselves down below. I hope that I can continue to rely upon your help until this heinous plot is foiled. I know that some of you believed that a king's ransom of gold and jewels would reward your actions, but even that looks unlikely unless we press our offensive into their city's depths. While such things may not mean much to me, I would need to be blind if I believed that it was the same for the rest of you. If I can count on your help here and the rewards are not as substantial as you believe you deserved, I will try to make amends, even if it requires me to step back from my self-imposed duties to aid you on a quest for ancient gold."

Porter shakes his head:

"No way, the trail I'm following has already grown two days colder. If I wait another three days, I'll never find it again. I just spent two days and used my best tracker to help you all. I ain't screwing around any longer."

Winnacer's face looks disappointed:

"So be it. If you require my help, please ask."

Rowan, clearly restless, snaps back to attention at this:

"Pardon... but did you say ancient gold...? I mean, any gold will do, really, but ANCIENT gold has so much more... what's the word, cousin...? Verve?"

Timex yawns, which sends him coughing once more:

"Excuse me," the dwarf apologizes. "I'm afraid that I must admit to feeling rather tired now after the exertions of the day. I would like to return to the chapel now, if you would please excuse me."

"I think it best if I were to take my leave as well," Rolex adds. "There are several items that I need to attend do before I am ready to depart. I suggest that we meet at 9.27 here tomorrow morning."

He turns to Joy:

"Before we depart, there is still the matter of the dead coachmen to bury. We have prepared burial cairns for them. If you would say a few words for their departed souls, then it would be most appreciated."

With that the Quartz-Movement brothers take their leave of the party. They continue chatting among yourselves for a while longer, but all are tired and aching badly after their exertions of the day and so head for their beds before 11.00.

 

21 DECEMBER 3460

The night was without incident once again. Milan and Yaz are the first two to rise, at around 7.30. Milan heads off to the stables in order to prepare the coach and horses for departure prior to preparing breakfast while Yaz wanders off alone away from the village in order to prepare for the Winter Solstice ritual. It is bitterly cold once again as he trudges through the calf-deep snow on his way to a hilltop, which will provide a good view of the sunrise on the shortest day of the year. Gertrude dutifully flies above him, spiraling around as her master climbs up the hill, coming to land upon his shoulder as he reaches the hill's summit.

Panting from the exertion, he stands at the crest of the hill, looking eastwards waiting for the first rays of the weak winter sun to appear over the horizon.

As the first rays pierce the darkness, Yaz turns to Gertrude and sighs:

"I much prefer the Summer Solstice, to tell you the truth, Gertrude, old girl."

With that, Yaz begins to disrobe, his teeth chattering as a result of the bitter winds blowing across the snow-covered hilltop. He then proceeds to frolic in typical druidic style as the sun continues to rise.

Once the sun has fully risen, Yaz quickly dresses once more and reaches for his pouch:

"F-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f********c-c-c-c-c-k-k-k-k," he says, shivering all over. "I need a joint."

He lights up and watches the sun rise further, until he starts to head back for the 'Traveler's Rest'.

Upon arrival, he sees that the others are now up and have assembled in the bar area where they have already started their breakfast, with Joy having performed her morning rituals in the comfort of her room and Winnacer having paid the innkeeper for their three nights' stay.

Yaz is a pale-blue color as he sits at the table:

"P-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-porridge," he stammers to Milan, who promptly comes over and starts ladling out the stodgy mixture.

Aithne looks at him curiously:

"What have you been doing?" she inquires. "Your nipples are all hard."

"J-j-j-j-j-j-just druid stuff," Yaz replies. "It's f-f-f-f-freezing out there."

With a good bowl of porridge inside him, Yaz starts to feel a lot better.

At exactly 9.27, as they are finishing off their breakfast, the Quartz-Movement brothers enter the inn:

"Good morning," Timex coughs politely, "we trust that you slept well."

Rolex looks at the state of them all, seeing that most of them are still quite badly injured, although the healing unguent that both Winnacer and Joy applied the previous day has managed to heal their wounds a little.

"Brother Timex will see to your wounds in order that I can conserve my gifts for the day, in case they might be needed upon the route," Rolex explains.

Timex starts to see to them, casting major healing spells upon Joy and two each upon Yaz and Winnacer. In almost all cases, the effects of the spell are fairly miserable and so Timex starts to cast minor spells, casting one each on Porter, Joy, Yaz and Aithne. After ten minutes, Timex is looking drained and the majority of them are still some way from being returned from full health.

"Well it appears that my healing spells are needed now already," Rolex adds, and starts to take over with the healing.

Rolex cast five major healing spells, with one on Aithne and two each on Winnacer and Yaz. Still, none apart from Rowan are at full health.

"Dear, dear," he says to himself, "Timex was most certainly not exaggerating when he described the extent of your wounds yesterday."

He finishes by casting one minor healing spell upon each of them, apart from Rowan. These last spells bring Joy back to full health, leave Aithne, Porter and Yaz with only a minor scratch or two, but Winnacer is still a little damaged. Yaz casts one upon him, leaving him at the same state as most of the others.

"Good," Rolex says, looking fairly exhausted. "That took a lot longer than I expected."

He turns to Joy:

"Now, if you would accompany me, please," he says, "we need to bury the dead coachmen."

They all walk out of the inn, feeling the bitter cold as Yaz did earlier and the Quartz-Movement brothers lead them up the southeast side of the hill. Here they can see a small group of sick looking dwarves has assembled, their breath turning to mist in the cold morning air.

They see that the dwarves are all looking down into a hole, which the party can see contains the bodies of the two dead coachmen. Although it has been more than 48 hours since they expired, their bodies show no sign of decomposition at all as a result of the freezing cold conditions.

Rolex looks to Joy and she says a liturgy over the fallen coachmen and then there is a minute of silence. Once it is over, the dwarves start to pile rocks over the coachmen's bodies while the party walks down the hillside towards the stables.

They see that Milan has saddled their horses and has limbered the mail coach ready for immediate departure. Winnacer looks at the twin gunnes and then at the mail coach:

"We can put them in there for the time being," he suggests. "We can figure out what to do with them after we arrive in town."

Rolex bids his brother farewell, informing him that he should be back in 33 to 67 hours' time. Timex thanks them all for their help and companionship over the past couple of days and then walks sneezing back to the chapel. Rolex watches him head off and then climbs into the coach along with Joy. Milan climbs up onto the driver's seat while the rest of the party mount their horses. They then depart the village of Litultovitze, heading for Opava.

They can tell from the tracks and hoof-prints on the road that there has been a bit of traffic along the road since it last snowed some five days ago, but not that much considering that this is quite a major road in the country. The road slowly rises in altitude as it rises up the Jezeniky foothills, winding between the increasingly larger hills as they continue to head in a north-easterly direction.

During the trip, Winnacer rides up to Porter and speaks to him out of earshot of the others:

"Porter, I have a quick question. The dwarf you are pursuing, does he have a name? It wouldn't be Emsee Hammer, would it? Perhaps you know something about the underground life in Opava. I'm beginning to think that the organized thieves of Opava may be the best source of information concerning the location of the human Nemotz that should be trying to infiltrate the place. I know you are adamant about pursuing your quarry, but could you ask some questions on our behalf as well as you try to sniff out the trail? It would be appreciated."

Porter replies:

"I don't know the dwarf's name, but I doubt it's Emsee Hammer - that sounds like some kind of fop wearing goofy pants. Check with Rowan - they're probably friends. And I'll be sure to fit a few questions in about a rampaging disease cult looking to turn the town into a zombie army. That won't draw any unnecessary attention to me."

"Your sarcasm is noted," Winnacer begins, a smile creeping across his face with his joke about Rowan. "From what I gather, humans are a rare bird inside Opava. It should be possible to make inquiries without looking too suspicious. This Hammer fellow sounds as if he's fairly well connected, if we are to believe Faithhealer Geisler's notebook. I plan on seeking him out for information at this Black Rock Inn. If you wish, I will make some inquiries on your behalf; if you tell me what to ask."

Porter shrugs:

"We can both go talk to this Hammer guy. It shouldn't take too long. I'm just not going to take my whole day dropping into every nook and cranny of a bar looking for clues about death cults."

The journey last four hours in total, during which time they meet no one at all. As they round a large hill, Rolex leans out of the coach and speaks:

"We're passing around the city of Opava now," he says, pointing to the east and down at the same time.

It just looks like any other hill from where they're standing.

As it gets to midday, they round the hill and the gray-brown ribbon that is the River Opava winding its way from the Jezeniky Mountains to the northwest comes into view.

"That's Silesia on the other side of the river," Rolex says, pointing due north.

They continue to follow the road round the side of the hill as it starts to descends quite quickly. As they do so, they can see a ramshackle collection of buildings coming into view:

"That's 'Tall Town'," he says, pointing at the buildings, "before the gates of Opava."

It doesn't look terribly impressive at all. It could be any other large village or small town in Bohavia, sandwiched between the river and the steep-sided hill under which Opava proper is dug from. They can see that there is a wharf in front of the town, with a huge rotting barge half-submerged in the icy waters. Alongside the wharf are a number of warehouses, most of them looking very run down with a couple of them missing their roofs completely. A large conveyor belt leads from a hole inside the hill to the wharfside, looking long abandoned.

They are still looking at the gray town as they enter the city limits. As Rolex said, there is no wall around this part of the city. As they get further in, they see the enormous iron gates to the city proper, standing some 50' high and 30' high. The gates must have been a fine sight in their heyday, as they are engraved with scenes of hundreds of dwarves hard at work; mining, smelting and forging, but now they appear as neglected as the rest of the town, brown and yellow with rust and lichen. There are stone towers either side of the huge gates and the party can see that they are manned by goblin archers, trying to keep the cold at bay. The visitors notice that the majority of the goblins are looking inside the gates of the city rather than out at the town.

Rolex pokes his head out of the carriage once again:

"So what do you want to do first?" he asks. "If you want to find rooms, then I suggest you try 'The Boar's Head'. I've been told that it's the best inn in 'Tall Town'. Or if you want to drop the coach off straight away, then that's fine by me also. We can go and meet with the CornerStone after lunch."

"It may be best to stow our gear first," Winnacer begins. "Then we can drop off this carriage and be on with our task."

"Very well," agrees Rolex.

He shouts up to Milan who is driving the wagon:

"Carry on down here for about 100 yards and then turn to the left. You'll see 'The Boar's Head' around 50 yards to the right, right in front of the hillside."

"Dreary little hole, isn't it?" Rowan remarks sourly. "No wonder nobody likes anyone... how could they, living here? I trust our stay here will be brief-- or as brief as possible, at any rate."

"I hate cities," mutters Aithne under her breath.

Milan leads the coach onwards, taking the route that Rolex told him to. Sure enough, they see the inn nestling under the side of the hill. It's quite a large building and they can see that it was obviously once a very fine building indeed. Now, it is a century or so past its prime, with the outside crumbling a little and fairly dirty.

They all dismount and Milan leads the horses around to the back of the inn while the others go inside, taking their possessions with them. As they get inside, they see that it is not quite as bad inside as it looks from the exterior and was obviously a very fine inn indeed during its heyday.

Winnacer asks whether there are any rooms available from the innkeeper and is told that there are plenty of free rooms. Winnacer books the best seven rooms in the house, which costs them five silvers per room, per night. All come with en-suite bathrooms, much to the relief of Rowan and Joy. They take the keys to their rooms and head up in order to drop off their spare possessions. They see that the rooms are large and spacious as well as clean, although the furniture shows years of wear.

While the others freshen up a little, Winnacer goes through the back door of the inn through to the stable where he finds Milan tying up the horses and ensuring that they are fed and watered. Together, Winnacer and his squire bring the two gunnes up to the room from the back of the mail coach, luckily avoiding being observed in the process.

Winnacer thanks Milan for the help and then speaks to him further:

"Milan, I think it best if you remain here while we are in the city. It sounds like a most unpleasant place indeed, down in the city proper."

"I would like to ask whether it could be possible to borrow the 'Fabio' armor while I am here? It sounds as if it could be hard to maneuver down there and it might be best to not bring TOO much attention to ourselves."

Milan nods:

"Of course, you can, Sir," he replies. "I thought I was only borrowin' it an' stuff."

"No Milan," Winnacer replies. "All that I give you is yours to keep and do with as you feel is best. One day you will be ready to go out on your own to make your way in the world, and I'm going to make sure you are well equipped for that day."

"While we are inside, I'd be obliged if you could stay in 'Tall Town' and just keep your eyes and ears open," he continues. "Be on the lookout for any information regarding the Nemotz or anything else that might be of interest to us."

Milan nods once more:

"I'll try me best, Sir."

The pair of them head to their rooms and Milan gives Winnacer the 'Fabio' armor.

Once that exercise has been completed, they all meet up in the lobby:

"Perhaps we can have a spot of lunch while we're here," Rolex suggests. "That way we can go straight from the coaching company to the Cathedral of Zemnye."

"The food here is not bad at all, from what I hear."

Feeling a little peckish after the long ride and really wanting a change of cuisine from Milan's miserable efforts, they take Rolex up on his offer and head into the inn's dining room. As they walk in, they see a familiar figure sitting alone at a table, poring over a book. It is none other than Faewen'il.

"Why, Porter," Rowan remarks slyly, "it's your charming little mage friend.

"This should be interesting...," he adds as an aside to Joy.

Joy gives a suprised look to Rowan. With a whisper, she asks:

"Surely you plan on introducing me, cousin. I thought you the soul of civility. Who is the lady?"

She waits to see if anyone introduces her.

Faewen'il looks up as the others enter, closing her book as she knew that the peace required for studying had just ended. She was dressed in a rather fetching deep green gown that matched her eyes, one of the probably many dresses the group had yet to see her in.

The only difference was that her typical scowl was replaced by a reasonable look of contentment on her face, a cue to the veterans in the group that she had pulled off some nasty trick or another and was pleased with the results.

A half smile creeps onto Winnacer's features as he notes Faewen'il's presence:

"Well, if it isn't the Feisty One. This is certainly a surprise."

"Have a seat" Faewen'il said in a tone that mimicked the look on her face as she tucked the new leather bound tome into a satchel at her feet.

"So, I take it all is well with you?" Winnacer asks. "Anything that we should know about?"

"That all depends on what ye deem 'necessary'," Fae replied with her usual aplomb.

"I finished my business early and was requested ta come assist ye an ta deliver a message, which I already have. Tha other... mages war not ready ta travel yet."

"Who made that request, Fae?" asks Winnacer. "I think we deserve to know that. And when will these others be ready to travel? Do you know where we are going?"

Fae gives him the "I can't believe you aren't smart enough to figure that out" look before replying:

"Who else... tha Vice-Patriarch o tha Kitran Temple. Who else would know where I be and would know where ye all war headed?"

"It was quite possible that my sister may have asked," the young Lord replies. "She can be protective at times. Is she doing alright?"

Fae shrugs:

"Ask yar god. I have na seen yar sister since ye left far this place."

"As far when those other mages will be ready ta travel... who knows, an ta be honest I could care less about when an where we be going with them."

"I'm glad to see your enthusiasm has not changed," replies the LawBringer. "But you look well, and for that I am glad."

"Nice ta know ye care about tha now," Fae says with a slight dose of cynicism. Perhaps it was good to know that some things never changed...

Aithne leaned over to Joy:

"She was also somehow involved with this rather nasty necromancer; who invaded her head and that of a comrade of theirs. I think she's here for the sole purpose of making Winnacer's life a living hell. She seems to be quite proficient that way."

Sitting before Faewen'il on the table was a goblet of some probably expensive wine and a plate of bread and cheeses she had been nibbling on.

Aithne nods to Fae politely, her face expressionless. She looks to Porter for his reaction.

They all then join Faewen'il at her table, pulling some extra chairs round and the dwarven waiter takes their orders. Winnacer introduces Timex to Faewen'il and, as they start to eat, the young Lord informs her of all that they did and discovered in Litultovitze.

"Glad I missed tha fun," was all Fae said to the interesting tale Winnacer spun.

"'Tis a pity," Winnacer replies. "We could have used your help. Can we count on your aid here? It seems that things around Opava are going to get very interesting shortly."

"Another thing, did you bring the wagon with you?" he asks. "We've accumulated quite a large amount of equipment. I think it time that the two of us did some inventory."

"No. Me means o travel did'na allow far a wagon ta be brought. I only brought Bennett," Fae replies bluntly before taking a sip of her wine.

She then decides that she has had enough of being nice and smiles at the detestable paladin.

"So how have ye and yar newly found friend Porter been gettin along?"

'Just wonderful' thinks Porter:

The rogue then reaches down, snatching the goblet off the table as Fae puts it down. With a quick motion, he knocks the contents back, setting the empty cup back down with a smile:

"Not bad," he replies, "other than Winnacer likes to blow himself up. As opposed to you, who can just blow me."

Winnacer opens his mouth as if to respond to Faewen'il, but can do little else than fail to stifle a laugh at Porter's words. He remains quiet and watches the interplay with interest.

"In your wildest dreams 'Robin'," Fae responds, her smile just as predatory as before.

Porter smirks:

"Please. Who do I look like? Rowan?"

Turning to the swashbuckler, he shrugs:

"Sorry, that was a cheap shot. It's her fault really, she brings out the worst in me."

"Oh?" Rowan asks. "You don't seem to need any help in that regard..."

"As iffen there be any other side to ye," Fae replies.

Joy looks at both Porter and Fae, trying to hide her shock at the way they speak to each other.

Aithne leans over and says in a soft murmur:

"She charmed him into traveling with Winnacer. I'm not sure he liked it. Of course, Winnacer forced Rowan into traveling with him after Rowan committed an indiscretion with Winnacer's sister."

"I think the mage's name is Fae. I really don't know her at all."

Joy also replies in a soft voice:

"Are YOU here voluntarily? Is anyone?"

"Sometimes I'm not so sure." replied Aithne, a slight quirk to her lips. "No one seems to enjoy anything much. Other than Rowan and yourself, of course."

Winnacer steps in here, before things start to get even uglier.

"Well, Faewen'il, it seems you haven't lost your touch. But that's enough playing for now, we all have better things to do."

"Let me introduce you to Rowan's cousin, Joy. Joy, this is Faewen'il the Feisty."

The slight smirk that passes for a smile on the sorceress oesn't fade as good ole Winn makes his introduction. She still has enough tact to not speak her true thoughts out loud, but Winn certainly was collecting a fine zoo for traveling companions. And Robin was certainly doing his best to get under Winnacer's skin... the two deserved each other profusely; more than making the inconvenience of leaving her other mule and horse behind to make the trip magically.

Fae simply nodd at Joy, wondering what, or who, Winnacer would dig up next to join their dysfunctional family.

Though slightly disturbed by Fae's lack of response, Joy promptly thanks Winn for the introduction:

"Pleased to meet you, of course. I've heard some about you."

Her smile only falters for a second when faced with the constant smirk.

"Only some?" Fae queries the woman.

"Then they must ha' lied... especially iffen ye are even talkin ta me ta begin with," she adds shortly afterwards.

Then, as if Joy were nothing but a moment's amusement, she turns her attention back to her plate to finish off a piece of cheese before Porter gets hungry as well... though she watches the woman's reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Fae can't exactly say why she is reacting to Joy the way she is... perhaps she is annoyed with the woman's happy demeanor... or perhaps she simply is tired of fighting people's impression of her. After all, if they think of her as a bitch, she might as well be one... less effort that way.

Joy's smile fades as she took in the cut:

"Well, they did mention that you were quite skilled in the magical arts, so I can assume from your words that you're actually inept at it. I'm sorry to hear that," she replies with a shrug.

After a second, her usual good-humored smile comes back to her face and she joins Rowan and Aithne in polite conversation.

The smirk on Fae's face widens a bit in response to the comment.

The way people reacted to her still is a point of fascination. Luud had told her that such things would happen as she grew older and more skilled in magick. He had said that some poeple would just never grasp the whole picture about them... that they would never be able to, or be interested in, learning the subtle ways the mind worked or reacted to certain stimuli.

And to give the bastard credit where credit was due, even Bosco knew how to play people to some degree... though not good enough, for she was alive and he wasn't.

She had to constantly remind herself to not compare other people to her skills. Her mind was skilled in a certain way... and that way was magic. Luud had even told her that, one day, the world would change her; that it would change the way she practiced magecraft... and when it did, she would taste power the likes she could only dream of as an apprentice.

He had warned her about it as well...warned her that it could corrupt the stoutest of hearts.

Well... here she was, regardless. And she had changed as he said she would... and she had tasted power like he said she would. But was she corrupted by it?

The look in Fae's eyes changes to one of cold calculation as she sits there and thought about that very question; Joy's quip forgotten for the time being...

After listening to Porter, Fae, and Winn snipe at each other a bit, Joy leans over to Aithne once more and asks:

"Does anyone in this group like each other? Zlodey help me to never be so bitter."

"I think Porter and Winnacer are fast becoming friends," smiles Aithne brightly.

They continue to catch up with each other's news during the meal, which is well above the standard of Milan's cooking, if not the finest meal that any of them hs ever had in their lives.

Once the meal has been finished, Winnacer stands up:

"I think that we should head off to the coaching company now. We have a lot to accomplish here today."

As the waiter takes the plates away, Winnacer speaks to him:

"Would you happen to know where the Moravia Coaching Company is based?" he asks.

"Certainly," the waiter replies. "It's very close. Just follow the Amber Road to the Chapel of Obkod, and then take Steel Lane for a hundred yards. You can't miss it."

Winnacer thanks him and then they all head back to the stables and Milan gets back in the driver's seat of the wagon and heads off, with the rest of them walking alongside it.

They follow the waiter's instructions, passing by the Chapel of Obkod, which is fairly small, but quite ornate in design and in good repair compared to the rest of the town. They find the depot of the coaching company where the waiter told them, next to a large stable block.

Milan drives the wagon into the center of the coaching company's compound. Within a few seconds of doing so, a middle-aged Bohavian starts to walk towards them. He is looking rather concerned:

"Who are you?" he asks abruptly, looking them all up and down, "and what are you doing with one of our wagons?"

Winnacer hops down off his horse and approaches the man.

"I am Winnacer Duene Stradheim, LawBringer of Spravedelna. My companions and I came upon this wagon as it was under attack from malignant brigands. The brigands did not survive the encounter, receiving Spravedelna's final judgement. Unfortunately, we were too late to save the crew of the wagon."

"We decided to bring this carriage back to you, along with the parcels within. It seemed the right thing to do."

The man is quiet. He stands stroking his chin, deep in contemplation, eyeing them all a little suspiciously, especially Porter.

Faewen'il stays to the back of the group adjusting something near the clasp of her cloak while watching the interchange between Winnacer and the group's newest victim. Her face was a mask of neutrality, though she truly wanted to roll her eyes.

Joy also steps up and smiles sadly at the man. She adds to Winnacer's speech:

"I'm Joy DeVitesse and I was traveling with the coach for sometime. I would like you to know that I was traveling with the coach for a bit. The crew was buried properly with prayers said over them. I'm sorry that I couldn't do more."

Rolex nods his head at Joy's words:

"As a Bastion of the Church of Zemnye, I can vouch for their words. These people risked their lives in order to try and save the crew of your coach. It was ambushed in my village of Litultovitze."

The coachman seems to lighten up a little after hearing from both Joy and Rolex. He turns to Joy:

"All of the crew are dead?" he says with obvious sadness.

"I'm afraid so," Joy replies with equal sadness. "We did all that we could, but we were just too late."

The coachman shakes his head again:

"They were good men, those two. The route's just getting more and more dangerous these days. I thought that something must have gone wrong. The coach was due in more than two days ago. I knew Yarda and Lubo well. They've never fallen more than a few hours behind schedule in their lives."

He looks back at her:

"What about the mail? Did the brigands take it?"

"No," Joy replies. "We were able to save it."

She opens the door to the coach and pulls out the sack.

"Here you are."

The coachman nods:

"Well I suppose that we should thank Obkod for small mercies. Business here has been bad enough as it is but, if we were to lose a consignment of mail, then there would be hell to pay."

"Just wait here a moment."

With that, he heads off to a wooden hut next to the stables. He returns a couple of minutes later, with a small pouch in his hands.

"This is for you," he says, placing the pouch in Joy's hands. "I'm afraid that it's only 50 gold pieces. I know that you deserve more, but it's all that I can spare at the moment, what with thing's being so bad."

He looks up at the rest of them:

"That was a very noble thing you all did. There aren't many folks in these parts that would have taken the trouble to return the coach. Most of the thieving buggers would have just taken the horses and be done with it."

He pauses:

"The name's Vladimir Krantz, by the way," he says shaking first Joy, and then the rest of them by the hand. "If there's any other way that I can help repay the debt I owe you, then you only need to ask."

Joy smiles brightly at Vladimir, and replies in a pleasant voice:

"I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance. I can think of nothing that I might need, though the others might feel differently, but I feel badly taking your gold when you say your business is bad. I have other ways of garnering money. Are you sure about this?"

"Well .. . errm .. . not really," he replies. "Business really isn't so good at all, but it would be next to ruined had I lost the coach and horses."

"It's the families of Yarda and Lubo I'm most worried about though," Vladimir continues. "If you really don't need the money, then perhaps you could give it to them instead. It's going to be hard for them to get by without their menfolk, what with things being the way they are."

"Easily enough taken care of then," says Joy.

She hands him the gold back and replies:

"Please split the money between their families. I'm sorry that this occurred."

Porter shakes his head silently, thinking that he soon wouldn't be able to afford to feed himself if he stayed with this crew any longer.

Krantz looks very grateful as Joy hands him back the money:

"So the priests of Zlodey really do practice what they preach," he says with a little surprise, "there really is honor among thieves."

He looks over at the chapel of Obkod just 50 yards from the compound and rubs his chin once more:

"Perhaps now is the right time to reconsider my faith."

Winnacer looks deep at the coachman for a few moments then gives a shrug to nobody in particular. As the talk continues, Winnacer places the gavel tied to his side into a pouch. He also tucks the holy symbol around his neck into his clothes. Lastly, he opens his pack and removes a canvas shield cover and places it over his shield. As he performs these tasks, he shakes his head in obvious disgust of this whole place.

Porter's information-gathering nose immediately alerts to a possible source. Figuring the man to be probably useless for his own purposes, he decides to put in a good show for Winnacer:

"As a matter of fact, good sir, we were hoping to meet up with some friends here in Opava. Unfortunately, several of us suffered some severe wounds defending YOUR coach, and thus we had to recuperate for a couple of days in the village. Thus, we have missed our scheduled rendezvous with them. Being someone who deals with the public frequently, I don't suppose you have run into them, either they picked something up or mailed something themselves."

Porter goes on to describe a group of Nemotz priests as best he can without actually calling them Nemotz priests, looking to Winn, Yaz, but not Fae for help as they are better acquainted with them.

Fae continues to read the man's mind as Porter questions him.

The coachman doesn't seem to have much of a clue as to whom Porter is referring to from his description. Faewen'il can tell that he's not trying to cover anything up, thinking through all of the passengers that have come through the depot recently.

At seeing Porter's struggle, Winnacer tries to give him a few more clues:

"The entire group would be ill appearing humans, gaunt and pale. They might have had some barrels and kegs with them as well."

Upon receiving this extra information from the young Lord, a flash of realization comes to Krantz. He looks a little surprised:

"You aren't talking about the 'zombies' are you?" he says.

"The 'zombies'?" Porter questions in return. "Oh no, our friends are definitely human."

The coachman smiles a little and shakes his head:

"No, no, they weren't real zombies, that's just what the lads on the coach called them. Bloody 'orrible they were according to the lads. Scabby bunch, coughing and sneezing the whole way they were, all three of them. We had to spend a day disinfecting the coach after they'd been in it because it was stinking so bad."

"I can't see what a group of law-abiding citizens would want to be friends with a funny-looking bunch like that for," he says, obviously a little suspicious.

He pauses for a moment:

"Yes, we won't forget those dirty buggers in a hurry. The coach was crawling with lice and Obkod knows what else after they left it. Didn't say a word on the journey neither. They didn't have any barrels with them, from what the lads said, but they were carrying a big steel box. I don't know what was in there, but they seemed to be very protective of it. They wouldn't let the lads put it on the roof, they had it in the cab with them for the whole journey."

"They must have got into the city just over a week ago," he continues. "They came in on the Shumperk wagon. I've no idea whether they moved on after they got here or whether they went into the hill. I don't reckon they're staying in 'Tall Town' though, or else I'd have heard about it."

The coachman goes quiet and Faewen'il drops the amulet. She realizes that he has been telling the truth. She also realizes that the party has gone down a little in his estimation for associating with such undesirables.

"Three of them, huh? And an iron box," Winnacer begins.

Vladimir nods.

"Would you possibly have their names on record?" the young Lord continues. "Or know somebody who knows where they went?"

Winnacer hands a gold piece to the coachman.

"Anything else you can tell us would be appreciated."

"They're friends of yours and you don't know their names?" Krantz asks a little incredulously. "This is all starting to sound very funny to me."

He shakes his head and sighs:

"Still, you've done me a favor. Let me go and see what I can find out for you."

He wanders back to his office and comes back with a large leather-bound ledger.

"Now, let me see," he says, thumbing through the pages, "Shumperk coach, 10 days ago. Oh, right, here they are - Milan Shara, Antonin Bytel and Premysl Pospishil."

He closes the book:

"At least those are the names that they gave."

He shakes his head once more:

"That's really all I can tell you. We don't pry into our passengers' affairs."

They can tell that Vladimir's goodwill is starting to run a little thin now. Upon seeing this, they say their farewells to Vladimir and then head out of the compound.

As the others leave, Joy stays behind for a bit:

She presses ten gold pieces into his hand, saying:

"Give this to their families as well. If I can get more for them, I'll be back. Please tell the families that prayers were said for their souls."

She smiles sadly once more and goes to catch up with the others.

As she makes to leave, Krantz takes her gently by the arm and looks deep into her eyes:

"Thank you, milady, for all you've done for me and the lads' families. You've got a good heart, you 'ave. I didn't think Zlodey types were like that. You've really opened my eyes, you know?"

"You look after yourself now, you hear? Those 'zombies' sounded like bad types to me from what the lads said. You don't want to go gettin' messed up with them from the sound of it."

Porter glances over his shoulder to see Joy giving the man money. He mutters:

"We already saved his business, refused any reward, and now she's giving him money? What are we, a traveling charity?"

Fae snickers at Porter's remarks, though she steps a bit closer to him so that her reply would not be overheard by Winn, or Joy for that matter:

"What did ye expect? Tha only stash ye really have is what ye make far yarself," she says, gesturing towards the paladin with one hand as she did so.

Porter nods, whispering:

"You wouldn't believe the muck I crawled through and the monstrosities we fought just to find out we needed to come to Opava. In-freakin-credible."

"Oh, they knew they needed ta come ta tha city anyways a'fore they even left Olmutz," Fae replies quietly.

"Wait till ye have ta crawl through disease priest temples, makes even me company seem like a nice diversion," she adds with a smile on her face.

Porter shrugs:

"I never said you wouldn't make a nice diversion, I just wouldn't want to make it a long one."

As Joy returns, Aithne blushes slightly and speaks to her:

"I should have thought of that. If you have need of funds or go short, please don't hesitate to ask. I tend to think more of hurting others than of helping others these days."

Joy looks curiously at Aithne and says:

"A priestess of Zlodey seldom goes short on funds, but I'll remember your offer anyway. It's a shame that some people have so little and others so much, isn't it?"

With that, Joy turns to looking at the nicer homes or stores around the group.

"Yes, it is," Aithne replies. "I tend to only keep as much with me as I can carry on my person. Then again, I don't need much as I can live off the land."

Aithne smiles warmly at Joy.

"In general, so do we," Rowan interjects, "just in a significantly different way."

Winnacer can't help but look over at Rowan and shake his head sadly:

"Spravedelna help us," he whispers under his breath.

They carry on walking away from the compound. As they do so, Rolex speaks to them all once again:

"I think that we should head for the Cathedral now," he says, sneezing a little. "I would like to finish all of my business there this afternoon so that I can return to Litultovitze at first light tomorrow."

Winnacer nods:

"That would be good," he replies. "We haven't got so much time to waste."