# WFRP2: 'The Fate Bound'



## BOAZ (Oct 13, 2005)

Hallo, all. Due to popular demand (or dire threats by my GM, BOAZ. Take your pick), i am posting Konrad's Journal. Its a character point of view journal written by the star charact..er, i mean one of the PCs in the Fate Bound Campaign, or, as we call it in-group, CSI:Middenheim. You'll need to keep in mind a some things while reading this journal: 

1) Its from one point of view (Konrad's) and doesn't contain dialogue or a script of actual in-game conversations. Just what Konrad thinks is important. 

2) Konrad doesn't always tell his journal everything he knows. He is aware that it might fall into enemy hands and so plans accordingly. Plus...he is a born liar. 

3) Sometimes to get a complete picture of what is going on, you'll need to visit our campaign website http://2d10.blogspot.com/ and peruse the maps and campaign handouts BOAZ has put up there. 

Next, a little background on the group: 

Konrad - Hailing from the southern parts of the Empire, Nuln in particular, Konrad is an ex-member of certain secret guilds that will not be named here. He prides himself on his business sense and ability to see a profit in all situations. This thug, soon to become racketeer, has certain designs for the future of Middenheim, as you will no doubt witness. 

Hugo - A halfing hailing from...well, really, no one cares. A Charcoal burner, presumably from a line line of hallowed firestarters, who seeks out profit and victory. Thusly, this small, but ocassionally murderous, scamp has proven himself to be a worthy companion to Konrad. Or an albatross tighly caressing his neck. You decide. 

Yavandir - an elven vagabond whose immoral actions and greed for ill gotten gains scares even Konrad. Quite secretive of his past, to the immense relief of Konrad, all that is known is that he comes from the vaunted capital of absolutely no where, Marienburg. 

These three, having met along the road to Middenheim, seek fortune, fame and power in streets of a chaos-ravaged city where life is cheap and death is easy. So, with no further pomp or umstand, join our heroes of the mud in all their glory...the Fate Bound Campaign begins.....


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## Bryon_Soulweaver (Oct 13, 2005)

Think I might tag along.


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## BOAZ (Oct 13, 2005)

Nachgeheim 23: 

I hereby claim this book in the name of me. Konrad. We have buried Old Crazy along side the road to Middenheim. He does no longer, I believe, need it. So it is not theft. Not that that would have stopped me. It is a shame the old man is dead. I was beginning to like him...No. That is a lie, but its has been said that it is wrong to speak ill of the dead. Perhaps I shall just speak of our short history together these last few days. 
When I met Old Crazy days ago, in Nuln, he was the only one willing to travel without caravan and escort. Given my need to depart the city quickly, he and his cart was my only way north. A couple days into the journey...I began to wonder if it was so wise. Old Crazy often talked to several others who I don't believe ever existed and seemed intent on driving over every bump and hole in the Morr-cursed road! The damned cart itself was filled with junk and those things obviously taken from the remains of houses and farms destroyed by the latest incursion of chaos from the north. But as long he did not speak to me and keep the horses pointed in the right direction, I did not complain much. 
A day north of Altdorf we came upon a river town that the old man insisted on stopping at. I did not argue, for my rump needed the rest almost as much as my ears. The opportunity to drink something other than rain water dragged me off that wooden death trap on wheels what Old Crazy called a wagon. While at the inn (I forget its name) we encountered a strange couple of creatures who also wished to journey north. Old crazy did not trust them at first, but I saw the advantage of having others along the journey, especially these two. One, an elf named Yavindeer, and the other called Hugo, a halfling fire-starter. I knew that with them along, no one would notice me at all and that was good. The stories of a crazy old man, cheerful half-man, and swarthy elf that would be left behind us would hardly leave room for any descriptions of me, an uninteresting man. 
A couple days north of the river town, I was beginning to question my decisions again. Though the elf was somewhat quiet, I did not sleep too soundly. The blasted half-man Hugo has told me more about charcoal than I shall ever need know. I'll never understand how anyone can be so cheerful. It vexed me. I may have done something to change his mood if we had not come upon the caravan. 
The caravan had been there not long, I think. Ambushed. Some signs spoke of orcs, but some of the methods used to destroy the caravan did not seem like the work of orcs. Whoever had done this thing had laid some clever traps. In one of the coaches we found a couple of strangely garbed prisoners. The coach has been filled with what seems like pillows and mattresses. Though one of the men seemed be alive, he would not awaken. The Shallyan priestess that had accompanied them had been torn apart as though by large cutting blades, like those of the orcs. I did not stay long in that coach. The second coach also held a man not yet dead. He appeared to be a wealthy one, with gems and rings about him. The papers and diploma in the coach claimed him to be the Key Meister Gustav Schimmel. It also contained a letter to him from a Manfried Blocksberg of Altdorf. It offers an invitation to meet him at a tavern called the Prospect in Middenheim. Unfortunately dear Gustav died while I attempted to rescue the third coach from the raging river it had rolled into, so I did not get a chance to ask him questions. 
The third coach we dragged from the river using the horses and trees. The inside housed more of the dead and what it contained was stranger than the first two coaches. The bloated body of a priest of Morr caused me much pause. But the others eagerly searched the coach. We next came upon the body of what I believe to be a witch hunter. I felt little remorse. If I could make others of his kind suffer the same fate...I happily would. I did not bury the body. Lets the wolves have him. His sword has served me well, however. A beautiful thing. 
It was the third body that gave us all pause. Though bloated like the others, it was easy to see that it was an elf. More astonishing was that our own companion, Yavin, bore a remarkable resemblance! I know little of elves, so at the time I believed that perhaps they all looked alike. I soon learned otherwise. It had some sort of item with a finger in it. I did not look too closely at it. After gathering was little was left of the caravan's leavings, including a mud-filled blunderbuss, we decided to leave the terrible scene behind. 
The next day we encountered a band of elves and that’s when I realized they did not all look alike. Well...never very much alike, anyway. They emerged from the woods with no sound and a suddenness that unnerved me. Yavindeer spoke to them. They did not appear to like what he had to say. He gave them the strange item that we found on the elven body. For a moment, I thought they might attack us. But they disappeared back into the forest leaving on a road grown quiet. I did not like it. We decided to make haste along the road. 
Unfortunately, the elves changed their minds sometime later that night. As we sleep, the elves attacked like assassins. Old Crazy died before he even woke up, filthy elven arrows prickled his back like a porcupine's quills. He should not have sleep on top of the wagon, it was stupid. The three of us who survived had taken shelter along side the road, in the fringe of the forest. The elves did not see Yavindeer in his camouflaged tent and made the mistake of thinking that I am a deep sleeper. A few moments after the attack began, all 3 Kithbanders (as Yavin called them) were dead. Their blood stained my new blade. Both Hugo and Yavin proved themselves up to the task. Both have excellent range with their weapons (sling and bow). If the three of us ever come to blows, I shall need to remember to keep close to them. 

Well, that is it for today. Night comes and we have decided to keep going for as long as the horses can manage. It is no longer safe for us in this forest. 

Nachgeheim 24: 

We have stopped to let the horses rest. It will do us no good to have them die before we reach Middenheim. After looking through the wagon this morning we found a secret compartment. Within it was some ancient looking picture with a gold frame. It looks very old. I believe that it is the likeness of Sigmar and may be worth quite a bit. I also found military discharge papers. They belong to a Sergeant Jurgen Putoff. I think that was Old Crazy's name. Somehow it doesn't seem to fit the old man. It doesn't matter now anyway. The picture gives me an idea of how to get into Middenheim. I must think on it. 

Nachgeheim 25: 

The traveling goes well enough. The half-man Hugo seems to have a strange obsession for spoons. It turns out that the elf found a pouch of elven gold coins on the body in the coach. They look to be worth a fortune. Luckily for him I have found more than enough loot to satisfy me. The blunderbuss I found at the ambush will not work. I'll need to have it looked at once we reach Middenheim. 

Nachgeheim 27: 

Fluch! We have reached Middenheim. I am glad I was not here when the Chaos Army struck. The city has appeared to hold well enough. But the bodies that lie along the road are inhuman. They also stink. The line of people to enter the city is long and it appears that it will be difficult to get in. I will need to speak quickly. 

Nachgeheim 27: 

It turned out to be easy to gain entrance. Like every other watchman I have dealt with in my years, those manning the gates are bored to death. It was a risk to show them the painting of Sigmar, but it worked. They believed that we were on a mission of delivery of the church of Sigmar. For a moment I though he might try to take it from us or call for someone important to deal with us. But the threat of hassle and paperwork turned his mind. He let us by. 
The streets of Middenheim is packed with refugees and the dispossessed. There is still much chaos and confusion. Perfect! I will do well here I think. we returned the coach horse that we found at the ambush to its rightful owners, the Wolf Runner guild. They were suspicious of us. I don't blame them. After we left they sent a stable boy to follow us. After I boxed his ears and sent him back, we continued on our exploration of the city. 
The fool of a half-man insisted that we return the painting to the church of Sigmar. It seemed a stupid idea, but I decided that it would be difficult to sell it here anyway. But we kept the gold frame as a compromise. Generosity only goes so far! We did gain a cask of the church's finest wine. Somehow I don't think we got the better of that bargain. 
After selling what we found from the caravan and the elven bodies, we made off extremely well. I was able to afford new armor after selling my chain. Breast plate, vambraces, even greaves to go with my new leathers. In all my years working for the guild in Nuln, I was never able to afford such things! Others on the street make room for me now as I walk. No longer am I a hunted man from the south, but a dangerous man to be reckoned with. This must be what it is like to control ones own destiny. I like it. The blacksmith, after inspecting the blunderbuss, told me that he could fix it up almost as good as new. The gold he charged me to fix it was more than i believed i would ever pay for any one thing. It had better be worth it. 
I decided to visit the tavern mentioned in the letters I found. The Prospect was true to its namesake. There I found the man Blocksberg that the dead Key Meister supposed to meet. He was quite stricken when I gave him the dire news of dear Gustav’s death. This Blocksberg is a wizard. A have never seen one, but I have heard enough stories about wizards to know not to trust them. Their powers, whatever they may be, apparently do not extend to bargain making. I charged him 150 gold just to search through the key master's belongings. He did not find what he was looking for. Some sort magic key that can defeat any lock. Interesting. Blocksberg then offered us any sum of money if we were to retrieve this mythical key. I will have to think on it. It may just be the ranting of a wizard driven insane by having gone places he shouldn't have. 

Nachgeheim 27: 

Very Interesting. The local key-meister that I sold Gustav's locks and tools to was also looking for this damned magic key. I let him short change me on Gustav's belongings only because he confirmed the wizard's story. A few handful of gold would mean nothing compared to possessing this key. A very lucrative possibility. I did not like his attitude or the demeanor of his bodyguard, the ogre Mr. Peabody. I shall deal with them in due time. 

I think I will like it here very well indeed in Middenheim... 

Nachgeheim 28: 

I hate Middenheim. The damned halfling's morality is going to get us killed! Dummkopf! We have been held responsible for the death of the high priest of Sigmar. Hugo was the last to be seen with the blathering old idiot, so now we are responsible? I should have let the Watch have him. However, I was able to persuade the Watch Officer for 24 hours to find the killer. We did manage to get empowered with the authority of the watch during those 24 hours. A mistake on their part...and it shall cost them. That should be worth the trouble, as soon as I can think of a way to use it. I tell you this, I will not fall to the gallows because of Hugo's insane sense of right and wrong! I'll beat it out of him yet. 

Nachgeheim 29: 

Well, it does not appear that we will be hung after all. Once we investigated the scene of the priestly murder, we found that some sort of creature-man had climbed both the outer wall and 3 stories of stone temple and fired some sort of dart dipped in poison at this father Dietrich while he sat at the table in his room. Nicely done, i thought. Although it was to strange a form of killing. A simple throwing axe would have had made more sense that some strange dart. Why set yourself apart from other killers? It makes it that much easier for you to be identified! The other two seem to think it was sort of rat-man. I could care less what exactly it was, only that it was so very different from us that hanging us would not be profitable for the burgermeister. I found that the priest had been writing his own journal while researching the painting. Though the journal page had been ripped out, the assassin must not have thought anyone would be able trace the impression of the writings on the page after it. Bewunderer. I've had occasion to use that trick before when working for the Guild in Nuln. Thats why they taught me to read and write. The journal spoke of a map on the back of the painting, but the priest was killed before he could scribe its destination. Wherever that map leads, it must be very important to someone... 
Upon reporting our findings to Herr Shutzman, the burgermeister pressed into Watch command service, he told us that this type of killing had happened three other times. Besides this deitrich, a veran temple guard, a homeless man in the maze given to the templeof Morr, and a guard at the dwarven engineer guild. The watch saw no connection between the killings. But then they don't know about the map as i do. Our watch powers were then extended for another 4 days at the price of 5 gold each per day to investigate this mystery, with a bounty on the head of each chaos creature we find and kill. Things are back to the way they should be...me making money. I find it funny that only one day before we were being threatened to prove our innocence or be hung, now we are responsible for the safety of the citizens and the peace of Shutzman's peaceful rule of the city. In the end, this will cost more them all more than 5 gold a day. 

Nachgeheim 30: 

Our investigations have turned out very profitable. We have learned much. The Morran priests were quite helpful. The body of the unknown victim that the watch gave to the Morr temple had just been buried. At great expense. Apparently by three dour-faced friends who paid much for a fine grave stone in the actual graveyard! By the description of the men and the symbol of sword crossed with hammer upon the sign of sigmar carved on the stone, i believe that the men are witchhunters in the employ of the church of sigmar. Its too bad the assassin could not kill more of those butchers. The priest led us to where the body had been found in the poor section of the city. Near the the spot the body was found lay an old cesspool of a well. Very suspicious. After throwing the halfling down it, it surprised no one that the well wall had been collapsed and that a path lead into the sewer. Scattered about the well were signs of the creature that had killed the priest. 
The priests of Verenan temple were a different matter entirely. Once we showed them our papers, of course, they let us into the temple. Their story is that the killer of their temple guard alerted the rest of temple in time and that the killer escaped without stealing anything. A lie of course. My meeting with the High Priestess Elizabeth did nothing to convince me. She is a cold, arrogant, and haughty bitch. I like her. She repeated what the other priests of her order told me...that nothing had been stolen. She is not a very good liar. In the past, I would have beaten the information out of her and her brethren. However, that would have cost me my watch powers, which are still too useful to me at this point. So I let her go on with her ruse. In the near future, she and I will talk again. Privately. 
We decided to report our findings to Shutzman before our attempt to speak to the dwarves. There are a notoriously private and stubborn people. It may prove very difficult to dig any information out of them. True to form, somewhere in Hugo's verwirrt mind he decided it was a good idea to volunteer us to investigate the sewer. Meine Gotter. Sooner or later his foolishness will kill me or i will kill him. It is spilt milk now. In the morning we see where the sewers of Middenheim will take us...Ach. 


Nachgeheim 31: 

I'm fairly certain that this is the 31st. It is hard to tell how long we have been down here in these sewers. Day and night mean nothing down here. Our day is that brought only by torch light and our night is only the pitch black swamp of sewage and stone. We had entered the sewers through the well and followed it for short distance before we noticed a body floating in the river of slime up ahead. It looked like the body of a child. As we drew closer we saw what looked like a man from the distance shambling around in the muck. Unsure as to whether we aught to call out to him, our decision was made for us. Another of the "men" dropped from the ceiling of the sewer, trying to surprise Yavin. It missed Not one to take such chances, it was here that i decided to try out my new weapon...the blunderbuss. When the fuse lit the weapon, it was as though the throat of hell itself had opened and spit out its venom. Gotter Verdammt! The first of the men, creatures we would later come to know as Eaters of the Dead, was blown apart. The second took much damage to his arm, but was still standing. I've found in my use of the blunderbuss that it can be a fickle weapon, destroying one target, yet leaving another entirely untouched. 
After dispatching the remaining Eater, we inspected the body we had first seen. It was indeed a child. A small girl who had no doubt lost her way and found herself in the sewers. Poor child. To her credit, she had bravely tried to survive the horrid morass of the sewers. She had even created a map of the sewers that pointed out the pits and dangers. Though i do no know her name, i bless her soul and pray for it to find Morr's quiet embrace, for the map has served us well. 
By reading the map, we knew to avoid the dangers that lie ahead of us. Such as the 'Boom' area, a part of the sewer that held pockets of gas that would occasionally ignite and bath the area with flame and thunderclaps. Just beyond this was an area of the map marked Eaters of the Dead. Perhaps it was because of the lost girls memory that i decided not to avoid these Eaters, but instead to inflict upon them a vicious doom. Or perhaps it was the dwarven shrine that lay beyond them that drove me to engage the zombie men. Either way, the girl was revenged. Once again, the blunderbuss proved its worth. Earlier during our travels in the sewers i had grabbed a rat out of frustration and stuffed it into the Buss so as to condemn it to certain doom. This, as it turns out, was a fine tactic. As we snuck up on the Eaters of Dead, not exactly the swiftest of enemies i have fought, as they dined on a body i could no longer recognize as human, i fired my weapon. Half of their number went down with the Bluss's blast...and up...and to the side. Far more amazing than that, the rest of them fell upon the rat parts that now littered their cove. I would never believe such a thing, had i not seen it myself. They did not seem to notice us as we swept down upon them and slew them where they stood. I can not imagine what would turn a man into such a thing as these Eaters of the Dead. I only know that they do not deserve to live any longer. Killing them is mercy. 
The dwarven shrine was fascinating. Hugo and Yavin decided to create rubbings of the dwarven script carved into the shrine. A wise move, though i would never admit it to them. A pity i cannot read dwarven. However, knowledge of such a thing within the sewers should serve us well when we speak to the Dwarven Engineers guild upon our return to the surface. It may well loosen their tongue when it comes time to ask them questions. 
As we ventured deeper within the sewers the sharp eyes of Hugo spied a gnobbler following our trail. It was no doubt the pet of the ogre, Mr. Peabody. It escaped our wrath for now. But there shall be a reckoning between Middenheim's Lockmeister, his bodyguard, and their little spy soon. Mark my words. 
Finally we reached the part of map marked Sewer Jacks, agents of the Middenheim watch. Here we expected to find shelter and perhaps a friendly face or two. What we found was death. Markings on the wall were written in blood and spoke of treachery and ambush. The blood turned out to be of a sewer jack named Carsten. The jack's last words were of the treachery of the Sigmar church and some evil bitch. I understood who he spook of immediately. With those words, the man died. I believe his death to be the last gasp of the Company of the Rusty Lantern. Though it made me feel as though i had been transformed into something inhuman, i once again searched a dead body. It is not a thing i enjoy, but i must have knowledge of what is happening in this city and the sewers seemed as though they hold answers. They do. We found upon the body more maps that speak of a depth and reach of the sewers that is astounding. 
As i sit hear in the sewer jack's respite, writing by torch light...it is clear to me now that something, or someone, powerful and dangerous lies within the depths of the sewers. A secret that some of the powers within the ranks of priesthood that lie above these sewers would have buried for all times. Their zeal to hide the truth has lead to the deaths of many, from High Priests to homeless vagabonds. Their hubris is astounding. Their lack of respect for life is impressive. Do they think that all of this death is necessary? Its bad business. The more one tries to bury a secret, the more that truth will rise to the surface. It seems so funny to me. When i first set foot within the walls of Middenheim, i thought of nothing but taking the power of its Underworld for my own. I had no inkling of how literal that goal was to become. 
Now it is clear what i must do, i shall.....


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## pogre (Oct 14, 2005)

Looking good. Add a few more paragraph breaks to improve the readability. I love WFRP!


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## PJ Mason (Oct 14, 2005)

Hey, thanks for the comments Pogre, Soulweaver. BOAZ just cut'n'pasted from my RPGNet thread, which was nothing more than a cut'n'paste of my posting on our private group list. So the grammar/structure _is_ pretty chopped up. When i post additions each week, i'll try to clean it up more. I've another journal entry that might go up this weekend once i find out where Konrad wakes up after spending a Fate Point last tuesday (damned Lizardman ASSassins!). Then hopefully i'll have a another entry next wedsnday or thursday. Funny, after reading the journal online a couple times, i can see a lot of typos that i could have sworn weren't there before!


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## BOAZ (Oct 14, 2005)

The last of the campaign handouts are up on www.2d10.org
Stay tuned for more next Tuesday. Over the weekend I'll post the poster for the next episode. Episode 6: Tomb & Tome (Down The Darkest Path Part 2)


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## BOAZ (Oct 15, 2005)

The poster for episode 6: Tomb & Tome is now up on www.2d10.org !
All the images are pretty high-res, just "click" on them and you'll get to the larger file. Feel free to use the maps for your campaigns, enjoy.


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## PJ-Mason (Oct 17, 2005)

*Konrad's Journal: Teil Vier: Zorn Konrad's*

Nachgeheim 32:

	Pardon my last entry, but we encountered what had killed the Sewer Jacks during my last writing. It was no mere chaos creature or mutation from hell. In deed, it was those who have sworn oaths to fight such creatures. It was the Verenan Lady Priest Elizabeth, may the weibchen choke on her lying tongue, and a pack of Sigmar witchhunters. Come to finish off the last of the Sewer Jacks because of what they found. I dare say they found more than they expected. Its quite the advantage one has when his companions do not need the light of torched to see in the dark. We would have slaughtered them without  reciprocity if the damned elf could follow orders. However we did finish them quickly enough, though perhaps too quickly for the likes of witchhunters. I'd prefer that they had felt more pain and suffering, but i simply did not have the time. The priestess managed to escape while we engaged her lackeys. There can be no doubt of the dark alliance that the two churches have formed now. I wonder what is more dangerous...that society of outcasts, the deranged, and the chaos-touched living in the dark sewers below, or the treacherous human scum lording in their towers and temples high above the city. 

	Upon reaching surface, we were greeted by a familiar sight. Mr. Peabody’s little pet was watching the well entrance. Peabody will now need to take a moment to mourn his vile little spy, for it is dead. Courtesy of my own little spy and a crossbow pistol borrowed from the corpse of a witchhunter. Ravens seemed to have fallen upon Middenheim in the last couple days. Since our stay in the sewers, it has become much worse. They blanket the city as though searching for something...or waiting for someone. It is not lost on me that they appeared in the city shortly after we did. I must think on it.

	Once we reached our inn, the Last Drop for well deserved bath, we discovered that all hell has broken loose in the streets of the Heim. The watch commander, Burgermeister Shutzmann, has been slain by the same weapon and tactics as had the others we were investigating. Brustwarze Der Holle! So goes our career in the City Watch. I believe that only Shutzmann knew of our deal to work for him and the city. I decided not to report to the watch this time, lest we be arrested once again. We are free agents again. So be it. I do better without such rules or shackles that the Watch places on themselves anyway. This tragedy, however, necessitated that we find another ally. 

	The Dwarven Engineering Guild Master, Modrin Gimmelstock, was only too happy to see me...once i mentioned the dwarven shrines and the map of the sewers to him, of course. What was a gruff, arrogant stare turn into the gleam of an eager child. The maps that i found on the body of the sewer jack Carsten showed of libraries and crypts and the golden doors of Magnus the Pious. The dwarf was beside himself with glee and nervous energy. He warned me of the danger of such knowledge. As though i needed to be told. After negotiating a finder's fee of 500 Gold (after all, we needed to recoup our losses from losing employment in the watch), I then brokered a deal between my...gang and the guild. Safe haven, access to their library and maps,  and supplies would be ours, further results of sewer investigation and my silence of what lays below would be theirs. 

            Unfortunately, as we began to plot our strategy of how next to explore the sewers, the Dwarven Guildmeister carelessly got himself killed. He should have heeded his own warnings. This time, however, we there to confront the killers in the act. Once again, no chaos beats or skaven either. That creature (creatures as it turns out) who we have hunted for days was but a lizardman and his lizardlings. A schmutzig, stinkend, bumsende lizard. We defeated the Seven Who Are One, of course, but now we face the same problem...no allies. I did not miss the fact that Yavindir called out to him and called him a traitor. That they know each other does not sit well with me. The elf and i shall have words.

	It occurs to me that we are as deadly as the assassins lying at our feet. Anyone who becomes our friend dies soon after. Maybe we are the ones who are cursed. No matter. If i am to die here in this city, buried by an avalanche of lies and secrets...i shall have plenty of company. It is time these people learn that their deeds do not go unanswered. Tonight, there shall be a reckoning.


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## PJ-Mason (Oct 20, 2005)

*Konrad's Journal: Teil Funf: Die Berechnung*

Erntezeit 1:

Ah, the start of a new month. The days on the calendar keep passing by, but it seems our situation in this city never changes. With the death of one ally comes the presence of another. The dwarven guildmaster Gimmelstock's bodyguard, Ingrid, has decided to join my little band. Though i am not particularly impressed with her bodyguarding skills, her client being dead after all, she does have excellent knowledge of the sewers, contacts, and a real desire for revenge against those responsible for her employer's death. I admire loyalty. 

Ingrid's street knowledge has already served us well. It appears that Hugo, Yavindir, and myself are wanted by the watch for murder and demon worship. Murder? Of course, though we are not guilty of the murder they have charged us with. But worshipping demons? That’s silly. I worship no one at all. It is said that demonic items were found there and that our intent for murder were confirmed by the establishment’s owner, Werner. Ach, Werner, that was not very loyal...

It would appear that with the death of Watch Commander Shutzmann, the temples of Verena, Sigmar, and Ulric now share power over the city. A wise move by my enemies. The contingent of Sigmaran witchhunters that arrived last night will no doubt easily enforce their  commands. However, all of this zealotry has unnerved the citizens quite a bit. The curfew that the temple's have issued has further agitated them. That could be to my advantage. The town is also quite frightened by an impending eclipse that has been prophesied by some unknown being inside the city. I had my suspicions immediately of who this prophet was, but i will speak of that later.

I am not sure if the temple of Ulric is as corrupt as those of Sigmar and Verena. Truly this blind eye they have turned to their priests behavior is proof that either the gods do not truly exist, or that they care little for their earthly reputation. However, on the off chance that the church of Ulric are just servants of the wolf god...I sent them a...gift. The head of Seven Who Are One, along with one of the amulets of the Sigmar witchhunters that we killed in the sewer. I also put in the assassin's tools and our signed paper of watch authority that Shutzmann gave us with my own note "Mystery Solved...Dieter of the Watch". That ought to make things interesting.  I am quite happy that no one in this town knows my true name. It will make escaping a little easier if the next few days do not go well for us.

I had my talk with Yavindir about his familiarity with the assassin Seven-Who-Are-One. It would seem that he had hired the assassin himself for a murder for hire. I guess the abschaum lizard got a better offer. Serves Yavin right. If you want someone killed, always do it yourself. Yavin told me that is was Werner who set up the hire for him. Another mark against the man. Still, i have sat and talked with Werner and the man prides himself on keeping secrets and protecting his patrons. This does not seem like the Werner I know.

The poor Lockmeister Hinterhalt met an unfortunate end this night. Apparently  the vaunted talents of Mr. Peabody mean nothing against a ignited keg of oil, dwarven white lightning, and gunpowder thrown through the front window of the old bastard's home. I hear that Dear Heinrich died fairly quickly. What a pity. Perhaps that will teach others to keep their noses, and gnobblers, out of other people's business. Perhaps i should hire Mr. Peabody to be my bodyguard, now that he is out of work? Perhaps not. He didn't much good for poor Heinrich.

Our next visit of the night was to Werner of the Last Drop. Considering that Werner not only lied to the Watch about our innocence, but he was also the contact for Yavin's murder for hire that turned sour, i thought it best to pay him a little visit. As we arrived outside the Inn, someone posted on the roof fired an arrow at us and hit Yavin quite soundly in the gut. Luckily, he has become quite the healer. Lots of practice. Though we returned fire, the assailant got away. Its anyone's guess at this point who he worked for. The sound of my Bluss brought out the patrons of the Last Drop, a good fight is worth watching around here these days. When they saw that the fight was over, and got a good look at me, they returned to their tables. That gave me an idea. I put on one of the remaining amulets of the Sigmar witchhunters and polished it up. This time the reputation of the witchhunters would work for me. I entered the Last Drop with my hood covering my face and the amulet covering my plated chest. The crowd mumbled, but dared not challenge a witchhunter in the flesh. 

Once i got a look at Werner, my suspicions were confirmed. He had not willingly spoken against us. They had beat him soundly, broken his face and arm, and even taken one of his legs. An excellent piece of work. I dragged him to the back of the Inn to tell him that i did not mean him harm, but not before the men in the Inn actually challenged me. I was amazed at the loyalty his patrons had for Werner. Loyalty in the most infamous inn in Middenheim? Amazing! Unfortunately that loyalty did not survive my threats of torture and Blunderbuss fire. But still, I was most impressed. When it comes time form my own guild, i know where i shall recruit my men. Werner couldn't really tell me more than i already knew, but he seemed relieved to know that i no longer sought his head. After all, he had lost a leg and that is enough for me.

Ingrid once again proved her worth. While i had been recovering from the assassin's blade the night before, verdammt lizard, she had done some planning of her own. Knowing that we had found the vault of Magnus the Pious, she had sought out the city's greatest authority on the subject. One Hans Greibworst. Unfortunately for the good scholar, he had fallen on hard times. The poor historian is somewhat of a gambler. A very bad one at that. His gambling debts had ruined him. He now served out his debts as the personal scribe and accountant to the Black Daggers, the local Guild. The Black Daggers headquarters was a place called the Whispering Goat and, I come to find out, was run by a man named Artemis Bale. I know this man. By reputation, of course. Bale is perhaps the most famous highwayman in the empire, perhaps in all of the old world. In his last action, he had suffered some terrible wounds and was forced to retire. It seems that all people who are looking to fade away come to Middenheim. It makes me wonder who else lives here that i do not know about? 

Our trip to the Whispering Goat was uneventful. Some quick whispers and furtive signing in a certain language landed us before the infamous Bale. Without our weapons. Although once again, no one checked my gloves to find the knuckle dusters hidden within them. Once i saw the man, his orc-branded guard wolves laying beside, it struck me like lightning. This was the man who had ambushed the caravan to the south. This was the man who killed everyone in that caravan with savage butchery. This was the man who taken the magical key that every high priestess and wizard lord in the city was looking for. Durch das Schicksal der Götter! When i first came to the streets of Middenheim, i had intended on finding the local thieves guild and present myself as a new player in town, out of respect. But the situations in town conspired to lure me away from that intention. I can only wonder now how much blood and sweat, and lives, i could have saved had i stubbornly followed my instincts. 

I had to think fast. To challenge Bale there, in his domain, without my best weapons...would have been insanity, not boldness. Instead, i did what any other man would do in that situation. I lied. I told him that i was here to buy Hans' debts off as a favor to another person. Not exactly a lie, really. I always say, tell the truth when you are lying. When the price of 995 gold was asked, i nearly performed a very insane act. However, Yavindir, bless his greedy little soul, produced the golden frame of the picture of Magnus the Pious that we had found in Old Crazy's wagon. Hugo had wanted to give it to the Sigmar temple, but elf wouldn't hear of it. At the time i thought his greed was...distasteful. But now i am quite happy i had sided with him at the time. The frame did indeed buy Hans "contract". I was now the proud owner of a historian. 

We left  the Whispering Goat as quickly as possible. We took the scholar with us to meet Blocksberg at the Prospect. Here i forced him to reveal what he was truly looking for. A wizard of the stars does not yearn for magic keys. He admitted that he was searching for a book called the Eternal Tome. A powerful magic book that apparently scribes itself and speaks of prophecies and dangers. With it he could safeguard the land and its people. Such altruism makes me suspicious, but i believe that he does want that book. I have no interest in such a thing, save what it might tell me of my enemies. I am far more interested in the legends that speak of Magnus the Pious hording items of dark magic and great power that can be used to fight chaos and corrupt priests. I am very interested in such things. I have enemies that must be defeated before Middenheim is mine. He believes it to be locked away behind the Golden Doors hidden deep within the sewers. So all we needed to pierce the mystery of Magnus the Pious is the key that can unlock it all. 

As we began to plan our assault on the Whispering Goat, the mousy bookmiester Hans spoke up. He had seen Artemis sell the Key to a dark figure with a crimson skull emblem. This fearsome being paid well for the key and it is obvious what that man's intention is. Such an emblem sits upon one of my secret sewer maps. 

So. Once again we enter sewers in the hopes of betting our future. This time however, i feel an impending sense of foreboding as we prepare for what may be our last journey into the Pitch Black. A lord of wizardry and blind seer, a southern thug, a vagabond elf, a halfling scout, a dwarven bodyguard, and a broken down defrocked professor. I do not believe that all of us shall return. I hope i am wrong.


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## BOAZ (Oct 20, 2005)

Again, great session everyone!   Burning evil Heinrich in his wheelchair was .....well, just wrong, but hey, it's warhammer!   
The search for the Unseen Library has begun! 

New handouts from last session are now up on www.2d10.org Enjoy!


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## BOAZ (Oct 30, 2005)

The poster for Episode 7: "Descend & Forget" is now up on www.2d10.org
Stay tuned for a new entry from Tuesdays game.


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## Son_of_Thunder (Nov 1, 2005)

*WooHoo!!*

With my pint (they come in pints!?) in hand I'm eagerly anticipating further adventures of this motley group.


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## PJ-Mason (Nov 9, 2005)

*Konrad's Journal: Die Schwergängigkeit von Schicksalen*

Erntezeit 3:

I make this entry by the light of the Rusty Lantern. It may be my last for some time. 

Before our descent into darkness, we hit a stroke of luck. I met an old friend of mine on the streets leading to our sewer entry. A dwarven mercenary from Nuln, Orzad. After a pint, I convinced him to join our quest for answers. Though I think it had as much to do with the potential rewards as my persuasive demeanor. 

What happened next is still as mystery to us all. When next I awoke, we were laying in dank, musty  cell. The first thing I saw was a dwarven statue. Laying beside me were most of my allies. However, the wizard Blocksberg lay dead and his blind seer was missing. Ingrid was badly wounded and did not have her sense about her. Hanz, our historian, missing. Also in the cell lay Artemis Bale. My first instinct was to shoot him. Such was not to be his fate, however. A strange elven girl now graced our presence. She had a pouch similar to Blocksberg, a wizard, which I took off her before she awakened. I wasn’t going to have her casting spells until I new if she were friend or foe. Once awakened, she gave her name as Katanya and claimed to be a student of Blocksberg’s. Rather than kill each other, all of us agreed to work together in order to survive whatever fate had befallen us. 

Oh, yes, and around my neck was key. 

The Key. What powers were at work here? Were we cursed by one of our enemies? Was this bizarre turn of fate the work of higher powers? Why kill the powerful wizard, but then award us with the key everyone coveted? I had no time to consider it, really. Whatever the source, cursing my fate would not help me escape it. We moved on.

After searching the cell we found a trap door that lead down into a dark passageway that stank of beast and old bones.  Hugo volunteered to scout down the hole, with nothing but a rope tied to his body. A true held, indeed. When the darkness began to move, we pulled Hugo to safety, despite his yearnings to remain and fight what lurked in the depths. 

We turned our attention to the cell door. Though it seemed a simple task to open it, all of us were leery of what lay on the other side. But then Katanya boldly stepped forward and opened the door. We were right to worry. What assaulted us is hard to describe. A great horned beast. Composed mostly of fang and sinew from my vantage point. Unfortunately for it, we are composed of even tougher resolve. Moments later the creature lie at our feet. 

Unable to move poor Ingrid, we were almost tempted to leave her. However as Hugo prepared the Rusty Lantern for our hike into the dark caverns, the light of the lantern hit the statue…which began to move. No wonder the sewer jacks valued the lantern so highly! 

So we continued on, our party changed, but no less formidable, followed by a dwarven statue carrying one of its fallen kin. Our prowling brought us to a ladder built into the stone walls, leading up to a trap door. Once again, we were forced to choose between a fallen comrade and escape from the deadly caves. We had no choice. The maps and notes spoke of the statues ability to protect and ward off evil creatures. I hope, for Ingrid’s sake, such legends are true. We forced to leave her behind. The battles we knew lay ahead of us were no place for a defenseless warrior. Looking back, I can only hope she awoke and was able to find her way out of the sewers.

Our ascent up the ladder lead into a well crafted stone hall. As we walked its corridors, we were amazed at the craftsmanship of the architecture. Who knew such a place existed so deep in the sewers. Little did we know what lie in store for us. 

The first thing we found was the brewery. Trust the dwarves to have their priorities in order. We found some bottles that still survived and were filled with a particularly strong dwarven ale. Cheers. Beneath the brewery we found a secret door that lead to stairs down into a dwarven crypt. The others eyes lit up with greed, but I saw no such great prize. I do not rob graves. I left them to their sport.

As we explored the dwarven stronghold further, we nearly stumbled into disaster. We heard digging. Once again, brave Hugo volunteered to go ahead and scout out the sounds. He returned with a white face. Elizabeth had finally caught up to us. She had brought friends. A troop of witchhunters, great beast-hounds…and Mr. Peabody. They had found their own way into the sewers and were digging their way through an old collapsed passageway. Despite my better judgment, I allowed the others to talk me out of trying to collapse the ceiling on them. I still almost regret listening to them instead of the dwarven ale that was keeping me warm. 

We moved, staying ahead of them as much as we could. All along I kept my eye on Artemis Bale. He had been the one who first ambushed the caravan  in order to get the key. So he had worked for either Elizabeth or the Lockmeister Hinterhalt, Mr. Peabody’s ex-employer. Either way, he had more ties to those who followed us than with me and my allies. For a second time, I considered killing him. My restraint was to soon be rewarded. 

While most of us were examining a rune-encrusted door, Hugo and Yavindeer were attacked by chaos hounds sent ahead by Elizabeth. Orzad was the first to get there and work the hounds with his axe. The rest of us soon followed. Except Artemis. Apparently he had been waiting for such a moment to escape and forge on ahead without us. I can imagine him remaining behind and desperately scrabbling at the lock, hoping to open it before we returned.  As we finished off the 3 advance hounds, we managed to barricade ourselves inside a Dwarven Chapel while the rest of the chaos hounds swarmed the corridor. They clawed and scratched at the doors, but couldn’t get to their prey. Until one of them caught Artemis’s scent. I can also imagine the look on his face when the pack fell upon him. I can even hear his screams in my mind’s eye as they ate him alive.

Artemis’s demise served as a fine distraction and we were able to slip behind the pack and along the corridor into another room. In it we found a throne. How fitting. After we locked ourselves in, we begin to search for another way out. What we found were corpses. One in particular was garbed in great armor and a helm fitted with a plume that made him look very much the peacock. Hugo skill at heraldry told him that this group was a Bretonian knight and his entourage. On a quest he surmised. I hope my own quest does not end so disastrously. Of course, out of deep respect no doubt, my companions fell upon the bodies like ravenous scavengers. 

It didn’t take long for our enemies to catch up with us, trapped in the throne room as we were. I soon heard them playing with the locks on the door. Several of them soon crowded around the door, trying to open it. I’m sure the others saw the smile on my face as they finally swung the doors outward…just to see me standing there…with my blunderbuss. The first witchhunter went down, torn to shreds. The others received various and sundry wounds. Mr. Peabody suffered for his looming frame and caught much of the blast. The fight was on. It did not last long. These witchhunters did not match the talent of the last ones we fought. They soon dropped, leaving us face to face with the Ogre bodyguard. The poor oaf was no match for our blades, arrows, and magics. I once wondered if it would be worth it to hire him as my bodyguard. I am quite glad, now, that I did not waste my gold. His ex-employer, the wheelchair-ridden feeble old man Hinterhalt lasted longer. 

Elizabeth and her remaining hounds and hunters decided that it was best not to test us any further. Perhaps she had put too much faith in the ogre and her chaos overlords and not enough in our cold steel. They fled.

We soon found what was left of Artemis Bale. All that remained was his iron mask and mechanical arm. And bite marks. The mask I kept, for it would serve me well once I return to Middenheim and take control over his guild of thieves.

As we opened the doors, a wave of heat blew past us and our eyes came upon a room split in half by a crevice that fell hundreds of feet and at its bottom a river of lava. I had not realized how far into the earth we had descended these last couple of days. Across the chasm stretched a bridge of rotting wood. Beyond it a golden statue, carved into a likeness of a creature out of fables and legends. A dragon.

We had just managed to cross the bridge, though we almost lost Katanya to the fiery river below. As the rest of my companions searched for loot and a secret door that we knew must exist, Elizabeth found me once again. A pity that we couldn’t work together. But once she burned off Katianas’s arm with fiery acid from her mouth, it was quite clear to me that her loyalties lay with those forces with witch I have no loyalty. Chaos. I am many things, but a lapdog of the abyss I shall never be.  Once again, Elizabeth proved her skill in treachery, but also her ignorance of battle. With minions trapped on one side of the now ruined bridge (never throw a dwarf. Halflings, yes, dwarves…no) their crossbows were no match for elven archery or Hugo’s sling. Or my blunderbuss. The died as they stood. 

After Orzad and Hugo finished their looting of the golden dragon, they got around to finding a passage way that lead out into a great cave that split into two curving paths, separately by a giant stalagmite. As we began to tromp our way through the caves, however, the stalagmite began to move. 

Like a giant snake uncoiling from his perch, the ‘stalagmite’ brought its head around to meet mine. At that angle I saw something that I never believed existed. Something from legend and nightmare. Sigmar’s Eternal Guardian as written on the map. They might have also mentioned that it was a dragon.  It seemed more concerned about us disrupting its sleep than about our presence in the Abode of Magnus. I could have talked our way out of it easily if it hadn’t smelled its treasure on Orzad! The great creature allowed us to leave once its treasure was returned to it. I guess were not what it was there to guard against. A reasonable creature all things considered.

As we quickly left the Eternal Guardian’s chambers behind and made our way down the narrow, snaking passage of stairs that  followed, we began to hear a gentle lapping. Not one of us uttered a word as we made our way out of the passage into a endless cavern and the waters of a great subterranean lake.  Its waters were gently washing ashore as we walked down to its edge. A strange dwarven stone boat, its sides laden with gleaming runes rested on the shore’s edge. 

But we were not alone. Standing before the boat was the High Sigmaran Priest Stolz himself. I wasn’t sure if he was part of the corruption or not. I think he was even less sure of my part in it. But he wanted the Key and that was too much. I wasn’t about to give it to a man who had allowed so much corruption into his church. Who sat by while witchhunter cults of his own faith butchered so many. Neither of us were in the mood for words. I let my actions speak for me. I’ll say this, he is fast with that battering ram he calls a hammer. We both swung our weapons. We both made our targets. My blade to his crown, his hammer to mine.  Only I remained standing.  With him at my feet and helpless…I allowed him to live. His death did not feel right to me. I’m sure we will meet again. I hope it will be as allies.

As we float along huddled in this bizarre boat, I hurry to finish my accounting of our travels up to this point. It is difficult to say how long we have been traveling in this boat, which seems to move of its own accord. I can feel the power of its runes grow stronger as we drift father into the dark horizon. 

My enemies are dead or defeated. The threats to my conquests are diminished. Yet I push onward as though my ambitions are not my own. My plans to control the streets of Middenheim seem so distant to me now. Those goals that I would have gladly lied and killed to achieve, no longer guide my thoughts. Instead I look inward. In the last  few days I feel as though I am no longer the man I once was, but am not sure who I have become. 

I know that turning back is no longer an option. I shall enter the Unseen Library and take the Test of Magnus. I shall look upon the Tomb of the Pious and see what stares back.

I can’t help wondering how much of me will  remain after our journey into oblivion.

END OF SEASON 1: FATE BOUND CAMPAIGN


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## BOAZ (Nov 11, 2005)

Great write-up PJ!!! I can't wait for season 2: 'The Return Of Magnus'


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## doghead (Nov 14, 2005)

Nice story hour. I do like WHF.

The rather dramatic change in circumstances leaving Konrad with the key and a collection of new and dead comrades, was that due to player abscences or was it part of the game as written?


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## BOAZ (Nov 14, 2005)

I actually wrote it that way. The players were all prepared to enter the dungeon "armed" with some good knowledge of the sewers. I wanted to throw in a twist.   It was pretty fitting since we had a new player joining the campaign, so everybody started "fresh". In season 2 they will find out what exactly happened to them.
They also found something VERY disturbing in the 'Unseen Library' check the image 'Return Of Magnus' over at www.2d10.org !


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## PJ-Mason (Nov 14, 2005)

See? Even all powerful GMs fear a prepared Konrad. All must fear Konrad.

Especially now that i have a cursed iron mask stuck too my face!


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## BOAZ (Nov 14, 2005)

Konrad is indeed VERY scary!   I'm a Stay-At-Home-Dad, so I have actually a lot of time to prepare and I do so. But .... this group throws me a "curve ball" all the time. I love it!


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## doghead (Nov 14, 2005)

Just had a peak at the Return of the Magnus poster. Well, whoever he is, Mr Magnus reeks of Chaos. All that talk of change. Tzeentch (if I recall correctly) would be my guess. The Changer of the Ways and Lord of Magic. It would be just like Tzeentch to convince someone the only way to stop chaos was to embrace it.

Lovely work with the posters by the way.


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## BOAZ (Nov 15, 2005)

Hey, thanks! Yep, your right, Tzeentch send a little "whisper" to Magnus.


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