Special Guest Appearance:
Smof the Ogre Maneater (aka Sedrick Galamonte)
After several failed attempt to scale the Steinhager Manor’s wall and what seems like an age of falling and tumbling, and not at all the entertaining kind that anyone might want to pay to see we eventually managed to exit the mansion grounds. But not before the ever entertaining Barber Surgeon decided to sacrifice himself to buy the rest of our party sometime. I wonder if we’ll ever set eyes on the silver tongued stylist cum surgeon again. Jean’s sideboards certainly hope so.
Once over the wall the cries from the watch alerted other nearby guards and suddenly we had guards on our tail. We lost the Bretonnian Knight in the marketplace (mind-bogglingly remaining cool and even-tempered enough to be browsing fleur de lais kerchiefs). If only they could have lost the watch as easily. Gustav and Falco hurried through the crowds pausing only long enough for our devilishly devious dilettante to give his hat to an innocent bystander. The portly chap seems more concerned with filling his face than covering his head but deciding not to examine the molars of this particular gift horse he accepts the feather plumed bonnet and returns to selecting sausages with his sausage-like fingers.
As they slip away, they weave through the streets on the way to the safehouse location and begin to think they may have lost their pursuers. Just as they think they’ve evaded their pursuers Falco rounds a corner and runs smack bang into a spitting image of himself. He is too stunned to do anything but gawp bemusedly as his twin winks and disappears behind him quite literally disappearing into thin air. This would not be so bad if the twin was not beingly closely pursued by a huge thronging mob who have witnessed this Falco double lighting fires in Bogenhafen buildings on the other side of town. Recognising another setup, he quickly runs in the opposite direction of the lynch mob closely followed by a fuschia faced and profusely panting Gustav.
A chance meeting with a Sigmarite priest sat supping beer near his temple sees them duck inside his Sigmarite Temple for Sanctuary. Though this half cut and well rounded priest looks far from the archetypal Sigmar he’s a big fellow and Gustav and Falco decide that if he can wield his hammer half as expertly as he handles his ale then he might be handy to have around. Besides which this godless band could certainly do with a little in the way of faith. Offering both his axe arm and his orders robes for disguises the trio press on to the safehouse hoping to find Jean.
Our Bretonnian meanwhile notices them but is occupied with nearby guards. When asked by the watch if he’s seen the pursued men he points thim in the wrong direction and then proceeds to follow the sounds of commotion that he can hear north of him. As he nears the mob he merges with them and follows for a while to ascertain their purpose. It turns out the mob are chasing a small group of men of whom a small bearded fatman is the most distinctive individual. Jean watches as the crowd confront a chubby fellow with a beard who is inexplicably wearing Gustav’s hat. Confused but not confounded by this he joins in with the voices claiming that the man is one of the wanted group. “Yes that’s him. Burn him” goes up the cry from a strangely Bretonnian tongue and the crowd ‘geed on’ by our valiant, and honourable knight proceed to beat the fellow half to death. Jean let’s them leave but not before fighing his way to near the front of the crowd. Some might have expected a knight to rescue this man. But this one was more concerned with retrieving Gustav’s hat as well as aiming a few kicks at the unfortunate man of mistaken identity. And who says chivalry is dead? :)
At the SafeHouse our party regroup and press on towards the likely destination of tonights ceremony. The Sigmarite robes are offered but the pompous knight refuses outright. Arriving at Warehouse 13 it seems clear that this is the place. A few ‘key individuals’ among them Teugen and the devious monster masquerading as a paige.
The place though guarded is not impregnable and Falco sneaks closer to the warehouse on a reconnaisance mission to suss out the area and viable entry points. Though there seems to be only one large main door there are numerous grated windows around the building that have been boarded up for added measure. While they don’t suggest an entry they do seem likely to provide a vantage point so with that Falco sneaks towards the warehouse to peak inside.
What he sees inside makes him catch his breath. A number of men in grey hoods and cloaks stand chanting around a pentagram. A wide-eyed with fear (but seemingly drugged) woman has been strapped to an altar and is being held ready for sacrifice. No sooner does he have time to take this in than a huge, hulking figure of a man thing lumbers into sight and appears to come directly over to the window.
Before Falco can hide himself, the huge figure pokes his eye up to the boards and promptly declares. “Falco! You’re late!.” The voice is unmistakeably Smof’s but what he is doing here in the midst of a strange cult? It’s a question that will need answering later. For now though a sharp, harsh, but somehow strangely familar voice shouts “Smof! Get over here with that dagger.” Yes Gustav comes the reply from the dim witted Oaf and he plods off.
Falco who has seen enough to be concerned but understands nowhere nearly enough of what’s going on to make a decision himself goes back to attempt to explain the inexplicable to the rest of the group.
There’s a cult ritual going on of which Teugen seems in charge and a poor unfortunate is to be sacrificed but as untoward as that is it’s nothing compared to the real bombshell. Smof the Ogre is with them dressed in cultist robes and appears to be taking orders from another Gustav.
As a long discussion takes place about the best course of action the Sigmarite Priest Yorgon loses what little patience he possesses. Shouldering his hammer he sets off directly towards the warehouse. Let them waste their time in chatter, when the only true course of action was plain to see. There were forces of chaos in need of smiting and Yorgon felt like this was a damn fine day for a good smiting.
My last recollection of the calm before the storm was of Yorgon staggering purposefully but not particularly straighly up to the warehouse. One swing of his hammer and the huge wooden door was rent in two and collapsed inwards held only by the now twisted clump of metal that used to be a hinge.
The last thing the cultists saw was the broad smile from the huge priest as he swung his hammer back into position upon his shoulder. It was then that the smiting began :)