Si’s Zweihänder Campaign

Byron Norris is not a subtle man. In point of fact, Mr Norris is the opposite of subtle. Not a trade mark for a fellow in his profession but he seems to make it work.

This lack of subtly begins with your very first impression, which will normally be auditory. His northern Albion accent can be heard from outside whichever Inn, coach house, gambling den or house of ill repute he has made his home for the evening. The voice whilst distinctive for its Jorvik tones, is also unnecessarily loud and over used.

The visual impression does not stray far from this and the first adjective that normally springs to mind is simply ‘large’. Byron has a large frame, on which he has piled gallons of ale and meal after meal. He uses a man of girth and substance and wears it proudly. Hos belly hangs from his jerkin like a Town mayor might display his medals or a Troll might hang his macabre trophies.

His skin, were visible is pasty pale, a profession played out in dark corners of seedy taverns does not leave room for sunshine, so he has chosen to cover his skin almost entirely with tattoos, each one carries a story, and each story is more exaggerated than the last.

Mr Norris came to his current, rather slabby position from a poor background. Growing up in Jorvik as the eldest of five brothers and their younger sister. Jorvik was once a grand city, but years on the northern front in the Norse wars had taken its toll on the place and as usual it was the poor folk that suffered.

His father went to war when he was just seven seasons old, ne never returned from the expedition to liberate Durnham. His mother Annadray was a good woman. A baker, who did what she could to feed and shelter the children. They had a small shop and lived above it, times had been good when his father had been there to help. Now grain was scarce, money non-existent and there were always mouths to feed.

Byron tried to marshal the children for his mother, but found himself no leader. They would only respond to threats or actual violence and despite his love for his siblings he became something of a bully to his brothers. Not his sister, she could do know wrong, but Byron soon found he could use the stick, often literally, to much greater effect than the carrot.

Often his mother would be working the kitchens only to hear one of the children cry out in pain and be forced to hurry upstairs, only to find Byron fled out the window and one of his brothers with a black eye or holding a broken tooth. Byron would return late at night, after his exhausted mother had succumb to sleep. She would always awake to a gift. A crate of stew apples, a new pinafore, a bag of coal for the ovens. She knew he had stolen it. But it was the difference between eating and not that evening and she lacked the conviction to admonish him for it.

One such evening, when Byron was nine seasons old, things got out of hand. He had struck one of his brothers too hard and knocked him unconscious, the rest of his brothers found the courage to come at him together and an affray broke out. When the dust settled Byron had broke the youngest boys arm, and knocked three teeth from another. His mother came bounding up the stairs enraged and shouting about the ovens.

Byron fled as always but knew something was different this time. Hours later as he walked back to their tiny house, a stolen cook pot under one arm, he noticed how busy the streets of Jorvik were. Watchman, shop keepers and soldiers were rushing from the well with buckets and shouting orders. He was the. He smelt the smoke.

Their tiny house come bakery was a shell. A charred skeleton of timbers were all that remained. His mother had been so concerned with the damage he had done to his brothers she had failed to douse the ovens. The blaze had destroyed their shop and much of the district. Scared of taking the blame, Byron fled.

He lived as a street urchin for many moons, stealing what he could, when eventually he was collected by a Fence, and made to work with a gang of children pickpocketing, spying and sabotaging other gangs.
He was no pick pocket, but quickly found his way into other areas of skill. He could climb, and was more fleet of foot than any watchmen or shop keeper. Old habits were also useful. If he hadn’t stolen anything of value, he could bully the other boys into ‘sharing’ their loot.

The years past and Byron and the gang greed into the Red Jackets. A notoriously violent criminal gang running turf wars and protection rackets. Byron was a professional bully, and he was exceptional at it.

Predictably, the ongoing turf wars caught up with Byron eventually. One evening, walking home after an evening of drink and Gambling he was jumped by a rival gang as he cut through the local church yard. Beaten bloody, he was rolled into a coffin at the bottom of a waiting grave. The lid was sealed and the grave slowly filled to the mocking sounds of the rival gang.

What felt like an eternity, but could only have been a matter of moments passed. He screamed and banged and yelled for all he was worth until finally sunlight filled the canvas from once more.

Tillman stood over him, bemused and concerned.

Byron has never spoken of what happened next. They left Jorvik a few days later and have wandered ever since. Looking for work where men of violence can find employ. Why he left his gang is known to him and Tillman alone. Perhaps he was betrayed by his own, perhaps he feared the reprisals from his boss, or further attacks from rival gangs, or perhaps a more sinister reason lurks below the surface….

Character sheet

Franz Eichenwald, a man of volatile temper and formidable fists, has lived a life marked by both rebellion and redemption. His early years were defined by the reckless influence of his older brother, Klaus. Together, they embarked on a series of increasingly daring escapades, pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior. However, as Klaus’ actions grew more extreme, Franz began to distance himself from his brother’s destructive path.

Seeking a more meaningful existence, Franz turned to the church. He hoped to find solace and guidance within its hallowed halls. Yet, as he delved deeper into the teachings of the clergy, he grew disillusioned with the hypocrisy and corruption he witnessed. The gap between the word of God and the actions of his followers became increasingly apparent.

Driven by a desire for genuine spiritual enlightenment, Franz embarked on a solitary journey of self-discovery. He wandered the countryside, meditating on the mysteries of the universe and seeking wisdom in quiet contemplation. Through these experiences, he gained a profound understanding of the human condition.

However, his peaceful pilgrimage was abruptly interrupted when a fateful twilight walk led him into a terrifying realm of darkness. A place of suffering and despair, where the very essence of life seemed to wither and die. This harrowing encounter marked a turning point in Franz’s life, forever altering his perception of reality. As he confronted the horrors of this hellscape, he was forced to confront the darkness within himself.

Haunted by the visions of that nightmarish realm, Franz returned to the world of the living. He realized that his past transgressions, once seemingly significant, paled in comparison to the true evils that lurked in the shadows. With newfound purpose, he vowed to use his strength and skills in a positive manner, returning to society a changed man, and ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Franz wonders if he will be recognised – the years of solitude have left their mark. There is also the matter of Klaus; it seems likely that he met the wrong end of a dagger years ago, but he was always full of surprises. As he steps foot back into Ertol, he stops and puts his hand into his pocket – feeling for the grimy, blood-stained doll. The only physical proof that his experience wasn’t just a bad dream.

Still there. Still sane.

Connections:

Otto Klump – A rival of his younger years, primarily because of Klaus’ misdeeds. He wonders if they might have gotten along well under different circumstances.

Isla Grapevine – The local barmaid, and one of the few people Franz missed when he left town; she always treated him well.

Character Sheet

Otto Klump Otto Klump is a middle-aged man who has lived a life of comfort and excess, illustrated by his stocky figure and love for sumptuous pastries. He is an affluent pastry shop owner in the flourishing city of Swanzi, where decadent confections are considered the city’s pride.

Otto is not just a talented baker; he possesses an extraordinary gift as a Pyromancer — a rare ability to manipulate fire. His fascination with flame began when he was a child, watching his grandfather light the oven for baking, seeing the flickering light dance like a living thing. However, Otto’s magical skills have always been tempered by a deep fear of losing control, a fear rooted in a childhood incident where he accidentally singed his friend’s arm while demonstrating his powers.

Despite this, he has kept his abilities hidden from the world, using small bursts of magic to enhance his pastries and create stunning displays. Otto’s primary motivation is to enjoy the simple pleasures of life amidst the stresses of running a business and navigating the complexities of wealth. He wishes to share joy through his pastries, and on a larger scale, he dreams of opening a bakery that becomes a landmark of Swanzi — a sanctuary of sweetness in a bitter world. However, with his recent troubles, Otto’s goals have shifted from achieving bakery fame to proving his innocence and seeking a way to combat the forces that have wrongly accused him.

Otto’s life crumbled when he and his friend, Piotr Feldman, found themselves framed for an explosive crime that decimated city hall. During a lavish gala a few weeks prior, a mysterious figure sabotaged the event, resulting in a fire that not only caused significant damage but also led to the death of a prominent city official. Otto and Piotr were seen at the gala’s close, and their shared past of mischief made them easy scapegoats. In the aftermath, Otto and Piotr fled Swanzi, pursued not only by city guards who believed the lies but also by a nefarious group intending to silence them permanently. Their flight forced them into the outskirts of the city, where they encountered danger, betrayal, and uncertainty. During their escape, Otto discovered clues suggesting someone had framed them for personal gain, including a rival baker who coveted Otto’s success. He realized this was not only a fight for survival but also a quest for justice. Piotr Feldman: Their friendship, tested by adversity, has evolved into a deep bond of loyalty and trust.

Piotr is resourceful and quick-witted, often coming up with plans to keep them one step ahead in the wilds. Otto has always admired Piotr’s natural skills and ideas, and he finds solace in Piotr’s unwavering belief in their innocence. Greta Klump: Otto’s estranged wife, who has struggled with their marital issues due to Otto’s obsession with magic. Otto longs to reconcile with her and bring her back into his life after their separation. He hopes their shared love for pastries can bridge the gap created by years of growing apart. Otto’s rivalry with Klaus Eichenwald a greedy and manipulative baker, serves as the catalyst for his troubles. Klaus became increasingly jealous of Otto’s marriage and success, stirring conflict with underhanded methods and ultimately framing Otto for the explosion.

Throughout their harrowing journey, Otto evolved from a complacent business owner to a man of action. Initially, he saw himself as a mere victim of circumstance, but the need to reclaim his life and reputation pushed him to tap into his Pyromancer skills more confidently. He learnt to embrace and control his magic rather than fear it, understanding that fire can be both destruction and creation. As he and Piotr gather evidence to clear their names, Otto begins to understand the intricate dance between power, responsibility, and trust. He has become determined not just to escape the immediate threat but to understand his magic’s broader implications and how it can be a force for good, elevating him from a simple baker to a potential hero. In the end, Otto’s journey revealed that the flames of fires can forge resilience, new friendships, and a renewed sense of purpose — rekindling his hope for love and community amidst the chaos.

Character Sheet

Piotr was born into a hard working peasant family in the rural back lands to the south of the empire nearly a quarter of a century ago . His family worked hard to provide as much as they could to Poitr and his 4 brothers and in return they expected Piotr to work just as hard. As the youngest of 5 boys Piotr developed a strong sense of right and wrong and a keen sense of when injustice was being met out, especially to himself. His parents also noted Piotr had many more fights with his siblings and local lads than his brother had but thought little of it until young Rufus Wainwright was beaten bloody with a stick. Piotr remembered little of the exchange other than a rage after an argument about a shiny stone found in a river bed, to his credit he worked chores at Rufus house and took his belting well.

The punishment however did not dissuade the hot-headed youth from subsequent flare ups and as he matured these were increasingly with boys who competed with him for the attentions of the local girls.

Piotr claims to this day that he was not involved in the deaths of Sammy Horsturt and his two sisters, found beaten to a pulp, his case was not helped by his being found at the scene with blood on his hands with no remembrance of what had happened. His elder brother Franc claimed to have seen beast man tracks in the area and pleaded his brothers innocence. However, mob justice is ever fickle and given Piotr’s history and the rage of the Horsturt family there was no question of a trial or investigation, it was only by the skin of his teeth that Piotr escaped the rope with his life.

He has spent the last decade with the stars as a ceiling and travelled within the empire skirting civilised lands as well as people and the complications that come with them. Years have passed, wounds have healed, and time has worn the edges of memories till they are less painful to remember. Slowly Piotr has reengaged with humanity and even made a friend or two. He has plans to maybe one day break ground for himself and get a hardworking woman in to bear sons.

Otto Klump is probably as close to a friend as Piotr has ever had, more of a father figure in a way. He is naive to the ways of the world and the cruelty that lurks, barley hidden, in most men’s hearts. He was kind enough to give Piotr some work and pay in food when he first arrived at Swanzi and the cast off tasted amazing after weeks of eating plants and berries on the road. Slowly an understanding built, Otto was far quicker to open his heart than Piotr but he likes the old boy although not his bitter wife who gives him the evil eye every time they meet, that bitch had best watch herself or an accident might happen.

Otto is determined to prove his innocence after the death of that official and Piotr will help but really what is innocence? You are innocent if you don’t end up on the end of a rope, you are guilty if you do, anything else is just dust in the wind.

Character Sheet

Tilmann Heissler was born into a land rife with conflict. The son of a soldier in service to Duke Albrecht von Falkenstein, Tilmann grew up hearing tales of war, honour, and glory. By the time he could wield a sword, he followed in his father’s footsteps, joining his lord’s retinue as a foot soldier. For years, he fought in countless skirmishes. He became a hardened soldier, tempered by the brutality of warfare and shaped by the blood-soaked lands of the border regions.

Tilmann’s most defining moment came at the infamous Battle of Partnach Gorge, where fate took a dark turn. Duke Albrecht, leading a combined force of men-at-arms and mercenaries, sought to ambush a marauding band of soldiers that had terrorized the local villages. However, the enemy was better prepared than anyone expected. The ambush turned into a slaughter, as the enemy surged from the forests in overwhelming numbers. The battle became a desperate struggle for survival, and by the time the sun dipped behind the mountains, Duke Albrecht lay dead, along with most of his forces.

Only a handful survived that day, and Tilmann was one of them—scarred, bloodied, and shattered. The loss of his duke and comrades haunted him, and from that day forward, Tilmann became a wanderer. Without a lord to serve, he took to the roads, selling his sword to the highest bidder and fighting for whatever cause promised coin and the fleeting thrill of survival. His years of war left him a broken man, but also a deadly one, for he knew every trick, every tactic to stay alive when the odds were against him.

Tilmann is now a grizzled veteran, his armour battered and his blade worn from countless battles. As one of the few survivors of Partnach Gorge, he is a legend in some circles, though he takes no pride in it. War is all he knows, and while he longs for peace, he suspects that death on the battlefield is his only escape. For the past several years, he has been traveling with his hedonistic young friend, Byron Norris, their adventures taking them across the Empire—from taverns and gambling dens to battlefields and bandit camps. Tilmann, once resigned to dying in a forgotten skirmish, now finds himself torn between his sense of duty and the reckless lifestyle Byron drags him into. Despite his frustrations, Tilmann remains loyal, even though he fears Byron’s carelessness may one day lead to both their deaths.

Character Sheet

“Did I ever tell thee about the night we fought off three, fully grown Devil Dogs? No? Good fight that were. Benice, gets us a couple’ales in me love.

We’d found a note written by ratmen, (spits on the floor) I ‘ates ratmen. Not your little Tattertales mind, proper, ‘orrible Ratmen.
Well, the damn Ratmen were sellin dogs to a priest who was doing good knows whit wi’em.
Well our mate Isla ‘ad her dogged half inched. So we went n’ got oursen a little mutt and went to see t’priest.

Nearly forgot, on’t way we can across some poor blighted gettin eaten by a rat swarm. Like nuttin I’ve seen before it wher’. They picked him clean and they weren’t scared of us neither, even when I swung a torch at em.

Sold that bow n arra’ I stole back in Eldsdorf too. Got a shiney bite for it and bought some lanterns and stuff. This Darkness is weird….

Thanks Benice, where was’I?

Ah yeah, so we went t’see this priest. He was brown bread, looked like he’d been ravaged by a dragon!

Turns out he’s been feeding some sort of ‘chaos moon dust’ to mutts! Turns em into big angry mother feckers and sets em on fire.
Well, they’d broken out and eaten t’priest, then cleared off outta town into t’dark.

We tracked ‘em down like. Found this beauty on’t way too. (Taps axe handle). Caught up to em in a wood not too far from ere.

I smashed one of ‘em. The rest of the guys got another, but the third one, well let me tell you, THAT was a story.

Benice! Another round of ales for me and my friends here, they’re gonna like this…”

It’s been good to catch up with the lads since getting back into town. Like I’ve never been away. No drama has kicked off upon my return, and I’m hoping it stays that way.

Drama kicked off. Isla, the local barmaid took a bit of a slap and her dog was nicked. We said we’d look into it, on account of it being a dog. I think Piotre might want to jump into Isla’s pants because he doesn’t seem overly concerned about Rufus.

Tillman was always protective of her and seemed ready to kick off as soon as he saw the bruises.

Checking out the alley in which it happened, we found an urchin who tipped us off to where the dog might be. I rewarded young Shel with a handful of silver, and Otto did so with a kick to her face.

Otto is unhinged, and I had half a mind to join in the beating when the girl returned with friends. I thought better of him, but now wonder if my brother saw something I did not.

I’m not saying that our venture into the gambling house was ill-conceived, poorly planned, and likely to end badly, but… actually it was definitely all those things.

Piotre and I waited outside forever, and by the time we went in, everything had gone to shit. The stuffing has been beat out of Tillman, and Christoff ended up twatting someone with his sword. We are properly shafted now. Every man and his stolen dog is going to be after us.

It wasn’t all for naught. Tillman did find a note that said a mortician has been buying dogs. I assume it’s not because they like dogs.  Bastard.

Another shit show of a day. We spent the night recovering at Isla’s abode in the slums. Not the nicest of digs, but not the worst.

We decided to tool up before heading to the mortician, witnessing brazen rats devouring a corpse on the way, and being fleeced when we got there. Daylight robbery, if it can still be called such.

We found Meryl, or what was left of him. His guts had been torn out and there was no sign of the dogs that were clearly caged here.

Tillman found another note. Apparently these poor beasts have been fed the devil’s powder, or something. They are no longer dogs, but a kind of hellhound. We will venture out and see if they can be tracked down.

We found the beasts. We did not fare well, and one still remains at large.

Lord High Magister Ertol, Day 5

The Darkness abides and my work to destroy the corruption continues. But I fear my new companions are too naïve, too week to see it through. Today I had to fulfil an unsavoury act to draw out the instigators, brutalising the street urchin began to expose the corruption in the form of low-level street thugs, part of a larger organisation. My companions just saw a weak teen instead of the seeds of corruption sprouting in this city.

What I mistook for a fully-fledged monster proved to be an underling spy for the ne’er do wells, feeding us breadcrumbs with her economy of truth instead of adhering to the cleansing flame of honesty. Despite his bumbling bravado Tilmann proved a useful instrument as he exposed the ever-ascending chain of foulness in the form of three Tattertail ringleaders pressing the weak-willed elf master of the gambling den into their foul deeds.

My finding of a hidden note in the ensuing scuffle proved these foul creatures were bound to the service of a corrupt official, a possible thread leading to the seat of this foul corruption. The trail warms to the flame of truth… Christoph may prove useful in the future; he showed intelligence and ruthlessness but is still d disorientated by his transformation. His misguided sense of honour may yet prove to be his undoing but for now he remains a useful, if disturbing, sword.

I was impressed with his improvised deception to distract the thugs from thwarting my intentions and his subtle extraction of information from an unlikely source. Tilmann is bound to him through ancient loyalty, and this may prove useful information sometime in the future Franz proved easily shocked, feckless and without patience, running into the night chasing a phantom, can he be relied upon to do the right thing when the time comes? Maybe his life of a Hermit has left him ill-prepared for this trial of a city? Piotr proved a loyal, patient and steadfast companion as always, my investment in him proves worthwhile in all he does.

Dare I say I am proud of the man he has become. His nomadic upbringing serves him well although his temper is like smouldering iron fresh from the forge, he needs tempering. My mission continues. The flame of truth burns brightest in the darkest recess! May the Order prevail! Your faithful servant, Klump

Lord High Magister Ertol, Day 6

A disturbed ‘night’ I was visited by a strange dream, a shrouded protagonist fond of tossing bone dice, and I felt dirtied by the experience. I must consult a priest to divine its meaning. Progress! Following up on the secret missive we attended the House of Augurs and Berrybrook Mausoleum where the true devilry and corruption of Merill Bascoq was revealed. Meeting with Chief Augur Selsnia Turnwip she accompanied us to the mausoleum where we first caught the smell of devilry.

With Selsnia waiting in abeyance to our request for her safety we advanced on the mausoleum. The signs of Dark Magicks, melted cages, a blackened hole in the town palisade and the remains of Merill’s half eaten corpse revealed the fate of both he and the kidnapped dogs. Chaos Magicks most foul! A discovered letter revealed poor Merrill was under the sway of a malignant entity who had drawn him to an evil most foul. Under the guidance of this most wicked entity Merrill had plied the hounds with foul Wytchstone Essence, a most bedevilled powder and corrupted their very beings transforming them into benighted Barghests!

In his confused state it would appear he believed these fell beasts would avenge him on poor Selsnia whereas in point of fact they truly served this foul entity who had drawn them to him. Our courageous band, following a brief conversation with the town guard, decided to venture beyond the town and chase down the newly formed Barghests before they wrought more havoc. Venturing into the outer dark we pursued the trail of destruction through the fields and across the Tenebrum river. Many a strange cry and a befouled corpse assaulted our senses in the unending dark as our path led us toward the Statera Hurst. It was there we encountered not one but three Barghests and a mighty battle ensued, we lay waste to two of the fell creatures whilst the third evaded capture.

Our pursuit continues… My mission continues. The flame of truth burns brightest in the darkest recess! May the Order prevail! Your faithful servant, Klump Addendum Strange that the Chief Augur did not foresee this foul treachery? Addendum 2 Given Franz’ delicate disposition it would seem my decision to keep the truth of his brother Klaus from him was the correct one. I fear his psyche is not yet ready to accept the mind-altering depths of depravity, the incalculable evil, to which his brother had fallen. No man should have to endure the sights I saw that night, my mind unhinged and nearly broken by the horrors of the Outer Darke. I count my blessings and good fortune that Piotr was spared these sights through the presence of the fire wrought from the explosion, strong though he is I shrink from sharing these secrets with even he…

still the experience has instilled me with the beautiful vision of the Veil and the ability to wield its power.

Day 5 of the Darkness.
22:30
Olaf has kindly made me do my letters again and I think it makes good sense to make some notes of the day we have been having. Mostly fun I think. I don’t normally spend time in cities, they are not places to be alone but are great when you have mates with you and I think the lads are close enough to mates now? Tonight I am in a siding that Isla used to live in, its nice, is smells of her a bit and if feels like her so that nice. She gave me more of that sweet she loves, I can’t tell her now I hate it its been too long, she thinks it reminds me of my own mother but we had no such sweet treats when I was a lad. I don’t know what to make of Isla, she is nice enough and pretty in the right light or after enough ales but she is too hard for me, I want more softness, something to cuddle into.

I have made some notes on timing, the lads have no idea how time passes, they don’t realise its slippery, its only when you have watch like I have that that is gets trapped and mastered. Franz aint got a clue, too much time in his cave yonder, he thought it was 21:20 when it was still 21:05, imagine that!

So anyway at 20:22 Isla come in all bashed up and teary, I don’t like it when ladies cry and it made me want to hurt someone but we had to do some talking, the old men wanting to show their brains and breeding when what was needed was smashing and grinding, teeth been crushed under foot on the kerbs and bones snapping. Eventually we are behind the gambling place with the fat elf, Olaf smashed a poor girl right in the head, it was a good kick, no hesitation, just like it should be but then she started crying and the lads wanted to smash Olaf up. I had not seen this side of Olaf before, perhaps being away from Gertle his bitch wife was effecting him, perhaps Gertle has been keeping this side of Olaf under check. It took Olaf a good 15 mins ( I checked) to calm down, I could see he was furious but you don’t go round hurting girls when you have do gooders like old Timmers and that freak Chritoph around, Franz aint much better to be fair. All good to be round when you need protecting but not so good when you want to be doing the hurting.

Me and Franz stood outside for 20 minutes most of which was Franz asking how long we had been outside waiting, eventually at 21:05 we went in to this right posh place and started scaring a few nobs, I cant say it went well or particularly what happened as it was all a blur, Old Timmers had a bloke with a sword to his throat, I like Timmers I really do but I could not help liking the other guy as well, seemed a good sort. Anyway Timmers took a few blows, I got kicked right on the tip of my bell end and that fucking stung but we all got out ok and had a laugh other than Christoph who ran some poor lad through with a proper killing sword. No need for that. I don’t like Christoph, its not because he’s black, we had an all white lad back in the village with pink eyes no less and he was allright so I know these things happen, its just something about him, how he is all stuck together wrong, it makes the hairs on me balls stand up if you know what I mean?

Otto asked me to practise my letters again, I think he wants me to get better but also wants me distracted from the horrors of the outside. It is strange for me to feel safer in a city rather than out in the wilds, that has never been the case for me before and it says a lot about how screwed up it is outside that the horror show of Eratzil is preferable. We spent the night in proper luxury, I even got my tent out, some of the lads were really jealous, not many carry their own home around with em. This constant dark is depressing though, no question, making people a bit crazy.

There was a woman, I think it was a woman getting eaten by a swarm of rats, people just stood round watching in horror, it turned out it was going to be one of those type of days. Mad rats, mad dogs mad men. Mark my words here, the sewer over flowing, rat men and now rats eating people and watching, its the rats that are doing it all, the darkness the madness, rats I tell yah. Well maybe not rats but definitely rat men. Rats are only good for one thing and that is eating, crying shame all those rats everywhere and people hungry. Don’t they have rat catchers?

Anyway I found that fat lad Byron to be right useful, he sold his bow and then spent loads of cash on me and everyone, even better Otto got jealous and bought me the best pipe I have ever seen, 10 silver it was, incredible! Maybe Otto wants a little more from me than just teaching me my letters, could be worth exploiting. He is welcome to have a suck on my pipe but that’s it.

We went to see the nun about the mad man I was not paying much attention to be honest, but I did take the opportunity of taking a couple of quality bottles of whisky from him, I gave one to Byron, give a little get a lot back right? Turns out the drinker is dead so no harm done.

Off we go into the darkness outside, its not normal to travel at night, that’s when the bad things happen and before we knew it we had three bad things attacking us, I managed to hit a few times with my bow but our boys were getting mashed up, I scared off Benji the devil dog and I was just going to grab a staff with a rose coming out of it when the fighting stopped. Someone is going to die real soon, all this for a stupid dog!