Solo Black Powder and Brimstone: The Enemy Within - Episode 9

--/-- Welcome to a Black Powder and Brimstone Solo attempt at The Enemy Within. BPnP, by Benjamin Tobitt, is a 3rd-party creation of the Mork Borg family of RPG rules. 

--/-- Mature and sexual content warning: content refers both to the original WFRP campaign and to the more hellish world of BPnP. Listener discretion is advised.

--/-- Episode 9: With no choice in the matter, Tod is deputized back onto the investigation, but there's still time and space for up-armoring and settling his feud. 

--/-- Background music "Cathedral" "Pagan Woods" and "The Madding Crowd" from Tabletop Audio

--/-- SFX from Dragon Studios, Incidental music from Bryan Santos-Breton, both from Pixabay with thanks.

https://larrymannplayssolobickering.blogspot.com

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:08

Even though Logan Haven has a usual hole of smoke draped over it. Kind of a greenish tinge. I notice again. It's still hot. I make my way to the high chapel of Sigma, the male shirt heavy on my shoulder. Welcome, dear listener, to episode nine of my palate cleanser, using black powder and brimstone and solar board to follow the plot as based on label of the enemy within. In case the disclaimer at the front of the show did not warn you that this is not a PG show. Chaos, depravity, and unspeakable vileness stalk the roads and cities of the now decayed empire. This episode is something of a bridge, but since it also features a significant goodbye, I'll just leave it in chronological order. Let's check the note again. Her vice, trusty servant of Sigma, the god summons you to righteous service. See to it most promptly by the hand of his most righteous enforcer, Heinstalk, and date and time. Fold it back up, put it back in my sabotage. A thick stake with what, I guess, is the remains of her Heinstork's latest efforts, smolders gently a few yards from thy chapel's entrance. Inside, the righteous servant of the god is easy to find. There's a space always about him, as the other servants of Sigmar avoid his company. He wants to put me on the trail of that evidence I hand it over to him. Thought so. I tap the mousehed. Before I go back into the sewer, I say, I need a coat of oiled leather over this. I've got the man for the job. It'll just take time. Tomorrow, I would guess. I am truly guessing. But mainly, I want to keep my options with Salida open. He looks at me as though weighing me for the hangman, then nods. I quickly follow up. Oh, and the other servant of Sigmar had with me. The dwarf Gotri will be instrumental. I'll need an order for his release. Einstalp grants the requisition for Gotri ungraciously, muttering about dwarves. Signs. Now, a short walk to meet Selida. To invite her to walk out to the stinking tanneries with me to see a man about a leather coat. It's no go. She allows me to accompany her to a milliner, Couturia kind of area, in the better part of the city, and takes only three shillings from me. She says, the skilled women that make fine clothes have a poor opinion of folk that are polite and pay up front. The three shillings will buy her food and wine so she can cook for me. Alright? She knows what she's doing. Badarat awaits. Time to walk out to the tanneries. It's an unpleasant walk, as I feared. And the smell makes it all the worse. Faded symbols looking wrong. I don't want to look too close. I want the man to work for me. I have a feeling that Heinstalk would find meat for his supper here. Balarat, a lean man, stained to the elbows, looks at me like I'm the worst thing that's happened to him. Still, we get to bargaining. He offers a week, then agrees maybe four days. I offer him sixty crowns for overnight. We agree on seventy. That's gonna clean out a lot of my wealth. Roughly seventy of the hundred I have to my name after the next few days with Salida, I guess. Still, death or plunder, comrades. Maybe this investigation Heinstalk set me on will pay for the next few days as well. Gautry next. I head over to the same booze barn Gautry dived into. Find out where the nearest state soldiers barracks is, and inquire there. Gotry emerges eventually. Looks like he knows there's some advantage to be had. Sewers again? he asks. When I nod, he says, I'll need my axe back. You had an axe? I ask. You said you're an engineer. Apparently. Engineer with an axe and a chisel. And a small theodolite, whatever that is. Gotrie knows the name when I mention who's doing the oiled leather coat. We'll be going down tomorrow. Tonight a meal. Wincing slightly, I give him a shilling. See you tomorrow, high noon. Outside the crossed pikes, I say. I'm off to Shantytown for my date. Noon, he confirms, then. Bring rope. The same temple, Seleta says, like a statement. You're going back. Up to this point, I've enjoyed her cooking. She hasn't seemed interested in the day to come until I mention going back into that temple. Then I have her entire attention. I confirm guess so with Gautry, hoping his nose can find us the secret Heinstalk once rooted out. Then I can't help myself, I add. Pah! I hate Berners. Puritan, Orthodox, I don't care. But he's got my nuts in his holy mangler, and you like my nuts intact, right, my sweet one? Her face does a few things, then she settles on. They seem adequate so far. But then she goes back to the subject. What kind of temple? What was on the floor? Seems like I have to describe the demon as best I can recall it. Lots of changes, pinks, eyeballs, you know. I trace back pretty much everything I can recall. Change, she says. The changer of ways. I guess she is educated in the arcane. Then she says, Gautry might not be enough to find that secret door. I agree. I was thinking some kind of charm breaker myself, but the new armor that's pretty much tapped me out. So if there's a friendly spellcrafter, you know, they better work cheap. She's thinking while she refills my wine mug. Takes a breath. I may know someone, she says. From the older generation I mentioned. She won't want coin, she wants something else. Information, probably. She collects it. Well, that sounds a lot like Bowman to me. And then Salita says something else that has me here standing up on end. She knew things were moving under the city before your goblin escaped. She sent me here, Selita says, To the Shaffinfest. I put my mark down, wine untasted. Then she looks me square in the eyes and says, I didn't know what I was waiting for until you caught that goblin. On the mouse caught by a cute cat? She nearly smiles, but then just says, The cat didn't know she was hunting. That's the truth. Your older generation, I say, thinking my way through. They sent you here, knowing about the temple. And chinch. They could have opinions about chinch. She doesn't say yes or no, but I read yes in her expression. The one who collects information, this spellcrafter of a lot. She's here in Bulgenhaven. It seems we were walking back out to nearby the Schaffenvest. A caravan of travelers. Salita calls her Granny. But she goes by the name Elvira here. We sit out, but just as we leave the confines of the Schaffenvest, away from the crowd, a familiar figure. Now dusty. He smiles. Max Ernst must think I'm vulnerable. I scan around. Don't see any backup. This Vihander is defensive. Get my toe under some awful. When he runs at me, I'll try kicking the dead up. Not good enough. He slams a rapier on. But I'm a big guy. I can take a rapier through the body and still keep standing. This Vihander cuts him across before he can draw back. And Max Ernst is literally cut in half. A sudden silence. If people were watching, they're not rushing up to come in. I'm hit hard. Selita's not screaming. But she's very still. I figure the Rekta Schwarters will protect me if a watch does come along. I'm hard hit. Not broken. This is why I walked off the blood-soaked field when everyone else lay cold. So, your granny, a prom. She got a fire and hot water, clean linen. Ah, and let's take a rain check on that tree that looked about right to set you up against. Selita puts her shoulder under my arm. And we limp out to the caravans. There's a few of them. Salida makes a soft gesture at the solid timber door of the caravan. Apparently, it works like a key. The door swings open. I'm not really taking everything in, but your granny seems tight-featured. I can kind of see a similarity, but not much. Old eyes watching me. Summoning a leech of some kind. A cousin, I guess. As the leech works on me, I look over at Granny. Something dark and hideous behind those old eyes. But apparently I meet with her approval. Around the caravan. Potions. Kind of cheap crap I dismissed as nonsense when I first saw them on the store. Maybe some of them are the real deal. My spy handers outside, leaning against the caravan, the rolled dagger, and the misery cord nearby. I'm trusting your house, the gesture says. When I'm a little more able to take things in, I hear Granny say. Now, the girl's chosen you. So what can I do? The saint is the key. Solve that. Meantime, keep an eye on your weak ally. Wine is a mocker, but strong drink a brawler. That's the limit of the aid my vision provides. I guess this a virus done time is a fortune teller as well. That's pretty obscure, although the weak ally has got to be Gotri. Look over at Salida. The saint. Would that be something the chapel holds? Or something I should find out for myself. Salida kind of looks across and up trying to recall something. Comes up blank. Good. Obscure hands. Just what a swayander wants. Well, it's late. Time for a good rest of the