Tuesday, 22 May 2012

Into the Asylum: Kirsten Spills the Beans:

Good question, she thought, in response to Werner's remark. Certainly she couldn't make head nor tails of the strange, arcane scribbles writhing across the paper as though left by the muddy tracks of an earthworm. She was not about to admit that though -not with that snooty Fraulein present. No doubt she'd had plenty of leisure time for learning a skill so utterly useless-from a street waifs point of view- as being able to read.

She told herself it wasn't jealousy she was feeling. Then, she told herself she was a liar. What wouldn't she give to be able to read, to expand her knowledge of the world and forge a place in it? Well, there'd be time to learn such a skill later. 100 Crowns was a fortune! She could drink herself to death in a year with such a sum -or buy herself an Altdorf education.

But such thoughts were for another time. She sighed, removed her throwing knives from their place of concealment within her jerkin and fastened them (and their belt) around one thigh.

"Oldenhaller was holding something back. He wasn't quite lying, but he wasn't telling the whole truth either. "

At least, she hoped it was that simple. Her thumbs had been itching, as they always did when she smelt a rat.

"Of course, it could simply be that he intends to kill us when the job is done. 100 Crowns is too much for a simple snatch-and-run. Even taking into account who we'll be doing the snatching from."  She had spoke flatly, matter-of-fact, as if double-dealing, innuendo and even outright treachery were a simple fact of life for her.

"Still," she added, bright and cheerily, "If he tries that, we can always stick 'em with the pointy end and sell the thing somewhere else, right? Now, we have tonight's password. Which of you fine gentlemen would care to knock?"

She regarded the elf levelly.

"Best let me do the talking, chatterbox. You fine folks all have lovely voices and lots to say, but there's no way any of you can pass as locals." She shot Wanda a side-ways glance, "Least ways, not the sort of locals as would have dealings with these types," she added, resentfully.


  1. Worth pointing out that whilst you have throwing knives you do not yet have the specialist skill to use them without a hefty minus to your BS.

  2. It is, thanks Erny. But the bad guys don't know that. But I reckon they make her look (and feel) more competent than she is. It's all just a big bluff really.


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