S'il y a une chose que les gens de l'Empire apprécient plus que tout, c'est un bouc émissaire. Et s'il y a une chose sur laquelle les répurgateurs peuvent toujours compter, c'est une foule de \"citoyens engagés\" prête à faire le sale boulot. Ni les gens d'Ubersreik, ni @UUID[Actor.wNq1O1IoZ9CMdKGM]{Ursula Marbad} ne dérogent à la règle.
The four Dwarfs have travelled from Karak Norn to Altdorf in the hope of winning a building contract. Their failure to do so has them heading back to their home and clan in shame. They are drowning their sorrows here tonight.
\nThe Dwarfs are wearing dusty travelling gear and muddy work boots. Two of them look like brothers, with long lank dark hair and drooping beards. The third is a rather dissolute and inebriated individual, with oily matted brown hair and terrible personal hygiene. The fourth Dwarf seems to be the leader of the group. He has wiry red hair and sprouting eyebrows in urgent need of pruning. His woolly beard has many white patches.
The Wolves ridden by the Twisted Maw are hulking brutes, specially bred for riding and warfare. The Wolves constantly snarl and whine through their sharp yellowed teeth. No furrier would pay for their slate-grey pelts, for their dirty fur is coarse and home to lice. Their emaciated frames are patched with old wounds, scars, bloody scabs, and patches of mange.
The leader of the raiding party is a minor lieutenant of @UUID[Compendium.wfrp4e-dotr.actors.5WdFdIexAZYHMCN0]{Gutbug}, tribal chief of the Twisted Maw. Gutbug has tasked Gobrat with raising funds through robbery and plunder, and the coach has proved rich pickings.
Gobrat is taller and skinnier than the other Goblins in the raiding party. His right hand bears a peculiar malformation in that the nail on his index finger grows hard and horny as a result — explaining his name. Much of Gobrat’s nose was bitten off in a squabble during his youth, and he wears a rusty metal prosthetic to compensate for the loss. His rawhide armour is patched with scraps of chainmail, and his proudest possession is his helmet. The helmet was taken from a dying Dwarf miner, and lined with wolf fur until it balanced properly upon his narrow skull.
When the Altdorf State Army swept into Ubersreik, they put all of the Watch that refused to surrender to the sword, except for those lucky few who were stationed in @UUID[JournalEntry.TSyoR9nSk7cehypG.JournalEntryPage.tCh9vROs0eeTuEwA]{Magnus's Tower}. Those ‘Loyalists’ left in the Tower — little more than burghers conscripted into a militia — are still there, living under an uneasy stalemate. The Altdorfers can’t hope to storm the Tower, given its incredible defenses, but the Loyalists also can’t leave. The whole thing has turned into a political nightmare for both sides, as local sympathies are very much with those stuck inside the Tower.
The maddened villagers attack with tools and sticks they have scavenged. They are heedless of their own safety and determined to kill any perceived threat to the village or die in the attempt. They ignore any attempts at communication, screaming defiance as they charge. ‘We see you, daemons!’ or ‘We won’t listen to your lies! Morr take you!’ or, ‘More spawn of darkness! Quick, bring them down!’
Maria Melone was just a simple farm girl from Wissenland who liked baking pies and cooking in the style of her Bretonnian mother. A travelling noble from Ubersreik — @UUID[Compendium.wfrp4e-rnhd.actors.b3Y1LZUKkptLu0sc]{Heinrich von Bruner} — discovered her extraordinary cooking talents whilst passing through her village. With the shake of a hand, and the payment of a few crowns, Melone found herself in the back of a coach heading to the @UUID[JournalEntry.TSyoR9nSk7cehypG.JournalEntryPage.U5fSG8wDw2ZCLIWG]{Bruner Palace} in Ubersreik. Thereafter, Melone worked as the von Bruners' personal cook, until a few months ago when von Bruner entertained a curious visitor from Sylvannia. This visitor, in turn, took an interest in the quaint Wissenlander and gave her a gift that led to her current state. The visitor — capricious and distractible like all his ilk — discarded the newly enthralled Melone a few days later, and she has since hunted through the poorer districts of Ubersreik, ultimately finding shelter in the basement of the Spittlefeld Tenement Building.
Melone is a whip-thin woman in her early 20s, 5’4”, with shoulder-length, straight, chestnut-brown hair. She is dressed in expensive blue servant’s clothes turned to rags, blackened by dried blood and filth. The rags are still emblazoned with the von Bruner insignia — a clue for canny adventurers looking to track down where Melone came from.
The Beast of the Ortschlamm is an ancient Basilisk that lairs in the swamp. It has been here for millennia. A foul creature of Chaos long ago bound by the Fimir, its presence in the swamp has turned the stagnant waters toxic and makes the place inimical to most forms of life. Like other Basilisks, it is a large reptilian creature with eight legs. Whilst it is still a powerful foe, the Basilisk has withered with age and its eyes are clouded and dim. Its relative infirmity is reflected in its profile, which is much weaker than that of a healthy specimen.
Aside from Rolf these thuggish Ubersreikers have rather stereotypical Voberglander looks, with lank brown hair, and impressive handlebar moustaches. They all carry hand weapons and wear worn, tough leathers. Once they have lost half of their collective wounds or more they retreat, spitting curses and making threatening promises of revenge. Lorbeer does not fight, though if she is attacked she defends herself (use the same profile; she is tough and mean for all her small size). It is important that both Rolf and Lorbeer survive this encounter.
The tribe of the Twisted Maw used to range @UUID[JournalEntry.ozE2DMCMK64eE5pD.JournalEntryPage.w0YfGxsBuLoODCgc]{The Grey Mountains}, but were driven out by an Orc tribe. This particular group is a splinter of the main tribe who have followed their leader: @UUID[Actor.1aHdXQFcFsa8gbWd]{Gobrat}.
Goblins of the Twisted Maw are typical of Goblins who haunt the Grey Mountains. They are skinny and small, with oily olive-green skin. Their faces are swathed about in hoods that do little to hide the assortment of warts and carbuncles that flourish around their fang-filled maws, curved noses and red, beady eyes. The Goblins wear an assortment of filthy rawhide, tatty pelts, and carry shields decorated with snarling sets of filthy pointed teeth.
Some necromancers find it useful to raise very simple souls — rats and other vermin — to scour battlefields, act as spies, and to harass their enemies. In ones and twos, these creatures are little more than nuisances. But when they gather in swarms, they are terrifying to behold
The three Ungors are rather a rangy and mangy specimens. They resemble fauns: from the waist down they appear like goats, with cloven hooves and shaggy brown fur. Their chests are naked, and each of their staring ribs can be counted. Their heads bear short, sharp horns, and straggly growths of hair sprout from their chins. Their mouths drool, crammed with the sharp teeth of carnivores, but there’s a glimmer of intelligence to their caprine predatory eyes.
@UUID[JournalEntry.d8nvgs2H5MmtKhdM.JournalEntryPage.L5gV9pgaWXB3floP#the-circle-of-unmarred-flesh]{The Circle of Unmarred Flesh} is an illegal pugilists’ club, made up of members of Altdorf ’s State Army. The Circle is styled as an ‘Unberogen Warrior Lodge’, though it bears no resemblance to them — there’s no evidence they ever existed. However, this lie grants the cult leaders the cover they need, because very few cultists even know they’re in a cult. Whilst their actions — the pursuit of perfect control over their warrior minds — venerates Slaanesh, they remain blissfully unaware.
The cultists in Ubersreik were recruited by Corporal @UUID[Actor.jXKDSrWjfW61Nfpa]{Tylo Vielfrass}, and now follow Sergeant @UUID[Actor.LhI9XQo9pkV9eJ2d]{Orban Geldrecht}, as he appeared to be Vielfrass’s right-hand man. All of them, including Geldrecht, are ignorant of their true allegiance.
The Pike inhabiting the lakes and waterways of the Empire are known to grow to titanic proportions, and fishermen tell tales of beasts that reach 20 feet in length. These giants are known as Stirpike. By and large they have been fished out of the great rivers and are rarely encountered in any but the most remote waterways.
\nThis specimen is a smaller beast, barely ten feet long from chin to tail. Nevertheless it is a dangerous predator. It is ravenous and fights purely to secure a meal for itself.