...according to my scaly, horned, hairy friend with a tail
The Enemy Within Revisited Cast
Gustav Myrthenbaum the Dilettante (Davy White)
Falco the Ratcatcher (Michael Morgan)
Smof the Ogre Maneater (Sedrick Galamonte)
Gerhard Berger (Tom Kissel)
With Weissbruck a mere distant memory for all of us except Falco we pushed on towards Altdorf. For someone who is now wanted for murder in at least 3 major settlements in the Empire the ear to ear grin that Falco has been wearing seems wholly inappropriate. I thought at first it was perhaps his newfound profession that had him looking like the cat who got the cream. And while he has undoubtedly thrown himself into the business of herbs and potions with gusto, even this doesn’t seem to match the smug smile. If I didn’t know better I’d swear that healing potions weren’t the only fluids the two had exchanged. But no! This is the grubby rat catcher we’re talking about and the image of him and anyone naked is not an image I cared to dwell on. (Shudder!)
After a couple of stops to accomodate Falco's herb gathering we arrived in Altdorf. No sooner did we disembark then Gustav was accosted by a pedlar (or what we thought to so). After a hokus attempt at selling pots he suddenly started making wild gestures with his hands. Left hand to right ear and so on. I’d have dismissed it as a party game except that it’s happened before but this time the fellow after gesturing to shake hands with Gustav, promptly disappeared. Gustav looked bewildered and even more so when he looked at his palm to find it was now a deep shade of purple and had been applied with ink of some kind. Is this a cult of some sort and why the interest in Gustav? And how in blue blazes is he supposed to remove this stain? Not the first stain on the man's character I might add. But that was a question that would have to wait. First things first. Some lubrication was called for.
With Badigon off doing whatever it is sailors do when they're in dock (ahem!), the rest of us headed to the bar for some well earned grub and the obligatory amber liquid to accompany it. While there we had a chance encounter (or so it seemed at first) with a peculiar wizard named Hieronymus Blitzen and his disagreeable. apprentice Hans Schiller. It seems the schemes of Etelka Herzen are known to many and perhaps more dastardly than even we first imagined.
And then the most unexpected of all happened. Our adventures have taken us over hills and down dales, up rivers and down streams, across miles and miles of adventure and excitement but nothing had prepared us for what happened in Altdorf.
Most of us had previously dismissed Smof’s mutterings about Sigmar and the priesthood as being merely insane ramblings, though of course none of us would have dared tell him that to his face. But imagine our surprise when we pitched up in Altdorf only for Smof to declare. “I’m going to talk to my dad, anyone wanna come for dinner?” Putting aside our natural reservations about dining with Ogres (not to mention the early fear that WE might have been the main course) we decided to tag along and accompany him anyway. And Falco assures me that his insistence on packing his Blunderbuss and Ogre pellets were merely precautions.
So we heads off to dinner but while some might have expected us to end up at a swamp somewhere or in some grotty slum, imagine our surprise when Smof marched straight up to the Temple of Sigmar and asked to be let in. The doormen recognizing him immediately duly obliged, and so it was that while relinquishing our weapons at the door someone quipped whether we were also relinquishing our minds grasp with this fools errand. Ogres living in the Temple of Sigmar in Altdorf?
Meanwhile outside the locals were up in arms about the recent ‘No Such Things as Mutants’ edict. And who could blame them? This had the signature of the Emperor but the reasoning behind it had all the hallmarks of a madman. And yet who among our party was the most vocal in his claims that this edict amounted to heresy? Why Smof of course, our agreeable Ogre who once called the Temple of Sigmar his home. Oh the irony. You couldn’t make it up.
by GM Noely
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