The village of Wittgendorf lay under a pall that was heavier than fog and more persistent than smoke. Even before boots touched its earth, the place announced itself as wounded—fields long gone to blight, buildings hunched like beggars, and a river that carried both trade and quiet despair. There were signs everywhere of a community stretched past endurance, clinging to habit because habit was all that remained.
The temple of Sigmar still stood, its stone stubbornly intact despite neglect and quiet violence. Its adjoining cottage, however, had been gutted by fire, the priest’s home reduced to ash and warped timbers. The contrast was unsettling: destruction pressed up against sanctity, as if something had tried—and failed—to erase the god’s presence entirely. Within the temple proper, the air changed. Wanda felt it first, a calm that settled over her shoulders like a familiar cloak. Whatever had gone wrong in Wittgendorf, Sigmar’s blessing had not wholly withdrawn.
The altar remained in place, a heavy book open upon it, its script too old for casual reading. Beside it lay a key—plain, practical, and utterly out of place amid scripture and ritual. The lanterns that illuminated the dais burned without oil, their flames steady and patient. Thindruk noticed at once what that meant. The temple had not been fully defiled. The god still listened here, even if no priest remained to speak for Him.
Beyond the sanctuary, the rest of the structure told a harsher story. The kitchen had been stripped bare, crockery smashed, cupboards flung open in desperation. In one corner lay bones gnawed clean, rats still worrying at them. Hunger, not ceremony, ruled here now. Another locked room, its door scarred by desperate blows, opened to reveal records—scrolls piled without order, chronicles of harvests, births, deaths, and slow decline. The disorder spoke volumes. The people had stopped caring about tomorrow long ago.
Below, in the crypts, reverence had finally given way. Burial niches lay shattered, their occupants dragged out and consumed. The dead had not been spared the village’s hunger. Only one tomb remained sealed, its plaque intact despite centuries of wear: Siegfried von Kesselring, templar of Sigmar, laid to rest fifteen hundred years prior. Even in starvation, even in madness, something had stayed the hand that would break that final seal.
It was there that the truth of Wittgendorf deepened further. One shattered niche did not end in stone but in earth—a crudely dug tunnel burrowing away from the crypt, reinforced just enough to delay collapse. It was recent. Human-made. Someone had tunneled to the temple, not from it, avoiding the sanctified space above. Whatever passed through that tunnel feared the god’s gaze.
While the others uncovered the village’s bones and secrets, Felrick and Nora kept watch at the river. The boat drew eyes the way bread drew flies. Beggars gathered, thin and hollow, their desperation pressing closer with each passing minute. Nora’s presence and Felrick’s pistol held them at bay, barely. Hunger gnawed louder than fear. When a gaunt hound burst from the village and fell upon one of them, Felrick’s arrow dropped it cleanly. The man dragged the carcass away without thanks, already thinking only of meat. Later, he returned alone, offering a morsel in gratitude. Felrick refused it. The man ate it himself, shame and relief warring on his face.
Back in the records room, order slowly emerged from chaos. Qavitrae and Wanda pieced together the last century of Wittgendorf’s history. Crops had failed again and again. Vineyards that once enriched the barony had withered into nothing. A great storm two years past had marked a turning point, followed by sickness, mutation, and quarantine. Yet the rot went deeper. A hundred years ago, Dagmar von Wittgenstein—brother to the baron of that time—had returned from the barren hills with a lead-lined crate he forbade the temple to inspect. From that year onward, the land soured. Harvests failed. Wine turned to vinegar overnight. The village never recovered.
By the time dusk fell, the shape of Wittgendorf’s curse had begun to take form. But understanding brought no comfort, only urgency. The beggars retreated with their stolen dog-meat, and the riverboat became an island of uneasy calm.
That night, Dr. Jean Rousseau came aboard. Powdered and perfumed, bearing a bottle and practiced manners, he played the part of concerned physician with ease. His words flowed smoothly, too smoothly, and lies slipped between truths without pause. He spoke of accidents that contradicted written records, of cures that sounded more like survival than healing. He lied easily, comfortably—yet beneath it all, there was something genuine in him: an infatuation with Lady Marguerite von Wittgenstein, and a desperate need to believe in the story he told himself.
Thindruk met deceit with charm, guiding the conversation away from accusation and toward confidence. Wine loosened tongues. Rousseau confessed more than he intended—not out of fear, but out of longing. He had tampered with the brandy, dosing it with Lady Marguerite’s alchemical medicine without consent, convinced he was doing good. He spoke of the baron’s illness, the baroness’s madness, and the burden that had fallen on Marguerite’s shoulders as she tried to save a dying village with intellect and will alone.
When pressed, Rousseau retreated into apologies and half-truths, claiming sickness of mind, cultural embellishment, misunderstanding. He never fully broke. But enough had been said. Enough confirmed. When Thindruk finally dismissed him, the lesson cut deeper than any threat: nobles survived not by honesty, but by knowing which lies could endure.
Rousseau left the boat shaken and smaller than when he arrived. The night closed in behind him.
Left alone, the group weighed what they had learned. Beneath Wittgendorf ran tunnels and lies. Above it loomed a castle ruled in name by the unwell and in practice by a young woman chasing salvation through dangerous means. Sigmar’s temple still burned, but the dead were restless, and hunger had driven the living to acts they could never undo.
Tomorrow, they would go to the castle. Tonight, they listened to the river and wondered how much rot a place could endure before it finally collapsed.
Immediate situation / split party positions The GM recaps the prior stopping point: Temple of Sigmar — entering the main sanctuary The party confirms the temple roof appears intact; the burned structure was the separate cottage, not the main sanctuary roof. The statue of Sigmar atop the temple appears intact. The group briefly discusses the possibility of prying up lead sheet roof cladding as a potential material for containment (folding/lining a chest or crate), and the GM explains it would be labor-intensive but straightforward (pry bar, pull sheets, nail inside a box). Entering the temple proper The GM calls for a Resolve check for Wanda (standard difficulty). The sanctuary description: Qavitrae attempts magical sight Altar objects and written prophecy On the altar is a large leather-bound book open to a passage (in classical language). Next to the book is a large key; the group notes keys have no particular Sigmarite symbolism. Qavitrae finds a parchment with writing (not classical) tucked under the book: A handwritten End Times prophecy excerpt including: Thindruk makes an Education test (Easy) to recognize the passage. Wanda at the statue Ever-burning lanterns Thindruk inspects the sanctuary lanterns with an Awareness check and critically succeeds. The GM clarifies the consecrated “temple proper” is the sanctuary chamber itself; adjoining rooms are more practical spaces and not necessarily protected in the same way. Temple side rooms — east wing (kitchen and records room) The group chooses to investigate the east side first. Kitchen Locked room (records/desk) Temple side rooms — west wing (mortuary/burial prep) and crypt access On the opposite side, they open a door into a chamber used to prepare corpses for burial. A stairway leads down into the crypts. There is also a back door leading out toward the graveyard behind the temple; an oil lamp hangs on a hook outside but is out of oil (flint and tinder available nearby). The party debates risk and chooses a brief investigation of the crypts. At the docks — beggars pressure Nora and Felrick While the temple group is investigating, the GM cuts to Nora and Felrick watching the boat. Beggars from the boathouse gather (eventually 6–8 people) and approach the dock asking: “Do you have any more food?” Nora tries to manage them verbally and by posture, brandishing her old swagger stick, insisting they must back off and promising potential help later (without committing to immediate distribution). One beggar eyes the gap like he might try to jump onto the boat. Felrick stands and points a pistol at the would-be jumper and says: “I can make you food.” The GM calls for Nora to roll Intimidate (standard) with Felrick aiding. The beggars retreat toward the boathouse but remain displeased, and later are described as watching and plotting from farther away. Crypts — desecrated niches, one intact tomb, and signs of gnawing The party descends into the crypts with lantern/torch light. The crypts contain wall niches for remains: The sealed niche plaque is legible but very old: The party compares other broken plaques: The group wonders why this niche was not disturbed. Wanda’s Awareness success (during crypt investigation) Crypt discovery — breached wall and an earthen tunnel Wanda’s continued awareness reveals one open crypt niche has damage at the far end: Thindruk crawls into the narrow head-to-toe niche to look through the hole (using darkvision). He confirms an earthen tunnel continues beyond: Thindruk attempts to identify tracks with a Survival/Awareness-type roll and gets 69 (unsuccessful); debris prevents clear identification without going deeper. The group concludes the tunnel is likely recent (months to a couple years), not decades, given how unstable it is and the lack of long-term growth. They note the tunnel excavation must have displaced a large amount of earth, implying a dig site elsewhere (and possibly a dump pile of dirt to locate later). They withdraw from the crypts, unsettled. Records room — rapid sorting and key historical findings The party returns to the records room to search recent history. The GM frames it as an extended test: Qavitrae makes an Education check and critically succeeds. Findings from the last 100 years: Crops have been inconsistent and prone to blight; vineyards that once produced good yields died off; vintners and wine income dried up. A massive storm of prodigious strength occurred about two years ago. After the storm: a “great malaise” fell over the village; vegetation mutated/died; records of mutated animals being born and killed (depleting livestock). The last written record is dated roughly six months ago, authored by the priest Ulthar Bracken: Record of Dr. Jean Rousseau A key older record (from about 100 years ago): Dagmar von Wittgenstein, brother of the then-baron and known as an astronomer/researcher of the stars and fate, disappeared into barren hills and was presumed dead. Dagmar returned alone with a large lead-lined crate, which he did not allow the priest to inspect. That year, harvest was a disaster; crops failed completely; wine soured into vinegar almost immediately. From that point, agriculture declined progressively year after year. The party notes this aligns with prior tower findings but clarifies the noble titles: At the docks — hound attack and Felrick’s shot Back at the boat, after a quiet stretch, the beggars linger at a distance on the road, watching in silence. A gaunt hound charges out of the village at the beggars, bowls into one man, and begins violently fighting him. Nora runs to look; the group estimates the range at about 50 yards. Felrick decides to shoot the dog with a longbow: The beggar, startled, then drags the dog toward the boathouse; others converge not just to help but to claim portions of it as food. The GM describes the outcome as the boathouse group taking the dog away for eating. Return to the boat — dinner plans and avoiding provoking the starving villagers The temple group returns to the Dandy-Fowl Line in the late afternoon and briefs Nora and Felrick on: The party prepares for dinner and expects Dr. Jean Rousseau to visit. They debate dining location: Watch assignments: Dr. Jean Rousseau arrives Dr. Rousseau comes aboard wearing thick makeup/white powdered face and carries a bottle he calls Bretonnian brandy. He makes pleasant conversation and asks how they are finding Wittgendorf; he references seeing them “taking in the sights.” Thindruk responds that they visited the temple and were disturbed by its condition. Rousseau claims the priest died in a storm accident: wind peeled cladding, the priest went out to stop it, and a roof spike speared him. Scrutinize checks — catching lies Thindruk presses politely about appointing a new priest; Rousseau explains quarantine prevents outsiders from coming. The party asks about the plague timeline; Rousseau states quarantine began about 18 months ago, and the sickness spread after the storm with deformities in livestock and among townsfolk, and officials avoided sending aid to prevent spread. Rousseau claims Lady Marguerite has had some success concocting medicine to “alleviate symptoms,” not a cure. The group continues scrutinizing: Wine and brandy exchange Thindruk’s social strategy — charm, flirtation, and forcing admissions Thindruk explicitly steers the conversation toward pleasant/flirtatious rapport to build trust before confronting truth. The GM calls for a Charm test; Thindruk uses Carousing context (drunken conviviality) and his talent to boost the roll. Rousseau grows more candid: He flatters Thindruk’s status and expresses desire to be accepted in refined company. He admits he wants to spend more time with Lady Marguerite, describing her as intelligent and magnificent, and speaks earnestly about her (both her intellect and her attractiveness). He states the von Wittgenstein household is in turmoil: Rousseau becomes self-pitying/penitent: Thindruk pivots to ethics and truth, implying “white lies” to protect reputations can be amended among friends. Rousseau admits a major act: Elsbet reference Thindruk requests the medicated bottle be left with them so they can administer it “appropriately,” particularly before sleep; Rousseau agrees and leaves the remainder. Confrontation and controlled release Qavitrae bluntly confronts Rousseau for lying repeatedly and potentially poisoning them; asks why they should let him leave. Rousseau cycles through confusion → offense → fear, insisting the conversation had been pleasant and calling dwarfs ill-mannered. Thindruk calls out the specific lie: Rousseau’s detailed story about the priest’s storm death contradicts evidence the priest lived long afterward. Rousseau tries to excuse it: Thindruk asks directly about Marguerite’s presence at the castle: Thindruk ends with a pointed lesson: Rousseau, subdued, excuses himself, says he is weary, and leaves the ship. End-of-session wrapSession Notes