In Search of Nibelungen part VI

Dear Mother,

Greetings from Eisen. Since my last letter I have manged to lose that dratted sais - Sir Robin of Hood and have had to chase after him yet again. Really that man is so unreliable!

Anyway I instead had the pleasure of encountering Franz von Tannen (in Freiburg and beyond) and the overly enthusiastic group who accompanied him. I recognised several of them, but an Ussuran gypsy strongman named Pyorgi and an Innishman answering to 'Pistol' were new to me. They didn't exactly raise the moral tone as you will shortly see.

They were on their way to Atemlos as was I and I was welcomed to join them (as long as I could stomach Eisen porridge - now I understand why the Eisen are usually so bad tempered and looking for a fight).

Apparently they'd just killed a werewolf (presumably the one who ate half the horses last time that I'd been with them) and were rather pleased with themselves, although I confess a moment of sorrow for the shape changer. Several were also pleased that they were to be immortalised in song, due to the activities of a bard by the name of Evingolas (which strangely jogs my memory - wasn't one of your Daoine Sidhe relatives called something like that?). He also seems to have the Sidhe sense of humour - in the process of attending Pistol's wounds he gave him a bright green tongue. Hmm - that poem could be fascinating.

We crossed over the Hainzl/Heilgrund border without more than the usual fuss - after Pistol's use of his exotically coloured tongue pursuaded the border guards of his growing illness. An effective if somewhat deceitful effort, and undoubtedly yet another of many reasons for this man to keep his mouth shut (as you will realise as read on). I will admit that his magical weightless cask of never ending ale is an attraction, although he did seem to need to 'train' it to become never ending. It seemed only fair to aid in such a worthy cause, especially since not even Pistol can talk with his mouth full of ale.

Hainzl was full of worryingly active forges, the ruler's aggression being apparently considerably greater than his wits. But with Franz and the Montaigne Eduarde being present the unruly elements left us alone (except the ones we had with us in the party).

On 23 Nonus we rode into Atemlos (past yet another army camp) and found an inn - the others seemed to have been to this town before. The reason for this visit was to do business with the Nibelungen and deal with the hoard of Dracheneisen they'd found beneath the von Tannen mansion. Really it was none of my business but the idea of a trip into the Drachenberg mountains to meet the mysterious and aloof Nibelungen did appeal. Our go-between was a serious fellow called Erich Starker who bade us be ready the next day with suitable material for blindfolds (typical!). Good to his word he showed up with an assistant named Wulf and we were escorted into the hills in somewhat frustrating darkness. I didn't try and cheat and if any of the others present did (something I would not put past Pistol, Pyorgi or the Vodacce Giancarlo) they weren't caught.

The Nibelungen were disappointingly normal, although they evidently knew all too much about all of us (including myself rather peculiarly). I have sent a report of the discussions to father, as the event seemed to be politiacally important and I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say, the discussion centred on which of the competing Eisenfürst's should be granted the trove. I really couldn't claim to understand the details, since my missions here have not been concerned with such arcana - and I was very disconcerted to be asked what my opinion of the matter was (as if I'd know!). At least they didn't ask Pistol.

The upshot of the matter was that Trague, Eisenfürst of Freiburg, would be given the treasure, which at least made sense geographically. Apparently he's also one of the saner Eisenfürsts but I can imagine that when the news of this breaks there will be all sorts of conflict - and Trager hasn't much of an army.

That concluded, we headed back to Freiburg - Sir Robin having failed yet again to keep an appointment! - without any further fuss.

No further fuss that is until we came to a almost totally ruined town on the way back and Franz recognised an old companion called Berthold von Heimin - languishing in the still intact jail! He'd been arrested for horse stealing. With considerable loyalty Franz endeavoured to get him out (by legal means) arguing with an extremely hostile burgermeister until 600 Marks bought his friend's freedom. That should have been the end of the matter but as we rode away Pistol and Pyorgi concocted a cunning plot to steal a horse for this new addition to our group. Don't ask me why.....sheep - fine, but horses?

The upshot of this masterpiece of deception was that Pyorgi did manage to steal a horse but Pistol got caught by the town guard, having failed to run fast enough on foot to escape from horsemen (hmm. Those stories about the Innish might just be true) and imprisoned in the place of Berthold. The rest of the group, blithely unaware of this comedy had ridden on, and it was only when Pyorgi caught us up that the genius of this pair could be appreciated. While tempting to leave the fool to rot the judicial methods of the burgomeister had seemed excessive and so we rather reluctantly agreed to go back and rescue him before they fried him.

The unusual talents of my companions continue to amaze. Dandelion began to work on some of his bizarre sorcerous blood magic to telport himself and Pyorgi turned out to be able to shape-shift (into an owl, I believe - presumably his sentient form). Giancarlo is far too good at moving soundlessly at night to be an honest man either. In their various ways they then sneaked up to the jail under the cover of darkness and a distraction from the edge of town staged by myself and the other less sneaky members of the party with lots of horses and noise. Since Pistol had somehow already cozened up to the jailer - Vermin or Vernon was his name - by use of glamour it eventually proved fairly easy to rescue him. I believe a couple of guards were hurt but not fatally so. I was glad that I didn't have to draw my sword - the guardsmen were only doing their duty, however brutal the birgomeisters justice might be.

We then resumed our journey, minus Berthold who'd disappeared in the ruckus with a horse (I'm not sure our dense duo got the irony of this) and now look ahead to Freiburg - and undoubted trouble. Even if this group's enemies aren't up to mischief members of this group threaten to keep life 'interesting'. It would probably be a good idea to disassociate myself from this group until those rascals end up solidly imprisoned - the only trouble being that I'm not sure there's a prison in Thea THAT good!

With much love,

Owain