An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.
Franz Lohner’s Chronicle – Old Acquaintances
It’s turning into a bit of a crossroads, hereabouts. No mean feat when you’re halfway up a mountain and shrouded in seething shadow magic. And that’s before you get into the fact that my lads are watching the roads and Kerillian’s … well, trees, I guess … are watching the rest.
Blessed Sigmar, but you wouldn’t catch me straying through the nearby woods at night. Then again, I’ve seen what happens to those what do. Parts and pieces everywhere and some very pleased-looking ash-trees lining a suspiciously welcoming-looking path. The trees are bloodstained too, of course, but folk do still try. They probably don’t stop to think that the trees ain’t the worst of it.
Case in point, I saw one of the spites kicking an eyeball around the cellar yesterday. Pretty little thing she was, at least at first blush. No bigger than my hand, with gossamer wings, moth antennae and a sugar-sweet smile. Then she took a big old bite out of the eyeball with a mouthful of jagged teeth. Part of me wants to lock my bedchamber door at night. Most of me knows that’ll not stop the spites getting in, if they’ve the mind. Still, I’ve not seen a rat about the place since the spites moved in, and it’s a poor heart that never rejoices.
Anyway, arboreal accidents notwithstanding, we’ve had a fair few guests of late.
First there was my old vampire acquaintance – still can’t remember her blessed name, and I didn’t dare ask – who had a few choice things to say about old Balthasar Gelt. Seems our esteemed patriarch of the colleges is venturing into new horizons. I’m sure it’ll end well.
No sooner had she cleared off into the night than Gorin Baldor shows up with a few more bits and bobs for my old Emporium and a promise of aid in my – as yet fruitless – search for Hedda Bardinsdottir. He drives a hard bargain, does that dwarf, but he’s a terrible card player, so I managed to finagle him down with a bit of careful dealing, if you take my meaning. Not strictly ethical, but Gorin had it coming. You don’t get to amass his sort of wealth without pulling the odd swindle of the unsuspecting. In fact, now I think on it he hasn’t been welcome in Nuln for some years now. Then again, that countess they have down there knows how to hold a grudge.
Last up was a fellow claiming to be an old mate of Kruber’s – one Grullman Grosz, onetime mercenary captain. Had a fearful look in his eye, he did, and a tall tale about how some old debt was coming due on those who held the line at Grossebad. No idea what he meant by that, and I didn’t have chance to ask. Went haring off into the night, he did, rags, unkempt beard and all.
Probably ought to tell Kruber about it, when he gets back. Might do a bit of digging on my lonesome as well, just in case he’s not forthcoming.