drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Horacio said:
Not till he hit 8th level, anyway...
More update tonight. Mmm, update.
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Eight, Part Three: "Did he resemble a snake in any way?"
I promised more update, and I deliver...enjoy!
Di'Fier
Dru frowned as they exited the messenger service. "I don't get it. That was your address. We could have just taken it there ourselves."
Di'Fier grinned at his partner. "They won't deliver it until tomorrow. That means its out of our hands until then, and it'll distract whoever's trying to take it from us. Now let's go wander past the abandoned temple..."
"OK, OK, I got one. How do you tell a Watch funeral? They have to bury the mourners too! Haw haw haw!"
Di'Fier looked over at his partner. He knew that expression - if he didn't stop her she was going to go put Verlaine's men through the wall they were leaning against. "Look," he murmured. "It's almost time for our shift. Let's go get some food and then check in at headquarters. We can come back and deal with these clowns later."
"Day shift?" Di'Fier asked. "But why?" They hadn't been on day shift for years.
The Watch-Captain looked at him levelly across the stack of paperwork on his desk. "Your merchant, this, ah..." Glancing down at the paper: "Kathkallan. He's expressed some concern that you won't be able to pursue the investigation if you're walking the beat every night. Until you solve the case you're on detective duty, and that means day shift. Any other questions? No? All right, get out of my office." Donnach looked down at his papers for a moment, then back up. "By the way, that's effective tomorrow. You're still on duty tonight."
The pair left the office, discussing their next move. "Maybe we should ask the beggars," Dru mused. "Go take them some pastries or something. They might have seen him."
Di'Fier nodded. "Good idea. Maybe we can find that Jemmis guy - he owes us, and he might have heard soemthing."
The pair proceeded to the run-down warehouse that housed the beggars. As before, their arrival caused the rapid dispersal of all but the crippled spokesman, who stumped forward on his crutch. "What is it, then?"
"We're looking for a missing person," Di'Fier said, as Dru casually dropped off the bag of food. "A journeyman, first time in the big city..." He quickly sketched a picture of the missing youth with his words, but the old man shook his head. "They don't allow us into the Merchant's Quarter, and he's not been down to the docks. Did you check the brothels?"
"We did," said Dru. "Thanks anyway. How's Echo?"
The old man sighed, and seemed to sag into his crutch a bit. "We haven't seen her for days. The only thing I know is that she's not with Tovin. If you see her..." He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, except for a hopeful look in his eye.
The Watchmen nodded, but Dru frowned as she left.
Jemmis
Jemmis sat alone in the Rusty Hook, nursing his drink. There goes the last of it, he thought ruefully. Maybe I should have taken that job after all...
The people to either side of the erstwhile smuggler vacated their seats with somewhat greater haste than normal. As Jemmis looked around, they were replaced by a different pair - a pair wearing the copper badges of the Freeport City Watch. How could they know I was even thinking about it?!
"Evening, Jemmis." The elf gave him a feral grin. He looked the other way, to her human partner. At least he didn't grin like that.
"We're looking for a missing person," the Watchman said, giving a brief description.
"N-no," Jemmis said. "I haven't seen him." A hand on his shoulder made him pause, and swallow.
"Are you certain?"
He nodded. They're not going to believe me! he thought wildly. I'd better tell them something.... "But...there was this guy. I dunno if its related or not, but he was trying to hire some guys for a..." What had he called it? "A 'pigeon pinch'. On some merchant." Oh, now you've gone and stepped in it, Jemmis he thought, as the pair leaned forward with interest.
"A pigeon pinch?" said the man. "What's that?"
"It's, ah, it's a distraction. To get something from a courier. One group of guys distracts them while the other group grabs the stuff. I guess they call it that in Highgate, anyway."
From behind him, the elf: "And just who was hiring for this 'pigeon pinch'?"
Jemmis shrugged. "I didn't get a name. Some fat sweaty guy, he wanted to meet us at the Silent Siren." The hand on his shoulder slowly rotated him to face the elf - exactly where he didn't want to be.
"Did he have a penchant for snakes?" she asked.
Jemmis blinked in puzzlement. "Ah...no?"
"Did he resemble a snake in any way?"
This is getting weird. "Do you see many fat, sweaty snakes around?" Oh, gods, that was the ale talking, I hope I didn't p--s her off... Still, the hand on his shoulder slowly released.
"Thanks, Jemmis," the man said, laying his hand casually on the bar in front of the smuggler. "You've been very helpful." When the hand moved, there was a glint of gold in front of him. Jemmis' eyes widened, and he swept it into his lap as the Watchmen departed. Gods, I hope nobody saw that...
Di'Fier
As they left the Rusty Hook, Dru grumbled. "Too bad we can't leave our beat."
Di'Fier looked up and down the deserted docks. "The captain did tell us to investigate..."
A few minute's walk later, they arrived in front of the Silent Siren. "Stupid name for a tavern," Dru said. "What good is a silent siren?" Her partner pushed the door open and they entered. The elf kept up her grousing: "Look at all of this. It's not even in the harbor."
It was tacky, Di'Fier had to admit. Coral statues of mermaids, nautical "memorabilia" hung on the walls, and a bar made to resemble a ship's prow, complete with figurehead. The only virtue the Watchman could detect was the large number of small tables scattered so as to allow private conversation. From the clientele, it seemed like the Siren catered to merchants, and gave them a place to conduct business while they ate and drank.
Di'Fier leaned on the bar, signalled the bartender. He tapped a coin on the bar. "I'm looking for a man named Arrasti. Is he here?"
The bartender waited until the coin was in his hand before he shook his head. "The cosmetics guy? He don't come here."
"Thanks."
Dru
Why did we go there if we were just going to ask about Arrasti? Dru racked her brain for reasons as they walked down the docks, but eventually decided that Di'Fier knew what he was doing. She began looking around, hoping someone would attack them. They always found their best clues that way. Let's hope the criminals never learn.
The sharp tang of blood in the air brought her senses to full alert. She paused, and Di'Fier did as well. "Blood," she said, and he nodded. No sounds of a fight, but it must be pretty recent. The elf let her eyes roam across the scene to find anything out of place...there. In the alley. "This way," she told her partner, and they approached cautiously, their pool of lantern-light sliding across the cobbled streets with them, until the source of the blood was revealed.
The corpse lay spread-eagled on its back. The cause of death was clear: the breastbone had been cracked, the ribs torn open and folded back, and the heart had been torn from the body. It was nowhere to be found.
I promised more update, and I deliver...enjoy!
Di'Fier
Dru frowned as they exited the messenger service. "I don't get it. That was your address. We could have just taken it there ourselves."
Di'Fier grinned at his partner. "They won't deliver it until tomorrow. That means its out of our hands until then, and it'll distract whoever's trying to take it from us. Now let's go wander past the abandoned temple..."
"OK, OK, I got one. How do you tell a Watch funeral? They have to bury the mourners too! Haw haw haw!"
Di'Fier looked over at his partner. He knew that expression - if he didn't stop her she was going to go put Verlaine's men through the wall they were leaning against. "Look," he murmured. "It's almost time for our shift. Let's go get some food and then check in at headquarters. We can come back and deal with these clowns later."
"Day shift?" Di'Fier asked. "But why?" They hadn't been on day shift for years.
The Watch-Captain looked at him levelly across the stack of paperwork on his desk. "Your merchant, this, ah..." Glancing down at the paper: "Kathkallan. He's expressed some concern that you won't be able to pursue the investigation if you're walking the beat every night. Until you solve the case you're on detective duty, and that means day shift. Any other questions? No? All right, get out of my office." Donnach looked down at his papers for a moment, then back up. "By the way, that's effective tomorrow. You're still on duty tonight."
The pair left the office, discussing their next move. "Maybe we should ask the beggars," Dru mused. "Go take them some pastries or something. They might have seen him."
Di'Fier nodded. "Good idea. Maybe we can find that Jemmis guy - he owes us, and he might have heard soemthing."
The pair proceeded to the run-down warehouse that housed the beggars. As before, their arrival caused the rapid dispersal of all but the crippled spokesman, who stumped forward on his crutch. "What is it, then?"
"We're looking for a missing person," Di'Fier said, as Dru casually dropped off the bag of food. "A journeyman, first time in the big city..." He quickly sketched a picture of the missing youth with his words, but the old man shook his head. "They don't allow us into the Merchant's Quarter, and he's not been down to the docks. Did you check the brothels?"
"We did," said Dru. "Thanks anyway. How's Echo?"
The old man sighed, and seemed to sag into his crutch a bit. "We haven't seen her for days. The only thing I know is that she's not with Tovin. If you see her..." He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, except for a hopeful look in his eye.
The Watchmen nodded, but Dru frowned as she left.
Jemmis
Jemmis sat alone in the Rusty Hook, nursing his drink. There goes the last of it, he thought ruefully. Maybe I should have taken that job after all...
The people to either side of the erstwhile smuggler vacated their seats with somewhat greater haste than normal. As Jemmis looked around, they were replaced by a different pair - a pair wearing the copper badges of the Freeport City Watch. How could they know I was even thinking about it?!
"Evening, Jemmis." The elf gave him a feral grin. He looked the other way, to her human partner. At least he didn't grin like that.
"We're looking for a missing person," the Watchman said, giving a brief description.
"N-no," Jemmis said. "I haven't seen him." A hand on his shoulder made him pause, and swallow.
"Are you certain?"
He nodded. They're not going to believe me! he thought wildly. I'd better tell them something.... "But...there was this guy. I dunno if its related or not, but he was trying to hire some guys for a..." What had he called it? "A 'pigeon pinch'. On some merchant." Oh, now you've gone and stepped in it, Jemmis he thought, as the pair leaned forward with interest.
"A pigeon pinch?" said the man. "What's that?"
"It's, ah, it's a distraction. To get something from a courier. One group of guys distracts them while the other group grabs the stuff. I guess they call it that in Highgate, anyway."
From behind him, the elf: "And just who was hiring for this 'pigeon pinch'?"
Jemmis shrugged. "I didn't get a name. Some fat sweaty guy, he wanted to meet us at the Silent Siren." The hand on his shoulder slowly rotated him to face the elf - exactly where he didn't want to be.
"Did he have a penchant for snakes?" she asked.
Jemmis blinked in puzzlement. "Ah...no?"
"Did he resemble a snake in any way?"
This is getting weird. "Do you see many fat, sweaty snakes around?" Oh, gods, that was the ale talking, I hope I didn't p--s her off... Still, the hand on his shoulder slowly released.
"Thanks, Jemmis," the man said, laying his hand casually on the bar in front of the smuggler. "You've been very helpful." When the hand moved, there was a glint of gold in front of him. Jemmis' eyes widened, and he swept it into his lap as the Watchmen departed. Gods, I hope nobody saw that...
Di'Fier
As they left the Rusty Hook, Dru grumbled. "Too bad we can't leave our beat."
Di'Fier looked up and down the deserted docks. "The captain did tell us to investigate..."
A few minute's walk later, they arrived in front of the Silent Siren. "Stupid name for a tavern," Dru said. "What good is a silent siren?" Her partner pushed the door open and they entered. The elf kept up her grousing: "Look at all of this. It's not even in the harbor."
It was tacky, Di'Fier had to admit. Coral statues of mermaids, nautical "memorabilia" hung on the walls, and a bar made to resemble a ship's prow, complete with figurehead. The only virtue the Watchman could detect was the large number of small tables scattered so as to allow private conversation. From the clientele, it seemed like the Siren catered to merchants, and gave them a place to conduct business while they ate and drank.
Di'Fier leaned on the bar, signalled the bartender. He tapped a coin on the bar. "I'm looking for a man named Arrasti. Is he here?"
The bartender waited until the coin was in his hand before he shook his head. "The cosmetics guy? He don't come here."
"Thanks."
Dru
Why did we go there if we were just going to ask about Arrasti? Dru racked her brain for reasons as they walked down the docks, but eventually decided that Di'Fier knew what he was doing. She began looking around, hoping someone would attack them. They always found their best clues that way. Let's hope the criminals never learn.
The sharp tang of blood in the air brought her senses to full alert. She paused, and Di'Fier did as well. "Blood," she said, and he nodded. No sounds of a fight, but it must be pretty recent. The elf let her eyes roam across the scene to find anything out of place...there. In the alley. "This way," she told her partner, and they approached cautiously, their pool of lantern-light sliding across the cobbled streets with them, until the source of the blood was revealed.
The corpse lay spread-eagled on its back. The cause of death was clear: the breastbone had been cracked, the ribs torn open and folded back, and the heart had been torn from the body. It was nowhere to be found.
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Eight, Part Four: "The fat man is not always fat."
The last of session eight...only two behind now, but one of those is a double-length session...and we play tomorrow. Yikes!
As they waited for their backup, the Watchmen studied the corpse intently. Dru stepped forward. "What's this in the blood? Looks like...sand. All different colors, too."
Di'Fier looked up. "What's that?"
"Sand. And there's a worn spot on his belt, like where you'd keep a money pouch, except his money pouch is still there."
"That doesn't make any sense...but there's magic involved. It looked like there were runes drawn with the blood, but they were wiped out as the blood spread."
The clatter of hard-soled boots announced the arrival of their backup: Jaffar and Mahmoud, neither of whom looked happy at the prospect of carrying the bloody mess back to headquarters. Captain Donnach was waiting for them at the end of their grim journey. He listened to the report impassively, then looked at the backup Watchmen. "Jaffar, Mahmoud - keep an eye on the corpse. I want to know if it so much as twitches." Looking back to Dru and Di'Fier he said, "Don't forget, you're on tomorrow morning. Go get some sleep."
Dru
"Aye, it's to make ye stealthy, that's true. But it's strange work, it is." The dwarven alchemist frowned as she studied the tiny vial. "Doesn't use all the right ingredients."
Dru nodded. "That's what I thought. A gnome was trying to brew them for less, and he was experimenting with the ingredients. Winds up driving the users insane. I've got a bunch of potions he made..."
"Might be I'd know some folk who'd like to take a look at them," the dwarf admitted.
"I wasn't planning on using them," Dru shrugged, placing the vials on the counter. Turning to her partner, she said, "Come on, Di'Fier, it's time to get to work."
The pair strolled out of the alchemist's and towards the market. "Strange to be doing all of this by daylight," Dru muttered.
"It'll make it easier to find these people, anyway. There's Greater Galleon," Di'Fier pointed. "Kathkallan said that was where he had the option on vanilla beans. Looks like they're popular."
Indeed, a number of people were gathered around the stall, shouting and waving their hands. Atop a small dais, a man held a bean aloft and worked the crowd, driving the price upwards in an auction.
"A thousand pieces of gold for how many pounds?" Di'Fier asked.
Dru's sharp hearing had caught the winning price. "Four. That's two hundred and fifty a pound...and the option was on how many pounds?"
Di'Fier paused a moment before answering, softly: "Two hundred, which means that contract is worth...fifty thousand pieces of gold." The Watchmen exchanged a glance.
No wonder he wants it back so badly, thought Dru, as they started towards the merchant.
"All right, let's review." Di'fier frowned as he walked beside his partner in the long shadows of the setting sun. "The journeyman made it to Greater Galleon, and set up a meeting. He made it to Arrasti's, and set up a meeting. He was heading to the Platinum Quill, and never made it."
"I think the merchant at Greater Galleon was lying," grumbled Dru. "Anybody that rude must be hiding something. Where are we going, anyway?"
"I thought I'd do some research on spells that use colored sand as a material component," said the mage. "It might help clear up what was going on there..."
"I'll wait out here," said Dru, standing under the eave of a nearby building. She watched her partner vanish into the Guild grounds, and let her thoughts wander. It doesn't make sense...we're missing something. Where could he have gone between Greater Galleon and the Quill?
The touch of cold steel on her neck interrupted her thoughts. "Don't turn around," a soft voice offered. "I have some information for you. One of the people you spoke with today is lying. The fat man is not always fat. Find the woman that the journeyman was with, and you will find what you are looking for."
Dru felt the blade leave the back of her neck, and she whirled - but whoever it was, he was already gone. He was speaking Elven, she realized belatedly, and her gaze fell to the street where the man had been standing.
"It's color spray," Di'Fier called out as he exited the building. "It can knock someone out or blind them, and...what's that?"
Dru turned around, holding what she had found behind her: a solitary, deep red, rose.
The last of session eight...only two behind now, but one of those is a double-length session...and we play tomorrow. Yikes!
As they waited for their backup, the Watchmen studied the corpse intently. Dru stepped forward. "What's this in the blood? Looks like...sand. All different colors, too."
Di'Fier looked up. "What's that?"
"Sand. And there's a worn spot on his belt, like where you'd keep a money pouch, except his money pouch is still there."
"That doesn't make any sense...but there's magic involved. It looked like there were runes drawn with the blood, but they were wiped out as the blood spread."
The clatter of hard-soled boots announced the arrival of their backup: Jaffar and Mahmoud, neither of whom looked happy at the prospect of carrying the bloody mess back to headquarters. Captain Donnach was waiting for them at the end of their grim journey. He listened to the report impassively, then looked at the backup Watchmen. "Jaffar, Mahmoud - keep an eye on the corpse. I want to know if it so much as twitches." Looking back to Dru and Di'Fier he said, "Don't forget, you're on tomorrow morning. Go get some sleep."
Dru
"Aye, it's to make ye stealthy, that's true. But it's strange work, it is." The dwarven alchemist frowned as she studied the tiny vial. "Doesn't use all the right ingredients."
Dru nodded. "That's what I thought. A gnome was trying to brew them for less, and he was experimenting with the ingredients. Winds up driving the users insane. I've got a bunch of potions he made..."
"Might be I'd know some folk who'd like to take a look at them," the dwarf admitted.
"I wasn't planning on using them," Dru shrugged, placing the vials on the counter. Turning to her partner, she said, "Come on, Di'Fier, it's time to get to work."
The pair strolled out of the alchemist's and towards the market. "Strange to be doing all of this by daylight," Dru muttered.
"It'll make it easier to find these people, anyway. There's Greater Galleon," Di'Fier pointed. "Kathkallan said that was where he had the option on vanilla beans. Looks like they're popular."
Indeed, a number of people were gathered around the stall, shouting and waving their hands. Atop a small dais, a man held a bean aloft and worked the crowd, driving the price upwards in an auction.
"A thousand pieces of gold for how many pounds?" Di'Fier asked.
Dru's sharp hearing had caught the winning price. "Four. That's two hundred and fifty a pound...and the option was on how many pounds?"
Di'Fier paused a moment before answering, softly: "Two hundred, which means that contract is worth...fifty thousand pieces of gold." The Watchmen exchanged a glance.
No wonder he wants it back so badly, thought Dru, as they started towards the merchant.
"All right, let's review." Di'fier frowned as he walked beside his partner in the long shadows of the setting sun. "The journeyman made it to Greater Galleon, and set up a meeting. He made it to Arrasti's, and set up a meeting. He was heading to the Platinum Quill, and never made it."
"I think the merchant at Greater Galleon was lying," grumbled Dru. "Anybody that rude must be hiding something. Where are we going, anyway?"
"I thought I'd do some research on spells that use colored sand as a material component," said the mage. "It might help clear up what was going on there..."
"I'll wait out here," said Dru, standing under the eave of a nearby building. She watched her partner vanish into the Guild grounds, and let her thoughts wander. It doesn't make sense...we're missing something. Where could he have gone between Greater Galleon and the Quill?
The touch of cold steel on her neck interrupted her thoughts. "Don't turn around," a soft voice offered. "I have some information for you. One of the people you spoke with today is lying. The fat man is not always fat. Find the woman that the journeyman was with, and you will find what you are looking for."
Dru felt the blade leave the back of her neck, and she whirled - but whoever it was, he was already gone. He was speaking Elven, she realized belatedly, and her gaze fell to the street where the man had been standing.
"It's color spray," Di'Fier called out as he exited the building. "It can knock someone out or blind them, and...what's that?"
Dru turned around, holding what she had found behind her: a solitary, deep red, rose.
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drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Nine, Part One: "How many Watchmen does it take to light a candle?"
Well, as Thorntangle pointed out, I have been sadly remiss in my updating...I can only plead exhaustion from my work - we're doing a major software upgrade that comes directly on the heels of a huge website redesign. In fact, no Freeport this Friday for us...but with any luck there'll be a double session on Saturday.
I can only say that when this is over, I expect to shift into high gear - especially with Mongoose's The Quintessential Rogue in my possession, and the impending release of Freeport: City of Adventure! In any case, here's another (short) update...don't forget to check out and enter the Create a Cohort contest over in the Rogue's Gallery.
Di'Fier
"You're sure he said that there was a woman with our missing journeyman?" the tall mage asked his partner for the third time. Seeing her expression, he continued: "It's just that nobody seems to have seen him with one."
Dru scowled at some passing merchants, perhaps hoping to frighten them into a confession. She was rewarded with nervous looks, but nothing more. "He also said that someone was lying to us. I bet it was that Zahad, from Greater Galleon. Nobody's that rude unless they're hiding something."
"Well, we've still got the tavern to check," said Di'Fier. "Maybe they saw something there."
Dru shoved the door open, grumbling once again about the institution's choice of a name, and stalked across the floor to drop into a seat at the bar. She scowled at everyone - the merchant patrons, the bar wenches, even the carved mermaid figurehead. Her partner followed, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous grin.
"Two ales," he told the bartender. After the mugs were filled, he leaned across the bar. "We're looking for a missing journeyman," he said with a wink. "He might have been in here, a few days ago...with a young lady?" He described the missing boy, and the bartender nodded slowly.
"Aye, I remember him. Took off with one of those orchid girls from the Street of Flowers, he did."
"Really." Dru looked at her partner. The Street of Flowers was well known for its collection of high-priced courtesans. "There was someone else we were looking for as well...a fat man, bald, sweats all the time, even in this weather."
With the elf's full attention on him, the bartender looked a little bit nervous. "Y-yes, he was in here as well. Kelp leaving, about once an hour, then coming back. He was talking with some thugs - we usually don't like that kind in here, but he kept buying drinks, so I figured it was his business."
"You've been very helpful." Di'Fier pushed a few coins across the table - far more than was necessary to pay for the drinks. "Let us know if he comes back here again."
Dru
"So we found the woman," Dru mused - her earlier ill mood faded, at least slightly, by the prospect of new challenges (and with any luck, new targets). "But why is the fat man not always fat?"
"I think it's a spell," Di'Fier said cautiously. "That would explain why he kept having to leave - he was renewing the spell. That mean's he's got at least a bit of magical training, or he's spending a fortune on potions."
The pair walked slowly between the terraced gardens that gave the Street of Flowers its name. Even in the dying days of winter, the flowers were in full bloom - if such a term can be applied to the cunningly crafted silken replicas that populated the gardens. "I don't see her," said Di'Fier.
Dru walked up to one of the ladies who was strolling along the street. Her eyes checked for the orchid brooch before she proceeded. "We're looking for a woman who lives on this street. Long, black hair, petite. She may have met a client at the Silent Siren a few days ago." A few coins changed hands, and the courtesan pointed them up the street.
"Yes, that would have been Zinni." The woman paused in the brushing of her hair to look over the two Watchmen. "And you say this journeyman's been missing for how many days now? I haven't seen her in that long, either." She looked away from the elf's steady gaze. "She had a client - from Highgate, he was, all doused in cologne and with the mainland accent. Called himself Gil. He'd been seeing her for about a month, and he was all she could talk about. She said he hired her to meet a friend of his at the Siren and lure him to a private garden for a 'surprise'.
The watchmen looked at each other. "I expect that when we find our journeyman, we'll find your friend," Di'Fier began. "But it's very possible that she ran afoul of this Gil and his associates.
The courtesan nodded sadly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've got an appointment and I must prepare for it. Please, see yourselves out." With those words she quickly disappeared behind a dressing screen. As they closed the door behind them, Dru could almost hear a single, choked sob.
Di'Fier
"Nothing," croaked the harsh voice of the raven as it fluttered back to its customary perch on the pommel of Di'Fier's sword. "Empty."
"Maybe we should check it out again anyway," said the bird's master, walking towards the Marquis Moon. Dru followed warily behind him.
Behind the counter was the same bored young man as before, still cleaning his nails with a dull knife. "'nother package, huh?" he said laconically, his tone indicating that he neither believed nor cared about the answer he was going to be given.
"That's right. We'll just take it up."
The room was indeed deserted - and unchanged from the last time the pair had investigated it. "I wonder if they're still watching the place," mused Dru.
Di'Fier plucked a tiny idol from the shelf. "I suppose there's one way to find out," he said, regarding it. "This looks just like the statue that was in the temple. Speaking of which, we ought to go check it out tonight. Maybe we can sneak in and find out what's happening. I'll bet poor Egil is scared witless."
"All right, let's go."
Dru and Di'Fier huddled in the alley, safely out of sight - or so they hoped. The three guards in Verlaine's livery leaned against the wall of the bricked-up house, passing a hand-rolled cigarette back and forth. The voice of one drifted out across the empty streets.
"How many watchmen does it take to light a candle? Nine! One to light it...and eight pallbearers! Haw haw haw!"
"Maybe we can disguise ourselves as workmen," suggested Di'Fier.
"Maybe we can feed them their own swords," his partner responded.
"Shh...they're moving." One guard wandered around the perimeter of the house in each direction. The third waited until the others had turned the corner, and then strolled across the street. After a few moments, Dru could hear the sound of a thin stream of splashing water.
The elf reached into her tunic and withdrew a small vial, as her partner did the same with a rolled sheet of parchment. As she drank, he chanted, and the two Watchmen faded from view. Only the occasional kicked rock or scuffed foot marked their passage as they snuck past the guard and crossed to the door.
Fluttering down the street, the raven croaked once. "Hey," it said clearly, and the guard's head turned to look at it. "Hey. S--thead. Haw!" It hopped and fluttered back a few feet.
"Damn bird..." the guard took a few steps towards it, and it fluttered back some more. As it did, Dru slipped the door open easily, and the Watchmen entered.
The abandoned house was much the same as the last time they had seen it. In the basement, the secret door in the wine cask was propped open, and Dru and Di'Fier crept inside.
The temple below was as abandoned as the house above. Stripped of its valuables - indeed, of everything. Dru and Di'Fier made their invisible way slowly down the hall, to the great chamber where the massive statue of the Unspeakable One once squatted. That, too was gone - even the Yellow Sign which had once adorned the cavern wall was chipped away and destroyed. Whoever had cleaned the place up was thorough about it. All was still and silent.
Silent, at least, until the faint grinding of stone alerted the Watchmen to the opening of the secret door - the same one they had ambushed Milos from. The pair spun, hands going instinctively to their weapons, as a pair of ophidian creatures swayed forward from the darkness, spears clutched in their hands, split-ribbon tongues licking out to taste the air. One stretched its maw, the long fangs unfolding from the top of its mouth, and hissed.
It seemed the cleanup of the temple had not gone well at all.
Well, as Thorntangle pointed out, I have been sadly remiss in my updating...I can only plead exhaustion from my work - we're doing a major software upgrade that comes directly on the heels of a huge website redesign. In fact, no Freeport this Friday for us...but with any luck there'll be a double session on Saturday.
I can only say that when this is over, I expect to shift into high gear - especially with Mongoose's The Quintessential Rogue in my possession, and the impending release of Freeport: City of Adventure! In any case, here's another (short) update...don't forget to check out and enter the Create a Cohort contest over in the Rogue's Gallery.
Di'Fier
"You're sure he said that there was a woman with our missing journeyman?" the tall mage asked his partner for the third time. Seeing her expression, he continued: "It's just that nobody seems to have seen him with one."
Dru scowled at some passing merchants, perhaps hoping to frighten them into a confession. She was rewarded with nervous looks, but nothing more. "He also said that someone was lying to us. I bet it was that Zahad, from Greater Galleon. Nobody's that rude unless they're hiding something."
"Well, we've still got the tavern to check," said Di'Fier. "Maybe they saw something there."
Dru shoved the door open, grumbling once again about the institution's choice of a name, and stalked across the floor to drop into a seat at the bar. She scowled at everyone - the merchant patrons, the bar wenches, even the carved mermaid figurehead. Her partner followed, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous grin.
"Two ales," he told the bartender. After the mugs were filled, he leaned across the bar. "We're looking for a missing journeyman," he said with a wink. "He might have been in here, a few days ago...with a young lady?" He described the missing boy, and the bartender nodded slowly.
"Aye, I remember him. Took off with one of those orchid girls from the Street of Flowers, he did."
"Really." Dru looked at her partner. The Street of Flowers was well known for its collection of high-priced courtesans. "There was someone else we were looking for as well...a fat man, bald, sweats all the time, even in this weather."
With the elf's full attention on him, the bartender looked a little bit nervous. "Y-yes, he was in here as well. Kelp leaving, about once an hour, then coming back. He was talking with some thugs - we usually don't like that kind in here, but he kept buying drinks, so I figured it was his business."
"You've been very helpful." Di'Fier pushed a few coins across the table - far more than was necessary to pay for the drinks. "Let us know if he comes back here again."
Dru
"So we found the woman," Dru mused - her earlier ill mood faded, at least slightly, by the prospect of new challenges (and with any luck, new targets). "But why is the fat man not always fat?"
"I think it's a spell," Di'Fier said cautiously. "That would explain why he kept having to leave - he was renewing the spell. That mean's he's got at least a bit of magical training, or he's spending a fortune on potions."
The pair walked slowly between the terraced gardens that gave the Street of Flowers its name. Even in the dying days of winter, the flowers were in full bloom - if such a term can be applied to the cunningly crafted silken replicas that populated the gardens. "I don't see her," said Di'Fier.
Dru walked up to one of the ladies who was strolling along the street. Her eyes checked for the orchid brooch before she proceeded. "We're looking for a woman who lives on this street. Long, black hair, petite. She may have met a client at the Silent Siren a few days ago." A few coins changed hands, and the courtesan pointed them up the street.
"Yes, that would have been Zinni." The woman paused in the brushing of her hair to look over the two Watchmen. "And you say this journeyman's been missing for how many days now? I haven't seen her in that long, either." She looked away from the elf's steady gaze. "She had a client - from Highgate, he was, all doused in cologne and with the mainland accent. Called himself Gil. He'd been seeing her for about a month, and he was all she could talk about. She said he hired her to meet a friend of his at the Siren and lure him to a private garden for a 'surprise'.
The watchmen looked at each other. "I expect that when we find our journeyman, we'll find your friend," Di'Fier began. "But it's very possible that she ran afoul of this Gil and his associates.
The courtesan nodded sadly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've got an appointment and I must prepare for it. Please, see yourselves out." With those words she quickly disappeared behind a dressing screen. As they closed the door behind them, Dru could almost hear a single, choked sob.
Di'Fier
"Nothing," croaked the harsh voice of the raven as it fluttered back to its customary perch on the pommel of Di'Fier's sword. "Empty."
"Maybe we should check it out again anyway," said the bird's master, walking towards the Marquis Moon. Dru followed warily behind him.
Behind the counter was the same bored young man as before, still cleaning his nails with a dull knife. "'nother package, huh?" he said laconically, his tone indicating that he neither believed nor cared about the answer he was going to be given.
"That's right. We'll just take it up."
The room was indeed deserted - and unchanged from the last time the pair had investigated it. "I wonder if they're still watching the place," mused Dru.
Di'Fier plucked a tiny idol from the shelf. "I suppose there's one way to find out," he said, regarding it. "This looks just like the statue that was in the temple. Speaking of which, we ought to go check it out tonight. Maybe we can sneak in and find out what's happening. I'll bet poor Egil is scared witless."
"All right, let's go."
Dru and Di'Fier huddled in the alley, safely out of sight - or so they hoped. The three guards in Verlaine's livery leaned against the wall of the bricked-up house, passing a hand-rolled cigarette back and forth. The voice of one drifted out across the empty streets.
"How many watchmen does it take to light a candle? Nine! One to light it...and eight pallbearers! Haw haw haw!"
"Maybe we can disguise ourselves as workmen," suggested Di'Fier.
"Maybe we can feed them their own swords," his partner responded.
"Shh...they're moving." One guard wandered around the perimeter of the house in each direction. The third waited until the others had turned the corner, and then strolled across the street. After a few moments, Dru could hear the sound of a thin stream of splashing water.
The elf reached into her tunic and withdrew a small vial, as her partner did the same with a rolled sheet of parchment. As she drank, he chanted, and the two Watchmen faded from view. Only the occasional kicked rock or scuffed foot marked their passage as they snuck past the guard and crossed to the door.
Fluttering down the street, the raven croaked once. "Hey," it said clearly, and the guard's head turned to look at it. "Hey. S--thead. Haw!" It hopped and fluttered back a few feet.
"Damn bird..." the guard took a few steps towards it, and it fluttered back some more. As it did, Dru slipped the door open easily, and the Watchmen entered.
The abandoned house was much the same as the last time they had seen it. In the basement, the secret door in the wine cask was propped open, and Dru and Di'Fier crept inside.
The temple below was as abandoned as the house above. Stripped of its valuables - indeed, of everything. Dru and Di'Fier made their invisible way slowly down the hall, to the great chamber where the massive statue of the Unspeakable One once squatted. That, too was gone - even the Yellow Sign which had once adorned the cavern wall was chipped away and destroyed. Whoever had cleaned the place up was thorough about it. All was still and silent.
Silent, at least, until the faint grinding of stone alerted the Watchmen to the opening of the secret door - the same one they had ambushed Milos from. The pair spun, hands going instinctively to their weapons, as a pair of ophidian creatures swayed forward from the darkness, spears clutched in their hands, split-ribbon tongues licking out to taste the air. One stretched its maw, the long fangs unfolding from the top of its mouth, and hissed.
It seemed the cleanup of the temple had not gone well at all.
Last edited:
Been gone a while...
Had my internet acess limited for a while and haven't been able to read Story Hours for a while.
Wow, Doc, your Story Hour has blossomed since I was last here. I just read the last page after being gone a while and was right back into it.
Nice stuff.
I'll have to go back and read about what happened those three or so pages between then and now.
Had my internet acess limited for a while and haven't been able to read Story Hours for a while.
Wow, Doc, your Story Hour has blossomed since I was last here. I just read the last page after being gone a while and was right back into it.
Nice stuff.
I'll have to go back and read about what happened those three or so pages between then and now.
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