A Lonely Path: a Shackled City Story Hour (the old version, see last post)

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part One


The climb up the side of the volcano was not a strenuous one, but it was a long one. The path, wide enough for two wagons side by side, detoured around large rock formations and thick copses of trees, switchbacked near steep cliffs, and gradually encircled the entire mountain. Leading her horse, Abrina was relieved to see the towering black malachite walls of the city finally come into view. She knew she would be no safer within those thick stone walls, but they nevertheless signified the last leg of her journey.

Abrina arrived at the gate, her supplies carried by her horse and the scrollcase hung protectively from her shoulder. Several guards inspected merchants both coming and going, logging the transport of valuable items, mundane and magical. One young guard approached her, a short sword dangling at his side, his studded armor clean, well-kept, and free of scrapes and cuts.

“Anything of value?” he asked, holding a partially unrolled scroll against a flat piece of wood. He held a small writing utensil poised above the paper in one hand.

Abrina shook her head. “No,” she said, motioning to her packs. “Just supplies. I’m a message bearer.” Abrina patted her holy symbol around her neck. The periapt remained hidden beneath her shirt.

The guard raised his head and nodded, making a single, simple mark on the parchment. “Ah, yes. Ninurta speed you.”

“And you as well,” she replied, “Thank you.”

The streets of Cauldron were busy on this bright autumn afternoon. Tumbling white clouds raced across the sky, mimicking the people in the circular, concentric streets. She stabled her horse then immediately set out to find the temple where she was to deliver her message, but found little help with the local populace. The citizens seemed on edge, suspicious. She would ask for simple directions from passerbys, only to see them hurry off without responding. Something had happened, or was happening, in Cauldron, though Abrina did not know what. She heard a rumor, in one of the shops she had stepped into, of a strange type of currency now found among the merchants. The coins were stamped with the face of a jester, instead of the sovereign. It unnerved the shopkeepers, certainly, who scrutinized her coins before accepting them, but Abrina did not believe that money would be the root of the suspicions of everyone else.

Abrina had spent hours wandering some of the middle avenues of Cauldron, only once hazarding the innermost and most dilapidated circle of Ash Avenue, only to discover that the temple she sought was located on the first street she had encountered: Obsidian. In the waning light and gathering rain clouds, Abrina climbed back up the inner bowl of the city, following the wide streets that sloped and curved gently upward.

A steady drizzle began to fall from the ash-gray sky. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seemed especially bleak and frightful this evening, hunched together beneath the tireless rain. A few lights burned in their eyes, but mostly their shutters had been closed for the night. The scent of chimney smoke filled the air, and Abrina heard the din of water trundling from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys, and turning street gutters into small rivulets.

A sudden plaintive cry for help split the evening air. Abrina whirled, spear raised in hand, to find no one around, no one on the street. The cry seemed to have come from somewhere behind her,/color] she was sure of it. Peering through the falling rain, she could make out no moving figures, nothing but the wet, tired faces of closed shops. She paused, listening, and heard some cursing, and the sounds of a scuffle, slightly muffled by the rainfall. Gingerly, she followed the noises. She maneuvered her scrollcase so it hung diagonally across her back, and cinched tight the strap. She grasped the wet shaft of the spear with both hands and peered down the street. The noises came from a nearby alley, not ten yards away.

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Two


Abrina pressed forward to the mouth of the mist-shrouded alley, wherein she saw three figures assaulting a fourth, who lay face-down on the wet cobblestones. One of the attackers lifted the victim by the hood of his cloak and thrust him against a wall as another growled, “Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?”

She should have left, should have stayed out of it. She was a stranger in this city, and therefore should not concern herself with its inhabitants. They weren’t her province, not her responsibility. Yet, Abrina could not stand by. She did not know what orphanage the attacker spoke of or why the man on the ground would visit it, but she would not allow him to be beaten in a dark, wet alley. Abrina stepped into the alley.

“Let go of him,” she called, her voice strong, overcoming the brief gusts of wind and the light pelting of rain. She raised her spear. “Let him go.”

One of the attackers dropped the man and turned to face her. Abrina sucked in her breath as she recognized the face of the attacker. A painted face, half black and half white, twisted into a harlequin’s grinning visage. But no, this wasn’t the same face as her own attacker. This was a man, and taller. But the paint she recognized.

“Bugger off!” the man said with a growl. He reached to his side and drew his sword from its scabbard as the other two did the same. Abrina kept her spear raised menacingly, but did not advance. The bruised and battered young man forced himself to stand and stumbled toward Abrina. He was human, and young, with sunken eyes and scraggly hair that clung to his scalp in the rain.

As he reached her, Abrina whispered to the young man, “Are you okay? Did they take anything from you?”

He shook his head, still taking deep, ragged breaths as he clutched his stomach. Abrina patted him lightly on the shoulder and slowly turned to face the three men again. As she glared, a fourth appeared from the opposite side of the alley, joining his fellows with sword unsheathed.

Abrina met the eyes of each, in turn, and slowly lowered her spear. It was folly, she knew, but these men had some connection to the woman that attacked her at the inn. She bowed her head, as if in sadness or defeat, and sensed the four men relaxing their stance.

Silently, with eyes closed, Abrina prayed to Ninurta to grant her strength.

She opened her eyes to find the four standing open-mouthed, now looking up at her. She now stood an imposing eleven feet tall, towering over the attackers. At her side, she heard the young man reciting whispered words, and as he finished she felt the enveloping, familiar touch of a god. She darted a quizzical glance at him, and he only smiled as he pulled out a mace she had not noticed before from his belt and began another prayer.

The four had regained their senses, realizing there were four of them, and still only one of her, despite her size. They charged, their swords held aloft, and Abrina clutched her spear, prepared to meet them.

OOC: Abrina cast enlarge on herself, and the young cleric cast bless on Abrina and himself. Abrina readied her spear to accept a charge from the attackers.

Abrina –
AC: 16 (+0 Dex, +5 chainmail, +2 heavy wooden shield, -1 size)
Attack: +5 (+1 morale [bless], +1 masterwork, +4 Str, -1 size)
Damage: 1d8+6 / x3 (+4 Str x 1.5)
​

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Three


Abrina now took up the entire width of the alley and the cleric had shifted in front of her to the side to meet the charge of the attackers. The first, swinging his sword wildly, ran directly toward Abrina. She clenched her spear, holding it rigid, and for a moment closed her eyes. She felt a tremendous jarring, and barely kept her weapon from wrenching out of her grasp. Her eyes flared open to see the first attacker now impaled on her oversized spear, his eyes rapidly glazing over. The second attacker had already reached the cleric and Abrina could already see a new wound on his shoulder. The cleric stumbled, clutching his arm to his side, and fell to the ground. Angrily, Abrina pulled back her spear and with a jab at the ground shook off the body and with a fluid, follow-through motion, speared the side of the man stepping forward to take the place of his fellow attacker.

Wielding her spear in one hand Abrina leaned over to the small form of the cleric on the ground. Whispering a prayer, Ninurta granted the cleric the energy he needed to rise. One of the men lashed out with his sword, which she diverted with the spear as she lifted the cleric to his feet with her other hand. He shook his head, nodded a brief thanks to her, and ducked beneath another swipe of a sword. Seeing an opening, the cleric swung his mace, crunching into the side of the man that Abrina had just wounded. The attacker crumpled, and fell.

Gritting her teeth, Abrina found another hit as the two remaining attackers continued to press. She did not have time to recover from her strike, and she could not defend herself from the other man with the painted face. He slid the sword easily into her side. Her vision dimmed as the attacker removed his sword and her blood coursed down her leg. She did not feel herself falling. Abrina only heard a cry from the cleric and caught a glimpse of him crushing his mace into the back of the one who wounded her. Then nothing.

OOC: This post would be my first attempt at describing combat. Was it fair, readable? Should I never attempt such an atrocity again, or do I simply need a little practice?
​

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Four


Abrina awoke with a gasp to find the cleric by her side, his hands hovering over her side. The wound was healed, but she could still feel the warmth over her blood on her skin. She struggled to rise and found she had returned to her normal size. Abrina was no longer the towering giant but as she glanced around the dark alley she discovered there were no more enemies to worry about.

“Are you okay?” asked the cleric.

“Yes,” Abrina responded, “I’ll be all right.”

The cleric nodded in return and left her side. “These men will die without our aid.”

For a moment, Abrina considered letting the painted men die, but she shook her head, discarding the thought. She rose and dug into her pack, finding a length of rope. Quickly, she tied the hands of the nearest unconscious man before whispering a prayer to relieve his ragged breathing.

She heard the others run off, down the sloping alley. They would be caught.

“Tell me,” she said forcefully to the man as his eyes fluttered open, “Why were you assaulting that man?”

He stared wide-eyed at her, his face turning to glance at the cleric that kneeled down at Abrina’s side. His eyes darted between the two of them, scared. “I . . . we . . . we were told to roughen him up. He shouldn’t be pokin’ around the orphanage.”

“What orphanage? Why not?” Abrina asked.

“The Lantern Street Orphanage,” said the cleric. “That is where I was coming from tonight when they attacked.”

The painted man nodded, then shrugged. “But I don’t know why. We were hired. It was nothing big, we weren’t going to hurt him.”

“Hired” questioned Abrina. “Who? And why are your faces painted like that? Who are Urikas and Tercival?” Her questions tumbled from her mouth faster than her prisoner could form answers as she shook his collar. He shook his head.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said emphatically. “The Last Laugh hired us, Jil was going to pay us-”

He stopped abruptly, his last word ending in a strange gurgle. Abrina dropped the dying man and fell back, glancing quickly around the dark alley, trying to see shapes through the slanting rain.

“Well done!” cried out a voice, the same voice of the woman that attacker her at the inn. The cleric pointed to a dark shape clinging to a section of the building wall. The figure emerged from the shadows. “But you do not need any more information he might have given you. You have my name, not that it matters much. The cleric lives because we of the Last Laugh wish it so, not because of your misplaced bravado.”

She pointed a baleful finger at the cleric. “Take these words back to your temple, priest. The children are lost and no longer Enlil’s concern.” The woman, Jil, turned and rapidly climbed the brick wall like a spider, and before either Abrina or the cleric could respond, she leapt over the edge onto the roof, and was gone, leaving the two staring open-mouthed in the rain.

The cleric came to Abrina’s side. “My name is Ruphus,” he said, sliding his mace into his belt at his side. “I can take you to Urikas, if you seek her. She is my superior, and the head of my order during the absence of the high priest.”

“You are a cleric of Enlil?” Abrina asked. The situation was beginning to make sense to her, and she began to understand why she might have been attacked. Though what the orphans had to do with it she still could not fathom.

“Yes,” replied Ruphus.

“Then yes, let us go to your temple. I have a message to deliver.” She gestured to the scroll case, still cinched to her back.

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Five


The two clerics climbed the inside of the volcano cauldron in the drizzling rain to their destination, the Church of Enlil. Upon reaching it, Abrina could not understand how she could have missed the large two-story structure, its white marble walls suffused with veins of vivid blue, standing in stark contrast to the buildings of bare black stone that flank it on the north end of Obsidian Avenue. A pair of white marble statues depicting armored warriors, sleek with rain, stand on either side of the temple’s heavy oaken door. Each of the statues raises a large pick to the star-studded sky. Above the door’s marble architrave were boldly inscribed the following words: WITHIN LAW LIVES HOPE.

Ruphus motioned her through the imposing oak doors of the church. Abrina gladly stepped through, into its safe and warm confines. An acolyte rose from a nearby sit in the entrance hall and approached, her young face carrying an unhidden expression of worry. The acolyte and Ruphus spoke quickly, in hushed tones, and after a moment the acolyte disappeared through a nearby door.

“She will return in a moment,” he said, “with some blankets and warm tea. You are free to stay the night, and I offer you my thanks.”

“But, my message,” Abrina replied as Ruphus began to turn away.

“I must first relate to Urikas what has transpired,” Ruphus said without turning. “She will be out to see you, if she gets the chance. If not, rest well, and you will meet in the morning.” He opened another door, opposite the one the acolyte had used, and left the entrance hall.

Grumbling, Abrina tried to wait patiently and piece together the pieces of information that Ruphus had tried to relate to her. He did not know anything about the men with the painted faces or why they had sought to attack him on the way back from the orphanage. At first, he had thought they were going to rob him, but it soon became clear they were trying to intimidate him. No further light had been shed on that mystery, but Ruphus did explain why a cleric of Enlil had an interest in the orphanage.

“Three nights ago,” Ruphus had explained, “four children were kidnapped from the Lantern Street Orphanage. Urikas sent me to console the distraught children and some of the staff, to let them know that Enlil would be watching for them. In the absence of our high priest, Delasharn, Urikas has publicly vowed for the Church to locate the missing children and bring the kidnappers to justice.”

How the painted faces were involved, and why they were concerned about her, still eluded Abrina.

The acolyte returned soon with blankets which Abrina used to swiftly scrub her hair and beart skin, patting down her clothing and armor as well. Hot tea followed soon thereafter which Abrina sipped carefully. She hated tea, preferred the thicker brews of spiced mead, but wanted to remain polite in the sister temple.

“Hopin’ you’ll enjoy your night, here,” the young acolyte mentioned, refilling Abrina’s tea and not noticing the grimace. “Jenya will bein’ out to see you shortly.”

“Jenya?” Abrina questioned, blowing on her tea.

The acolyte blushed, averting her gaze. “I mean, Urikas,” she said. “She is the high cleric, after all, while Delasharn is gone. Must show our respects, and all. She don’t mind her first name, but twouldn’t be right, I say.”

She stepped backwards. “I’ll just go warm you up some more tea.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Abrina tried to reply, but the acolyte had already fled.

A few moments later, a short woman with premature streaks of gray in her rich brown hair, pulled back into an elaborate bun, arrived with hand outstretched in greeting. She wore a brown robe with golden trim and the recognizable symbol of Enlil around her neck. Although several inches shorter than Abrina, the woman still seemed taller. She walked with purpose, each step firmly placed in the exact, desired location, her back straight and her eyes firmly fixed on her objective, no matter the distance. Now, those eyes fixed upon Abrina, who wanted to flinch from beneath that intense gaze.

Abrina held, locking her eyes with those of this commanding woman, and straightened herself to her full height, not in hopes of intimidating the woman, but to instead somehow match her impressive height.

“Good evening,” greeted the woman. “I have spoken to Ruphus and have learned of his harrowing ordeal, as well as your remarkable heroism. Thank you for interfering when you did. I had not realized the danger Ruphus might have been in when I requested he comfort the children.”

Abrina shook her head. “Ninurta led me. I could not just leave him to the ruffians.”

The woman smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes and lit her face. “Well, you have my thanks, as well as that of the Church of Enlil. I am Jenya Urikas, the acting high priest, and I am in your debt.”

Abrina shook her head again, but did not respond, unaccustomed to such praise.

Jenya led her to a private room, down a hallway leading off of the entrance hall, with a warm fire and several plush chairs. Jenya sat in one, inviting Abrina to seat herself in another opposite Jenya.

“I am told you have come to deliver a message for me?” Jenya asked, her penetrating gaze resting on Abrina.

Abrina forced herself to draw her eyes back from the dancing flames, return herself to her present time and place. “Yes, I have,” she responded, and withdrew the scrollcase. “It comes from the temple of Ea, in Haven. You know the head cleric there?”

Jenya’s eyes widened as she reached out to take the scrollcase from Abrina. “Yes, I do. But for what pressing reasons Helena would send me a message by Ninurta, I do not know.” Jenya withdrew the scroll from the case and began to read as Abrina sat across from her, sipping the bitter tea.

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Six


Abrina did not know the contents of the letter. She had read the missive to Elder Kevur, but it only hinted at the troubles brewing in Cauldron, and she did not understand half of it, anyway. Abrina had been tempted to unfurl the scroll many times on her journey, but she had never once opened the case. Now, she hoped Ninurta would reward her for her strength and Jenya would reveal to her the portents of the message.

After several moments, Jenya sighed and slowly curled the scroll and tied the ribbon around its center. She turned to gaze out the window into the night, remaining silent.

Abrina coughed.

Jenya turned back to Abrina and smiled wanely. “I believe Ruphus explained to you what has happened at the orphanage?” Jenya said, whisking away the scroll. Abrina’s eyes lingered on it as it disappeared into a desk drawer. Perhaps later, she would learn what message she had delivered into Jenya’s hands.

“Yes,” she answered, returning her attention to the cleric. “Something about a kidnapping?”

“Four children, only three nights ago.” Jenya continued, “Deakon, Evelyn, Lucinda and Terem. I have vowed to bring their kidnappers to justice, but I fear that these are only the most recent in a long string of strange disappearances, all somehow connected.

“I have requested Enlil’s aid directly, and received a cryptic response. One of our own has already begun his own investigations into the kidnappings, but has found nothing as of yet. Our city is not small, but all of our clerics are still easily recognized. Perhaps you, Abrina, might be able to discover something.”

Abrina hesitated. She desperately wished to return to Haven. She was happy, encouraging the crops, mending broken bones, playing in the games. She was content with that life, and had been hoping to return to it, after a single night’s rest in the city of Cauldron. Her gaze fell on the corner of the desk where Jenya had secreted away the scroll. Abrina’s thoughts returned to the knot in her gut she had felt when those men had accosted Ruphus. Painted faces still leered before her in her memories, and she did not know why. She imagined the children: scared, cold, and beaten by hulking men with faces of white and black . . .

“What can I do to help?” Abrina said abruptly, interrupting Jenya’s proposal, and something about a reward.

Jenya stood. “Thank you,” she said, opening the door and leading Abrina out into the hall. “Let me take you to Handel.”

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Seven


A bustling dwarf with a neatly trimmed beard and the flowing robes of Enlil hunched over a desk, pouring over various papers and jotting down notes in quick, spasming strokes, as Jenya and Abrina stepped through the door. Handel glanced up briefly as the two entered and dismissively returned to his work, leaving Abrina’s mouth open in a greeting she did not have the chance to give.

“Handel, this is Abrina, a cleric of Ninurta,” Jenya introduced, though the dwarf did not look up from his papers. Jenya continued, unfazed. “She will help you in the coming days, she has offered her help to find the missing children and bring the kidnappers to justice.”

“Indeed,” replied Handel with the characteristic dwarven grumble. “I doubt there is more that she can glean, but she can sort my notes, if she likes.”

Abrina’s eyes narrowed, insulted, but Jenya simply ignored Handel’s comment and turned to her. “Only last night,” she said, “I consulted an artifact on our temple, and asked a simple question of Enlil: Where are the children who were abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage? I received a reply, though a cryptic one. Handel has been studying the riddle ever since, as well as the little information we have gathered about the kidnappings. I’m afraid he has so far made little progress.”

At this, the dwarf looked up from his desk and straightened. “Nonsense!” he blustered, waving his notes in the air. “Enlil has provided us with a great deal. Here, here, allow me to shoe you.” He reached over, scattering various drawings, diagrams, and scraps until he found a parchment with six lines of small, precise letters.

“This,” Handel exclaimed, waving the paper in Abrina’s face. She flinched, backing away from the accosting dwarf. “This is Enlil’s riddle.”

Jenya neatly plucked it from Handel’s fingers, to his chagrin, and began to read aloud the words she had written the previous night.

The locks are key to finding them.
Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron,
But beware the doors with teeth.
Descend into the malachite ‘hold,
Where precious life is bought with gold.
Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long.
​

Handel grabbed it back from Jenya, clutching it in one hand. Abrina wondered for a moment why Jenya, obviously a cleric on high standing and the current head of the temple, accepted such treatment from the dwarf. The thought quickly fled, however, as Handel loudly proclaimed his conclusions.

“We know the orphanage has barred windows and excellent locks on all the doors. The orphanage has two large bedchambers on the second floor, one for boys and one for girls, and two children from each were kidnapped. No windows were broken, no doors damaged, and no one at the orphanage, including the staff and the other children, heard anything. They simply disappeared.

“But this,” he continued, holding the parchment in the air and returning to his scattered notes, “This gives us some clues. The riddle says, Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron. This must refer to some place beyond the city walls, the curtain, and below the cauldron of the mountain. The doors with teeth obviously refer to the portcullises of the wall, so one of the guards either knows something or is part of the kidnappings.”

“What about this malachite hold? Or the locks? Or the half-dwarf?” asked Jenya.

Handel waved away her questions as he sat at the desk. “I am not sure. Yet. I will get to that, and will notify you what it means when I find out.” With that, he bowed his head over his notes, retrieved a quill pen, and began to write some more notes on another scrap of paper. Jenya gently touched Abrina’s arm and pulled her into the hallway.

“I trust Handel, but I think it might be better for you to inquire at the orphanage yourself. Someone had to have gotten into the orphanage, and if they bypassed the locks on the bedchamber doors then I am afraid it might have been someone with access to the keys. If that is true, then the children are still in danger.”

Abrina nodded, remembering the first line of Enlil’s riddle, The locks are key to finding them. That would be her first question. She would have the rest of the night to think of what her second question might be.

“First thing in the morning, Jenya,” said Abrina confidently, “I will go to the orphanage, and find out what I can. With Ninurta’s strength, I will bring the kidnappers to you.”

“Thank you, Abrina.” Jenya nodded, appeared to relax, and led Abrina to a small private room. She had long since dried off and the bitter taste of the tea had thankfully retreated. Exhausted, Abrina collapsed into the spartan bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

[brellin]

so far so good. I alrady know the plot but i want to see what you can do
-brellin

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Eight


The orphanage rested on the corner of Lantern Street and Ash Avenue, its charcoal-colored stones held together with mold-encrusted mortar. The windows on both stories were tightly shuttered, the bleached and splintering wood seemed to droop forlornly in the morning light. Unlit lanterns hung on either side of the oaken front door, mounted to which was a green copper knocker shaped like a smiling gargoyle’s visage, its nostrils pierced by a copper ring. Abrina paused and breathed deeply before grasping the ring and knocked on the door of the Lantern Street Orphanage.

The door slowly creaked opened after a few moments and an elderly halfling woman peered out, her eyes flickering with suspicion.

“Who sent you?” she asked curtly, refusing to open the door further than the scant inches it was already.

“Me?” Abrina responded, taken aback. She had not expected distrust. “My name’s Abrina, and I was sent by Jenya, from the Church of Enlil. I was hoping-”

“Jenya?” interrupted the halfling with a raspy voice. “I don’t know any Jenya.”

“Urikas,” Abrina answered patiently, hoping perhaps that name sounded familiar. “She is the head cleric at the church while Delasharn is away. She was the one to give the proclamation to bring the kidnappers to justice.”

The halfling's eyes softened and she opened the door further. “Oh, yes” she said, motioning Abrina into the orphanage. “She has sent you, has she? You don’t look familiar. What was your name again?”

“Abrina” she replied, stepping into the dimly lit main hall. “I am actually only a visitor, here. A cleric of Ninurta. She requested my help to find the . . . children.”

The woman nodded, closing the door and showing Abrina in. “I apologize for my attitude. There have been plenty of other strangers in this place, and still no word of the children. It’s been frustrating, to say the least. My name is Gretchyn, the headmistress here.”

Gretchyn lead the way through the hall, leading Abrina past a playroom filled with small toys chaotically strewn across the floor and a schoolroom where a young woman walked among several rowdy children.

“That’s Willow, our schoolteacher here,” said Gretchyn, opening a door to a small room with a small desk in the corner and shelves bulging with aging books and sheaves of paper. “She volunteers, mostly, bless her heart. Without her, I don’t know what Neva and I would do to occupy them.”

“Neva?” Abrina questioned, her eye lingering on the lock of Gretchyn’s door.

“She’s the nurse. Neva helps me watch the children, fixes up their scraps and bruises.”

Abrina returned her gaze to Gretchyn. “Who else stays here?”

“Well, we have Jaromir Copperbeard, our gardener,” Gretchyn said, ticking the name off on one finger. “He keeps to himself, mostly. Neva Fanister, Willow Atherfell. Patch, good old Patch, keeps the place clean. And Temar Flagonstern is our most excellent cook, and he gets along quite well with the children, too.”

Gretchyn winked. “I believe he sneaks them cookies when I’m not looking. And I think he thinks I don’t know.”

Abrina nodded, smiling politely. Gretchyn had already lost her with who knew what in the kitchen. But none of the people she described sounded especially like kidnappers. “Does anyone have the keys to the children’s rooms, besides you?”

Gretchyn shook her head. “Nope. Just me, and I make sure to lock up every night, both the outer doors and the children’s door. Nothing gets in, and the children don’t manage to get into trouble.”

“Then how. . .” Abrina began, pondering aloud. The locks are key to finding them, she repeated to herself. The locks.

“Have your locks been damaged in any way, recently? Are you sure no one else has access?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Gretchyn snorted. “They’re perfect, you can check them out yourself. And the locks have worked fine since the day I got them from that gnome locksmith ten years ago.”

“And he wouldn’t have a copy of the key, would he?”

“I guess he could,” she replied thoughtfully. “But I don’t see why. He’s been in business a while, and no one has ever complained about him or reported him. Besides, it’s been years. Why would he kidnap children now?”

Abrina nodded. “You’re right, it wouldn’t make much sense. Would it be okay if I spoke with some of your staff, and maybe the children?”

Gretchyn rose. “Sure, you can, just don’t go upsetting anybody. Half of those children have already forgotten about the whole thing, but if you mention they might start bawling.”

Abrina followed Gretchyn out of the office, her thoughts in turmoil. Maybe one of the staff might provide some insight. Over and over she repeated the divination’s riddle, hoping that its meaning would click in her mind, like a key in its lock.

The locks are key to finding them.

 

[hbarsquared]

Chapter One, Part Nine

OOC – Slippin’ to page 3. Got to do something about that. ;-)​

Nothing. Abrina had spoken with the schoolteacher, the gardener, the nurse, and even several of the children. The most she was able to discover was a stilted description of a nightmare one of the children had the other night. Something about an evil gnome with crooked teeth and a tattered cloak. The other children quickly chimed in with their own dreams, covering the gamut of monsters lurking underneath their bed to fairies that came in the night. Exasperated, Abrina left the playroom, prepared to leave empty-handed.

Before reaching the door, a half-orc dressed in wrinkled, stained clothes and a patch over his left eye approached, a broom held tightly in both hands. He said nothing, but stood in front of her with wide, pleading eyes. Abrina had not seen him at the orphanage, but assumed this must have been the janitor of the institution and vaguely remembered Gretchyn referring to someone named “Patch.” She assumed this was most likely him.

“Yes?”

The half-orc twisted his hands along the wooden handle of the broom as if to wring out any water it might have. “I need . . . I . . . I . . .” His voice petered out into a long sigh and the half-orc turned to leave.

“Patch?” Abrina called to him. Did he know something? Why else would he approach her? He turned at her voice, eyes still pleading, asking her to discover a secret he was not offering to tell. “Patch? Is it about the children?”

Patch nodded, but did not elaborate and did not step toward her.

“Do you know what has happened to them?”

He shook his head and once again turned to leave.

“Wait!” Abrina called. “I’ve been sent by Jenya of the temple of Enlil to investigate the disappearance of the children. I am trying to find them and bring them back home. Can you help me?”

Patch glanced around the room furtively, and seeing no one he stepped close to Abrina, the thick and acrid smells of sweat, oil and cleaning vinegar nearly overwhelming her. “Please,” he said, “You can’t tell no one.”

Abrina nodded. “I won’t,” she said softly. “What do you know?”

“It was Revus. He’s with the Last Laugh guild. You know, them’s with the black and white faces. He said I could make a better life for myself, if I kept an eye on Terrem. I did, and now he’s gone!”

Tears welled in the half-orc’s eyes as he gripped the handle to his broom and his breathing grew deep and heavy. He tried to continue, with every other word punctuated by a wracking sob.

“I . . . didn’t mean . . . to hurt . . . no one. . . . The children . . .”

“Patch, what do you mean? Do you know where they are? Are they hurt?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.I was just to watch out for Terrem. I don’t know anything else about the kidnappings.”

Uncomfortable and not quite sure what to do for the hulking janitor, Abrina reached out hesitatingly and patted Patch on the shoulder, withdrawing her hand quickly. It did not seem that the sobbing half-orc noticed.

“Don’t tell Gretchyn,” he asked longingly, wiping tears from his eyes as he began to regain his compusure. “She’d be disappointed in me.”

Abrina nodded noncommittally, but Patch seemed to take it as an affirmation. Taking his broom he walked past her, sweeping the floor as if he had never stopped her in the first place. With a bewildered shake of her head, she opened the front door of the orphanage and stepped out.