Metropolis (The World in Waiting) - Chapter One

[D20Dazza]

Without breaking a smile, Zimmerman throws a card onto the table and slowly shuffles out into the hallway, only looking back briefly to light a fat cigar and laugh heartily.

The card clearly reads:

You have been cordially invited to celebrate the 8th birthday of Ms. Stephanie Zimmerman.

"Hmmm" Ghost thinks to himself, "sounded almost like a threat. I might have to do some further background checks on Zimmerman. If I've ever met a man not to be trusted that's him."

He drops the card into his shirt pocket and pulls his trench coat off the hook on the wall before shrugging his shoulders into it. Pulling his light mace from the umbrella stand he straps it to his side, secures his long bow across his back and his quiver to his leg before snuggling his dagger into its boot sheath.

Having one last big draw on the cigar that still hangs from his mouth he stamps it out in the ashtray that he uses as a paper weight on his desk and strides purposefully to the door, stopping only to grab the rest of his equipment from the big chest that sits to the left of the egress. Stepping through the door into the dimly lit corridor Ghost turns and ensures that the door is properly secured before quietly making his way down the hallway.

“I wonder what that bastard was up to” he mumbles as he walks.

[sblock]OOC: I guess it is too late for a Sense Motive check? Ghost is intending on going outside and seeing about some gather information checks on both Zimmerman and his daughter while making his way to The Apartments. If the streets are too crowded he might use the sewer systems (which he is passingly familiar with from his ongoing investigations into the biomagical engineering on indentured workers on some of the sewer farms) to get himself there quicker.[/sblock]

 

[RobotRobotI]

Vrisse's ethereal body drifts forward to stand between where the young priestess rests and the congregation that gathers below. His face twists to what Alexis knows well as a mixture of disappointment and worry, Vrisse had used this face far to many times before.

"You are still young my dear, what would your parents think if I allowed you to wander the streets unprotected. If you were simply killed out there it would not be such a worry, but so many horrible things may happen to you."

Vrisse's body faded into a fine mist for a moment before reforming, this time with his back to the young priestess.

"But if that is what you require my dear, I shall inform the Herders* to pack your things immediately. The carriage will be brought around, and I shall have our usual retained bodyguards placed in waiting for you. You may have to wait a few hours for the proper incantations to be placed upon your transportation, but I'm sure that you can spend that time studying up on the test you will be sitting next week. I hope you have been looking at your anti-anatomy notes I left you in your room."

[sblock]
* Herders are very similar to porters in the outside world, but with one very important difference. When acolytes of Zsath first learn to channel the energies necessary to control lesser undead creatures, they are put to task in the temple to practice the arts. Herders control the undead that do the mindless tasks, the packing, lifting, scrubbing, allowing the Herders to slowly master their arts and move onto other things. Then again sometimes Herders can simply be priests or priestesses that have wronged a powerful cleric of a higher order...

[/sblock]

As Vrisse takes his leave to alert the herders, Alexis begins the long trek to the base of the tower. It's a great distance, and the trek alone will probably take her a good portion of an hour; perhaps more. She doesn't mind this, though, and her overall demeanor is overwhelmingly positive. She has a great grin on her face that seems almost out of place amongst her drab garb.

As she leaves the balcony and enters into the temple, she'll take command of the first two skeletons she sees*, regardless of their current task. She speaks a prayer to herself, repeating it over and over, as she marches. "We thank you, Zsath, Banker of Spirits, for the life you have given us and the afterlife that awaits in you. We thank you for giving us that which so many others have lost; we thank you, Lord Zsath." The undead walk beside her, silent except for the clattering of their jaws. This is, of course, not a common thing for skeletons to do, but it helps her to concentrate, and so their jaws clack in unison with her steps...

*[sblock] Rebuke/Command Undead : +4 ((Minimum of 5, which is Level -2 HD, which is 2HD. She should be able to command two HD of undead with no problem.))[/sblock]

 

[Cathoi]

"We are not bad people Mr Keha, that is why we saved you from a fate you most likely deserved. All we ask in return is that you help yourself, and us in the process."

"Now Mr Keha, our people have discovered something that you may wish to see. Go to the Ivory Markets in Opulant, find the merchant Giante. If you need more information than that, perhaps we have been mistaken about you."

*Fishing his half of the Gzanite, Naten stows the rest and scowls at the vanishing form of the priest. Only once the cleric is indistinguishable from the crowd does Naten get up, attempt his futile best at wringing his cloak out, and move back into the main streets. He cuts sideways through the passing wave of humanity, keeping his pack and his purse held tight but nonchalantly. Don't keep watch of something, and out here its stolen, be too careful and they'll know whatever it is, it's valuable. Ya got something valuable, they'll take it off your cooling cadaver if need be. Naten searches on through the dreary night looking for a canal*

[sblock]Naten is searching the canals for a barge leading into Opulant. This should take a knowledge (local) check?[/sblock]

 

[Phoenix]

Taran wipes what he can out of his eyes as he slowly rises. He justures a bit* and the filth cleans up somewhat on him and Twitchy. He opens his eyes fully to make sure he and Twitchy are ok. He turns to look at the person who was walking over him. In an attempt to recover as much dignity as he can, he smiles and asks "What can I do for you?"

In the centre of the large chamber, Taran sees Twichy nearby, a little battered like himself, no no worse for wear. Completing his enchantment, the filth upon him turns into water, allowing him to clear his eyes easier and look around the chamber for the person that he is speaking to.

Before him the dangling corpse of a man easily in his eighties dangles from a piece of rope that has one end tied around his ankle, the other stuck into something on the ceiling. Most of his body has decompsed and maggots use his flesh as a playground, pouring forth from his orifices lazily.

The small amount of light filthering from above is barely enough for Taran to make out the details that are only scant feet before him. Even though, there is a feeling of dread as the darkness seems to stare in at druid and dangling corpse...

 

[Phoenix]

[sblock]OOC: I guess it is too late for a Sense Motive check? Ghost is intending on going outside and seeing about some gather information checks on both Zimmerman and his daughter while making his way to The Apartments. If the streets are too crowded he might use the sewer systems (which he is passingly familiar with from his ongoing investigations into the biomagical engineering on indentured workers on some of the sewer farms) to get himself there quicker.[/sblock]

[sblock]
No way....
Sense Motive check (Hunch DC25) +18 - Failure
Gather Information check (Mr Zimmerman DC15/25) +21 - Partial Success
[/sblock]

The weather outside is dismal and rain pours down from the skies to form runoffs that flood the streets in every direction. Mud and filth cause the alleyway's stench to spill into the city, but still crowds of people drift from place to place in hope of finding some meaning in their pointless lives.
Ghost drifts in and out of pubs and night-stalls before taking a shortcut through the sewers towards the Apartments. Usually travelling either way is dangerous, just becase the Apartments are above ground doesn't mean the anamosity is restricted to the surface. But there are usually more places to hide in the darkness of the earth.
Climbing from the sewers and into the streets that appear to be constricted by the sprawing chaotic buildings that make up the Apartments, it doesn't take long to find people who are willing to talk for a few copper pieces.
Apparently Mr Zimmerman is one of the many merchants that are currently partaking of the newest wealthy fad, Family Trading. Purchasing ones own family, or even selling them, in order to fit a social niche has risen in popularity in the past year. Apparently Mr Zimmerman contacted one of the dealers in the Apartments that kidnap street children in order to train them and sell them to wealthy buyers. Mr Zimmerman purchased Stephanie from a black market racketeer called Thylon, a gang leader located in the Dyllathan Buildings.
Not to far from here, in fact the buidling is in sight.

 

[Phoenix]

As she leaves the balcony and enters into the temple, she'll take command of the first two skeletons she sees*, regardless of their current task. She speaks a prayer to herself, repeating it over and over, as she marches. "We thank you, Zsath, Banker of Spirits, for the life you have given us and the afterlife that awaits in you. We thank you for giving us that which so many others have lost; we thank you, Lord Zsath." The undead walk beside her, silent except for the clattering of their jaws. This is, of course, not a common thing for skeletons to do, but it helps her to concentrate, and so their jaws clack in unison with her steps...

*[sblock] Rebuke/Command Undead : +4 ((Minimum of 5, which is Level -2 HD, which is 2HD. She should be able to command two HD of undead with no problem.))[/sblock]

[sblock]
Turn Undead +11 (4 HD)
Turning Effects = 8 HD (Success)
[/sblock]

Alexis walks across the grand marble floor of the main temple where censers create a thick smoke that drifts into the arched ceiling above. Even the senior priests show respect for the Patriach's daughter as she drifts towards the main doors that lead to the outside world.
Already guards await the priestess, six muscle bound warriors clad in loose fitting steel plates that protect their vital areas, holding great crossbows with wicked axes across their back. From the top of the 87 Steps of Kyron* Alexis can easily see the magnificent carriage being led by skeletal horses approaching from the church's compund nearby.
Several steps down the manifestation of Vrisse took several seconds, causing some peasants nearby to point and stare.
"There my dear, we are nearly ready. You will be able to see and learn much from the safety of the carriage. Is there anything else you would like before you leave, after all I cannot leave the grounds of the Temple as you know."

[sblock]
*The 87 Steps of Kyron represent the 87 Steps into Heaven or Hell, depending on what end of the staircase you are standing on at the time.
[/sblock]

 

[Phoenix]

*Fishing his half of the Gzanite, Naten stows the rest and scowls at the vanishing form of the priest. Only once the cleric is indistinguishable from the crowd does Naten get up, attempt his futile best at wringing his cloak out, and move back into the main streets. He cuts sideways through the passing wave of humanity, keeping his pack and his purse held tight but nonchalantly. Don't keep watch of something, and out here its stolen, be too careful and they'll know whatever it is, it's valuable. Ya got something valuable, they'll take it off your cooling cadaver if need be. Naten searches on through the dreary night looking for a canal*

[sblock]Naten is searching the canals for a barge leading into Opulant. This should take a knowledge (local) check?[/sblock]

[sblock] Not for something as easy as calling a taxi...
[/sblock]

Wandering through the damp and dreary streets, it takes Naten minutes to locate the Yunidan River. Most of the rivers of Metropolis suffer from the pollution of the city, and the Yunidan is no exception. Brown, sludgy, and pungent on overly warm days, the river often causes great sickness in the poor that eat and drink from the diseased waters.
The barges nearby are little more than rafts that have been stolen from the larger vessels that sail the rivers between some of the wealthier suburbs like Dionysian and The Green Fields. A handful of copper bits is all that is needed to pay the ferryman, a haggered sick man that looks like he uses his income to suppliment whatever depraved addiction has claimed his soul.
Fifteen slow minutes pass, but Naten is eventually dropped at the run down Ivory Markets, a place thrives on the imaginative mind of the sick and twisted. Immediately the offerers of a man's daughter for several hours for a silver, or his dog...or him...sets the mood for the visit. It seems that it is not so much that anything can be bought here, but anything is for sale.

 

[Bront]

In the centre of the large chamber, Taran sees Twichy nearby, a little battered like himself, no no worse for wear. Completing his enchantment, the filth upon him turns into water, allowing him to clear his eyes easier and look around the chamber for the person that he is speaking to.

Before him the dangling corpse of a man easily in his eighties dangles from a piece of rope that has one end tied around his ankle, the other stuck into something on the ceiling. Most of his body has decompsed and maggots use his flesh as a playground, pouring forth from his orifices lazily.

The small amount of light filthering from above is barely enough for Taran to make out the details that are only scant feet before him. Even though, there is a feeling of dread as the darkness seems to stare in at druid and dangling corpse...

Taran is taken aback by the corpse left dangling. "I don't think this belongs here Twitchy." he says as he circles the corpse slowly. Looking at the body, he checks for any identifying marks on the body or clothing. 'This surely looks odd if it's one of the sewer gangs. Hardly the kind of example one makes, stringing up an old man.'

Taran looks around, the darkness is imposing as always, but something about it just bothers him more than usuall. Perhaps being tossed about in filth has him a bit off kilter. He takes out one of his common short spears, and casts Light* on the tip, to give himself a better view. He gives the the body and the area another once over for possable signs that this was recient, then looks to see if he can pick up a trail. "Well Twitchy, you think we should look into this?" As usuall, Twitchy's silence is wise beyond anything Taran could ask for. This is just a little too close to home for comefort.

OOC:
[sblock]*Light will last for 40 minutes, sheds bright light 20' radius, and dim light another 20' beyond that

I'll make any appropriate tracking, spot and search rolls to find out about the body, and where it came from. Maybe Twitchy will pick up something that I miss.[/sblock]

 

[D20Dazza]

Mr Zimmerman purchased Stephanie from a black market racketeer called Thylon, a gang leader located in the Dyllathan Buildings. Not to far from here, in fact the buidling is in sight.

His collar high, and wide brimmed hat jammed down securely on his head, Hound strides purposefully through the rain, refuse and filthy, bedraggled people that make their homes in the shanty town that sits in the shadows of The Apartments. His hand rests lightly upon his mace and he keeps a wary eye out for any would be thief. His money pouch lies heavy against his chest, tied securely to a leather throng double-looped around his neck. His purse, which held his few ‘public coins’, was tied loosely to his belt next to his mace. He had been sure to let his informants see where his hand dipped when he paid them off, and equally as sure that they saw the mace with its leering ghoul-face head.

His steps drew him closer and closer to the Dyllathan Buildings. His heart hammered in his chest. “I wish I had of thought to hire some muscle before venturing down here” he thought to himself as the crowds thinned and he saw for the first time the imposing ‘muscle’ that stood nonchalantly around the courtyard. He stopped, stretched languidly and took the opportunity to assess the ‘lay-of-the-land’. His eyes skimmed the shadows, trying to identify any hidden dangers.

[sblock]While walking towards the buildings he does a Bardic Knowledge check (level+ Int mod) to try and learn more about the Dyllathan Buildings, Thylon and the practice of ‘family trading’.

Once he stops in the courtyard he spends a minute doing a spot check around the perimeter before cautiously making his way towards the entrance to the buildings.[/sblock]

 

[Phoenix]

Taran looks around, the darkness is imposing as always, but something about it just bothers him more than usuall. Perhaps being tossed about in filth has him a bit off kilter. He takes out one of his common short spears, and casts Light* on the tip, to give himself a better view. He gives the the body and the area another once over for possable signs that this was recient, then looks to see if he can pick up a trail. "Well Twitchy, you think we should look into this?" As usuall, Twitchy's silence is wise beyond anything Taran could ask for. This is just a little too close to home for comefort.

OOC:
[sblock]*Light will last for 40 minutes, sheds bright light 20' radius, and dim light another 20' beyond that

I'll make any appropriate tracking, spot and search rolls to find out about the body, and where it came from. Maybe Twitchy will pick up something that I miss.[/sblock]

Taran's have wave across his spear and with a few muttered incantations it bursts into light, forcing the darkness to flee from the small druid. Sometimes it is better to be left in the dark though...
The chamber that Taran stands near the centre of is an old domed construction where several sewer lines meet, then plunge into a well that drops further into the depthes of the earth. The walls and ceiling are in poor condition, worse than the rest of the sewer system, and there is a realization that the small druid has not seen this area before, even though it is located so close to his home.
From the ceiling, walls, and even scattered on the floor, dozens of elderly men and women (all at least eighty years old) are scattered in various positions of body shattering poses. Shards of bones protrude from ancient wounds, liquidized organs have long drifted away to leave empty husks, and vacant glares seem to look straight through Taran's eyes into something else, like a dead universe only they can see.

[sblock]Knowledge (nature) check +17 - Success
Other body related checks postponed at the moment due to new information, if you still want to check it out OCC again to make sure
[/sblock]

The well in the centre of the room begins to wail softly, a wailing that is not caused by any wind current or change in atmosperic conditions within the sewers, it is definately something, or someone, else. The fetid water still pours down the well like a miniture waterfall, taking chunks of human waste down into the murky depths below.