drnuncheon
Explorer
Session One, Part One: The Hostage
The house was in the Merchant's Quarter, and even in the current downpour it had attracted a number of watchers - both on the street, and peering across from other buildings along the way. After all, the last event of note at the place had been the bloody murder of the owner, one of the city's most powerful Councilors, and a man who had yet to be replaced.
Planks had been laid across the street, propped at waist height, to block off access, and the scattered Watchmen assigned to them eyed the onlookers warily, as a hunter might watch a jungle cat pacing nearby.
Watch-Sergeant Jaffar scanned the crowds until his eyes fell on the tiny knot of people breaking their way through the masses. There they are, he thought to himself, and about damn time. "Let 'em through," he rasped, almost inaudible over the rain. "Stand aside."
Then again, the group seemed to be doing just fine breaking through the crowd on their own, due in no small part to the man in front - if indeed man he was. Standing closer to seven feet than six, with angular features and a grey cast to his skin, the man shouldered aside the onlookers easily, opening a path for his companions behind him. One look at the oversized maul propped easily on one shoulder was enough to convince the average person that objecting to the man's choice of path was not the best road to continued health.
Behind him and to the right strode a woman who, if less imposing physically, nevertheless exuded a force of presence that nearly equalled the big man's stature. The forest-green cloak covering her was held by a silver pin with the seal of the city, and as she walked the oilcloth parted to reveal the glint of armor beneath.
Flanking the big man on the other side was a wiry and muscular elf, his hood thrown back to let the wind and rain blow into his face. An oiled case hung over one shoulder, and unlike his companions, he was grinning as he walked.
After them trailed a fourth - a small, skinny man clutching his wet cloak around him and looking distinctly unhappy about the entire situation, from rain to his company to what they were about to do. He kept his eyes on the ground, and from time to time tugged his hood up farther, as if to keep his face from showing.
The small group reached the makeshift barricade, and Jaffar picked up one end of the plank. Before he could wave them through, a small figure emerged from the crowd and trotted under the barricade without breaking stride. The shock of carroty hair atop his head had been plastered to his scalp by the downpour, but before Jaffar could object, he thrust out a hand carrying a glittering silver badge and continued on his way.
"He's with us," the woman said. "Watch-Sergeant Katya Lukin, Special Crimes Unit."
"Glad to see you," Jaffar whispered. "Even gladder to know it won't be us going in there."
The other three moved past the barricade as the auburn-haired woman nodded. "Just the one hostage? Have they made any demands yet?"
Jaffar glanced back at the house, and spat into a puddle before he answered. "Yeah, just the Captain. They nailed their demands to the door, but we left 'em there. Figured you'd want to inspect everything first."
She nodded, but her enormous companion had already walked up to the door and torn the paper from it. Bending over to shield it from the rain, he splashed back across the street to where the others were assembling, on a dry porch with a view of the front of the house.
"Looks like Quooral got it," she observed. "We'd better go see what they want."
Jaffar nodded, and turned back to the crowds, one hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
A thick, blunt finger stabbed at the page. "What's this little squiggle here?"
The gnome stretched in a vain attempt to see the page. "Be careful! It might be..."
"Looks like a snake."
"...a trap." But it was already too late. Rising up from the page and rearing its hooded head was a dun-colored cobra. Hissing once, it lunged forward to bite the bald man - and then burst into a shimmering cloud of particles which enveloped him and constricted around him, fixing him in place like a piece of statuary.
"Oh, dear," sighed the gnome. "This is not a good start." With that, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Four of the five - all but the gnome - reassembled on the porch they had chosen as a staging area. Katya looked over the others. "Where's Glunnyn?"
Quooral ran an embarrassed hand over his shaven head. "After he got rid of the magic trap, he went to try to figure out where the captain is."
"Here he comes now," said the skinny man, as the gnome trotted up out of the rain.
"Glunnyn, what have you got?"
The little wizard beamed as he wiped rain from his face. "Well, the problem was not a difficult one. Although I am as yet unable to divine a location based upon the anthropic signature of the Captain, it was simple enough to deduce that certain appurtenances of his office were no doubt in a contiguous location to his person - so by a simple exercise of triangulation I was able to ascertain their location and thus the probable point of imprisonment of the Captain."
Jemis - the skinny man - stared bewildered at the diviner, then turned to Quooral. "What did he just say?"
The big man merely shrugged.
Glunnyn sighed. "I located his badge. He's on the second floor, towards the front of the house."
The elf spoke up for the first time. "That would be the study," he said. He had stripped the oilcloth from his bow and strung it, testing the pull as he eyed the barred and curtained windows above.
Katya nodded. "All right. Glunnyn, take a look, tell me what you see. Ashrem, check those second-floor windows. Jemis, take a look at the front door - Quooral, go with him." She hesitated a moment, then added: "And be careful. Those two know the Watch inside and out. They'll be expecting us."
The house was in the Merchant's Quarter, and even in the current downpour it had attracted a number of watchers - both on the street, and peering across from other buildings along the way. After all, the last event of note at the place had been the bloody murder of the owner, one of the city's most powerful Councilors, and a man who had yet to be replaced.
Planks had been laid across the street, propped at waist height, to block off access, and the scattered Watchmen assigned to them eyed the onlookers warily, as a hunter might watch a jungle cat pacing nearby.
Watch-Sergeant Jaffar scanned the crowds until his eyes fell on the tiny knot of people breaking their way through the masses. There they are, he thought to himself, and about damn time. "Let 'em through," he rasped, almost inaudible over the rain. "Stand aside."
Then again, the group seemed to be doing just fine breaking through the crowd on their own, due in no small part to the man in front - if indeed man he was. Standing closer to seven feet than six, with angular features and a grey cast to his skin, the man shouldered aside the onlookers easily, opening a path for his companions behind him. One look at the oversized maul propped easily on one shoulder was enough to convince the average person that objecting to the man's choice of path was not the best road to continued health.
Behind him and to the right strode a woman who, if less imposing physically, nevertheless exuded a force of presence that nearly equalled the big man's stature. The forest-green cloak covering her was held by a silver pin with the seal of the city, and as she walked the oilcloth parted to reveal the glint of armor beneath.
Flanking the big man on the other side was a wiry and muscular elf, his hood thrown back to let the wind and rain blow into his face. An oiled case hung over one shoulder, and unlike his companions, he was grinning as he walked.
After them trailed a fourth - a small, skinny man clutching his wet cloak around him and looking distinctly unhappy about the entire situation, from rain to his company to what they were about to do. He kept his eyes on the ground, and from time to time tugged his hood up farther, as if to keep his face from showing.
The small group reached the makeshift barricade, and Jaffar picked up one end of the plank. Before he could wave them through, a small figure emerged from the crowd and trotted under the barricade without breaking stride. The shock of carroty hair atop his head had been plastered to his scalp by the downpour, but before Jaffar could object, he thrust out a hand carrying a glittering silver badge and continued on his way.
"He's with us," the woman said. "Watch-Sergeant Katya Lukin, Special Crimes Unit."
"Glad to see you," Jaffar whispered. "Even gladder to know it won't be us going in there."
The other three moved past the barricade as the auburn-haired woman nodded. "Just the one hostage? Have they made any demands yet?"
Jaffar glanced back at the house, and spat into a puddle before he answered. "Yeah, just the Captain. They nailed their demands to the door, but we left 'em there. Figured you'd want to inspect everything first."
She nodded, but her enormous companion had already walked up to the door and torn the paper from it. Bending over to shield it from the rain, he splashed back across the street to where the others were assembling, on a dry porch with a view of the front of the house.
"Looks like Quooral got it," she observed. "We'd better go see what they want."
Jaffar nodded, and turned back to the crowds, one hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
A thick, blunt finger stabbed at the page. "What's this little squiggle here?"
The gnome stretched in a vain attempt to see the page. "Be careful! It might be..."
"Looks like a snake."
"...a trap." But it was already too late. Rising up from the page and rearing its hooded head was a dun-colored cobra. Hissing once, it lunged forward to bite the bald man - and then burst into a shimmering cloud of particles which enveloped him and constricted around him, fixing him in place like a piece of statuary.
"Oh, dear," sighed the gnome. "This is not a good start." With that, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Four of the five - all but the gnome - reassembled on the porch they had chosen as a staging area. Katya looked over the others. "Where's Glunnyn?"
Quooral ran an embarrassed hand over his shaven head. "After he got rid of the magic trap, he went to try to figure out where the captain is."
"Here he comes now," said the skinny man, as the gnome trotted up out of the rain.
"Glunnyn, what have you got?"
The little wizard beamed as he wiped rain from his face. "Well, the problem was not a difficult one. Although I am as yet unable to divine a location based upon the anthropic signature of the Captain, it was simple enough to deduce that certain appurtenances of his office were no doubt in a contiguous location to his person - so by a simple exercise of triangulation I was able to ascertain their location and thus the probable point of imprisonment of the Captain."
Jemis - the skinny man - stared bewildered at the diviner, then turned to Quooral. "What did he just say?"
The big man merely shrugged.
Glunnyn sighed. "I located his badge. He's on the second floor, towards the front of the house."
The elf spoke up for the first time. "That would be the study," he said. He had stripped the oilcloth from his bow and strung it, testing the pull as he eyed the barred and curtained windows above.
Katya nodded. "All right. Glunnyn, take a look, tell me what you see. Ashrem, check those second-floor windows. Jemis, take a look at the front door - Quooral, go with him." She hesitated a moment, then added: "And be careful. Those two know the Watch inside and out. They'll be expecting us."
