First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour (Updated 01-03-2008)
- Thread starter Jodo Kast
- Start date
Lamprolign
First Post
Glad to end the weekend on a high note Fenzer. As always thanks for reading!
Broccli_Head
Explorer
I love a story hour where I am able to attempt to deduce the mystery along with the characters. Thanks guys!
Lamprolign
First Post
painting
Hana at P.O. Bocks made this really cool painting for First Sight.
I'm most impressed by the colors and texture of the work. It brings to my mind the watery transitions from real-time to Gabe's visions. This kinda stuff makes me really wish I could draw something besides flies! A big thanks to Hana!
Hana at P.O. Bocks made this really cool painting for First Sight.
I'm most impressed by the colors and texture of the work. It brings to my mind the watery transitions from real-time to Gabe's visions. This kinda stuff makes me really wish I could draw something besides flies! A big thanks to Hana!
Lamprolign
First Post
025
Images of sorrow, pictures of delight
Things that go to make up a life
Endless days of summer longer nights of gloom
Waiting for the morning light
Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame
Things that go to make up a life
- Genesis, Home By The Sea
The gentle crackle of burning logs, along with heat emanating from the tiny fireplace, lulled Asher into a semi-conscious state. His mind wandered. Why am I still sitting here? Why did I bring Becky here instead of calling an ambulance like a sane person?
Asher studied Becky's sleeping face. She was very much as he remembered her from years ago. Perhaps there were a few lines around the eyes that hadn't been there, but there was a statuesque symmetry to her features that remained unchanged.
A long time ago, Asher thought. Seeing her again, I remember why I had such a crush on her.
He wondered at what she had gone through, having a family and then losing it. Family had been a foreign concept to him when he'd first come to the Haven. In those days he railed against fate, God, society, anything or anyone he could blame for his lot.
With time, and more patience than he now thought mortally possible, the Sister had brought him into the fold, made him feel that he belonged there. She insisted that he had a gift waiting to awaken.
He'd stepped into a world that most regarded as myth.
His ruminations were interrupted by the click of the door latch.
"Why are you still here?" Poe looked at Asher through narrowed eyes.
"And when were you left in charge?" Asher's response equaled the acid in Poe's voice. "My business is my own. Take your 'dark and dangerous' act somewhere else."
"Why don't you do something more useful, like helping Gabe and Mary find the little girl?"
"I don't see you out looking."
"It's still daylight,
."
****
"Holy!" Gabe exclaimed softly.
Craters pocketed the asphalt, just as Chris described it. Everywhere there were scorch marks, some in improbable places. Three nearby houses were burnt entirely to the ground. Several more were only singed around the edges.
"We did all this?"
"The power should never have to be used this way." Mary's voice was distressed. "This is the kind of thing the Sister warns us about. The craft can cause so much harm when loosed."
Gabe remained silent. While not as dramatic as Sarah's display of power in the restaurant parking lot, the end was the same. Looking to the abandoned house, Gabe noticed immediately that it stood relatively untouched, with only its yard surrounded by crime tape. This was a huge scene to process. He was mildly surprised that there were not still people on-site.
Sloppy. They've got a bunch of chiefs and not enough Indians to go around. Bureaucrats and politics! No wonder Chris is freaking.
Skirting around the police tape, Gabe made his way to the backyard of the abandoned house. A few sets of footprints broke the dirty snow pack leading from the narrow alley between the houses to the open back door. Gabe stepped cautiously into the house, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the gloom permeating the abode. He heard the scratching of rodents scurrying for shelter from the behemoth in their midst. The air was redolent with mildew and rat urine.
"Uhg."
"What an incredible smell you've discovered."
"Aren't you a little young to be quoting Star Wars?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind," Gabe grumbled.
A uniform coating of pale dust covered the floor and countertops. As Gabe's eyes adjusted he could see footprints in the dust. Most were large, adult-sized, but near a corner of what was once a living room he saw a child's footprint. Only one. Any others were obliterated by the larger prints.
In the corner a crude nest had been made of old newspapers and other detritus. Gabe clenched his jaw. He imagined the child, cold and alone, huddling amidst the scant comfort her crude bed could provide. Grim determination hardened Gabe's face as he continued to examine the scene.
A refracted beam of sunlight caught his attention. Broken glass lay beneath one of the few windows not covered by plywood. Shards of glass strewn inside the house indicated that whatever had broken the window had been traveling inward. The wooden frame still held a jagged fringe of crystalline teeth. A bit of rag dangled there.
Gabe examined it closely. Loom-woven wool. He could not discern its original color through the grime that permeated the weave. The grime itself looked like ash of some kind. He leaned close to the article and sniffed. Gabe's brow furrowed at the smell, smoke, not wood smoke or diesel, something else. His mind cast back through years of memories...coal?
"Well, well, look what we got here."
Gabe snapped upright, whirling at the familiar gravelly voice.
"I know you weren't just on your way for breakfast this time, Ansgar." Jake Brewer hoisted his bulk through the open back door. "What are you doing here?"
Gabe regarded the detective for a long moment before responding. "This is damn near in my backyard, Brewer, and I'm not the sort to just sit around while a scene gets bungled like this one."
"Bungled, huh?" Brewer grunted. "I suppose you're the only one with the brains to process a scene?"
"From what I've seen here, yeah, I am," Gabe answered brusquely.
"Why don't you grace me with your brilliance, Sherlock?"
Gabe's hackles rose at the detective's remark. "For starters, no one bothered to tape off this house, and I can tell from the five minutes I've been in here that only a cursory sweep was made. Look at this window." Gabe pointed toward the maw of splintered glass.
"Yeah?"
"Someone broke though this window recently. There's no dust on the edges of the pieces. Oh, and look at this." Gabe's voice filled with sarcasm. "A piece of cloth caught on the pretty glass in the frame. Hmmm. Now, I know it's a lot to ask to catch every little detail at a crime scene, especially one as out of sight as this one..."
"It's a piece of cloth. Big deal."
"This piece of cloth could tell you where it's been. It's coated in ash..."
"This wholeing block was on fire last night, Ansgar! Of course it's coated in ash."
"How many coal fires were here last night?"
"Coal?"
"Yes, coal." Gabe stepped to one side of the window. "Smell it. Everything that burns leaves a distinctive odor. That's not burning house or diesel or napalm. It's coal."
"So what? Just what the hell does that tell you?"
"Nothing by itself, but if the same level of attention was given to the rest of the scene, then there's no telling what else might have been missed."
"Well, then it's a good thing that the Amazing Ansgar is here to save us poor bungling morons from our own incompetence!"
Gabe snatched the piece of cloth from the window. "And look at the material itsel..."
He stopped abruptly as the image of the stocky detective before him blurred and dissolved, a watercolor painting washing away.
Gabe stood in a dark alley. Flickering light warped shadows back and forth across the aging brick walls. A few yards ahead he saw its source. Flames leaped above the rim of a steel drum around which huddled three hunched silhouettes. They leaned close to the fire, speaking in hushed voices.
"Hatch disappeared last night."
"Maybe he just moved on."
"Elmer said he saw someone grab him."
"Who would want any of us?
"I don't know. I just know I'm scared."
The fire burned lower in the barrel. One of the speakers raised his hand toward the barrel and the flames shot up.
"How'd you do that, man?!"
"I don't know. I just think about the fire getting higher and it does."
"That's pretty cool!"
"Hasn't done me a damn bit of good."
"It's still cool. And handy on a night like this."
Gabe watched, perplexed by this vision. He heard a scuffing noise, shoes scraping across pavement. He heard Mary's sharp intake of breath. She backed into him. A shuffling form moved into his field of view from behind. He recognized the disjointed movements of a ghoul.
Two more ghouls emerged from the shadows on the opposite side of the circle of light emanating from the barrel. They converged quickly on the trio. One man turned in time to see the unnatural shape moving toward him. His gurgled scream cut short as the ghoul neatly twisted his head completely backwards. The second unfortunate was dispatched with equal efficiency.
The remaining man, the one who had manipulated the fire, backed into the arms of the third.
Its gnarled hand snapped over the man's mouth. The man struggled a moment, then went limp. The ghoul tossed the raggedy bundle over its shoulder and swiftly vanished into the shadows with its compatriots.
"Oh my God!" Mary gasped. "Someone is harvesting to make ghouls!"
© 2003 Austin Hale
Images of sorrow, pictures of delight
Things that go to make up a life
Endless days of summer longer nights of gloom
Waiting for the morning light
Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame
Things that go to make up a life
- Genesis, Home By The Sea
The gentle crackle of burning logs, along with heat emanating from the tiny fireplace, lulled Asher into a semi-conscious state. His mind wandered. Why am I still sitting here? Why did I bring Becky here instead of calling an ambulance like a sane person?
Asher studied Becky's sleeping face. She was very much as he remembered her from years ago. Perhaps there were a few lines around the eyes that hadn't been there, but there was a statuesque symmetry to her features that remained unchanged.
A long time ago, Asher thought. Seeing her again, I remember why I had such a crush on her.
He wondered at what she had gone through, having a family and then losing it. Family had been a foreign concept to him when he'd first come to the Haven. In those days he railed against fate, God, society, anything or anyone he could blame for his lot.
With time, and more patience than he now thought mortally possible, the Sister had brought him into the fold, made him feel that he belonged there. She insisted that he had a gift waiting to awaken.
He'd stepped into a world that most regarded as myth.
His ruminations were interrupted by the click of the door latch.
"Why are you still here?" Poe looked at Asher through narrowed eyes.
"And when were you left in charge?" Asher's response equaled the acid in Poe's voice. "My business is my own. Take your 'dark and dangerous' act somewhere else."
"Why don't you do something more useful, like helping Gabe and Mary find the little girl?"
"I don't see you out looking."
"It's still daylight,
."****
"Holy
!" Gabe exclaimed softly.Craters pocketed the asphalt, just as Chris described it. Everywhere there were scorch marks, some in improbable places. Three nearby houses were burnt entirely to the ground. Several more were only singed around the edges.
"We did all this?"
"The power should never have to be used this way." Mary's voice was distressed. "This is the kind of thing the Sister warns us about. The craft can cause so much harm when loosed."
Gabe remained silent. While not as dramatic as Sarah's display of power in the restaurant parking lot, the end was the same. Looking to the abandoned house, Gabe noticed immediately that it stood relatively untouched, with only its yard surrounded by crime tape. This was a huge scene to process. He was mildly surprised that there were not still people on-site.
Sloppy. They've got a bunch of chiefs and not enough Indians to go around. Bureaucrats and politics! No wonder Chris is freaking.
Skirting around the police tape, Gabe made his way to the backyard of the abandoned house. A few sets of footprints broke the dirty snow pack leading from the narrow alley between the houses to the open back door. Gabe stepped cautiously into the house, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the gloom permeating the abode. He heard the scratching of rodents scurrying for shelter from the behemoth in their midst. The air was redolent with mildew and rat urine.
"Uhg."
"What an incredible smell you've discovered."
"Aren't you a little young to be quoting Star Wars?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind," Gabe grumbled.
A uniform coating of pale dust covered the floor and countertops. As Gabe's eyes adjusted he could see footprints in the dust. Most were large, adult-sized, but near a corner of what was once a living room he saw a child's footprint. Only one. Any others were obliterated by the larger prints.
In the corner a crude nest had been made of old newspapers and other detritus. Gabe clenched his jaw. He imagined the child, cold and alone, huddling amidst the scant comfort her crude bed could provide. Grim determination hardened Gabe's face as he continued to examine the scene.
A refracted beam of sunlight caught his attention. Broken glass lay beneath one of the few windows not covered by plywood. Shards of glass strewn inside the house indicated that whatever had broken the window had been traveling inward. The wooden frame still held a jagged fringe of crystalline teeth. A bit of rag dangled there.
Gabe examined it closely. Loom-woven wool. He could not discern its original color through the grime that permeated the weave. The grime itself looked like ash of some kind. He leaned close to the article and sniffed. Gabe's brow furrowed at the smell, smoke, not wood smoke or diesel, something else. His mind cast back through years of memories...coal?
"Well, well, look what we got here."
Gabe snapped upright, whirling at the familiar gravelly voice.
"I know you weren't just on your way for breakfast this time, Ansgar." Jake Brewer hoisted his bulk through the open back door. "What are you doing here?"
Gabe regarded the detective for a long moment before responding. "This is damn near in my backyard, Brewer, and I'm not the sort to just sit around while a scene gets bungled like this one."
"Bungled, huh?" Brewer grunted. "I suppose you're the only one with the brains to process a scene?"
"From what I've seen here, yeah, I am," Gabe answered brusquely.
"Why don't you grace me with your brilliance, Sherlock?"
Gabe's hackles rose at the detective's remark. "For starters, no one bothered to tape off this house, and I can tell from the five minutes I've been in here that only a cursory sweep was made. Look at this window." Gabe pointed toward the maw of splintered glass.
"Yeah?"
"Someone broke though this window recently. There's no dust on the edges of the pieces. Oh, and look at this." Gabe's voice filled with sarcasm. "A piece of cloth caught on the pretty glass in the frame. Hmmm. Now, I know it's a lot to ask to catch every little detail at a crime scene, especially one as out of sight as this one..."
"It's a piece of cloth. Big deal."
"This piece of cloth could tell you where it's been. It's coated in ash..."
"This whole
ing block was on fire last night, Ansgar! Of course it's coated in ash.""How many coal fires were here last night?"
"Coal?"
"Yes, coal." Gabe stepped to one side of the window. "Smell it. Everything that burns leaves a distinctive odor. That's not burning house or diesel or napalm. It's coal."
"So what? Just what the hell does that tell you?"
"Nothing by itself, but if the same level of attention was given to the rest of the scene, then there's no telling what else might have been missed."
"Well, then it's a good thing that the Amazing Ansgar is here to save us poor bungling morons from our own incompetence!"
Gabe snatched the piece of cloth from the window. "And look at the material itsel..."
He stopped abruptly as the image of the stocky detective before him blurred and dissolved, a watercolor painting washing away.
Gabe stood in a dark alley. Flickering light warped shadows back and forth across the aging brick walls. A few yards ahead he saw its source. Flames leaped above the rim of a steel drum around which huddled three hunched silhouettes. They leaned close to the fire, speaking in hushed voices.
"Hatch disappeared last night."
"Maybe he just moved on."
"Elmer said he saw someone grab him."
"Who would want any of us?
"I don't know. I just know I'm scared."
The fire burned lower in the barrel. One of the speakers raised his hand toward the barrel and the flames shot up.
"How'd you do that, man?!"
"I don't know. I just think about the fire getting higher and it does."
"That's pretty cool!"
"Hasn't done me a damn bit of good."
"It's still cool. And handy on a night like this."
Gabe watched, perplexed by this vision. He heard a scuffing noise, shoes scraping across pavement. He heard Mary's sharp intake of breath. She backed into him. A shuffling form moved into his field of view from behind. He recognized the disjointed movements of a ghoul.
Two more ghouls emerged from the shadows on the opposite side of the circle of light emanating from the barrel. They converged quickly on the trio. One man turned in time to see the unnatural shape moving toward him. His gurgled scream cut short as the ghoul neatly twisted his head completely backwards. The second unfortunate was dispatched with equal efficiency.
The remaining man, the one who had manipulated the fire, backed into the arms of the third.
Its gnarled hand snapped over the man's mouth. The man struggled a moment, then went limp. The ghoul tossed the raggedy bundle over its shoulder and swiftly vanished into the shadows with its compatriots.
"Oh my God!" Mary gasped. "Someone is harvesting to make ghouls!"
© 2003 Austin Hale
Lamprolign
First Post
026
If the night turned cold
And the stars looked down
And you hug yourself
On the cold cold ground
You wake the morning
In a stranger's coat
No-one would you see
You ask yourself, 'Who'd watch for me?'
My only friend, who could it be?
It's hard to say it
I hate to say it
But it's probably me
-Sting, It's Probably Me
"Ansgar!" Jake Brewer's rough voice jolted Gabe back from the vision. "What the hell is the matter with you?!"
Gabe examined the beefy detective's blocky, scuffed shoes, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Like hell you are!" Brewer snorted. "Normally people don't stop mid-sentence and stare into space for five minutes."
"I was thinking." Gabe's voice was uneven, his head still spinning from the vision.
"Must've been one hell of a thought." Brewer rubbed his stubbled jaw and eyed Gabe suspiciously. "You on something?"
"Get bent." Gabe turned deliberately toward the door. "I've seen all I need here."
"I've seen plenty myself, smartass. I haven't figured your place in the puzzle yet, but you keep turning up like a bad penny lately. If you're holding out information on me, I'll get obstruction charges on you so fast it'll..."
"It's been a real pleasure, Brewer," Gabe interrupted. "But your whole routine plays like a broken record, and I'm done dancing."
"I've still got questions for you, Ansgar!"
"The Cubs will win the pennant, to get to the other side, and yes, that trenchcoat does make you look fat. You want any more answers, you're just going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some old fashioned detective work. I'm outta here." Gabe waved over his shoulder as he exited the house.
****
Asher Russell stepped into the great hall of the old church. Dishes clattered as the Haven residents served hot meals to the hungry. The air was redolent with the fragrance of fresh baked bread and the pungent fumes of the unwashed. Asher willed his nose not to wrinkle at the smell, and glanced up at a familiar placard hanging above the doorway he had just passed through.
"Give To Him That Asketh Thee. " Asher read the inscription aloud. Here it was more than just a sign on a wall. It was a way of life. In the many years he had known the Sister, he had never seen her turn away a person in need. Asher surveyed the rapidly filling tables. Most would consider these people worthless bums, and some of them undoubtedly were responsible for their own circumstances, but they were never judged here. They were all just hungry people.
"Your behavior has been quite admirable today, Asher." The Sister's voice startled him. She had a way of sneaking up on people. "Perhaps you learned something in your time here, after all."
"Well, I, um, I was just...."
"Have you come down for dinner? We have Shepherd's Pie tonight."
Asher's growling stomach answered for him.
"Go and eat, young man," the Sister ordered before gliding away with a swirl of her earth-toned dress and apron strings.
Asher watched her moving among the eating people, giving her smiles freely and listening with genuine interest to all who sought her ear. Although she was known only as the Sister, she was the quintessential mother figure. The only mother I ever really had, Asher thought as he helped himself to a large portion of shepherd's pie at the serving counter. He saw Poe enter through one of the many doors edging the great room. She strode purposefully toward the front doors, where Gabe Ansgar was just coming in from the blustery night. Gabe's expression was grim as he and Poe conversed briefly. Asher started towards them, anxious for news of the search for Becky's daughter, but before he had taken a step a bony hand grasped his elbow. Asher turned to see a painfully thin, world-weary old man staring up at him from over a finished plate.
"You r-r-r-r-emind me of muh-muh-muh-my suh-son," the man finally managed to say. His watery eyes spoke of some heartbreaking loss.
Ignoring his stomach's audible protest, Asher sat his own steaming plate of food on the table before the thin man. "Here old fella, have some more. I have to get going." Asher stopped after just a few steps, however, and turned back to the man. "My name's Asher. Asher Russell. I have some work to do right now, but next time I see you, I'd be glad to talk, you know, I mean, if you want to...."
The old man smiled and nodded. "I'd l-l-l-like that. Now g-g-g-get guh-guh-goin', suh-son. Suh-suh-see you 'round."
Asher did not notice the Sister hovering nearby, watching the scene unfold with a warm look of pride on her face. The moment did not last long, as she quickly bustled off to her study to await Gabe and Mary.
****
"Did you find anything?" Poe demanded before Gabe had even closed the door behind him.
"Yes and no," Gabe responded cryptically.
"You're soing useless."
"Simmer down, Poe," Mary admonished. "We did find out that whoever has Sarah has been snatching homeless people to make ghouls."
"Sister's gonna be pissed."
****
"Now, Gabriel," the Sister settled into her usual chair near the fireplace. "What have you found?"
Gabe flopped in a chair opposite the Sister while Poe and Asher remained standing. Gabe recounted his conversation with Chris Ebbing and his examination of the scene. Asher listened with rapt attention as Gabe described the details of the encounter with Brewer. His eyes grew wide when Gabe described the vision.
"Kidnapping?" Asher asked, an edge in his voice.
"And a murder," Gabe responded. "They seemed very particular about who they where carrying off."
"That is because a ghoul servant can only be made from someone who has the gift. This is worse than I feared. I had believed the practice of creating thralls was extinct. It appears I was mistaken."
"Is that why they took Sarah?" Poe asked in a low voice.
"No," the Sister replied. "One with the level of power that Sarah possesses could never be controlled by the magics used to create a ghoul. I believe her captor has something else in mind for her...."
Asher stood silently, deep in thought, then suddenly interrupted the conversation with a loud snap of his fingers. .
"I think I know where to start looking..."
© 2003, Austin Hale
If the night turned cold
And the stars looked down
And you hug yourself
On the cold cold ground
You wake the morning
In a stranger's coat
No-one would you see
You ask yourself, 'Who'd watch for me?'
My only friend, who could it be?
It's hard to say it
I hate to say it
But it's probably me
-Sting, It's Probably Me
"Ansgar!" Jake Brewer's rough voice jolted Gabe back from the vision. "What the hell is the matter with you?!"
Gabe examined the beefy detective's blocky, scuffed shoes, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Like hell you are!" Brewer snorted. "Normally people don't stop mid-sentence and stare into space for five minutes."
"I was thinking." Gabe's voice was uneven, his head still spinning from the vision.
"Must've been one hell of a thought." Brewer rubbed his stubbled jaw and eyed Gabe suspiciously. "You on something?"
"Get bent." Gabe turned deliberately toward the door. "I've seen all I need here."
"I've seen plenty myself, smartass. I haven't figured your place in the puzzle yet, but you keep turning up like a bad penny lately. If you're holding out information on me, I'll get obstruction charges on you so fast it'll..."
"It's been a real pleasure, Brewer," Gabe interrupted. "But your whole routine plays like a broken record, and I'm done dancing."
"I've still got questions for you, Ansgar!"
"The Cubs will win the pennant, to get to the other side, and yes, that trenchcoat does make you look fat. You want any more answers, you're just going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some old fashioned detective work. I'm outta here." Gabe waved over his shoulder as he exited the house.
****
Asher Russell stepped into the great hall of the old church. Dishes clattered as the Haven residents served hot meals to the hungry. The air was redolent with the fragrance of fresh baked bread and the pungent fumes of the unwashed. Asher willed his nose not to wrinkle at the smell, and glanced up at a familiar placard hanging above the doorway he had just passed through.
"Give To Him That Asketh Thee. " Asher read the inscription aloud. Here it was more than just a sign on a wall. It was a way of life. In the many years he had known the Sister, he had never seen her turn away a person in need. Asher surveyed the rapidly filling tables. Most would consider these people worthless bums, and some of them undoubtedly were responsible for their own circumstances, but they were never judged here. They were all just hungry people.
"Your behavior has been quite admirable today, Asher." The Sister's voice startled him. She had a way of sneaking up on people. "Perhaps you learned something in your time here, after all."
"Well, I, um, I was just...."
"Have you come down for dinner? We have Shepherd's Pie tonight."
Asher's growling stomach answered for him.
"Go and eat, young man," the Sister ordered before gliding away with a swirl of her earth-toned dress and apron strings.
Asher watched her moving among the eating people, giving her smiles freely and listening with genuine interest to all who sought her ear. Although she was known only as the Sister, she was the quintessential mother figure. The only mother I ever really had, Asher thought as he helped himself to a large portion of shepherd's pie at the serving counter. He saw Poe enter through one of the many doors edging the great room. She strode purposefully toward the front doors, where Gabe Ansgar was just coming in from the blustery night. Gabe's expression was grim as he and Poe conversed briefly. Asher started towards them, anxious for news of the search for Becky's daughter, but before he had taken a step a bony hand grasped his elbow. Asher turned to see a painfully thin, world-weary old man staring up at him from over a finished plate.
"You r-r-r-r-emind me of muh-muh-muh-my suh-son," the man finally managed to say. His watery eyes spoke of some heartbreaking loss.
Ignoring his stomach's audible protest, Asher sat his own steaming plate of food on the table before the thin man. "Here old fella, have some more. I have to get going." Asher stopped after just a few steps, however, and turned back to the man. "My name's Asher. Asher Russell. I have some work to do right now, but next time I see you, I'd be glad to talk, you know, I mean, if you want to...."
The old man smiled and nodded. "I'd l-l-l-like that. Now g-g-g-get guh-guh-goin', suh-son. Suh-suh-see you 'round."
Asher did not notice the Sister hovering nearby, watching the scene unfold with a warm look of pride on her face. The moment did not last long, as she quickly bustled off to her study to await Gabe and Mary.
****
"Did you find anything?" Poe demanded before Gabe had even closed the door behind him.
"Yes and no," Gabe responded cryptically.
"You're so
ing useless.""Simmer down, Poe," Mary admonished. "We did find out that whoever has Sarah has been snatching homeless people to make ghouls."
"Sister's gonna be pissed."
****
"Now, Gabriel," the Sister settled into her usual chair near the fireplace. "What have you found?"
Gabe flopped in a chair opposite the Sister while Poe and Asher remained standing. Gabe recounted his conversation with Chris Ebbing and his examination of the scene. Asher listened with rapt attention as Gabe described the details of the encounter with Brewer. His eyes grew wide when Gabe described the vision.
"Kidnapping?" Asher asked, an edge in his voice.
"And a murder," Gabe responded. "They seemed very particular about who they where carrying off."
"That is because a ghoul servant can only be made from someone who has the gift. This is worse than I feared. I had believed the practice of creating thralls was extinct. It appears I was mistaken."
"Is that why they took Sarah?" Poe asked in a low voice.
"No," the Sister replied. "One with the level of power that Sarah possesses could never be controlled by the magics used to create a ghoul. I believe her captor has something else in mind for her...."
Asher stood silently, deep in thought, then suddenly interrupted the conversation with a loud snap of his fingers. .
"I think I know where to start looking..."
© 2003, Austin Hale
Broccli_Head
Explorer
fenzer said:Bless you Lamp. I was beginning to worry, thinking you might have forgotten your biggest fan.
Thanks for another great update. Post soon.
Dang! I guess you're right, Fenzer. You have 11 more posts than I do.
