Metropolis (The World in Waiting) - Chapter One

[Phoenix]

Judging things to be safe Ghost lowers himself carefully onto the ladder, taking his time he starts to descened into the darkness, hoping that the light spilling in from above will provide his eyes with enough light to see by. Once he hits the bottom he pulls his lantern from it's home and sparks a flame, igniting the wick and scanning the area for any danger.

The ladder holds safe and Ghost finds just enough light to climb safetly to the bottom of the shaft. At its base he drops into ankle deep filth, and there is a horrible squelching sound as well as a skidding sensation as he gets his feet.

The lantern takes a few tries to start, but soon a brilliant light penetrates every corner of the small chamber he has climbed into, illuminating its secrets instantly.

The creatures of undeath snarled.

Eight tattered forms skulking about the chamber look away from the intruder, momentarily blinded by the lantern. The dessicated flesh, shattered bodies and sharpened teeth writhe at the touch of the light, but only briefly, just long enough for Ghost...

 

[Bront]

Taran quickly flicks through the old paper, searching through the various articles for any information relating to his predicament, but unfortunately there is none. Following up on his next best lead, he looks under the headlines to see:

The Cryer: Room 18, Floor 6, Ulandian Spyre, The Apartments, Metropolis (No Hawkers)

It only takes a few more questions from the street people to get a location of the Ulandian Spyre, and within the hour both Taran and Twitchy have wound their way between the bases of the towers towards their goal.
The Ulandian Spyre looks like any of the other dishevelled buildings, long in need of repair, or demolition. Within the tower the debris of civilization spill out of the rooms into the corridors and stairwells, making progress to the sixth floor harder for one who needs to climb across barriers of broken furniture.
Room 18 has a small unassuming door with a wooden plaque that seems to have been hand carved, though obviously by someone with no carving skills whatsoever.

The Cryer
Business Hours: 7​

Before Taran's hand reaches to knock on the flimsy door it opens swiftly, revealing a small gnome with white hair and twisted spectacles. He sticks his head out into the hall and looks back and forth for a moment, ignoring the small druid and his friend.

"Oh dear," he sqeaks, before slamming the door again.

From each side of Taran a small group of humanoids stride down the corridor carrying bats, knives, maces and handaxes. One group numbers five half-orcs dressed in tattered black business attire, the other group are five half-elves dressed in blue studded leather armour.

"Oi, what you doin' 'ere?" One of the half-orcs calls out.

"Are you referring to us? We are here on business." The half-elves respond.

"Bremmen tol' us you might try an' stop us!"

"Oh? And I suppose he also said that Mr Zimmerman is behind all this?"

"Dam righ' 'e did..."

The two groups stare each other down for a moment and the tension in the corridor rises. With the exchange of words and the gripping of weapons, Taran and Twichy have been ignored for the moment, buying them time to act...

Taran and Twitchy will attempt to duck in the door and then hold it closed behind them.

 

[Phoenix]

Taran and Twitchy will attempt to duck in the door and then hold it closed behind them.

[sblock]Strength check (DC 0) +11 - Success
...
DC 0
...
Dontcha just love rolling low?
[/sblock]

Taran's weight against the door causes it to push open easily, causing the small form of the gnome to tumble several feet into the room. As Twitchy scurries in, the small druid quickly slams the door behind him.
From the corridor there is a muffled yell of abuse, then a retort. All further conversation is lost as a burst of fire shoots past door's window and there is a muffled screaming. The blood curdling roar of injured half-orcs joining battle easily muffles the whimpering noises of the gnome, who seems to be rubbing a sore elbow quite vigorously.

 

[D20Dazza]

Ghost Hound Elf Bard

but only briefly, just long enough for Ghost...

to scramble back up the ladder as quickly as he can with the lantern still in hand "I wonder if these beasties are related to my adoptive parents?" he says to himself with a wry grin. He stops about half way up the ladder and turns to get a better look at the undead, trying to assess whether they are mindless undead or bestowed with intelligence (and thus possibly able to be reasoned with)

 

[Bront]

[sblock]Strength check (DC 0) +11 - Success
...
DC 0
...
Dontcha just love rolling low?
[/sblock]

Taran's weight against the door causes it to push open easily, causing the small form of the gnome to tumble several feet into the room. As Twitchy scurries in, the small druid quickly slams the door behind him.
From the corridor there is a muffled yell of abuse, then a retort. All further conversation is lost as a burst of fire shoots past door's window and there is a muffled screaming. The blood curdling roar of injured half-orcs joining battle easily muffles the whimpering noises of the gnome, who seems to be rubbing a sore elbow quite vigorously.

"Oh, hello there, sorry about that. Is this The Cryer's office?"

 

[Phoenix]

to scramble back up the ladder as quickly as he can with the lantern still in hand "I wonder if these beasties are related to my adoptive parents?" he says to himself with a wry grin. He stops about half way up the ladder and turns to get a better look at the undead, trying to assess whether they are mindless undead or bestowed with intelligence (and thus possibly able to be reasoned with)

[sblock]Creature Attack Roll (AC 14) +18 - Success
Creature Damage Roll - 2pts damage
Fortitude Save (DC 12) +21 - Racial Immunity
Knowledge (religion) Check (DC 10) +22 - Success
Climb Check (DC 5) +3 - Failure
[/sblock]

Ghost scrambles back up the ladder as fast as he can, but with so many of the creatures around him it was without a doubt that one would try to stop him. Diving from the shadows, the creature lashes forth to strke one sharpened partially skeletal hand at the fleeing elf.
The claw tears through Ghost's pants easily, scraping across his thigh and drawing a thin stream of blood that begins to trickle swifty to his ankle. Usually the touch of a ghoul (as Ghost recognises them to be) is enough to paralyze a weaker man, but he was an elf, immune to the legendary curse of this undead beast. Unfortunately he was not immune to the effects of momentum.
The weight of the ghoul slamming into his leg caused the bad to waver momentarily, losing grip of the railing and tumbling several feet backwards into the chamber, landing heavily on his back.
Looking up at the gathering ghouls, Ghost realizes that these creatures are smart enough to be reasoned with. But they were also hungry, ravenous, undead creatures with a taste for humanoid flesh...

 

[Phoenix]

"Oh, hello there, sorry about that. Is this The Cryer's office?"

The small gnome looks terrified and scurries beneath his table looking for cover from the oncoming brawl. The noise from the corridor escalates as heavy bodies crash into the walls and doors and loud voices begin to chant mystical words of power.
It takes a moment for the balding man to look at Taran, mystified at his relative calmness. Over the noise of a havy mace crashing into the wall outside he yells:
"Yes, but the classified section closed for printing an hour ago, I'm sorry."

 

[Bront]

The small gnome looks terrified and scurries beneath his table looking for cover from the oncoming brawl. The noise from the corridor escalates as heavy bodies crash into the walls and doors and loud voices begin to chant mystical words of power.
It takes a moment for the balding man to look at Taran, mystified at his relative calmness. Over the noise of a havy mace crashing into the wall outside he yells:
"Yes, but the classified section closed for printing an hour ago, I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, I don't need to put out an add. I was looking for a reporter. Particularly one who may be working on a story about illicet organ farmers. I might have some important information." Taran winces as the door jars for a second, but his and twitchies weight keep it closed. "I'm not in a hurry for the moment, but I think time is important if this information is to be of any use."

 

[Phoenix]

"Oh, no, I don't need to put out an add. I was looking for a reporter. Particularly one who may be working on a story about illicet organ farmers. I might have some important information." Taran winces as the door jars for a second, but his and twitchies weight keep it closed. "I'm not in a hurry for the moment, but I think time is important if this information is to be of any use."

The gnome stares blankly at Taran for a moment before his brain registers what the halfling wants. "Ummm, that's Delilah you want, she..." *heavy thumping and repeated bashing noises* "down at the Ivory Markets."

A heavy bashing at the door causes it to slide open several inches, the force is not that of a concentrated effort, rather the collapsing form of a large half-orc who is bleeding into the newspaper's office. At the sight of the top of a bloodied hal-orc's hand jutting through the gap, the small gnome backs up to the window in terror, his eyes darting around the room searching for an escape.

 

[Bront]

The gnome stares blankly at Taran for a moment before his brain registers what the halfling wants. "Ummm, that's Delilah you want, she..." *heavy thumping and repeated bashing noises* "down at the Ivory Markets."

A heavy bashing at the door causes it to slide open several inches, the force is not that of a concentrated effort, rather the collapsing form of a large half-orc who is bleeding into the newspaper's office. At the sight of the top of a bloodied hal-orc's hand jutting through the gap, the small gnome backs up to the window in terror, his eyes darting around the room searching for an escape.

"I can get you out of here, but you need to trust me, and I need you to promise to help me find the person I need, and that she will help me." Taran says to the gnome. He says it not in a threatening manner, but hopes that he can seel the deal and garuntee his help. Taren continues to try to keep the door closed, pushing the hand out.

"Do we have a deal? I don't think we have much time. And I think you'll get the story of the year."