Metropolis (The World in Waiting) - Chapter One

[Phoenix]

Ba'aktar looks around suspiciously at the children, then reaches tentatively for the key. He paused halfway to it, looking around at the children in case they tried any more... whatever they did, but he had regained a little composure by now and was able to stretch his arm that little further to retrieve the child's key.

"About time," he grumbled, looking down to where the old scar on his leg should be, needing reassurance everything was running smoothly again. He noted the locked door on the other side of the room and figured this would be a wise time to inform his comrades he had found the stash.

"You lot stay here, and behave yourselves. That way your old caretakers'll come outta this alright, you hear?" he explains to them, before returning upstairs to find Yu'olan, Hentre, and Ulam.

Turning about to climb the stairs once more, Ba'aktar is greeted by...not-so-friendly faces. Hentre and Ulam both come wandering down the stairs, blood caked on their blades and arms, and vicious grins on their faces.

"Bakey!" It was the savage little Ulam, "we thought ya came down 'ere. Yolin is up there still, if you wanna get 'im we'll look afta tha kiddies down 'ere." Almost on cue Hentre wipes his two daggers across his chest, caking more blood upon himself, and eyeing the children with a sadistic menace.

 

[RobotRobotI]

Wandering through the streets of Dionysian, Alexis has time to stop and stare at the common people going about their daily lives. Pondering for a moment on the thought that it looked very much like an ant's colony like the one back in the temple, (Vrisse always had a thing for seeing Law in the tiniest of creatures), the priestess finds that she is the only person in the street that isn't rushing somewhere.

The Church of Kimbar was an easy building to locate, as many of the city's citizens knew instinctively where it was located. After over an hour's walk, Alexis' eyes finally fall on the large building that was home to the alien faith that she was intent on visiting.

A single colossal stone tree rising high above the rooftops of the suburb was hardly a 'church' as Alexis understood, but nevertheless it was home to a faith. Rope and wooden ladders both ascended into the limbs above, winding and twisting amidst platforms and chambers both within and without the trunk of the petrified plant. Dozens of people relaxed in the dirty sunlight that fluttered across the platforms, playing games of chance of simply drinking or smoking. It was difficult to determine if any of them were priests or not, as none of the people mingling in or about the tree had any uniform at all.

Not one to wander aimlessly, Alexis made her way up a ladder into the great petrified tree, and requested directions to one of the Clergy; "I need to say a prayer to Lady Luck."

 

[Phoenix]

Not one to wander aimlessly, Alexis made her way up a ladder into the great petrified tree, and requested directions to one of the Clergy; "I need to say a prayer to Lady Luck."

[sblock]Spellcraft check (DC 16) +14 - Failure
[/sblock]

Once upon the great surface of the tree, Alexis could determine the Clergy by the small brooch in the shape of an elephant and mouse on their clothing.

"I need to say a prayer to Lady Luck."

A young man overseeing a game of Yon* turns to look at Alexis. With a strange look on his face, he stares at her for a moment before muttering a few words and gesturing with one hand.

"It seems that for a priestess of Zsath you are sorely out of place here. Lady Kimbar informs me that you have come across hard times, but remember that luck is a double-edged sword, be careful what you pray for."

With that he florishes across to the corner of the platform where the trunk of a small tree has been hollowed out and rests beside several chairs. Within the hollowed centre rests eight dice of various numeration (a d4, 2d6, d8, d9, d10, d16, & d32) made from dirty ivory.

 

[D20Dazza]

Ghost hound Elf Bard

Taran cleans up a bit while he waits for Ghost to awake from his sleep of the dead (quite ironic he thinks). When Ghost stumbles out of bed, he and Twitchy are ready to go.

Sorting himself out for the day ahead Ghost walks to the door and motions for the halfling to leave "C'mon we can break our fast on the way, lead on my small friend"

 

[Bront]

Sorting himself out for the day ahead Ghost walks to the door and motions for the halfling to leave "C'mon we can break our fast on the way, lead on my small friend"

"Sure thing." Taran says. Feeling good to have a more talkitive companion than Twitchy, Taran leads Ghost through the city, back to where he knows where to enter to get to his village. The trip takes a ferry ride and another hour or so of walking, but they manage to make it to the drain well before noon.

"Wasn't but a few days ago when I emerged from here. Seems I keep getting drawn back to the sewers, but at least this is home this time." Taran says as he pulls up the grate for his new found friend and Twitchy before following down himself.

Feeling more confident in his home element, Taran picks up the pace a bit, before he finds himself outpacing his taller friend. He slows down a bit till Ghost gets used to moving around in the sewers.

A few more hours pass, but Taran seems confident in where he's going, and sure enough, he turns a corador, the the warm light of the sunstones shines down from above, providing a much cleaner light that that of the above world. Taran stands even taller as he trecks on "Tis good to be in normal light again. We should be there soon.". Sure enough, a few more turns, and the pipe openes up into a huge area, with buildings standing on a solid dirt shore, and bridges up and around to many of the pipes. Farmland can be seen down by some of the intake pipes, feeding off of the incoming refuse. "Breathtaking, isn't it? Makes me wonder why I ever leave."

 

[Festy_Dog]

Turning about to climb the stairs once more, Ba'aktar is greeted by...not-so-friendly faces. Hentre and Ulam both come wandering down the stairs, blood caked on their blades and arms, and vicious grins on their faces.

"Bakey!" It was the savage little Ulam, "we thought ya came down 'ere. Yolin is up there still, if you wanna get 'im we'll look afta tha kiddies down 'ere." Almost on cue Hentre wipes his two daggers across his chest, caking more blood upon himself, and eyeing the children with a sadistic menace.

Ba'aktar was suddenly of the impression that the elderly priests were far from just beaten up, but maybe it was the guards' blood on their arms. He hadn't seen them so he assumed Hentre and Ulam had dealt with them. Nonetheless, knowing the way these two seemed to work, he was in no mind to leave them in the company of children. The result of some quick thinking had Ba'aktar toss the halflings the key.

"I'm happy to keep the little 'uns in line," he says, taking a moment to glare down at the children, "You two can get 'Olan to confirm whether that's the key we want, and if this here door's the right one. Shouldn't be too hard if you've left anyone up there alive."

He leant back against the wall. Better they be scared out of their little minds than eviscerated little corpses.

 

[Phoenix]

"Sure thing." Taran says. Feeling good to have a more talkitive companion than Twitchy, Taran leads Ghost through the city, back to where he knows where to enter to get to his village. The trip takes a ferry ride and another hour or so of walking, but they manage to make it to the drain well before noon.

"Wasn't but a few days ago when I emerged from here. Seems I keep getting drawn back to the sewers, but at least this is home this time." Taran says as he pulls up the grate for his new found friend and Twitchy before following down himself.

Feeling more confident in his home element, Taran picks up the pace a bit, before he finds himself outpacing his taller friend. He slows down a bit till Ghost gets used to moving around in the sewers.

A few more hours pass, but Taran seems confident in where he's going, and sure enough, he turns a corador, the the warm light of the sunstones shines down from above, providing a much cleaner light that that of the above world. Taran stands even taller as he trecks on "Tis good to be in normal light again. We should be there soon.". Sure enough, a few more turns, and the pipe openes up into a huge area, with buildings standing on a solid dirt shore, and bridges up and around to many of the pipes. Farmland can be seen down by some of the intake pipes, feeding off of the incoming refuse. "Breathtaking, isn't it? Makes me wonder why I ever leave."

Like a sentinel overlooking his wards, the elderly elven mentor, Vulgrath, stands amongst the fields of blue wheat that sways in the sewer pipes' gentle breeze. As Taran and Ghost look down upon the dozens of workers that scamber across bridges, up and down ladders, and wander lazily across the fields below, something seems...different.

The community looks, healthier. To Ghost it is strange to see a group of people this large working together with a common purpose that doesn't involving screwing people or being forced to work. To Taran the entire village seems to glow with a new inner life, empowered by something that seems to be effecting the people of his home.

They smile, they laugh, it seems as though they do not have a care in the world.

Climbing down to the world under Metropolis, Ghost's eyes rest on Vulgrath and he realizes that he has never seen an elf this old before. It was whispered on the surface that elves were an immortal race, never growing old, never dying. It seems that perhaps the surface simply never have the chance to grow old before somebody slips a sword into their ribcage.

Over one arm the elf has bulky sling that his arms rests within, supporting its weight so as not to hurt him any further. Taran looks at the elderly manconcerned about what has happened in his absense that would have wounded his mentor.

By his side a small girl clutches his robes as if her life depended on it. Dressed in farmer's garb that was to big for her by far, Ghost immediately recognizes her through the scarring around her mouth and the loss of her hair.

He had finally found Stephanie Zimmerman.

 

[Phoenix]

Ba'aktar was suddenly of the impression that the elderly priests were far from just beaten up, but maybe it was the guards' blood on their arms. He hadn't seen them so he assumed Hentre and Ulam had dealt with them. Nonetheless, knowing the way these two seemed to work, he was in no mind to leave them in the company of children. The result of some quick thinking had Ba'aktar toss the halflings the key.

"I'm happy to keep the little 'uns in line," he says, taking a moment to glare down at the children, "You two can get 'Olan to confirm whether that's the key we want, and if this here door's the right one. Shouldn't be too hard if you've left anyone up there alive."

He leant back against the wall. Better they be scared out of their little minds than eviscerated little corpses.

The look on Ulam and Hentre's face darkened for a moment, until the key rattled across the floor towards them. The obvious change of mood from psychopathic killers to greedy hoarders caused them to both grab the key at once, then slowly wander back up the stairs bickering at each other in their native tongue about something or another...

Turning to the children once more, the group no longer seemed frightened, and each of them look deeply into Ba'aktar's eyes, seemingly into his soul. The small boy that he had chased all the way into the chamber steps forward, raising his hand towards the half-orc. Resting upon his palm is Ba'aktar's tooth, how the boy had got it though... Stranger than that is that the tooth was no longer in fragments, it now rested perfectly in the palm of the small boy's hand, perhaps as an offering of peace.

 

[Bront]

Like a sentinel overlooking his wards, the elderly elven mentor, Vulgrath, stands amongst the fields of blue wheat that sways in the sewer pipes' gentle breeze. As Taran and Ghost look down upon the dozens of workers that scamber across bridges, up and down ladders, and wander lazily across the fields below, something seems...different.

The community looks, healthier. To Ghost it is strange to see a group of people this large working together with a common purpose that doesn't involving screwing people or being forced to work. To Taran the entire village seems to glow with a new inner life, empowered by something that seems to be effecting the people of his home.

They smile, they laugh, it seems as though they do not have a care in the world.

Climbing down to the world under Metropolis, Ghost's eyes rest on Vulgrath and he realizes that he has never seen an elf this old before. It was whispered on the surface that elves were an immortal race, never growing old, never dying. It seems that perhaps the surface simply never have the chance to grow old before somebody slips a sword into their ribcage.

Over one arm the elf has bulky sling that his arms rests within, supporting its weight so as not to hurt him any further. Taran looks at the elderly manconcerned about what has happened in his absense that would have wounded his mentor.

By his side a small girl clutches his robes as if her life depended on it. Dressed in farmer's garb that was to big for her by far, Ghost immediately recognizes her through the scarring around her mouth and the loss of her hair.

He had finally found Stephanie Zimmerman.

"Master Vulgrath, you seem quite well, dispite your new energy, and I can feel a renewed vigor in the comunity. What has happened in the few days I was gone?"

 

[Festy_Dog]

The look on Ulam and Hentre's face darkened for a moment, until the key rattled across the floor towards them. The obvious change of mood from psychopathic killers to greedy hoarders caused them to both grab the key at once, then slowly wander back up the stairs bickering at each other in their native tongue about something or another...

Turning to the children once more, the group no longer seemed frightened, and each of them look deeply into Ba'aktar's eyes, seemingly into his soul. The small boy that he had chased all the way into the chamber steps forward, raising his hand towards the half-orc. Resting upon his palm is Ba'aktar's tooth, how the boy had got it though... Stranger than that is that the tooth was no longer in fragments, it now rested perfectly in the palm of the small boy's hand, perhaps as an offering of peace.

For a moment Ba'aktar thought a fourth tooth had been knocked right out of his mouth without him noticing. A quick check though revealed that indeed onlyt three had been lost, and this tooth indeed looked how the smashed tooth should have looked were it whole. He scratched his head, puzzled by the child's change in behaviour, but he wasn't opposed to the new seemingly friendly demeanor.

"Erm, thanks," he said, accepting the gift and putting it with the other two teeth for later, "Listen young'uns... ah..."

He gave up on trying to explain the situation to the children. He couldn't even be sure that their caretakers were dead, so giving them a speech on the subject would be premature, not that the big half-orc was good at such things. He had to wonder how the orphanage would survive without the wealth that assumably came from the stash of gold. Ba'aktar was going to get a headache if he kept thinking about such things, the guilt would gnaw at his thoughts. He did his best to forget about it for the time being, he was working.