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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Seravin" data-source="post: 1881368" data-attributes="member: 6783">Ambush Part 1As morning dawned over the city of Corlean, Marik Lorland woke up as one of the most sought after people in the Silver City, though as a reasonably honest man he would have been the first to deny it.  A stonemason by trade, his family had learned the craft from his great-uncle, Poul, who in turn had learned the craft from the dwarves of Myrkun-Lor; a fact the family took great pride in.  Still, this matter of pride was not what made Marik so sought after; the root of his sudden elevation in life lay in a lie.If asked, Marik wouldn’t have remembered the little girl on the street who had regarded him so intently while he hurried to his next job site.  Perhaps it was the high forehead and short-cropped brown hair.  Maybe it was his eyes that were just a shade too close together to be handsome.  Maybe it was nose that had been broken or his burly walk or just his dust covered clothes.  In the end it didn’t matter what about his description that had stuck in Kestral’s sharp mind; for the end result is that it was Marik’s image that Kestral recalled when questioned by Grandal and her near perfect memory provided the details to make it possible to find him.It’s really not surprising just how surprised Marrik was on that cloud-ridden morning as he walked to work when two men came up on either side of him and hustled him into an empty alleyway without so much as a by your leave.“Anyone out there?”“The entire city, but it doesn’t look like anyone only we were following him.”“Good.”  The speaker, a young man perhaps a decade Marik’s junior, though fully as tall and broad in the shoulder, turned to face the stonemason.  “We apologize sir, but we have it on good authority that there are men out there looking to kill you.  We’d like that not to happen.”Marik was about to reply when a short, young woman turned the corner and entered the alleyway.  “Looks to be clear.”  She said.“Who are you?”  Asked the confused stonemason.  It seemed clear he wasn’t going to be mugged, but none of this made sense.The tall man spoke.  “My name is Kellron and I am from the church of Sarath.  We have reason to believe that a group of thieves is looking for you, quite possibly to kill you.”“Wha…?  How?  Why?”  Curiously, Marik discovered that he wasn’t scared, the presence of this young man seemed to calm him, but that still did nothing for his confusion.  The man looked slightly embarrassed.  “Your description was given to them.  What we would like to do is get you to safety and hide you for the next day.  In the meantime we’ll have somebody impersonate you and lure these men out.”Considering the circumstances Marik should have bid the strangers with their mad proposal goodbye, walked away, and not looked back.  Something made him trust the young man though; he had the serious look of a soldier and a sincerity that literally shone through.“What do I need to do?”“Come with us.”It was as simple as that.  Marik was given a heavy cloak with a hood and was quickly escorted to a nearby, if unimpressive, inn.  The room had already been rented and two Sarathian church-guardsmen in street clothes were inside.  Marik spent the day quietly, listening to war stories from his protectors.  It wasn’t how he expected to spend the day, but given the circumstances it could have been worse.</blockquote>

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