The Shackled City - Golarion Prelude

[jkason]

Caytis Maggerin, half-elf magus

Caytis looks from Svexyn to Val, his brows knitting, but says nothing. As the woman disappears, he turns back to the priest. His grip on his hand tightens slightly and he pulls the man to his feet.

"No idea what that was about, but we should move. Quickly. Any story needs telling, maybe you can tell us on the way to the temple."

[sblock=mini stats]HP: 10/10 AC: 15(19) AC(T): 12 AC(FF): 13 Init: +02
BAB: 00 CMB/CMD: 00/12 ACP: -1 ASF: 00 Spot: +05

Conditions: Shield (+4 AC / 1 minute), Arcane pool shortbow (+1 attack / 1 minute)

Saving Throw Total Base Mod Misc Special
Fort: 03 2 +1
Ref: 01 0 +2 -1*
Will: 03 2 +1

* -1 Reflex (Wyrm Blooded trait)
** Conditional: Immune sleep, +2 vs enchantments, +4 vs acid

Weapon Attack Damage Critical Special
Quadrens +2 1d6 19-20/x2 1 pt bleed on crit
Quadrens, Spell Combat +0 1d6 19-20/x2 1 pt bleed on crit
Composite Shortbow +2 (+3) 1d6 20/x3 Range 70 ft.

* Conditional: +1 attack with Arcane Pool enhancement.

Arcane Pool: 3/5 remaining

Spells Prepared:
* 0 Level (3): Prestidigitation, Detect Magic, Light
* 1st Level (2, DC 15):Shield, Shield

Arrows: 19/20 remaining[/sblock]

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

Val shakes his head as the woman speaks, refuting her intimations of previous knowledge. He looks up at her, confusion plainly written on his face, before Nia's words bring him back to the present. He shakes his head again, and then returns his attention to their new charge.

 

[ahayford]

Marcus roughly sits the two prisoners sit back to back. Their long nosed masquerade masks make them look like more like a pair of fowl tied up for the slaughter then the toughs they previously made themselves out to be. The first prisoner’s mind seems to have cleared itself of Wilbur’s dark influence, and he now mumbles under his breath, occasionally elbowing the other prisoner in the ribs.

The victim seems to regain his composure a bit, Valinaan’s healing prayers finally seeming to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

My name...is Ruphus. Ruphus Laro. I am an initiate at the temple of Saranrae. Jenya warned me not to take these alleyways at night, but I was sure my robes of station would keep the worst elements of the night away from me. I was on my way back home, to the temple, when they first confronted me. I couldn’t fathom why these men would attack me. An initiate’s vow of poverty is well known...

Soon it became clear they were trying to intimidate me...

Ruphus nervously straightens his robes, and ineffectually attempts to brush off some mud.

Ruphus stammers slightly before continuing I...I...I have no idea why the Last Laugh would even care about a few lost orphans. Jenya sent me to investigate the scene and report back to her. Injustice, particularly to children, is of great concern to Saranrae. Plus the head matron requested we take a look around.

Ruphus looks at the prisoners but finds a way to put the rest of the group between himself and them.

I think we need to figure out what to do with your prisoners....then I’ll take you to the temple. Jenya will know what to do.

 

[Walking Dad]

Wilbur

Wilbur looks confused and asks: "Sorry, friend, I'm no local. Who are the last laugh?"

[sblock=OOC]

----

HP: 11 / 11

Spells:
1: 4/5

Gift of Madness: 5 / 6

Wilbur 2
Wilbur Warrington

[/sblock]

 

[Dragonwriter]

Marcus listens and grimaces at the initiate's story. "I'd put my money on the Last Laugh taking the children. I think they'd do anything if there was enough coin in it. Maybe took them for slaves... Of one kind or another."

His eyebrow rises at Wilbur's question, then he sighs. "Sorry, right, you wouldn't know. Simply put, they're scum. An up-and-coming criminal enterprise here in Cauldron. Got their hands in a lot of stuff and muscling in on the former big gang."

The former guardsman regards the prisoners with disdain and pulls his manacle key from his belt pouch. "We take these two to a guard-house and deliver them into custody. I doubt it will do much, but we can't really do anything else, as I see it. Val, I think you should take them, with Nia and Wilbur. Svexyn and I can get Ruphus here to the temple, then you lead the way and meet up with us at Saranrae's temple. And don't let them keep my manacles," Marcus grumbles as he hands Val the key. He quietly adds for Val's ears alone, "Keep my name out of it, if you can. I made a lot of people mad when I was a guardsman."

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

Val accepts the keys and the charge of the prisoners with a nod and a wink. "No worries, my friend. The manacles are mine, so far as the guards will know." He turns to the captives, and his easy way with Marcus turns to a look of vague unease. "Come on, you lot. We've got an appointment to keep. Marc, Zen, we'll see you at the temple shortly!"

 

[Shayuri]

Nia frowned to herself as she followed Val and Wilbur away from the others, with the prisoners in Val's custody. She understood quite a bit of what Marcus had said of these criminals, but it didn't make sense to her. Why would one kidnap children? She could think of reasons. To extort the parents was the foremost...but these children were orphans. They weren't being taken for money.

Labor then? But children made poor laborers. They were small and weak and tired quickly. Perhaps if the work had to be done in a small space...but there were better slaves then. Goblins or kobolds or even halflings.

And these 'last laughers' weren't taking -many- children. 'A few lost orphans.' A handful perhaps, children who had no families to miss them or seek them. Their vanishing would be unremarked on.

She didn't like where her instincts were pointing though. The Laughers probably didn't know why the children were being sought...but they would know how many children...and to whom they were given, perhaps. Enough to begin seeking the truth in earnest.

 

[jkason]

Caytis Maggerin, half-elf magus

As Caytis notices the priest trying to clean off the muck from the rumble, he smiles gently. Well, as gently as someone whose skin is covered in fine black scales can manage.

"Here, let me," he offers. He hisses a few syllables, and a pale green energy wafts off his fingers and spins up along the priest's raiment, cleaning all the filth in the process.

"There, now, nice and presentable for the temple," he says.

Once the party decides to split, though, Caytis' smile fades. While torn, he decides Marcus and Svexyn are probably the toughest of the group, so he attaches himself to the larger clump taking the prisoners.

 

[ahayford]

Everyone makes one final check before the group splits up and heads their separate ways, one group leading the prisoners to a nearby guardhouse, while the other group ensures that Ruphus makes it to the temple of Saranrae without further harassment. The corpse of the fallen Laugher bleeds out into the street, his lifeblood draining into the arteries of the city. Not long after the group makes their way from the alley, scavengers creep out from the alleys and pick the body clean, leaving nothing but a naked corpse.

The closest guard house is not far. After a brief walk on one of the more major thoroughfares, you find the local guard house. Being one of the poorer areas of the city, the building is not in the best of repair. Its basalt and obsidian stonework is quite old and obviously hasn’t seen proper maintenance in quite a while. The stonework is visibly crumbling in several spots, and the gutters, which currently direct a torrent of rainwater into the street, are covered in a dark green fungus. Still, the structure appears to be well manned. Two sentries stand attentively outside an open portcullis that guards the entrance. Lights are visible from all the windows and several brilliant oil beacons along the roof. The light extends an almost palpable aura of safety into the district that unfortunately doesn’t extend much more then a block away.

The two guardsmen at the gate look at you strangely, as they apparently aren’t used to visitors, particularly on rainy nights. They catch a glance a the masks on your prisoners and wave you into the building before adjusting their oil skin ponchos in a fruitless attempt to keep the rain at bay.

As you pass below the portculis and enter the building, you are greeted by the friendly warmth of a hearth fire. Despite the fact that the building is leaking in a few places, someone has made the effort to try and make it as comfortable as a possible. The desk sergeant sits at a heavy dark wood desk near the entrance, a small barricade blocking access to the rest of the building. The hearth fire and several chairs for petitioners are located on this side of the barricade, while beyond the barricade you can see several cells, some occupied, as well as the armory and a stairwell you assume leads up to the barracks.

The desk sergeant looks up from a ledger in which he is taking notes and looks over your rather damp group.

Can I help you?

 

[jkason]

Caytis Maggerin, half-elf magus

"Yeah. These two Laughers decided assaulting a priest of Seranae would be a good lark. They didn't count on folks refusing to look the other way."