The Whisperers in Darkness

[Desdichado]

As you're all discussing your next move, a large and burly half-orc bruiser laced with a fine pattern of scars appears from inside the flophouse, dragging a dirty and bedraggled man behind him. At the door, he throws the man down and kicks him. From the look of things, he's been cuffing and kicking this man off and on the entire way from the rear of the flophouse.

"Doncha come back agin, Nedwin, lessen' you can pay, y' here? Now git!" He gives the man another kick and turns to walk away.

Nedwin lays on the ground cackling to himself, then suddenly he lurches to his feet and begins to croak something that sounds a bit like a song of some kind.

"This final scene you'll not see...
to the end, your dream...
is fraying."

Still chuckling to himself, the man turns into the rain and staggers drunkenly down the street.

 

[Harvey]

Ceres d'Deneith, Human Hexblade

Ceres accepts Shard's comments with an easy chuckle. "Oh, make no mistake, I've been known to be just as stupid as the rest of my race. And while I may not have been guilty of enslaving your race, I admit that I'm more than guilty of turning a blind eye at your plight. But then again, I tend to focus a little too much on fighting and getting the job done than I do on societies woes."

Ceres thinks on Forge's comments. "Eh, I think all officials are corrupt, but it makes little difference to me. If we go to them, then we know where we stand. If they're not corrupt, we have an ally. If they are, then we'll now an enemy when we see one. But should we tip our hand..." Ceres trails off...

Ceres' thoughts are interrupted by the halc-orc bouncer, and the scene brings a chuckle to his lips. He turns back to the group. "A sage may be a good idea as well..."

 

[MadMaxim]

Alastor - Human Warmage

Alastor sees the poor drunk man getting kicked out of the flophouse. I guess I'd better have enough money if I don't want to share that man's fate.

 

[MadMaxim]

Alastor - Human Warmage

Alastor continues to walk toward the sheriff's office to locate a sage.

 

[Desdichado]

(If I don't hear any objections, I'll go ahead and move the game forward to the sheriff's office soon. Still haven't heard from a few people yet, on what they want to do.)

 

[solkan_uk]

Arlanen d'Medani - Half-Elven Psion

Arlanen follows Alastor.

 

[Desdichado]

The rain begins to slow to a slow drizzle as you head back towards the square. The crowd has also largely dispersed; it's getting later, people are wet--time for bed. There are still a few people out walking, talking loudly (and laughing) or drinking their mead, ale, beer and cheap wine, usually hunkered down under awnings from the rain and wind, but not many. Your group gets a number of surprised stares; a large diverse group as yours is a rare sight in Greenblade, or anywhere for that matter.

The sherrif's office is a small, dingy building made of old splintering and age-silvered timbers, many with the bark only sparsely or poorly removed. There is no door, just a heavy multi-hued curtain covering the open doorway. Inside the floor is hard-packed dirt, and a mildewy, earthy smell hits you, mingled with sour ale and sweat. A rough-hewn unfinished wooden desk is front of you, and a gnarled and grizzled old street tough with an eye-patch and stubble that is more gray than brown is sitting at it with his feet up, and sound asleep snoring loudly. Behind him is a row of iron bars with a door into a small room with three uncomfortable-looking cots. Two of them are also occupied by sleeping men. When you walk in, the snoring deputy's snore's miss a beat, and he sits up bleary eyed, trying to focus on you.

"Eh?" he croaks, swallowing hard, then grabbing a clay jug and guzzling noisily a thick brown liquid. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks at you again, slightly more alert now. "What is it you want this late at night?"

 

[solkan_uk]

"on second thoughts, I don't think we're getting any help here" whispers Arlanen under her breath, she otherwise waits for someone else to speak first.

 

[MadMaxim]

Alastor - Human Warmage

"Good evening, my good man. I was wondering if you could give us directions to one of the town's sages if you have anyone living around here?" Alastor tries not to breathe in too heavily to avoid the stench. Then he hands the deputy 4 silver pieces.

 

[Harvey]

Ceres d'Deneith, Human Hexblade

Ceres stifles a chuckle at what passes for the sheriff's office. His face then turns sour as he thinks to himself: Now it looks like I'm going to hear it from the 'forged about being wrong. Ah well, can't win them all.

He cocks his eyebrow as Alastor passes the sheriff some coin. While the party is talking to the sheriff, Ceres keeps his eye on their back, nervous that his old "pals"... or even worse, might show up uninvited.