Oct 26, 9713
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Ruphus Laro whistled a quiet tune as he returned to the Church of St. Cuthbert, enjoying the drizzle that was falling. Ever since he had started his studies there, he had been moving up the ranks, and he was very pleased with himself. Jenya Urikas, the acting head of the church at the moment, had even specifically requested that he visit the children at the orphanage after the kidnappings. This was the second night he had gone, and though the sadness of the children hurt him, he felt that his visits were helping the remaining ones feel better.
Ruphus took a shortcut on his way back to the church, which was probably one of the worst mistakes he could have made. He stopped as he saw a figure stepping up to block the exit of the alley, and started to turn around. Two more figures blocked that exit. His mind wheeling as quickly as it could, Ruphus saw his death coming. "St. Cuthbert, guide me this night." Moving towards the less-guarded exit of the alleyway, he was quickly beat down by fists and feet. Cowering as best he could, Ruphus barely realized that the scream he heard was his own.
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An incessent traveller, Gryffth sat quietly at his table at the Tipped Tankard Tavern. He'd seen better quality inns, and worse, but never any with such a sense of...expectation. He felt that something was coming soon, something potentially bad. The tension in the tavern was such that it was likely a bar brawl would be erupting any moment. Deciding to get out while he still could, Gryffth dropped a silver on the table to pay for his drink, and quietly made his way out of the bar, never noticing the figure surreptitiously leaving behind him.
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Isaura de la Cadena was a local looking for a mark. The territories taken by the local thieves guilds had been expanding, and not much areas were left for her to take. Even this place, the Tipped Tankard, was probably under protection of the Last Laugh, a group that seemed to be gaining power quickly. But one had to make her money somewhere. Sitting in a dark corner, with an untouched drink in front of her, she had eyed the crowd until she saw the perfect target. Unfortunately, he was sitting in the middle of the room, and there was no way to get to him without being noticed.
Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long. The cleric (for now she saw he held a holy symbol) seemed to get rather uncomfortable quickly, and paid for his drink before leaving. The sight of silver pleased her, and she quietly got up and followed him into the night. Just when she was getting close enough to potentially make her mark, a scream split the night. A man's scream. Isaura sighed. Men always seemed to need a women's touch. But help would never hurt, and noticing that the cleric had now noticed her thanks to his turn, she invited him along. "You coming?"
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Not far away, Owen Hammerhead sighed at the rain. How he hated rain at times like this. He just had to deliver his messages, or his mother would never stay out of jail. The last one of the day had just been delivered, a receipt for ale or something like that. He never paid much attention to the papers he was delivering, other than to try to keep them dry. It helped to act like the least curious delivery person in Cauldron; it got him more business than the whelps who also did the job. He just wished he would get a little more respect. Like that half-orc that had just barrelled him over when he was leaving the inn. Didn't even apologize. Owen had the sneaking suspicion that the beast hadn't even noticed him. Suddenly, he heard a scream rip open the night. He almost walked the other way like most of the few people that were out, but decided to check it out. Curiousity would be the death of him yet.
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Big Crunch he was called, and he lived up to his name. It wasn't that he was stupid, it was just that he had a tendency to...well, crunch things. It didn't hurt at all that he enjoyed doing so. Not so long ago, he had even figured out how to harness his pure rage and anger into a terrifying combination of strength and pure stamina. Not many stood against him long, and the name had stuck. Now, he wasn't even sure he remembered the name he had been born with, Crunch was it.
And speaking of crunch, he was in a mood to bash some heads. His money was running low, and when money ran low, he couldn't very well drink as much as he wanted. Ale was expensive, at least the good stuff was. Then he heard the scream, and smiled. One could always get an ale as a reward for saving someone. Breaking into a run, Crunch set off towards where he heard the sound.
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The four intrepid saviors of Ruphus Laro arrived at nearly the same time, and saw the pitiful scene in front of them. Three figures with painted faces, half black and half white, were severely beating another man wearing the white robes of a cleric. As they arrived, one of the figures picked up the cleric by his hood and thrust him back against the wall. "Stay away from the orphanage, you hear!"
This was enough for Gryffth. Though he had no knowledge of the signficance of the paint, this was a situation that was just wrong. "Stop! What's going on here?
Right over the top of the cleric, Owen spoke up. "You know, three on one isn't very fair." And Isaura, "Now gentlemen. There's no reason for roughness right now. Let's talk first." The wink and the inflection on the word talk left little imagination as to what she meant.
It was not meant to be, however. The only response recieved from the attackers was a simple "Bugger off." Gryffth would try once more at diplomacy. "I'm sure we can come to an understanding folks...there's no need to beat someone senseless in the alleyway."
It would seem that this attempt was lost even on his current allies, though, as Owen gripped his quarterstaff tightly and advanced. "I don't know what this is about, but you guys aren't playing very fair." A whistle rushed through the air as his quarterstaff swung towards one of the attacker's heads. It connected, but he got a punch in the gut for his efforts.
He was saved! Ruphus silently thanked St. Cuthbert for sending aid to him in this moment of need. But it could still go wrong. Forcing himself to stand against the pain from the numerous bruises he had sustained, Ruphus watched the opponents carefully. "St. Cuthbert, grant my saviors your blessing in this melee." He felt the magics take effect, and smiled. He wasn't completely useless, it seemed.
The combat was in full swing now, literally, as Isaura's spiked chain whipped out. She missed her target by a mile though, cracking one end of the chain into the brick wall beside the alley. Crunch leaped forward, keeping his weapons sheathed as the thugs had yet to draw their own swords. A mighty punch rocked back the head of one of thugs.
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Kerlen shook his head. This was not what they had been paid to do. They were supposed to rough up the cleric, and now they were being attacked by four others. This could get him fired; get them all fired; if they weren't careful. A quick signal, and all three of them had their shortswords in their hands and were making a strategic withdrawal. It was not all that helpful though, as the one with the staff dropped it and make an arcane gesture. A bolt of force flew out of his outstreched hand and slammed into one of his companions. The chain wrapped around Kerlen's legs, but he managed to get a decent hold on it, and pulled the weapon right out of the others hands. And suddenly, Kerlen felt sick. Where Isen had been but a moment ago, now stood the half-orc. Isen was but a mush against the far wall, dead. He noted the cleric they were sent to beat up casting another spell, but couldn't do anything about it. Blood rushed to Kerlen's head, and he felt rage. He stepped forward, but his swing was wild. He vaguely noted his companion trying to run away. The quarterstaff was coming again...and Kerlen dropped his sword. All was black.
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Her chain back in hand, Isaura moved foward again. There was still one of the thugs standing, and he was still holding his sword. A snake out with the chain, and that problem was rectified. Crunch made short work of the now unarmed thug, dropping him at his feet bleeding. Isaura was startled to hear a voice from above her. "Well done! But the cleric lives only because we wish it so, not because of your misplaced bravado. Take these words back to your temple, priest! The children are lost and no longer St. Cuthbert's concern."
Owen was just as startled, and was the only one to see the figure disappearing onto the roof of the building beside them. He mentioned it, but no one seemed to concerned about that figure. Gryffth had stabilized the unconcious thugs, ensuring that they wouldn't die, and searched the bodies, keeping close count of the coinage he found. When Gryffth questioned what St. Cuthbert had to do with this scene, Ruphus spoke up.
"I am Ruphus Laro, cleric of St. Cuthbert. I thank you for helping me. I was on my way back to my temple when they tried to mug me. At least, I thought they were trying to rob me until they started talking about the children.
Again, Gryffth played the diplomatic role. "You are welcome. I pray that your path will be less wrought with peril in the future. May I ask, what children do you speak of?"
Ruphus was shocked. This one must be from afar, otherwise he surely would have heard the news. "Why, the ones taken from the orphanage? Surely you've heard?" At Gryffths explanation of having just arrived in town, he nodded. "Please, accompany me back to my temple. I will explain it all as we travel." Gryffth propped one of the thugs up against the alley wall, taking the other with them for questioning.
Isaura barely masked her disappointment at hearing that the kidnapped children were from an orphanage. She had heard of them, and harbored fantasies about rewards for finding them, but nothing really serious. Still, there was a chance the temple would reward them for rescuing this Ruphus fellow, so she continued to follow him. As they moved, she barely listened to the story, having heard most of it in rumours about town. "I am not sure how those thugs were involved, unfortunately. But recently, a number of people have been disappearing. Perhaps they all just left, but the children...it doesn't seem as likely somehow. A few days ago, four children disappeard from the Lantern Street Orphanage. The Church of St. Cuthbert has publicly promised to return them...
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The Church of St. Cuthbert was simply adorned, though the gold and marble building was still a sight to behold. It was located on Obsidian Avenue, in one of the richest areas of town. Ruphus led the four unlikely rescuers into the building, then excused himself to report to the high priest. All four are offered blankets with which to dry themselves, and warm tea. While they waited, the pocketed gold from the thugs was split evenly among the four. A while passed, and a woman with streaks of grey in her blonde hair, but a young face that belied the grey approached. She smiled at their greetings, and spoke with an almost lyrical quality. "Good evening. I have spoken to Ruphus and learned of his harrowing ordeal, as well as your remarkable heroism. I am Jenya, the acting high priest here. I am truly in your debt." She paused, closely examing the odd quartet in front of her. Odd, yet she had few better prospects with Alek out of town still. "I have a proposal for you four, if you would care to entertain it?" The four people all acknowledge the offer with varying degrees of enthusiasm, so she continued.
"As you heard, four children were taken from a local orphanage. Three nights ago, this happened. It turns out that they are only the latest victims of a series of kidnappings. Two boys and two girls were taken, out of locked rooms in a locked building. None of the children or staff saw or heard anything untowards. We have publicly pledged to find and return the children, but have no staff to undertake this effort at this time. If you don't mind, I would ask you four to help us find them. I will let you know everything I know."
Isaura had but one thing in mind...money. "How grateful would you be if we helped?" It seemed that others were thinking other things, however. "Finding things is what I do, my lady. Even when they're people. I can probably help you." This from Gryffth. Of course, he'd interfere, Isaura thought. The half-orc only expressed an interest in ale. Jenya listened to all of their requests, and motioned to a couple of acolytes. One quickly returned with a pitcher of ale, and the other with a plate containing four vials.
Jenya internally had hoped that the church would get through this without paying, but it seemed that was a hope beyond hoping. "Each of these is a potion of Cure Moderate Wounds. These are yours. And if you should find the children and return them, I offer you a bounty of 2,500 sovereigns." Isaura wanted more information. "The 2500 is to split among you, and is a total offering. I wish I could offer more, but at this point, I am not empowered to do so. Now, there is one major clue that we have to offer you. Our church holds the Star of Justice, which enables us to call upon the wisdom of St. Cuthbert once a week. Normally, only the high priest can use it, but since I am acting in his stead, I felt it within my rights to use it in this situation. When I asked where the children were, all I got in return was a riddle."
"The locks are key to finding them.
Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron,
But beware the doors with teeth.
Descend into the malachite 'hold,
Where precious life is bought with gold.
Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long."
Jenya looked at her party intensely. "This last part worries me, where whoever holds them won't have them for long. I think we need to do this quickly." She listened as the group pored over the riddle as Owen had written it down. She made a small correction. Then, as they discussed the early lines, she made an interjection. "Perhaps you might want to start by visiting the Orphanage? You may be able to determine something the Lord Mayor's men were unable to." It was determined that this was a good idea, and though Jenya offered the temple as a place to stay for the night, her group decided to travel to the orphanage immediately. Enthusiasm was such a nice thing to see in a group like this. Jenya watched them move into the night with trepidation. She hoped they would be able to accomplish their mission.
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Owen led the way to the Orphanage, feeling a bit like an orphan himself. Ever since his mother had got into trouble with the Lord Mayor's tax collectors, he had been nearly ostracized from her as he tried to gain the money needed to get her out of debt and keep her out of jail. It was a decent trip, taking nearly twenty minutes even through the mostly abandoned streets. When they arrived, they discovered that it was locked for the night. Nevertheless... "Let's look around for clues." He looked around for a bit, finding nothing, when he heard a knocking on the door.
Isaura thought searching for clues in the dark was useless. She knocked on the door softly, and was pleased when it cracked open. She was unable to see a face for a moment, until looking down and seeing the face of an elderly gnome looking up at her. "Who sent you?"
No sense in telling a lie at this point, Isaura thought. "Jenya, from the temple." She was joined quickly by Gryffth. The man had to be involved in everything, didn't he? But at least it seemed that the gnome was yet to be convinced. "Prove it!" Gryffth quickly produced one of the potions given to them, which bore the mark of St. Cuthbert on them. That seemed to be enough for the gnome, however, as the door was closed again briefly, the sounds of chains being removed coming through to them, and then opened wide.
Gryffth immediately swept out the charm. "Blessings of the Dweller on the Horizon to you. I am Gryffth, a wandering priest of Fharlanghn. The priests at St. Cuthbert's told us of some missing orphans?"
Isaura had to step in before the priest took over everything. "Yes, we'd like to know what happened and if we could have a look around?" The gnome nodded. "You'll be the third group to do so then. The Lord Mayor sent two groups. But feel free. Just don't bother the children. They're all asleep." The group took advantage of it. Isaura was able to tell that the locks had not been tampered with anywhere in the building, and in fact were all fairly well made by the same craftsman. The others questioned the staff members, discovering that no one knew anything about the disappearances. As far as any of the staff knew, the children were in their beds at night, but were missing in the morning when they were checked on. The closest they came to finding anything out was two facts. First, Gretchyn, the gnome who had answered the door and was the headmistress here, was the only person with keys to the doors. Second, Owen seemingly made friends with Patch, the half-orc janitor. He discovered that Patch had been hired to watch Terrem, one of the kidnapped boys, by a local man at a bar, a member of the Last Laugh. Patch had not seen the man in weeks, and was distraught over the fact that he might have had something to do with the boys disappearance.
Finished up, they left, but not before discovering the identity of the groups of the Lord Mayor's men. The first were simple city guards, unlikely to do anything. The second were Fario and Fellian, half-elf trackers. As Gretchyn described them, they were "well armed, and seemed to know their way about." The group apologized for intruding at the late hour, and walked back into the night. Comparing notes for a moment, they split into pairs for the evening's rest.
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Oct 27, 9713
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Owen awoke in the morning with his crossbow fallen out of his hand, though he had tried to keep it there because he didn't yet trust the half-orc that was sharing his loft. As he awoke, he placed his hand on a piece of paper that had not been there the night before. Looking at it briefly, he realized it was a note. "Valiant fighting, dearie. But I could have killed you, you realize." He pocketed it, intending to show the others. He grabbed his weapons, and kicked Crunch awake. "Get up, you mangy orc breed. It's time to move." Crunch, fortunately, always had to fight off the effects of alcohol in the morning, and so merely groaned and went about getting ready. As determined the night before, the pair went back to the Tipped Tankard to meet up with Isaura and Gryffth. There, he showed the note to the others nervously. "Either I'm dead soon, or I have a fan." A brief discussion ensued, and it was determined that the note probably came from the voice in the alley, and that she was probably a member of the Last Laugh.
The show must go on, however, and they had two locatiosn to go. The Church of St. Cuthbert had retained possession of their prisoner the night before, while waiting for the guardsmen to arrive, so Gryffth and Owen elected to go there, while Isaura and Crunch headed off to find the maker of the locks seen at the Orphanage, one Keygan Ghelve.
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Keygan was nervous and upset. He could sense the fright present in Starbrow, but he couldn't do anything about it. That...thing, the tall one, as he called him, was still in the back. He walked around on his stilts, dusting and in general making sure that the merchandise was in tip-top shape. He had gotten quite good at walking in stilts over the years, and found that it made his customers more comfortable when they didn't have to look down at the merchant. The bell on his door rang, and Keygan looked up at the rather odd pair that made their entrance. "Greetings, good people. How may I help you?"
The woman did the talking. Not surprising, considering that her companion was a half-orc. Filthy breed that; all of them should be banned from Cauldron. "Actually, sir, I was interested in some work I believe is yours."
He already didn't like where this was going. This could get very dangerous if the tall one were to hear. "Uh...Is that right? How so?"
"The Orphanage's locks. Did you make them?"
Yeah, this was bad. He tried to make them realize that he had 'company.' But they were dense as obsidian. "Yes. Terrible business that, especially since they were some of my best work. My sales have dropped a lot since then." Then, the kicker. She wanted to know if he had made any other keys for those locks. Starbrow! "Why...why would I do that?"
She wasn't fooled by his lie. But he would get killed if he told the truth. As she slapped the counter and demanded the truth, he saw the half orc flexing his muscles behind her. "Ma'am, " he gulped with a nod to the back, "I assure you I have done no such thing." This time, they saw the motion, but IDIOTS! They rushed to the back. They were going to get killed, and he'd have paperwork to write, and everything would just go wrong. He followed them, but only as far as the curtain seperating the rooms. He saw the woman moving to one of his chests. "Ma'am, please. That is my work and my life. Leave my chests alone."
"For once in my life, I have no interest in your gold. So tell me what I wish to know, and I won't touch them. Continue to blather like an idiot, and they're all mine." Ghelve had had about enough of this. He should let the tall one take care of them, but if it hadn't attacked yet..."Ma'am, if you touch them, I will be forced to call the guard and incapacitate you. Now, what do you say, we come back to the front and we can discuss it." She wanted to discuss it here. Humans could be so dense sometimes.
And yet she pressed the issue. "Why not here? Will someone get the...last laugh...on you?" Ok, so she wasn't quite as dense as he thought, with that guess. He did pay protection fees to the guild, after all. But no, it wasn't them, and he indicated as such. Finally, he realized there was only one way to do this. "I have to run some errands. If you really wish to discuss business with me, you can come with me." This seemed equitable to them, and he went out, removing his stilts and shortening his pants as he did so. Once outside, he went a few buildings, then ducked into an alley where they couldn't be overheard.
"I had to, you understand? They took my familiar. They were going to kill him unless I helped. They made me give them master keys. I gave them three keys; between them, they'll open most of the locks in this city." He was all but blubbering now, he had confessed his sins. He only hoped it didn't bite him. "They're holding him, my familiar that is, in Jzadirune. In a small, dark room. My poor Starbrow!" He explained about the tall ones and the short ones, and how they spoke a language he was not familiar with. They tried to figure out what language it was, but neither of the ones they spoke sounded the same.
The woman smiled. "What is Jzadirune? And if I rescue your familiar, would you be willing to give me one of these master keys to the city?" Ghelve was appalled. That would be trading one evil for another. He steeled himself. "Jzadirune is a gnome enclave abandoned years ago when a disease started ravaging it. The main entrance is underneath my store, but no more keys. But if you wish, I could give you a lock or two to protect your own things." She nodded, but had another condition. "I want unlimited access to that entrance for myself and my three...friends."
If he was to ever get Starbrow back..."Agreed. You and your three friends may have access to the entrance. But beware, one of the tall ones guards the entrance...
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Owen and Gryffth spent some time wandering around the town, trying to find information. It seemed that no one wished to talk about the Last Laugh, except one man who literally laughed at them. He mentioned that someone had been passing off coins minted with a jester's mask instead of the real sovereign, but nobody was really caring. Other information they discovered was that one of the kidnapped children had the surname Stormshield, a child of Dwern and Imogen Stormshield, adventurers who passed on a few years ago. Coming to the conclusion that this must be Terrem, the pair decided that now their best source of information would be the prisoner they had captured the night before, and set out to travel back to the temple of St. Cuthbert.
The interrogation didn't start out so well, with the prisoner refusing to cooperate. Some minor intimidation involving the threat of magic was all it required to get him to talk, however, and he started spilling the beans. "Yes, it was the Last Laugh that hired us. Some lady named Jil or something like that. She hired us to send a clear message to the Church of St. Cuthbert not to investigate the children who had gone missing. She said we didn't need to kill anyone, so we were ok with it. We needed the money, after all. But you captured us before she could pay us. Ten gold each, gone just like that."
"And what does Jil look like? And what was up with the paint job?" Owen wanted to know. It turned out that Jil was very nondescript, and the painting was simply in imitation of those who hired them. Further intimidation only served to frighten the poor man, and when the city guard showed up to take him into custody, the guard seemingly recognized the thug, calling him Kerlen. Gryffth was unable to convince the man to allow them to continue with custody of him, in fact being threatened with arrest himself for murdering a man. They were told that the probable fine was jail time until a fine could be raised, and then he would be freed. The guard and prisoner walked out, leaving Gryffth and Owen looking flabbergasted at the insinuation.
