The Chronicler's page

Our story begins in, of all places, a tavern. It is named the Sitting Duck. The time is late spring in the month of Sarenith.

The Sitting Duck sits near the northern gates of Falcon Hollow, a lonely lumber town inhabited by the foolhardy, the desperate, and the brave. This tavern is a refuge of sorts. Outside there is hunger, poverty, fear and danger. Inside there is danger and upon occasion fear and often even maiming. But there is also food and drink, provided you have the coin, and that helps make it better.

It is only early afternoon. On most days of the week the place would be half empty during the afternoon but today is Sunday and even the ‘Jacks get Sunday off.

Two ragged looking serving wenches make the rounds. Each has, upon their right hand, a claw like glove. Hands that get too fresh get scratched. Some see it as a game, seeing if they are faster with their pinches than the wenches are with their scratch. These few call the game ‘cat-scratch’. Most however leave the girls well enough alone, especially after Twiggy Axehand lost a finger playing just last week..

In a corner, surrounded by friends, two half drunk lumberjacks play ‘knivesies’, attempting to stab their dagger between the fingers of their opponents. This game too can result in lost fingers but at least the winner, the first to get cut, gets a hefty portion of the money being bet on the game by the onlookers.

There is a child in the tavern. Dark haired Savram Vade goes from table to table, attempting to sell a bottled tonic. In his quiet small voice, the short nine year old boy tells each, “Won’t you please buy some tonic. Guaranteed to ward off fey spirits if drank regularly. Only two copper coins.” A few laugh and curse at him. Some buy one of the small glass vials. Most just ignore him.

The general atmosphere is festive. Festive and rowdy. Most of the patrons are determined to have a good time. Those without families, and that is the majority of them, will probably lose most of the money they made during the week on this one day. Then they will curse and grumble the rest of the week as they cut and saw for a few more coppers. Even some of those with family will do the same. The only difference is that their children will be hungry while their fathers curse and grumble and slave away for Gavil Thuldrin Kreed.

On this particular day, at this particular time, each of the PCs is in the Sitting Duck.

Date: 5.19.07
Time: 8:48 a.m.

The smell of New York City in the spring. The cool of a morning in May. The sound of cars and people. These are the things that surround you as you contemplate the building in front of you. It is a large three-story brick building. The windows of the second floor have been boarded over with plywood and there are iron bars protecting the large first floor window facing the street. Strangely enough the room beyond appears to be a bakery of some sort and, indeed, the ornate red door next to the window declares, with shiny golden letters, the establishment to be “Susan Li’s Chinese Breads.”

Pulling the confirmation letter from your pocket, that piece of paper which declares you to now possess a paying job, you survey the address again to make sure you are at the right place.

The address seems right. 42c North Ditch Street. You notice then that the bright red door bears the number 42a. Looking around once more you spot a second door at the other end of the brick building, just up a short flight of four concrete steps. Walking over and inspecting it you see that it is indeed the door you are looking for. Though the lime green paint of the door is peeling, the bronze sign upon it proudly declares itself to be ”Sunlight Scoop, 14th floor, 42c Ditch St.” Which is the same as the address on the letterhead of the paper in your hand. With a quizzical eye you survey the building again. It remains a three-story building.

The lime green door is unlocked and looking in you see a rather unremarkable room on the other side. The room is in fact a stairwell. The floor is covered with ancient linoleum tiles with a dirty grey marble pattern. Several are missing, revealing a concrete sub-floor. The ceiling and walls are painted white. The stairs going up are cement and iron. The whole thing seems very utilitarian and industrial. Yellow police tape forms a barricade across the entrance to the stairs. There actually appears to be several layers of police tape, some of it very old and faded and some of it bright and fresh. The wall to the left contains an elevator door with a single button on the wall next to it.

You are not alone in the stairwell.

Each PC is here in the stairwell. All have an appointment with Hugh Rogers at 9:05 a.m.. Do what you will but when you are ready to go upstairs just push the button next to the elevator.