I get it now. "Quotations in bold text"
"Free Men. Your generous donation toward the freedom of these children is virtuous and great. It is something worthy of celebration. I would like to join you in feasting and merrymaking, but as you can see I am walking around with the lifeless body of my dear friend whose very recent passing now grieves me! I must bring him to the Temple of Pharasma, where he can at least be lain in state until such a time as a suitable rite be arranged. And we must care for these children and tend to their immediate needs before dragging them onto the dance floor. May I suggest we all go together."
Halman nods and spreads his hands, "While the others take the children for succor and healing, I will walk with you to the temple. Let us go."
Thorin increased his speed to put himself between the alley and the young womans captors At the same time trying to make sure that at no time does he turn his back on the halfling with the dagger. Thorin taps the ground with his greatclub. "and where do you think you are going wee ones?"
The four Halflings take pause at the man standing before them, but then one of the grins and says, "His breath will do more damage than his club, lads! We have nothing to fear from a drunk and wastrel! Get the girl to the Duke - Carny and I will take down this bum."
And suddenly, the Halfling lunges at Thorin, swiping at the hungover Cavalier with the curved dagger, opening his knee to the bone!
"First blood, fat man!" laughs the Halfling, even as Carny moves to the left to attack as well.
The other two Halflings likewise draw steel and advance on Saoirse, scowling at her, directing her around Thorin toward the alley...and the Duke.
Saoirse resists the Halflings who try to herd her into the dark alley after she gets a glimpse of the robed creature waiting for her. The loud man disrupting the crowd in the street gives her a chance to step back and her hand rises to her hip and wraps around the hilt of her sword. Refusing to be moved even as they draw steel against her and the drunken stranger steps between her and her assailants, Saoirse unsheathes her bastard sword and sets her left foot forward in a fighter’s stance. Taking a moment to glance over the robed creature in the dark alley she tries to perceive if there is anything more to identify the creature with.
”Please do not force me to do this, I do not wish to harm you but I will if I must.”
Her eyes are steady and calm once more, now that she has a blade in her hand and a clear enemy in front of her. She hopes that it will not come to fighting but will not shy away from it. Seeing the man take a cut across his knee, she grinds her teeth into a rictus of anger and her eyes narrow as she charges the two halflings who come at her.
”For Victory, for the Heart,” she says with conviction as she swings her sword into the nearest of the Halflings with both hands.
Attack:
Damage:
Brankh pulls Yap aside and embraces him - then - slipping a silver into his hand he whispers,
"Yap. You have been very helpful to me, kid. I have another favour to ask. Can you keep an eye on these children? Check to see where these men are taking them. Wait for me at the Common House. If I don't show up there see if you can report back to me at the Temple of the Sun at sunset or sunrise. Sooner or later I would seek my brethren at Temple of the Sun. May the Light guide you."
Brankh raise his hand to the sky and a glint catches on his hand. He touches the head of the boy.
Then to Halman,
"So be it. But I will need to know that the children are safe. I accept your offer to return with to the Common House when we are done - and I expect to see them safe there"
With that Brankh continues his March.
Tell me about the Freemen, Halman. Is it your business to free slaves? How do you decide which slaves to save? Do you know those children?"
"My you are a font of information Pater, obviously I'm talking to the right man." She answers with a winning smile. "But who was this young lady you speak of? Or her family at least. Does no one know the name?"
Putting her eyes down for a seocnd but flicking them right back up "Oh, and this Cryptmistress Nerissia, what is she like? What can you tell me about her?"
Pater sips his tea and remains quiet for several seconds, watching Catila closely. Finally, he says, "The Cryptmistress is said to be a favorite of High Priestess Delana even though she is a member of the mysterious Sepulcherine order. She has risen quickly in the ranks...so I've heard."
Clearly done with the conversation, Pater rises slowly and says, "I'll check back on you momentarily, young lady."
And with a slight nod of his head, he walks away.
Sense Motive(to try and guess what else he's not saying, how he feels about what he said, or if he was bothered by Catila's asking):
Nodding back polietly in turn the Dr Dectective merely murmers to herself "Hmmmm...". Not having anything else to do at the moment, she turns her attention back to the young couple, eavesdropping without appearing to.
Bluff(to not be noticed listening):
Perception:
Saoirse & Thorin
The alcohol helping Thorin to ignore the pain, he swings with all of his might, and delivers a crushing blow to the side of the laughing Halfling's head! His necks snaps with a loud crack as blood spews from his nose and mouth and he hits the ground dead.
Carney's face is a mix of shock and horror as he sputters, "You killed, Kenny! You bastard! And then with a anguished yell, he attacks Thorin, attempting to stab the Cavalier in the stomach...but Thorin turns to the side and Carney misses him...barely.
”For Victory, for the Heart,” Saoirse says with conviction as she swings her sword into the nearest of the Halflings with both hands. The honed blade lops the rogue's right arm off just above the elbow, sending him screaming to the ground, spurting blood all over the Paladin's boots.
The last remaining Halfling backpedals quickly, turns, and runs!
And when you look, the mysterious character known only as the Duke...is nowhere to be seen.
Sense Motive(to try and guess what else he's not saying, how he feels about what he said, or if he was bothered by Catila's asking):1d20
Nodding back polietly in turn the Dr Dectective merely murmers to herself "Hmmmm...". Not having anything else to do at the moment, she turns her attention back to the young couple, eavesdropping without appearing to.
Bluff(to not be noticed listening):1d20+3
Perception:1d20+6
Catila sips her tea and nibbles her cakes and listens in on more of the young couple's conversation, hearing the following:
"Wonder what Delilah's family thought about her pregnancy? The entire district was talking about it." The girl mused.
"They never liked the fact that she and Braxton were a couple. I believe they feared Lady Spate - you know how she doted on Braxton all the time." The boy replied.
"Oh yes! Nobody was good enough for her Braxton! Gods! If I heard that once, I heard it..."
"Now, my children, Pater says loudly, interrupting their conversation, "would you be caring for anything else or do you have other things to do on this beautiful day?"[/b]
The young couple laughs and pays the old man and leaves the patio. Catila is alone with her thoughts and the bees working the flowering bushes.
Brankh pulls Yap aside and embraces him - then - slipping a silver into his hand he whispers,
"Yap. You have been very helpful to me, kid. I have another favour to ask. Can you keep an eye on these children? Check to see where these men are taking them. Wait for me at the Common House. If I don't show up there see if you can report back to me at the Temple of the Sun at sunset or sunrise. Sooner or later I would seek my brethren at Temple of the Sun. May the Light guide you."
Brankh raise his hand to the sky and a glint catches on his hand. He touches the head of the boy.
Then to Halman,
"So be it. But I will need to know that the children are safe. I accept your offer to return with to the Common House when we are done - and I expect to see them safe there"
With that Brankh continues his March.
Tell me about the Freemen, Halman. Is it your business to free slaves? How do you decide which slaves to save? Do you know those children?"
Yap is truly surprised at Brankh's gift and vigorously shakes the Half-Orc's hand and says, "I'm your man, sir! Whenever you need a guide or any service, please call on me. My home is the Warren, but you can get a message to me on the Meeting Post if you like. There's also a merchant who deals in wild exotic creatures in the market - Bertrani is his name. He can seem to find me whenever he wants. The gods bless you sir!" Then the boy runs off and disappears into the crowds.
Halman watches the boy go and then turns back to Brankh with a smile. "All of the Freemen were once slaves...of one form or another. Enslaved, owned, bought and paid for. Now we work covertly in freeing as many slaves as we can. We have limited funds for most of us are tradesmen and craftsmen and as you know, those livelihoods do not pay too well, especially in this cutthroat of a city. Those children are from the region of Lastwall, near the Fangwood. Word came to us a week ago that their family's hold was raided and burnt to the ground and that they were captured. We've been waiting for them since...knowing they would eventually end up here."
The rhythm of Brankh's panting and the plunk of his spearhaft on the ground are ponderous, as Brankh shoulders his burden. The fire on the torch roars brightly in the shadows of the laneway.
"It is a noble thing you do, Halman. pant But what we also know is that we just rewarded those evildoers for the service of taking these children to the market.... uugh.... Slavery is a great evil that plagues the city and has its roots deep in the economy. To rid the streets of this infestation will require a united effort.... whew...fight...struggle... pant ...determination and sacrifice. But people will not make great sacrifice until...hup...until they see the Light that shines for a higher purpose...pant. My teacher Nehruha...whose body I am bearing....was a wise man. He had a mission with the priests of Pharasma....I seek to carry out his mission for now...pant... but where I can I will help you in your cause....for I think it is Good and Righteous ...uuuurgh
Tell me. Do you know who was behind the raid in Lastwall, and why? Was it just for the loot and chattel?
Sense Motive(to try and guess what else he's not saying, how he feels about what he said, or if he was bothered by Catila's asking):1d20
Nodding back polietly in turn the Dr Dectective merely murmers to herself "Hmmmm...". Not having anything else to do at the moment, she turns her attention back to the young couple, eavesdropping without appearing to.
Bluff(to not be noticed listening):1d20+3
Perception:1d20+6
Catila sips her tea and nibbles her cakes and listens in on more of the young couple's conversation, hearing the following:
"Wonder what Delilah's family thought about her pregnancy? The entire district was talking about it." The girl mused.
"They never liked the fact that she and Braxton were a couple. I believe they feared Lady Spate - you know how she doted on Braxton all the time." The boy replied.
"Oh yes! Nobody was good enough for her Braxton! Gods! If I heard that once, I heard it...""Now, my children, Pater says loudly, interrupting their conversation, "would you be caring for anything else or do you have other things to do on this beautiful day?"[/b]
The young couple laughs and pays the old man and leaves the patio. Catila is alone with her thoughts and the bees working the flowering bushes.
Marking well the facial features of the young couple so she might recognize them again if necessary Catila busies herself with her drink and food until they leave. Then, as Pater is cleaning up their table she approaches him and lays a gentle hand upon his as she says quietly "Thank you, good Pater, for both your service and your conversation. You have made a stranger feel most welcome in your city. It is a funny thing sometimes with strangers, is it not? For they have no connection, and therefore no opinion, of events which must seem most familiar, or even dire, to those to whom they are not known. Hopefully though, you and I, at least, are strangers no longer. And for your kindness in welcoming me, please know that should you ever have need of my aid, in any way, you need but ask." letting another pass while she stares deep in his eyes, Catila finally puts down money for her bill, leaving double the amount necessary as a tip.
Then, if Pater has nothing else to say, she slowly continues on to her destination.
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Knowing that sometimes letting an opponent flee and tell the tale of defeat is better than leaving survivors, Thorin decides to let the other one flee.
He drops his club to the ground, and takes a seat, reaching for his belt pouch and the flask contained within. Uncorking it, he pours a bit on his wounded leg, and then takes a swig for himself.
"Some for the wound...and some for the Doctor..." He rips his one remaining sleeve off of his tunic, and fashions a crude bandage for his leg. When finished, he remembers that there was a young lady involved in all of this, and turns his attention to her.
"you alright m'lady?"
...if she happens to notice the young couple going in the same direction of course, then her curious feet may just happen to head in the same direction...
"Thank you, good Pater, for both your service and your conversation. You have made a stranger feel most welcome in your city. It is a funny thing sometimes with strangers, is it not? For they have no connection, and therefore no opinion, of events which must seem most familiar, or even dire, to those to whom they are not known. Hopefully though, you and I, at least, are strangers no longer. And for your kindness in welcoming me, please know that should you ever have need of my aid, in any way, you need but ask." letting another pass while she stares deep in his eyes, Catila finally puts down money for her bill, leaving double the amount necessary as a tip.
Pater's mouth opens at the amount of the tip and he stammers a thank you and then says, "Should I indeed need but ask, where would I send a message, my young lady?"
"Thank you, good Pater, for both your service and your conversation. You have made a stranger feel most welcome in your city. It is a funny thing sometimes with strangers, is it not? For they have no connection, and therefore no opinion, of events which must seem most familiar, or even dire, to those to whom they are not known. Hopefully though, you and I, at least, are strangers no longer. And for your kindness in welcoming me, please know that should you ever have need of my aid, in any way, you need but ask." letting another pass while she stares deep in his eyes, Catila finally puts down money for her bill, leaving double the amount necessary as a tip.Pater's mouth opens at the amount of the tip and he stammers a thank you and then says, "Should I indeed need but ask, where would I send a message, my young lady?"
Catila blinks at the simple question then laughs self-deprecatingly "Well! Now that is an excellent question my friend! Is there anywhere you might reccomed for an adventure seeking lady such as myself?"
Saoirse steps back as her boots are splattered with the blood of the foolish halfling. Sighing softly, Saoirse reaches into her backpack and pulls out a roll of linen cloth and will attempt to help the halfing who has just lost an arm. Bandaging the stump of his arm and whispering a small prayer for him.
"I hope you learn from this day little one. This life of wickedness you lead will not end well. I suggest getting that looked at."
Whether the halfling allows her to help or not, or is already dead from blood loss, she pulls out a stained rag and wipes off the blood on her bastard sword and turn to the man who stood in to defender her.
"I am fine Sir, they did not harm me. How is your knee?"
Catila blinks at the simple question then laughs self-deprecatingly "Well! Now that is an excellent question my friend! Is there anywhere you might reccomed for an adventure seeking lady such as myself?"
"Well now, let me see. In Cavalcade, that's the industrial district, there's a grand building known as The White Hat. A very nice place it is, and it is very close to The Rubdown - the largest, and best, bathhouse in the city. And you, my dear, might enjoy more The Golden Whistle in Oriat - it is near the Lyceum, Kaer Maga's own college of the arts. It is known for turning out some of the best entertainers in Varisia! Whichever, you choose, I'm sure you will be satisfied. Good day, my dear, and please do visit me again."
Tell me. Do you know who was behind the raid in Lastwall, and why? Was it just for the loot and chattel?
Halman shrugs and says, "Those two slavers are known in the city - they make regular trips and always brings slaves. My guess is they picked a target and hired the muscle to overrun it, and then brought the children here to market."
Catila blinks at the simple question then laughs self-deprecatingly "Well! Now that is an excellent question my friend! Is there anywhere you might reccomed for an adventure seeking lady such as myself?""Well now, let me see. In Cavalcade, that's the industrial district, there's a grand building known as The White Hat. A very nice place it is, and it is very close to The Rubdown - the largest, and best, bathhouse in the city. And you, my dear, might enjoy more The Golden Whistle in Oriat - it is near the Lyceum, Kaer Maga's own college of the arts. It is known for turning out some of the best entertainers in Varisia! Whichever, you choose, I'm sure you will be satisfied. Good day, my dear, and please do visit me again."
'The Golden Whistle , now that sounds very interesting indeed! And right by the college of arts! This city may just have even more to offer than I had thought.' Smiling, obviously pleased, Catila again thanks the friendly patron and, with a friendly farewell, makes her way to the musically minded establishment.
Never comepletly off-guard though, the small sleuth keeps her wits about her and her eyes and ears sharp on all going on around her.
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"Tis but a scratch. I've had worse. Halflings...they buckle like a belt if you hit em right."
Thorin focuses his attention on Saoirse. "My...I can see why the boogey men were trying to snatch you up. You are truly a beautiful sight to behold." Thorin takes another swig of his whiskey, then offers Saoirse a sip. "Help an old man to his feet?"
Saoirse blushes softly as she sheathes her sword into the scabbard at her hip. She steps closer to Thorin and holds out her hand for him to grab, ignoring the whiskey flask and the smell of the man. Once Thorin is standing again she tries to control the flush on her face as she answers,
"You are too kind Sir given how much dust I know is covering me. Who is that... Duke... they were referring to."
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"No idea...I'm not from around her myself. I'd be happy to talk about him though, that is if you don't mind escorting me to the inn...would seem my flask is empty." Thorin grins, and turns his empty flash upside down to emphasize it's emptiness. "at any rate, this is no part of town for a beautiful woman like yerself to be wanderin' about in."
Thorin points the way toward the nearest inn, and checks Saoirse's eyes for her willingness to accompany him.
Not wanting to offend the man who has helped her already, Saoirse nods her agreement and follows Thorin towards the inn that he points out. "I suppose it isn't Sir. I didn't realize that the plights of this city were so wide spread as to infest the city gates. Thank you for helping me with that problem though I am afraid I have no way of repaying you for your kindness."
As both Saoirse and Thorin step into the inn she is forced to blink her eyes several times to adjust to the relative darkness of the room. She looks towards Thorin for direction, not entirely sure how to proceed in a city where people are attacked in the middle of a crowded street.
Saoirse shakes her head a bit and gives a short laugh as she holds up her hand to the barkeep. "Please, just water for me."
Stepping over to a nearby table she sets her shield down against one of the legs and slides her backpack down to her feet. Looking across at Thorin she asks inquisitively, "I am Saoirse Palelight, servant of Iomedae, may I ask who you are Sir?"
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Thorin takes a large swig of wine straight from the bottle and tucks his now full flask in his belt pouch. he pauses for a moment at the question, and drops his eyes to the ground.
"Who I am? or who I used to be?"
he chuckles a bit to himself, his thoughts racing around in his head making him sick. The dreams. The visions of his party...a party he was sworn to protect...bodies scattered everywhere. Everyone covered in blood. The screams. They still echoed in his mind. They grew louder with each passing night. He had unfinished business. He snaps out of it long enough to remember that he is in a conversation. The whiskey wasn't strong enough to mask the memories. Thorin would drink lantern fuel if only it meant that he'd not go back to that day.
"M'lady, I am Thorin. That is all ye need to know. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Thorin eyes your shield and points "and here I thought I was rescuing a damsel in distress. Didn't know I was just helping out a fellow warrior."
Through the Streets of Kaer Maga:
Cole and Alanthian thread their way through the streets and stalls of Downmarket and passing through the corner of the Cavalcade district and crossing several canals and aqueducts before heading into the Bottoms. The pair follow a wide canal as it rushes through the district on its way to plunge into the air and fall over a 1000 feet (or more) to the plain below.
As they walk, many others from the district walk along with them or pass them by, notably several children running and chasing each other across the mist enshrouded bridges and lanes playing tag or some other game. Overhead, the sky can be seen for this is one of the few districts of the city that is not covered. The air is cool and the sun is shining if not partially hidden by whispy white clouds.
Ahead of them, Alanthian's watchful gaze sees an unusual sight, even for this city: a large Half-Orc bears the body of a elderly man, while alongside him walks another man in a dark brown cloak; the two are talking easily. Near them, are several filthy children escorted by a few adults dressed in the same brown cloaks.
Alanthian gives Cole a questioning look and the priest explains. "Those are Freemen - they work toward abolishing slavery in their own way - by buying slaves in the Flesh Block and setting them free."
"Where are they going?" Alanthian asks.
"My guess is they are headed for the Common House - I hear it is where the Freemen congregate and...relax. They are known to worship Cayden Cailean and the Common House is part temple, part party." He says with a smile.
Soon, several of the adults and the children break away, while the Half-Orc and the other man continue on toward the wall; Alanthian and Cole follow and soon all four have to step aside as a trio of gnomes come rushing down the street. Two have colorful streamers in their hands while the third has cords that are attached to a boldly designed, and rather large glider. They run and jump and hurry forward, calling out for passage, and soon pass by, heading toward the myriad of steps and dumbwaiters carved and built into the wall.
"Kites and Crows," says the man in the brown cloak, chuckling and shaking his head. "Guaranteed to fly every time...or your money back!" he laughs as he and the Half-Orc move along.
Pretty soon, all four of the men reach the bottom of a hill that leads up to a section of the district built along the edge of the cliff. Near the top is a the temple of Pharasma - a large gothic edifice known by locals as the Godsmouth Cathedral.
With a handshake and a promise to meet again later, the Half-Orc and the man part ways. The Half-Orc turns to watch him go, and then with a grunt, eases the body he is carrying to the ground for a brief respite before ascending the hill to the cathedral.
Alanthian and Cole are standing there watching and the big Half-Orc nods his head in greeting.
Having booked a room at The Golden Whistle and spoken with its proprietor, a man simply known as Mister Gentry, Dr. Catila Eyesquint has walked clear across the city to reach the Bottoms...and not without a little bit of help, mind you!
"The City of Strangers is no place for a young lady, a newly arrived young lady at that, to be wandering around alone!" Mister Gentry had told her in a kind if not firm manner. So he insisted on sending an escort with her - two young gentlemen, dressed in fine leathers and linens and wielding rapiers to be exact. Boris and Octavius were their names and the three talked and laughed, sang and told stories through the streets and past various shops both intriguing and suspicious. It took the trio roughly three hours to wind their way through the city, as the two dandies tried their best to avoid the less savory streets and venues.
Passing into the open Core district of Cavalcade, the three crossed bridges and followed the rushing canals as they headed toward the thick city walls. It wasn't too much longer that they came to the bottom of a hill, atop which sat a rather gothic cathedral, built right on the cliff's edge.
"There is the temple to Pharasma, good lady," Boris said with a slight bow of his head. "Would you like for us to wait for you while you conduct your business?" Octavio followed up.
Three other men were noticed standing near the foot of the hill as well. One a large Half-Orc, another a slim man who glanced around at everyone who passed by, and the third who looked to be a priest of some sort, for with his back to her, it was difficult for Catila to determine his faith.
Saoirse's face takes on a serious tone as she listens to the self-depreciating chuckle that escaped his mouth. She took the proffered glass of water when the barmaid brought it over and sipped only sparingly from it. She gives Thorin as subtle a once over as she is able to, brushing back a strand of her hair as she responds, "Well, then it is nice to meet you Thorin despite the circumstances. As for helping me... well, I would hope you would do the same no matter my status or nature."
Taking another sip of her water, her eyes open wide for a moment as she asks in a slightly quieter tone, so as not to be overheard if any should be listening.
"Actually, if you would not mind helping me further, I do have need to reach the temple of Pharasma, perhaps you would be willing to guide me there?"
Cole glances at the Half Orc, and is surprised to see he is a follower of Saranae. Strange times are here, indeed.
He approaches the half-orc and nodding his head in greeting, rasps,"Greetings, priest of the Dawnflower, I am Cole Keegan. Pleasure to meet you."
"Alanthian Darlok."
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Thorins face glazes over as he remembers why he's here in the city. The Temple...that's right...He was supposed to deliver a package. a package he had lost over a year ago. Aye, it was time to make his apologies and see if he could get back in the church's good graces.
The drinking had become a problem. It had begun as a way to hide the pain. The pain of failure and failed duty. The pain of loss of kin and pride. Now it seemed that it was hiding everything but the pain. Making him forget his goals. He had to snap out of it.
Aye, but not tonight.
"I have business at the Church meself young lady. I would be honored to add my staggering feet to your escort."
Thorin shook his head, trying to determine which of the three images of Saorise he was seeing was the true one. Damned rotgut wine.
'Fellow Adventurers?' Catilla wonders to herself as she spies the three men. Turning with a fond smile to her two companions she says lightly "No no my dashing and valiant guides and guardians. I am quite sure that I shall be fine. Please pass my thanks on to Mister Gentry and know that you both have my deepest gratitude for you kind aid. We shall meet again and I shall have a new tale to tell you, I am sure!" and with a kiss blown to each of them she makes her way over to the three others.
"Good afternoon!" She hails them by way of greeting "I am Dr. Catila Eyesquint, detective extraordinaire. I am here to aid the temple of Pharasma by solving their mystery. By any chance are any of you gentlemen here for a similar purpose?"
Standing before you is a pretty and charming Halfling with vivid green eyes that sparkle with intelligence and curiosity. These orbs rove quickly over each of you and seem to take in every detail about you at a glance. Atop her head nests a wild tangle of wavy brown curls which obviously have not seen the likes of a brush in years. She seems to be successful at her trade though, that or comes from some wealth at least, for her unusual weapon-a small staff with what looks like a sling attached- and chain shirt armor- peaks of which can be seen under her shirt- are of the highest quality. Her cloak contains many small bulges and several small sacks hang about her and her small, but full, backpack rests lightly upon her shoulders. All of her clothes appear clean, well made and travel worn but none of the colours match. Her voice is melodic and pleasing and after her greeting she smiles up at all of you, awaiting your response.
Alanthian offers his hand to the halfling.'Greetings Doctor, I am Alanthian Darlok. I am not sure about a mystery but I am here to help as needed."
Caitlin sees before her a priest of Iomedae, he would be considered quite handsome, if not for the Long ugly scar running from his left temple to his jawline. He speaks with a rasping, hoarse voice, due to the scar which extends to his throat. His voice nevertheless is still understandable. He definitely has Chelaxian roots, she notices.
”It is a pleasure to meet you, Caitlin.” His accent is rustic, and she can tell he is definitely not accustomed to being in a city environment. "Not sure about the mystery stuff, but I am ready to serve the Pharasma church."
The tall half-orc is leaning on a longspear with a blazing torch bound to it's end. Beads of sweat glisten on his deeply scarred face. He is panting from the exertion of having carried the body of the old man, whose stiffened corpse now lies on the ground. A long, woolen robe and a gold-hued headscarf reveal him to be from desert lands far to the south. Caitlen would be quick to see that he is from Katapesh. An agal circlet holds the scarf over his head, and it is embroidered with symbols that reveal to Cole's discerning eyes that he is indeed a cleric of Sarenrae's order. He nods a return greeting to Cole and the others who have approached.
He speaks to Cole in a warm and resonating voice:
It is an honour, sir. I am Brankh, Servant of the Healing Fire. I can see that you serve the Swordmistress. It seems we are both going the same way. I know little of Pharasma's Church or its practices. My teacher has just passed on. He himself had a mission with their order and now I am bearing his body to them so that a funeral may be affected in accordance with their ancient rites. Will you assist me in my procession? Perhaps if you carry the torch?
"Well met then good Alanthian, Brankh! And, ah, it is Catila, father, not Caitlin. Did I overhear correctly that Cole is your name?" her teasing smile makes it clear that she is not overly offended at the priest misuse of her name.
Looking down at the corpse which, out of politeness she hadn't looked at before, Catila places her small hand briefly on the much bigger hand of the half-orc as she says "I am sorry for your loss Brankh. I am sure your mentor would be proud of your continuing on in his stead. Your journey from Katapesh surely was a long one and now you have obviously carried the remains of your teacher for some distance. If you would permit me, in honour of you both, perhaps I can at offer you some slight refreshment?"
If he then allows, Catila conjours a gentle colourful draft to waft around the Cleric, redolent of the flowers she had just dined by. As the breeze finishes it's course around him Brankh also finds his clothes to be now cleaned and all sweat and grimed removed from his skin.
Then, gesturing up at the cathedral she smiles again to all saying "And so, shall we?" She will accompany the others on their procession, hurrying her small legs to keep up with them.
Saoirse & Thorin
It is midday when Saoirse and Thorin leave the Warren and enter the bustle of Downmarket, but Thorin, bull-headed and drunk, clears a path either with his voice or with the threat of his club. In his inebriated state, he fails to notice that more than once it is the paladin's presence and the threat of her steel that keeps street folk from retaliating against the cavalier's outbursts and demeanor.
Like others who have gone before them this day, they cross the bridges and canals into Cavalcade and follow the streets toward the wall...having been given directions by more than one shop owner. The sun overhead in the open Core district of Cavalcade does little to ease Thorin's pounding headache, nor does the level of noise made from the gobs of children screaming and running to and fro.
Once the pair reach the Bottoms, they are plunged back into the perpetual twilight of the city, where only multi-colored lanterns and fire globes light their way. By late afternoon, they have arrived at the base of a hill near the ring wall. At the top of the hill, they can see the spires of the cathedral of Pharasma.
As they stop for a breather before ascending the hill, Saoirse notices a small group of individuals talking nearby. A female Halfling dressed in a fancy array of colorful materials is engaging two humans, one of them a priest of Iomedae, and a Half-Orc who is leaning heavily on a long spear with torch tied to one end; he also appears to be a priest...of Saranrae it looks like. And...is that a dead body at his feet?
Cole flushes, embarrassed he misheard her name. Ever since his childhood accident, he always had trouble hearing certain tones and syllables out of his left ear. Most of the time, he was able to compensate, but at times he did mishear names, especially from higher pitched voices.
”I apologize for that, Catil-A. I don’t mean to insult you, just have trouble hearing certain names…”
He then sees another couple approaching the group. One of them seems familiar, a striking lady who is also a worshiper of Iomedae...He just could not remember her name....
A glimpse of sunshine from high above the rooftops glints through through the gloom below Kaer Maga's high walls and illuminates the half-orc as he stands tall - now fresh as spring flowers - and looks at the Temple.
Thank you, Catila. I feel like I have been freshly bathed! Thanks. (Not like in a Katapeshi bath mind you - I have seen some of those baths - where bathers come out dirtier than when they went in) - ....however I fear I must toil further and break even more sweat to get this body up to the threshold. Look here! We are joined by more pilgrims bound for the halls of the Grave Lady's Temple. Greetings strangers to this solemn procession!
With that said, Brankh will hand off the spear to Cole (if he will take it) and picks up Nehruha's body. The he marchs on and upwards ahead of the spontaneous cortège - humming a deep hymn for the Setting Sun as he goes.
Alanthian seems like a different person since the battle at the Message Post, more confidant, a little saddened but, on the verge of excitement. "My brother can wait, he would understand I am sure. The chance of proving myself to the Society comes first. Always."
"Well it seems we are here for the same reason, whatever that may be. Let us enter and see what awaits."
Cole looks down at the body of Brankh's mentor and feels a sense of sadness, something he has not felt in a while. Perhaps the time here in this city was indeed crushing his spirit, if he could not empathize with another, even one who he had just met.
He accepts the glowing Spear silently, nodding in respect to Brankh, and waits for the fellow priest to continue his procession....
Group Post 1: The Godsmouth Cathedral
The Mummer's Dance
After some introductions and a few moments to meet and greet, Brankh picks up the body of his mentor and leads the way up the gravel path to the top of the hill. The climb is not a long one, but it is somewhat steep, and your breath comes a little faster from the labor once you reach the top. The path levels out and before you, perched on the cliff's edge just above the gigantic face that leads into the ossuary, is the Godsmouth Cathedral.
From what you can see, the Godsmouth Cathedral consists of a central nave surrounded by three separate wings. The cathedral's walls are of black granite, supported by flying buttresses, and rise 100 feet to the church's slate-shingled roof. A bell tower above each wing climbs 50 feet higher than the main structure.
The gravel path leads you among a small grove of rowan trees and if you look, you can see nesting birds among the branches of those majestic trees.
A trio of acolytes are tending the bushes and vines growing around the walls at the end of the gravel path. They see you approach and one walks past the two guards standing at a triple portal providing entry into the cathedral, disappearing inside. The other two acolytes put down their shears and water cans, and walk out to meet you 'neath the rowan trees.
"Welcome travelers," says one of the acolytes, a young man of no more than 16 years. I am Asa and this is my fellow acolyte, Brianne. We are your servants. In the name of the Lady of Graves, we welcome you to the Godsmouth Cathedral.
Sighing a bit as she becomes more and more afraid she has picked the wrong man to lead her through the city, watching Thorin bustle and shout his way through another crowd of people, Saoirse gives a quick apology to the latest group and quickly travels in his wake. Saoirse breathes a sigh of relief when they both finally make it to the base of the cathedral. She squints her eyes as she is still adjusting to this strange twilight in the Bottoms of Kaer Maga. She walks up the short hill towards the group and gives a quick bow with arms crossed over her chest.
"Greetings Father..." Saoirse's mouth hangs open for a moment as she finally gets a good enough look at the Iomedaian priest in the torch light. "Cole? Is that you? I haven't seen you since... since my third year of training. I am glad to see you got my message.
As she exchanges pleasantries with Cole quickly, she turns to the half-orc wearing the trappings of Sarenrae and bows with arms crossed once again, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Priest of the Dawnflower. May I offer my condolences for your recently departed. And greetings to you as well Miss and Sir."
Standing before each of you is a young woman with piercing emerald eyes and deep red hair, a strong physique built over years of practice lies hidden under a fitted chain shirt and leather traveling clothes. Her cheek bones are high with pale skin and she wears a long braid down the right side of her face, perhaps hinting at a mixed Chelaxian/Ulfen origin. She holds a bastard sword strapped to her hip and a shield covers a backpack with her few possessions. After she has finished her initial greetings she steps in to help with the dead body of Brankh's master as best she can, rising the steps of the cathedral with sweat forming on her brow having to carry her backpack up the stairs.
She gives her customary bow with crossed arms towards the acolytes, obviously something that has been deeply ingrained into her, as the movement is much more fluid and proactive than her general actions.
"Thank you Asa, Brianne, for your welcome. I do not speak for these others, but I am Saoirse Palelight, and my Captain Miphos told me to ask for a Lady Valanthe, who may have a use of one of Iomedae's paladins."
Cole stares at the Iomedian paladin, Saorise, yes that was her name! Gods, she is more beautiful than I remembered! He stumbles through the pleasentries, barely remembering what he said to her later. "Yes, your message, ahh I did receive it. I certainly am glad you made it, Saorise." His voice has a rasping quality, which she remembered well, he had explained to her it was due to an old childhood injury, the scar he still bears to this day.
When she turns away to finish her ritual greetings, he lapses into silence and allows her to take the lead.
As the the last pair comes up to the small group Catila smiles and gives cordial greetings. Her eye lingers a bit on the obviously inebriated man, her smile seeming slightly forced in his case.
As the acolytes introduce themselves Catila also pipes up, her smile friendly and her eyes bright with excitement "Yes! Good tidings to you both. I do not speak for the others either yet I think we are all joined in purpose, here to aid your temple with its current troubles. So please, lead on!"
Alanthian reaches back and adjust his sword, and tries not to stare at the drunken club wielder leading the beautiful paladin. 'Some people have no discipline, I hope he dosen't stumble his way into a trap. Maybe he has more weapons, at least enough for each creature his blured vision tells him is there."
He turns and looks at the Godsmouth Cathedral and says to the others with a bit of excitment, "Well let us get to it shall we?"
Group Post 2: The Lady Wore Black
The acolytes smile and return the bows of greeting and then Asa says, "Tomas has gone to fetch the Cryptmistress; we were told to be watchful for...adventurers coming to the cathedral today."
Brianne touches Asa on the arm and points at Brankh and the body he carries. Asa gasps and stammers an apology and offers to help the Half-Orc with his dead mentor.
As they are about to assist him, a lady dressed in black emerges from the cathedral doors and walks down the gravel path to where you wait. Her approach is unhurried and she carries herself with confidence. Her face is hooded and but her arms are by her side; she carries no visible weapon. As she approaches your group, she removes her hood revealing a pale face framed by dark hair and accentuated by dark lips and eyes. She inclines her head slightly to you and says in a voice smooth and velvety, “I am Valanthe Nerissia. I believe you have responded to the church's call for assistance, neh?”
After pleasantries are exchanged, Valanthe sends the acolytes ahead, and then she leads you down the gravel path, through the now open doors, and into the cathedral's nave. Large iron candelabras hang from the ceiling and illuminate the central approach to the high altar. A plush purple carpet runs down the center aisle of the cathedral, flanked by rows of wooden pews.
"Let us talk in here, Valanthe proposes, indicating a small chapel off to the right. She leads you inside the chapel and beckons each of you to sit in one of the pews therein. The pews face an alabaster statue surrounded by lit candles.
"This chapel is dedicated to St. Feodric, a crusader of the faith. He was martyred in an unsuccessful attempt to slay the Harlot Queen Arazni.
The acolytes return with trays of simple fare > dark bread with butter, a white curd cheese, and pitchers of cold water. After they serve you, Valanthe dismisses them, and then quietly she speaks.
"I won't keep you in suspense as to why you are here. I trust you have been chosen by your superiors or led here by faith, meaning what I am about to tell you is for your ears only. For generations, Kaer Maga's wealthy and powerful have been laid to rest in the Godsmouth Ossuary, and thus far, their rest seemed to be peaceful. The ossuary has existed for thousands of years, long before the founding of the city itself. There seems to be no limit to the number of bodies that can be stored here and yet..."
Valanthe pauses and places her fingertips against her lips and looks over them at you.
"Bodies are missing from the Godsmouth Ossuary. You may or may not know that the ossuary is forbidden to all but the clergy and honored dead; even mourners are restricted to the ossuary's entrance or the cathedral; not even the Duskwardens, the famed guides who safely lead visitors through the Undercity via the Halflight Path are allowed to enter the sacred vaults.
"But now...there have been increased reports of undead deep in the crypts and this has led us to believe that the source of the problem lies in the sealed levels below the main crypts. A heresy has taken root in the Godsmouth Ossuary...and must be stopped!"
Visibly shaken by her own revelation, Valanthe sips some of the cold spring water before continuing. "The church is prepared to offer a reward of 500 gold for your success in stopping...whatever is behind the disappearing bodies, and an additional reward of 500 gold for clearing the level of all other monsters or threats. You may keep, of course, any valuables you find in the sealed crypts, except for obvious Pharasmin relics or treasures - those we ask you return to us.
"Again, this is for your ears only. The need for secrecy is absolute. The church can make life in Kaer Maga...very difficult for any who would wag their tongues too much."
Valanthe takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she releases it, and then opens her eyes and says, "I know you must have questions. Ask them please, and I will do my best to answer."
Cole is silent for a while, trying to determine whether Lady Nerissa was holding anything back. Rediculous! Why would she lie to us at this time? He clears his throat, and rasps, "Lady Nerissia, do you have any evidence undead are actually roaming these underlevels, I mean were you able to capture or destroy any of these undead? Also could you tell us the first time you noticed these bodies disappearing?"