Lowering his voice to match, Graehl subtly jingled the coin purse in his hands, as he added, "My friend is most insistent of his desire. He has travelled far and at great expense." Lowering his voice even further, he concluded with, "A large donation to the temple would accompany such a find, and I'm certain we would see to sharing the wealth with loyal were-creatures of the faith."

Graehl seeks information from the Wererats, while Arctos looks outside, observing the nearly empty street... the Elves going by... and doesn't hear anything that might have "clue" attached to it, aside from, possibly, Graehls' conversation.

Having been in Lucimburic a while, Graehl knows a few things about Wererats.  They are, in general, morally questionable.  Not in the manner of an Orc, who enjoys causing pain and dominating others.  But they have a strong desire for, well, just about everything.  Such a strong desire that when morality gets in the way of acquiring wealth, morality often ends up bound and gagged in a back room while the rat's greedier instincts take over.

Donation... that's a word that can get a Wererat's attention.  The both of them have a sudden, strong interest in Graehl.

"He'd pay to see an Owlbear?  What is, some kind of rich, sick freak with..."

The first Wererat's line of questioning is cut off by an elbow from the second.

The second Wererat begins in a different direction.  "Sharing wealth... we can always help someone willing to share wealth.  I don't know about an owlbear.  Never been one around here.  Your friend... any monster good, or Owlbear?  Cause Grikkis talked to a guy who was hanging around the brothel and saw a pretty strange creature there a few days ago.  Like a bird with four feet!  That unnatural enough for you, or does it gotta be a Owlbear?"

Graehl couldn't help but let a small smile curl his lips. "Excellent. Do you hear that, my friend?" Reaching into the pouch, he procured a gold coin, placing it on the table before him, before pulling out a second, placing it next to the first, but keeping his hand over it. "What more is there to know, servant of the Goddess?"

        Arctos, apparently a stranger in a strange land, decides Graehl should take the lead
in dealing with this particular breed of Werefolk.  Their motivations were not his, and they
knew the lay of their community better than he.  The Dwarven Patre nods his head approvingly
at what his newly met companion had been saying.

The coin disappears from the table as fast as… well, as fast it a Wererat can remove it from the table and place it into his pocket while maintaining an utterly non-chalant “who, me?” expression.  (About 4.2 milliseconds, for those counting.)

A Wererat with a gold piece to spend is a happy Wererat.  But a Wererat with TWO gold pieces…

“You’se looking for a guy what talks to that creature.  If he can talk to a four foot vulture-dog thing,  he must know about other foul things.  Grikkis saw him, down at Woogum’s.   You know, Woogums?”

Graehl knows.   Woogum’s is Lucimburic’s brothel.  It’s run by a pack of Wereweasels, and is the kind of place decent people don’t like to admit they know about.  But everyone in town knows it’s there.  It’s on the south side of the Grund, not far from the Old Foundry.  It’s sort of on an island of its own, in the Alzette river… well, it’s an island if one regards that muddy little trash strewn slick that separates it from the bank as “water”.

“You knows I can’t go down there wich-uh,” the Wererat says.  “They see me wich youse and…”  he makes a gesture that indicates that he thinks this would be a very bad thing for him.

The other wererat throws his two coppers in: “It’s the weasels, you know.  A rat always knows when he’s in with weasels. They all have ways to make you pay.”

The first continues:  “Most people who wanna be left alone, they might take up a place here, and Fezzle will make sure they get left alone.  But if you really want no one stepping on your tail, and you got the shiny stuff what pays for it, you go talk to Woogums.  But I never said nuthin.  Nuthin at all.”

Lifting his hand from the coin, Graehl nodded with a smile. "Many thanks, blessed ones. Perhaps you could now fetch that breakfast."

        Arctos rubs his tattered and burned beard as he silently watches the strange
interactions twixt the Wererat and Graehl with interest.  Upon hearing of their
quarry being at Woogums, a Wereweasel Brothel, the Patre forces a smile at those
whom had provided the vital information that they were so desperately in need of.

        The Dwarven Patre thought to himself . . .
Things just couldn't possibly get much the worse, wot wouldst his better half think
O' him should she ev'r learn that he had been in such a place O' seech ill repute.
Octavena would probable use much the more than a rolling pin pon him should she ev'r
learn O' his current escapades!'

One of the Wererats says to his partner proudly:  "I am a blessed one!"

From his point of view, that is true.  He now has a couple of gold pieces.  For a typical Wererat kitchen drudge, this is a blessing.

The Wererats in the Old Foundry don't have much of a morning clientele, especially today, so Graehl and Arctos enjoy good service.

They make sure to trim any mold from bread before they serve it.  These are customers with Gold!

(And the Wererats can always eat the moldy parts themselves.  They are not typically very discerning.)

But then it is time to check out their destination.  Woogum's.  The Brothel.

From the outside, it is not a cheery looking place.  It has a very odd combination of opposites:  A large brick building on the riverbank (on its own little sort-of-island), it is very obvious.  But at the same time, it seems to have done it's best to hide.

The building is very plain, and very lacking in detail.  There is no sign.  The windows are small and all hidden by closed, latched shutters.  The main entrance is reached by wooden walkway that crosses the muddy slick that separates Woogums from the mainland, but the door itself has been half-closed in by solid brick, so that only one person can enter at a time.

Directly across from the entrance, there is a three story brick building with a large shop front with a wooden wheel hanging up.. but it looks like it hasn't been used for any business in years.  Nearby are small, crammed together townhouses, the sort where people with little money can rent a single room for long periods.

Nobody is around.  Not unusual for this time of day... and what with the Merchants' Fair and other activities drawing so many off.

But there is something slightly unnerving about the whole scene, and it is Arctos, with his Dwarven "Raven Hued Orbs"^(tm) who notices first what is amiss.

The shadows are wrong.  It's almost as if the shadows from the buildings have been stretched and darkened across the little bridge, so that people going in and out cannot be easily recognized.

It's not darkness like an obvious magical darkness.  Just deep shadow, and in daylight, deep shadow is effective in hiding features.

Looking around, they also see that the position of the other buildings, the curve of the street here, and the narrowness of the street all contribute to making the approach to Woogums a very discreet one.  It's a good place to go if you don't want to be seen going.

       Arctos looks to Graehl, then back to the disturbingly shadowed thouroughfare before
them.  The Dwarven Patre scratches his tattered and burned beard while he cogitates upon
what he's seen, then whispers . . .

       "Lad wouldst it be best to observe the comins n' goins from Woogum's by making
ourselves an observation post in that deserted shop with the hanging Wagonwheel?  Or
should we go into Woogum's to investigate further?"

Graehl looked back to the dwarven priest. "You fear something from over yonder?" He smirked a little, the facade of piety displayed in the tavern dropped upon leaving it. "We're not well known here, so you're not likely to be rumbled." He took a few steps towards the bridge, before pausing and turning back. "I'm only here to help, though, so 'tis up to you, if your sensibilities keep you on this side." His voice had a slightly mocking tone to it, but his eyes showed that he meant nothing by it.

         Arctos ignores the talk of fear as the man doesn't apparently know anything about
the Dwarven servants of Mars, nor anything about the Dwarves of the Legion . . . or what
true fear is all about.  The Dwarven Patre continues to whisper while making his way to
Woogums door.
         
         "Mayhaps seeking out the bird with four feet wouldst serve us best.  Let us go into
Woogums to inquire."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:03, Mon 22 Apr 2013.

With Arctos leading the way they proceed across the narrow wooden catwalk to the door of the riverside establishment.  There is a door knocker here, and with no other way of making themselves known, the obvious thing to do is to knock.

When they do, a small observation portal in the adjoining wall clicks open.  After a moment of hestitation, gray-blue eyes appear behind the portal.  They look down and study the Dwarf for a moment, meeting Arctos’s own eyes.  Arctos has a naïve and youthful look about him, being a "young adult" Dwarf and with not nearly as many years behind him as his companion, and so the eyes quickly flick upward to the priest.


Graehl has been in town for a while, studying with the Werefolk, but he’s met only a fraction of them.  Not this one, apparently.  There is a gruff, puzzled sounding voice from behind the door.

“Alright, you’re not delivering breakfast, what’s this about, then?

       Since the Dwarven Patre's older companion obviously knows the in's and out's of the
'Were' community moreso than himself, he steps aside to let Graehl address the Wereweasel
about the four legged bird.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Mon 22 Apr 2013.

Putting on another persona, Graehl leaned in to towards the open portal. "We's lookin' for a bit o' the old rough an' tumble," he said to the creature beyond, giving a conspiratorial wink. Pulling out his coin purse, he gave it a little jingle before putting it away. "Got the goods, too, so don' you worry 'bout that."

The two are admitted- but the nature of the narrow door makes it necessary for them to go in one at a time.

The interior is a small foyer, with shuttered windows on the walls and comfortable looking chairs.

The group is met be... well, he looks Human, but in Lucimburic, one never knows.  A heavily built woman with a face only a mother could love... and that's with some willing suspension of disbelief.  Splotchy, scarred skin leading up to an uneven hairline, with unkempt dark hair that is missing in places, showing more splotchy scars on her head.

"Welcome to Woogums," she says in a raspy whisper.  "You're first timers.  We like first timers.  We want to turn them into second timers.  But we have some rules, for everyone's comfort.  Weapons are turned in here, you'll get them back when you leave.  No one brings a weapon past here.  No magic, either.  Leave that to us.  Now... it's early, and I guess we're going to have to wake a couple of ladies up.  So tell me what we're looking for."

        Aghast at the thought of having to give up his arms, the Patre looks to Graehl and
quickly replies . . .

        "My friend, I knew naught that in order to hath a tumble and e' tickle that one
wouldst hath to give up their weapons.  A Legionaire can n'vr do seech a thing!  It's
against my training and sacred oath!  Mayhaps it best that I wait ere n' let thee hath a
goot time, so's r'e trip won't be a total waste O' time!  Hadst I only known!  Apologies!"

This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Thu 25 Apr 2013.

This message was deleted by the player at 01:34, Thu 25 Apr 2013.

Graehl let out a rich laugh at Arctos' words. "Got the willies 'as he? Awright then. I'll spend the coin by meself. Lookin' for a girl wiv odd tastes, like. You know: beasts and monsters and what have you. Heard they's beasts in the sack 'emselves." He gave another wink to the ugly woman. "Oh. And you don' mind the cane do ya? Did in me leg in the war, an' I find it hard to walk around these days." If the woman insisted, he would relinquish the staff and feign a limp. Either way, before leaving, he'd lean down to whisper in Arctos' ear. "Why don't you go and watch the streets like you suggested?"

To the folk of Lucimburic, “beasts” and “monsters” means two very different things, and they pride themselves on being the former and not the latter.  Beasts are only monsters when they are “unnatural beasts”, and those are considered abominations.

But here at Woogums, they know that the outsiders sometimes get these things wrong.. and they know that for every possibly kind of deviancy, there is a customer, including a few ordinary Humans who are intrigued by the idea of being intimate with something big, fierce, and hairy.

“You may have heard some things,” the woman says to Graehl.  “I assure you, some of what you’ve heard isn’t true, but much of what is true isn’t told.  If you are curious about that, we can arrange something.  What our customers ask, we provide, be it strange, or… well, even if it’s just to be left alone.  We serve.  Drop your weapons here… the cane… not a staff, is it, I hate that old gimmick?  If it’s just a cane it’s alright.  I think Lerra is the right one for you… not sure she’s here.  Must check.  I’ll be right back.”

“As for your companion,” the woman looks at Arctos with a puzzled, hard expression.  “You should know better than to think you can enter into our fine establishment armed like a whole militia troop.  We have rules, and decorum, here, this is no Wererat flophouse!  If you wish, you can return for your friend later, or you can sit here in our waiting room.  Or, you can wait in our sitting room.  Whichever.  But all of our guests, even outsiders, do not bring weapons into our lovely facility.”

The woman ducks into the interior doors.  Her voice is heard, asking “Is Lerra around?  Got a curious one.”

        Arctos realizes that he wouldn't really be able to see what had to be seen within
the unnatural shadows surrounding Woogum's establishment.  If their suspect passes within
the lobby, he'd be able to easily identify him without any problems, whereas outside he'd
probably pass right by without ever being noticed ~~~ no matter how hard he'd try to spot
him.  The dour Dwarf's raven hued orbs closely peruses wot lies within the waiting room,
then looks upon the horrid oountenance of the rules ridden 'Madame', grimmaces, and with
a sigh of relief he simply replies . . .

        "Ahhh . . . I shalt wait ere methinks!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:49, Sat 27 Apr 2013.

"Tha's right. Just a cane." Graehl waited patiently for the woman to return.

Graehl is met by a Were-boar woman, Lerra.  She has a powerful, athletic build, and appears in her hybrid form- they’d surmised that Graehl likes women with a “beast” look.

And there is chatter, between Lerra and the woman door-guard, that eventually tips Graehl off to something critical:  There have been a few “Strange strangers” lately, but nothing like that freak who was here for a while and just insisted on staying in a room by himself most of the time, which he paid good money for.

Eventually, they learn that this “freak” is already gone- but he had left mumbling things about Lucimburic being much, much too dangerous.  And “no opportunities that aren’t suicidal”.  They can even get a rough description- short, thin, black hair, black eyes, and with a large, heavy looking leather pack. They have no idea where he went, but he was dressed for traveling when he left, and inquired about roads south.  It seems the extreme level of caution and protection around Lucimburic drove the Bad Guy away.

It is time to catch up these two into other threads, actually. The next round of “adventure” story arcs is beginning.

PM

PM
[Private to GM:

        I have no idea as to what thread that Arctos should jump into now . . .

(I accidentally put the wrong post here last week.  That explains a few things.  Now to straighten things out.  )

Following the brief but ultimately futile pursuit of the mysterious foe with the "beast book", Graehl and Arctos both report back.'

Arctos resumes his old position with the Dwarven troops, and will lead them homewards... but not too far homewards.   There are still problems with a Demon lord.

Graehl has a somewhat different course ahead of him.  He meets with Texxor, the commander of the army of Lucimburic, who is at the same time putting together Lucimburic's contributions to Theoderic's upcoming campaign.

"Theoderic has asked for a few of our best and boldest," the Werewolf general says.  "You have a good reputation from the Beda campaign.  I have volunteers from the warriors... more than I need.  Hector, Vollax... they will go, I'm sure.  A few more, possily.  But a cleric for them would be good.  I do want them back in piece."

Graehl knows the names Texxor mentioned.  Both are Werewolves- ferocious front line fighters, the elite of Lucimburic's military.  Both are, as he recalls, eager for battle.

Graehl reports to another thread, The Northern Front.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:09, Mon 06 May 2013.