Texxor and Arctos, accompanied by two of Texxor’s guards, hurry through the street of Lucimburic.  Texxor seems to be in a bad mood, he shouts at anyone in his way.. or maybe that’s just how Werewolves deal with traffic.  He’s not insulting, just quick to shout orders to “Get out of our way!”

The Temple of Arduinna is the largest temple in Lucimburic, but none of the them are as big as the temples Arctos recalls from the major temple complexes of home, like the ones in Mons Lucia.  Back home, this temple would rate only as “moderate”, and the construction… Dwarves would never use so much wood in a temple!

But he recognizes some of the statue work.  Arduinna is known in the Roman world as Diana.  The Dwarves recognize her existence and pay homage in the most minimal ways they can get away with.  Diana rates a couple of small statues in Mons Lucia, but the Dwarves have carved many more over the years- she’s a very popular subject for Human statue buyers.

The Temply priestess is  a Werebear, and when Texxor and Arctos arrives, she has company- two other priests, Marrungle the Weremink, and Graehl, and Human priest on a sort of “visiting priest” program from nearby Treverorum.

Arctos sort of recalls the man- but General Texxor certainly does.  Grael had accompanied Texxor’s troops in the Battle of Beda as their chaplain, the role Texxor assumes Arctos has with the Dwarves.

Texxor quickly describes the facts that Arctos has brought to him- this book, the “Book of Beasts” with some sort of hide cover.

”Oh my goodness,” Priestess Kolitya says.  “It’s back.”

”Explain,” Texxor growls.

”It was during the usurper time.  There were servants of the Demon Lord of Beasts.  You remember.  And one of the Unspoken came, and offered his services, and said he had been given the Book of Beasts and had the powers therein.  But the thralls of Baphomet through him out, because they said they had no desire or need for the unnatural beasts of the book.  Every creature in it is some abnormal abomination of natural beasts.  Owlbears.  Cockatrice.  Horrible things.”

He is no Lycanthrope, but during his time here, Graehl has learned a lot about Lycanthrope beliefs.  They believe their connection to animals is a sacred one, given to them by their goddess Arduinna.  It has not escaped their notice that there are no such things as Were-Griffons, Were-Hydras, Were-Owlbears, or other such Lycanthrope version of what they call “unnatural beasts” although there are Lycanthrope versions of just about every type of wild “natural” animal.  Possibly because of this, the Lycanthropes harbor a strong dislike for these “monsters”.  If the goddess cared at all about them, there would have been Were-Owlbears, right?  But there aren’t any, and this proves that Arduinna hates Owlbears.

Such a great hatred, that when then the Demon Lord Baphomet tried to subvert Lucimburic last year, even he was forced to reject the unnatural beasts, as he wished the Lycanthropes to accept him, and that would never be, if he had accepted the monsters.

To Texxor, this is very serious business.  This foe is not an ordinary assassin, but a foe of all that Lucimburic holds dear!  He gives orders to his guards:  “Hunt for this man!  Comb the city, every street, every grate!  You put a guard at every gate!  Drag him out, shout the moment that you find him!”

       Skippio faithfully follows his charge and accompanies Partre Arctos into the Temple
of Diana.

       Upon arriving at the Temple of Diana, and finally meeting 'Her' servants, Arctos respect-
fully bows as best he can using his Agnon for support, as does Skippio.  The Dwarven Patre moans
from his recent wound as he bends into his bow.

       "Greetings and salutations Patres and Priestesses O' Diana!  Mine nomen tis Patre Arctos
O' the Noble Avernian House O' Scopulos, Servant O' Mars, art Dwarven King, and Spiritual
Advisor and Counselor O' the Dwarven Legion."

       The Dwarven Patre listens closely as Grael speaks, and after hearing him out he begins
to tug gently upon his burned and tattered beard in thought.  Moments pass and the Dwarven
Priest finally speaks . . .

       "It . . . . the 'Usurper?  Wot doth he look like?  Doth thee hath a rendering O' him
so's one and all can know wot this Assassin looks like?"

        Arctos pauses for a reply, then continues . . .

        "The Usurper tis a hiding where the righteous doth na seek!  Doth any O' thee hath
a clue where that might be?  It couldst make art search much the easier, tutherwise this
'Usurper' l'e be like the proverbial needle in a haystack!"

        Upon hearing Texxor's command of searching out this Assassin, Arctos smacks his
Agnon upon the Temples tile floor and bellows . . .

        "Hold pon giving out that order General!  It mayst naught be wise to herald art
knowledge O' this vile Assassin presence.  Alesuria wished that we discreetly search
out the assassin, lest we alert him that we know o' their presence and current mission
and cause him to take even greater precautions to hide his presence.  Will thee naught
respect and abide her decision ser?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Sun 07 Apr 2013.

“Not the usurper,” Kolitya the Wearbear priestess says.  “But someone who was here during that time.  He sought to join forces, but he Usurper, who was a pawn of the Demon Baphomet, drove him off, because such things a Lycanthrope cannot abide, even if being misled by a Demon.

“Unnatural Beasts,” the Werewolf grumbles.  “Never a good thing.  But if you prefer this search be done with stealth instead of speed, tis a good point.”

He redirects the guards- instead of launching into a direct and vigorous search, they are to pass the word to Wyllister and the other Wereweasels who were at the Security Meeting.

“As for the foe,” Kolitya says, “I recall something about this one who presented himself before the Usurper and the Demon-thralls of Baphomet.  Not a big person.  Just about the height of an average Human, but very thin, with yellowish-green eyes, and short, dirty black hair.  A greasy look about him.  But that might describe most of his kind, I suppose.”

They  explain further for Arcto's benefit, as he is clearly an outsider and doesn't know these things.

There are Were-forms of just about every “natural” animal.  Such is the wisdom of Arduinna, (This gets repeated a lot by Kolitya, and Texxor nods along every time she says it.)  No unnatural beasts have Were-Forms, no Domestic Beasts have were-forms (though their wild cousins do_.  Thus, Werelynxs, not cats.  Werewoves and Foxes, not dogs.  All the different Werefolk were created because each had a purpose and a part in the world.  And they all came to live in Lucimburic.  Now Lucimburic has WereOtters and Wereturtles and WereSwans and all manner of Werefolk... except for those who could not live here, because they needed a different climate, and a very few who rejected Arduinna early on.  That last category  includes the most hated of all Lycanthropes.  Sure, people don't trust the Wereweasels, but as Tawna demonstrated, even they have a place here and a role to play.  They are part of the tapestry of life here.

But not the Weresnakes.  They abandoned Lucimburic, and Arduinna's ways,  .

     
        "Doth this assassin hath a moniker to go with his description, n' doth he hath any
peculiar odors about him,"  asks the Dwarven Patre of the Werebear Priestess impatiently.
The Dwarf's thick eyebrows raise in anticipation of acquiring the name of the vile assassin
. . .  Arctos continues to lean heavily upon his Agnon for support, being that his 'Infernal
Wounds' still bothered him a tad.

      Upon hearing of the Wereweasels Security Meeting, the Dwarven Patre adds . . .

      "Mayhaps we should also hath tuther 'Security Representatives' attend this ere 'Security
Meeting' O' yours as well, ~~from the 'Too Talls', the Elves, mine fellow Dwarves, as well as
mineself. In so doing we can coordinate r'e efforts in catching this vile assassin afore he
hath ev'r the chance to cause us any great harm!"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:50, Mon 08 Apr 2013.

"Alas, Arctos, our security meeting is already concluded," Texxor says.  "Our plans are a secret, and each is upon his tasks.. yet, this was done all before news of this book reached us.  Still, we have a foe... we might as well begin tracking him down.  You say, where the righteous fear to go?  There are places of iniquity here in Lucimburic.  There are the remains of the shrine of Baphomet, for one.  And there are the cesspools in the Grund."

"It has been so long since he has been here, I don't think a Werewolf could find the scent," the Werebear priestess says.  "It would be masked anyway.  Any villain who has done the slightest preparation before facing Lycanthropes knows their detection of scent makes them the finest trackers in the world.  This foe knows us, from the sound of it.  He would have taken precautions."

"Probably got a dozen vials of peppermint oil," Texxor growls.

Kolitya politely explains to the Dwarf:  Peppermint oil is produced by a few artisans here in Lucimburic.  It is a potent parasite dispelling agent- put some in your fur and you'll be clean of fleas and ticks.  But if you're tracking a scent, and you run across a puddle of peppermint oil... it's like staring into the sun.  You will go temporarily nose-blind.

Kolitya adds that it is also a treatment for Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

        Arctos looks to Kolitya, and then General Texxor as he speaks . . .

        "Answer me this, O' the to sites, which be closest to the wedding site of King Theoderic
and Aelasuria?  I myself insist that I be with those whom art searching for this vile assassin,
and wishes to accompany those O' whom go to the site that tis closest to the Wedding Site!
Thee wouldst hath bein none the wiser hadst I n'vr approached thee.  Besides mine god wouldst
frown pon me if I shirked in my expected duties.  I must go with those that hunt this abomidable
beast.  The sooner the better . . . I am armed and armored and I am at the ready!"

       The Dwarven Patre readies his shield and smacks it smartly, which sends a loud metallic
ring throughout the expanse of the Temple . . . so as to show that he's indeed prepared for
action.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:35, Wed 10 Apr 2013.

Graehl had stood by in silence, listening to the exchange between the dwarves priest and his hosts. He hid his face beneath a hooded cloak, a wooden staff clutched in his weathered hands. As Arctos demonstrated his readiness, the large man stepped forwards. "I shall aid you, dwarf. The Trickster has taught me a number of skills that you may find useful." Pulling back his hood, he revealed a sun bronzed face, and wild unkempt hair, still bearing a caught bramble from the forests. His darkened skin bore a number of scars, belying a warrior beneath the simple robes, and behind his experienced eyes burned the fire of a playful spirit, barely masked by a powerful passion.

         The wounded Dwarven Patre lithely shoulders his shield, retrieves his secreted
flask from within his heavy woolen raiments, removes its stopper, takes a good snort,
restoppers the flask, and promptly returns it from whence it came.  Quite unexpectedly a
satisfying burp escapes from betixt his lips.  Though the Dwarven spirts do help,  Arctos
whinces a tad in pain from his infernal schrapnel wounds that he still suffers from.
Arctos tugs gently upon his burned and tattered beard as he impatiently awaits Texxor's
expected reply.

         Upon hearing the strangers voice, the Dwarf looks to him with raised brow, and
realizes that he hasn't the authority to grant such a request being that this is Lucimbric
and not the Dwarven Kingdom, then turns his attention back to General Texxor for his expect-
ed reply to his very own request . . .

         Skippio, the Patre's Dwarven Personal Guard, looks to the lad, nods approvingly,
yet remains silent while patiently waiting upon his charge with his hand gently relaxed
upon the hilt of his scabbarded weapon.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Wed 10 Apr 2013.

Texxor nods.

”You know our ways, and our places,” he says to Graehl.  “One such as Arctos could easily become lost.  Or worse.  I cannot take the time to guide him, I have a security plan to put into effect.  And it’s better.  I would be too easily noticed.”

”Should I help?” the Werebear cleric asks.

”No, Kolitya, you are obvious too.  To well known, to anyone who’s been here.  Our high priestess of Arduinna, after all!  Those who are less… visible… may be a better chance at flushing out the foe.”

Then the Werewolf general looks back at the young Dwarf.  “Speaking of visible, Arctos… are there steps you can take to look less like… you… and more like a more simple Dwarven traveler?  A visitor, being shown around by our local cleric, here?  We know, from what we have seen, that our foe is crafty and prefers to watch without being himself seen.  Odds are good that wherever he is, he will be cautious, and see you before you see him.  And you.. as you are… will scare him off.”

Kolitya adds:  “Clanging… that sort of thing… probably not a good idea, then.”

Texxor agrees.  “Now… you ask about the places we mentioned.  The remnants of the shrine of Baphomet…”

”Our old priory, never rebuilt after the battle with Baphomet,” Kolitya says.  “It hasn’t felt right, even though it is where Evil was defeated.”

”It’s very nearby,” Texxor says.

* * * * * * *

Indeed it is, and it is a partly destroyed building not far from the temple.  Walls, chimney, some parts of roof… and a lot of rubble.

Arctos and Graehl spend a lot of time poking around there, enough for the GM to catch them up in time to the rest of the activity in the other threads in the city.  They poke around the rest of the day, finding nothing, until it dawns on Arctos that the Divine Guidance he received made it clear that the Shrine was the wrong place.  “Where the Righteous do not go,” he recalls.  But the shrine.. ex-priory… was a battle sight.  The Righteous certainly went there, kicked butt and took names.  Wrong place.

The sleazy strip of bars, flop houses, pawn and junk shops, and brothels that is the heart of the Grund, the “Low Town”.. that is where it seems the Righteous would not go…

And they get there in the morning.

This is a narrow district along banks of the Alzette River along the east side of the city.   It has two main roads, Plaetis on the west bank and Bisserweg on the East, joined by the Munster Bridge which is the heart of the Grund.  It is cut off from the city by steep slopes, and looking up from The Grund one can see the Corniche, a grand balcony atop the main fortifications around the Ducal Palace and other government structures.   Stairs and one steep road connect the Grund with the rest of the city.  Despite the inconvenient location, the Grund is readily accessible by water, and so was a good entry point for visitors.  It has some places of interest for travelers, and has a concentration of taverns- built here to be readily available to travelers, the locals got used to coming down here too.

It’s quiet.  People here tend to sleep late, and those who are up are mostly off in the “upper town”, enjoying the festivities.

Graehl knows something about this place.  Some, not a lot.  It's not the sort of place he'd be spending a lot of time in.

After a fruitless search through temple ruins, Graehl gave an impatient glare to the dwarf as he announced the change of locale, but nevertheless, he led the way to the Grund and the Old Foundry, a large inn set up in a disused iron foundry beyond the city walls. "If we seek rumours, this is the place."

          Arctos turns to the newly me stranger and adds . . .

          "Let us first return to the Dwarven encampment so's I can get a proper shield cover and
Tabard so's to cover my identity appropriately, and to call upon my tuther personal guard in order
to buff up art current numbers.  Skippio's services are quite good, but let us bring mine tuther
personal guard Burris to accompany us to accomplish art task!"

(let's assume that since this is the morning of the next day, Arctos can already be appropriately prepared.)


The Foundry is an old and very large brick building.  Once upon a time, it was an iron foundry, and work was done on a massive scale, producing iron for export.  But it's been a long time since it was used for function.  Now it is a tavern, with rooms for short and long term rent- most without furniture, and some having not been used in many years.

The large "public room" up front was once where deliveries were loaded and unloaded- wagons full of ore being backed up right into the building, and wagons of iron stock and goods going out.  There were large arched openings, but these have been mostly bricked in, leaving normal doors.

It's early, and places like this have a gray, smelly silence in the morning- especially with the festivities up on the hill at the Clear Fountain Plaza drawing in many of the people.  What's left are just a few patrons who fell asleep on the spot the night before and haven't woken up yet, and a few employees cleaning up.  But the cooking and the brewing here never stops- soon the noon time rush will be here, and there are Wererats and Wereboars and others who will want to get an advance on the day's drinking.

Two of the employees, Wererats, are cleaning a large cauldron.  This isn't done often, but with so many visitors in town maybe they want to give at least an appearance of cleanliness at the Old Foundry, and draw in some new customers.

They pause when Graehl and Arctos show up.

"Having late breakfast?" one asks.  "You sit anywhere, you want ale and bread or Omelet with Extra Cheese?"*

*Wererats always assume omelets with cheese should have extra cheese, or it's hardly worth the effort.

          A Dwarven Legionaire looks about to find a choice table and set of chairs that would
afford himself and Graehl a fine place to observe those entering the Tavern through the front
door aa well as seeing out onto the street through the establishments front window . . .
thus allowing them to observe any passer byes . . .

          Once the disguised Arctos manages to sit down with the assistance of his spear,
his countenance takes on the deepest of bronze hues which reveals his intense embarassment
The Dwarven Patre covers his mouth while whispering to his newly met companion Graehl . . .

          "Ashamed I am lad as for one O' mine station naught to hath coins tis most
shameful.  The Dwarven contingent hath naught drawn any coin from the Legion Paymaster for
many a months now!  I canna pay for nither meal nor drink.  If'n I knew we wouldst be making
art way ere, I wouldst hath borrowed some coin for this ere occassion.  Mayhaps we should
leave lad so's naught to gathers any undue attention!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:06, Sat 13 Apr 2013.

(You can assume Arctos has money for incidentals.  We don't track that level of money.)

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Looking up at the approaching wererat, Graehl simply muttered a quick, "I will pay," before addressing the waiter. "Ale and bread. And something for our visitor, too." He indicated Arctos. Lowering his voice, he continued. "In fact, I must admit that my friend here harbours a curiosity for the unnatural. He was hoping to find a creature of myth, an owlbear, perhaps, but I was sorry to inform him that such creatures are not always welcome within Arduinna's fair lands, and I could not help him, though I hoped I might find one in the Grund. It would seem we are out of luck, however."

 The Foundry workers are a little surprised to hear Graehl mention an Owlbear.

And so openly!  So bluntly!  They assume he must be joking.

"Even with all the strange folk visiting, nothing that strange," says the one who seems to have designated himself as waiter.  "Good thing, Arduinna has no love for such monsters."

But within each Wererat's soul is a core of Opportunism.  It is what they are.  And if there is just a sliver of a hint of a chance that this stranger really wants to find an Owlbear...

"Unless of course good sir has reason to want one," the Wererat whispers.  "And might have the means to reward those who might aid in such a search. Hateful they are, but there is always a way, yes?"

       Arctos becomes distracted from his new companions conversation, and finds his raven
hued orbs scanning the patrons scattered about the room, as well as those folk whom are
traversing the thoroughfare that could be seen through the Taverns window.  The Dwarven
Patre hopes to hear of any rumors that will aid their cause in finding the assassin, or
possibly even see their quarry in the Tavern or passing by outside.  One never knows when
the gods may bless their with their favor . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 18:21, Sat 13 Apr 2013.

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