Caylin and Garryn move northward, observing the various Borderton buildings and noting or surmising their functions.  As per Villhalas' instructions, they pay close attention to the specific buildings that Vil had indicated as being potential targets for the next arson.  Garryn, suffering from one of his occasional lapses into moody silence, lets Caylin do the talking and the leading.  "Looks t' be mostly municipal buildin's in this part o' town, lad," says the halfling.  "Let's us wander up t' yon fountain, an' get a gander at th' bigger ones, eh?"  So saying, the two stroll up through the dusty streets, only to arrive at what appears to be a public fountain surrounded by a number of dry and stunted acacia trees.  Several nearby troughs are fed by copper piping from the fountain's basin, and numerous horses and mules are tethered within reach of the water.  At one of the troughs, several women stand looking at the fiery orange light that paints the southern sky, their laundry mostly forgotten and lying in various stages of being cleaned.  One of them, gazing at the leaping flames, says breathlessly, "Oh my.  The last time an inn was afire was some years ago, weren't it, Deirdre?  What a mess that was, an' the soot an' ash!  Though it were good for business, what with all the laundry that was needin' proper attention."

Caylin nudges Garryn and indicates the set of buildings to the north, saying, "Look, lad.  'Ppears t' be th' town-seat, wi' some garrisoning attached."  The halfling thoughtfully removes a clay pipe, fills it from a small kdiskinr pouch, and lights the bowl.  Blowing a mouthful of fragrant smoke, the little archer says, "What now, eh?"  Your move, Bret.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:30, Thu 09 Sept 2004.

Garryn approaches the laundreywomen at one of the fountain's troughs, and smiles easily and banters lightly.  The rogue directs his comments to the group in general, but favors the more talkative one he had overheard earlier with a slight nod.  The women draw together a bit at the approach of a stranger, but their reticence does not last long...Garryn's request seems to open some conversational flood-gates (Gather Info roll is 16+5=21 for a DC of 15).

"...my stars...the old Nodding Shepard went up some six or eight years ago...such a shame, really..."

"...never did like the proprietor, but the inn patrons were fine 'uns fer business..."

"...other fires at th' time, eh, Dierdre?..."

"...me 'usband lost a full delivery o' ale when th' Shepard burned...some bastard..."

"...aye, dearie.  Three or four others, as I recall..."

"...they got 'im, o' course, but did we see any silver fer th' lost casks?  No, indeed..."

"...around th' time o' th' Trade Wars, weren't it, Fionna?..."

"...met a handsome drover, there.  Coulda been th' one, but o' course he's off t' th' caravan routes...men..."

"...no, dearie...a bit after.  Those Thrailians...or were it th' Merchant Mages?  I misremember who started what back then..."

"...an' me mum's rooms was burned, too!  She moved in wi' me man an' me...that was th' last o' our kids, I ken tell ye..."

"...bastard's name.  He owes us.  Barbar, or Zanzan, or somethin'.  I'd make him brew up a whole new batch o' ale, sumabitch..."

"...aye, lass.  Th' merchants were th' ones what took it 'ardest.  But Perysinos straightened it all out.  An' look at Borderton now!  None th' worse for it, I'd wager..."

"...such a shame, really.  The Shepard was where I met my husband..."

"...mostly other warehouses an' merchant-houses, as I recall.  Deirdre, weren't th' granaries burnt?  I seem t' recall..."

"...an' he never came back.  Never.  Said he would BE back fer th' spring caravans th' followin' year...but NO...men..."

"...no, luv.  Jes th' warehouses...mostly th' dry goods, too..."

"...miss my bit o' sherry on Mithras' day at th' ol' Shepard..."

"...an' it's been nine years o' conjugal bliss, 'cause th' Shepard burnt a year after we were married..."

Garryn is swept up in the conversational tide, and the disparate conversations break over him like a wave.  Shaking his head slightly, the rogue strives to make some sense of what he has just heard.

Garryn stands patiently smiling as the women blather on until he hears what he is looking for, "the merchant's dry goods storage, you say? Would one of you ladies be kind enough to tell me where those are located?" Garryn inquires politely.

"...an' a fine 'un he was, too...til he up an' left..."

"...th' price o' sweetmeats, an' th' NERVE o' that merchant..."

"...she was jes a common trollop, too...why, I'd..."

A sudden crash from the south, followed by a gout of flame in the sky remind the women that there is a fire currently raging in one of Borderton's inns.  The swirl of conversation ceases as all of the women turn their attention back to the red glow and flickering light to the south.  An older woman gently lays a hand on Garryn's arm and says, "Most of the warehouses are t' th' west o' here, luv.  Beyond th' City Hall, there."  She gestures to the large building immediately west of the fountain and square.

"Thank you ladies," Garryn calls out as he begins his westward trek to the locale of the merchant's dry storage warehouses. "Well, Big C, at least we aren't just randomly walking around anymore. Now all we have to do is find and deal with a crazed arsonist. It's too bad Vil turned the job down, I'd hate to think I was sticking my neck out for free, at least not while someone was willing to pay me..."

Caylin and Garryn continue their jaunt about town.  Bordterton is a bustling place, and even the warehouse portion has numerous folk engaged in their various and sundry tasks.  Merchants, costermen, moneylenders, day-laborers, caravan guards, and roustabouts all are in evidence.  Hand carts and burly men carting crates, barrels, and burlap sacks abound.  For all their industry, however, most keep one eye out towards the flames that rise luridly in the rapidly-darkening night sky.

As Caylin and Garryn arrive at the dry merchants' warehouses, neither notes anything unusual or odd--just the early evening bustle of the area.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:12, Tue 11 May 2004.

"So Caylin, I'm thinking we should locate a couple of good vantage places and use them to survey the area, or we could go into each building and warn them of the possibility of attack and try to get them to cooperate with us. What do you think?" Garryn asks his undersized friend.

Caylin nods his head absently..  "I've scant wish t' try an' impress tall folk o' th' danger from some unknown wild man, settin' 'em on fire an' such.  Mayhap y' might be better suited t' th' task, I'm thinkin'-tall folk often don't take us Direbrooks as seriously as they might.  Mayhap a tidy little perch or seat wi' a view…  Or mayhap y' may wish t' split up?" the halfling finishes with an inquiry.

People continue to move about on their own business in the small warehouse and market neighborhood, and the fire continues to burn to the south.

"Right then, you find a perch and I'll try to enlist some aid from the merchants. Signal if you see anything, here is a whistle if you need it," Garryn says offering a thin silver horn-shaped whistle that hung from a leather cord around his neck.

After bidding farewell to his diminutive companion he squares his shoulders and heads into the nearest merchant house. "Excuse me, may I speak with whoever is in charge at the moment?" Garryn asks in his most officious voice.

"Good day, I'm here on behalf of alderman Savin Perysinosis. As I'm sure you know a building in another section of this city is aflame right now, what you may not know is that it was set intentionally. We have reason to believe the next target is in thise area, either you or one of your competitors. I am here to try and coordinate a lookout system so that we may apprehend the responsible party, which at this time we believe is a solitary individual. You are, of course, under no obligation to provide any manpower or support, likewise, if all other houses are guarded it would follow that yours becomes the most likely target. My partner and I will do our best to protect you regardless of whether you provide aide, rest assured, but I'm sure you'll agree with scarce public resources it ultimately falls to each house to insure themselves. I'll be visiting the other houses momentarily and I can check back here later if you'd like some time to consider my proposal," Garryn says doing his best to appear official and unbiased.

Caylin nods at Garryn’s suggestion, commenting, "Aye.  A sound plan, Garryn.  I'll find a look-out, then."  The halfling departs, to quickly climb one of the statues flanking the entrance to the City Treasury building.  The statue is a representation of secular Fortune—a smiling, plump woman with a pair of yoked baskets, one bearing gold, and the other bearing grain.  Perched in the basket of grain, the halfing appears as some large insect of dubious origin, intent upon stealing the hard-won bounty of the smiling, oblivious bronze woman.  Nonetheless, the view of the surrounding warehouses and their roofs is a fine one.

The merchant, seemingly a bit startled by Garryn’s emergence from the dusk, eyes the rogue narrowly as Garryn launches into his explanation.  The merchant is a thin, sallow man—presumably of Arkenhemian extraction, judging from his complexion and the brocade and style of his surcoat and leggings.  Cloth-of-gold showing an aspen leaf pattern marks the surcoat, and a rich wine red set of leggings sets off the ensemble.  A finely-tooled, wide leather belt girdles the man’s waist, and the be-gemmed hilt of a long, cured dagger protrudes from a silver and moleskin sheath.  A narrow, pinched-looking face peers suspiciously at the rogue, lips pursed below a pencil-thin mustache.  As Garryn finishes his pitch, the merchant clears his throat.

"Ahhh...of course."  The man’s voice betrays the rich accents of Arkenhem, confirming the clothing style.  "You act, no doubt, only in the interests of the public good.  It would be inconceivable that you and your…partner…should wish to take advantage of the confusion and attention attending a fire some distance away to engage in any larcenous behavior elsewhere-beginning with a quick surveillance of premises.  Neither is it even remotely credible that an actual or potential arsonist should wish to procure…I believe your terms were the active forms of the transitives 'protection' and 'insurance'…from the merchants hereabouts.  I would defer to my colleagues on your offer.  Should you engage their interests, return here, and I will by all means lend my support to this important municipal cause."  The merchant begins to move away from Garryn.

"Very good Sir. I hope to see you again but in the meantime, please, at the very least fortify your own defenses against," Garryn replies stoicly ignoring the implications of impropriety. He turns on his heel and exits the building heading towards the nearest merchant house.

He enters and repeats essentially the same speech but this time stresses that "At this stage we are not asking for any monetary contributions, just manpower. I still intend that each house be primarily responsible for its own security but that any additional men be used as a security force for the entire district, concentrating on intercepting the would-be arsonist before he strikes his target."

The second merchant is associated with the caravan parts warehouse (the first was found in the warehouse containing cured animal skins and fabrics).  This second merchant is apparently Paldorian—an older man with a neatly trimmed tonsure framing his bald head and wearing a simple work tunic and trouseers.  He looks up as Garryn enters, and listens intently to the rogue.  "Savin sent you, then?  Good.  The man is competent and trustworthy, with a good head on his shoulders.  Additionally, he is a fearsome opponent in tharls (Paldorian for chess), and holds his wine with little outward effect.  Very well."  The man summons three burly looking retainers armed with crossbows and short swords.  "Attend this man," indicating Garryn, "and watch for suspicious activity, particularly anything involving arson.  Look to the…"  A sudden explosion rends the air, and the three retainers, the merchant, and Garryn are left looking blankly at one another.

Garryn stands in shock for a moment while his mind trys to calculate just how big and how near the explosion was. "Follow me!" he cries and runs out the entrance his head swiveling to locate Caylin.

Garryn sprints out the door of the caravan parts warehouse, followed closely by the three retainers and the merchant.  Smoke was billowing forth from a nearby warehouse (#19 on the map—Oil and Lumber), and through the thick, black billowings, a figure could be seen climbing onto the warehouse’s roof.

Garryn’s head swivels in time to take in the sight of Caylin leaping down the last few feet from the vantage point that the statue had afforded the halfling.  The little archer hurries over to Garryn.  Atop the now-burning warehouse, a portly figure stands and begins to cackle maniacally.  Garryn, Caylin, the merchant, and his three retainers stare upwards through the smoke as cries of surprise and consternation arise around them.

"Caylin, fire at will, come on you three, to the corners of the building. He has to go somewhere, and I want him follwed! We'll each watch a side of the building and call out to others when we see him. Got it?" Garryn says as he begins moving towards the building keeping the suspect in his line of site.

Garryn barks out his orders, and Caylin has an arrow in the string of his bow, squinting his eyes at the laughing figure.  The merchant hesitates and murmurs,"What?  Who is that up there?  Wait…" the man puts out a restraining hand.

The retainers are following Garryn, racing to take up positions at the corners of the warehouse, as the rogue indicated.  Garryn himself takes up a position at one of the warehouse corners, closest to Caylin.

The halfling calmly lets his arrow fly, and the missile unerringly strikes its target through the smoke.  A high-pitched scream and a wailing "Mercy!" accompany the shot, and the figure collapses onto the warehouse roof.  Smoke billows from the windows of the warehouse, and the flickering lights of a fire inside can be seen.  The figure atop the roof moans again, and the fire inside appears to be gathering momentum.  Garryn stands at one of the warehouse corners, and the three retainers have taken up positions at the other three corners.  Caylin looks down at his bow, glances up at the collapsed figure on the warehouse roof, and scratches his head.  A moment passes, punctuated only by the low moans emanating from the figure on the roof.  These sounds are obliterated, however, by the clatter of wheels, the pounding of hooves, the creaking of boards, the shouts of boyish enthusiasm, and the strenuous breathing of a running half-orc as Asher, Aine, Villhalas, Dominique, and the lads arrive in the fire wagon, while Totmacher simultaneously races up on foot.

OOC:  Thread closed.  Please go to  Top o’ the World, Ma