In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 345):

"If demonic forces have your friend," the Inquisitor replies, "many find solace in prayer.  You may do that."

The Inquisitor departs or at least stops responding.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:08, Thu 03 Jan 2019.

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 346):

Tower/Guardhouse

Assuming neither Titus nor Ciryl desire a fight with armed guards, the rest of the day passes uneventfully.  Both are fed, and through cracks in their respective doors see bored guards, a few onlookers, and an occasional glimpse of the Inquisitor.

Undisclosed Location

Brennan, during this time, has been treated rather roughly but not cruelly by his captors.  They are less tight-lipped about their plans, informing Brennan not to fight because he'll be released soon enough.  They don't explain why or for whom they are doing it, but note that Brennan should count himself lucky that he was needed alive.

Brennan spends the day hoodwinked and hogtied, but otherwise unmolested.

Finally, after much waiting, he is picked roughly up, transported outside and a hundred paces or so, then the hoodwink is removed.

Brennan blinks at the fading light, still blinding after so long in the dark, and catches fleeting glimpses of men hustling off before they are identified.

Brennan is alone in a back alley behind several tall buildings seeping hot air and the smell of meat: a smokehouse.

In reply to GM (msg # 347):

As night falls Titus starts singing diddies to Spring Heel Jack and playing with the tattoos on his arm.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 348):

Brennan groggily attempts to stand and checks to see if his ankles or wrists are still bound. He also notes if anything was taken from him during his ordeal, and tries to get a sense for the time.

Ciryl eventually runs out of songs to sing and actually nods off with nothing better to do.  When he's fed he suggests it might be less trouble to just let him go, but doesn't expect the guards to take him up on it.  As the light starts to wane he looks at the cracks in the door with unease, "You boys sure no one came by to say you should let me go while I wasn't paying attention?  It's getting late, don't you got homes to get back to?"

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 350):

Behind the Smokehouse

Brennan rubs his wrists.  Though sore, they are unbound as are his legs.

Tower

"Shut up!" one of the guards barks.

In reply to GM (msg # 351):

Brennan ponders his options.

"Titus has been waylaid," he mutters, trying to get his bearings in terms of whether he's inside or outside of the city walls and how far he is from the inn and the jail. "But was it by the Inquisitor or by Jack?"

Brennan shakes his head slightly, a nagging suspicion still tugging at the edges of his consciousness.

"There's no paladin. He has not produced a writ of inquisition or a badge. Perhaps this man is not an Inquisitor either..."

He looks over his possessions for a long minute, then fills the chalice with liquid from his canteen. He swirls it, sighs, and takes a sip...

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 352):

Brennan is able to mentally reconstruct a map of DuckTown well enough to tell that he is within the city walls in the Southeastern corner among the smokehouses, tanners, and the like.

It would not take more than 5 to 10 minutes to get anywhere else in the town.

The water is cool and refreshing.

In reply to GM (msg # 353):

Brennan sighs and shakes his head.

"I don't have that kind of time," he murmurs, hanging the cup from his belt once more. He notes the position of the setting sun and scowls. "I'm sure to have been missed by now. Where the devil is Titus..."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 354):

Fortunately, Brennan has been left in a part of DuckTown that sees relatively little foot traffic, and he is largely by himself.

In reply to GM (msg # 355):

Brennan picks his ways through the city carefully, waiting for it to get dark enough for Jack to collect his servant for himself.

In the meantime, he tries to get a sense for what the guard is doing with its time and how the patrols may be different than usual.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 356):

Titus pulls his knees to his chest on a chair as darkness decends.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 357):

Brennan is able to move through the city without too much attention.

Soldiers are not patrolling the streets much, instead they have a heavy presence at each gate, tower, and particularly in the town square, where command seems to have been set up.

There are small knots of armed men moving about, but they are mostly moving between barracks and the gates or town hall, and they mostly move with the Master of Arms, one of his deputies, or the Inquisitor.

He carefully picks his way from street to street until he is in range of were Titus is being kept, but not immediately in view.  There are still three guards there, and they are not relieved until the Inquisitor himself comes to visit.

The sun is low in the sky now, though not quite set.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:24, Wed 30 Jan 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 358):

Titus is left alone to his own devices for some time.  Eventually, the light coming through cracks in the door begins to wane, and Titus hears voices outside.

Presently, the door swings open, blocked by the Inquisitor's white-clad body.

"Your companion, Brennan, has not been found.  I consider this an attempt to flee.  The best time to provide me assistance is now.  It is possible he would return if your life is in danger."

The voice remains steady, no hint of frustration.

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 359):

Stands as the door opens and leans calmly against a wall.  His body tense despite a relaxed posture, hand close to his scabbard.

Y'know I remembered something while I was in there.  Inquisitors are supposed to have a badge... and a writ.  Isn't that right?  I have yet to see yours.  Produce them and I'll help.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 360):

The Inquisitor remains still for a moment.

"I do not believe you." he says at last.

Nonetheless, the Inquisitor's hand reaches within his long robe and produces a small metal badge.  As far as Titus can tell, it is an equivalent badge to the one you took from the Inquisitor in Thorngate that Brennan now carries.

"You already know these can be stolen," the Inquisitor continues, putting away the badge.  "You may not know that return of such stolen equipment comes with a substantial reward."

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 361):

How substantial?

Titus asks slyly.

Like I said he appears to have been kidnapped per the word on the streets.  He's been kicking up a lot fuss in this area and in a town like this it's easy to make enemies.  Go ask the masters of the town, about the strange findings here.

So what form does my help take?  You want directions?  Places to ask about?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 362):

"Substantial in that you could name your figure.  Assistance could come in two forms:  Information leading to retrieval of the fugitive, or unwilling sacrifice of your well-being as an enticement for his return."

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 363):

Brennan watches the Inquisitor enter the room containing Titus, noting whether or not the guards are replaced at the door afterward.

He also notes the presence of any bags of flour...

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 364):

I can count pretty high...

Titus says proud and with a drawl.

So it seems that you are not inclined to let me out and search... so the best I can do at the moment is point things out to you... how about this.  I'm hungry, why don't you send a guard to grab some food from the inn and we talk about it over supper?

I know your anxious but the town is walled, and everybody knows who he is... and he is trustworthy... which makes him loyal... which makes him dumb.  No way he has left.

He looks outside as the sun begins to cast long shadows while setting.

...I need more time.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 365):

"Likely, lack of food would be a better motivator.  I shall return when such lack has had time to improve your desire to cooperate."

The Inquisitor steps back and closes the door.  Titus catches a glimpse of the waning yellow light of the sun over the Inquisitor's back before being plunged back into darkness.

From his corner, Brennan watches the Inquisitor close the door and speak with the guards.

They are indeed relieved by a new set, a pair of young men who look to have some actual combat training, or at least have better equipment.

The Inquisitor speaks with them briefly, and so quietly that none can overhear, then departs.

The pair take up a loose but attentive stance outside the armory door, rubbing their hands in the coming night chill.

They talk together quietly, what Titus catches of the conversation amounts mostly to "any idea who this loonie is?.... nah, some city boy I heard... Inquisitor gives me the creeps... almost worse than the daemon... heard there's another guy in the east tower... yeah, a flour sack, poor fucker... came from the docks, were dredging for bodies there..."

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 366):

Brennan sighs, puzzles the situation, and follows the Inquisitor with his eyes until he has some idea of where the man(?) is going.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 367):

The Inquisitor marches back toward the center of town where the majority of the troops are stationed, and where the Master of Arms has set up command.

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 368):

Brennan briefly debates shooting arrows at the guards, haunting the Inquisitor in the astral plane, and even summoning a cohort of demons to assist him, but ultimately decides against all of those terrible options.

Instead, he lays low and waits for the sun to sink beneath the horizon enough to enable Jack to become a factor. If possible he does this within some line of sight of the jail so he can see how attentive the guards remain as their shift wears on.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 369):

The sun slips along the tops of trees over the lake, sending reflections of orange and purple across the now-docked fishing boats.  As the light fades, the lamplighters whisper through the streets in their long gowns, saying nothing but to one another.

Brennan remains in his side alley, ever watchful of the pair of guards at the armory.  They keep to their duties, but not with a great deal of fervor.  At some point, a torch is brought and stuck into the ground beside the armory door to provide some light and warmth for their hands.

Inside the armory, Titus too waits.

Finally, a voice like wind across rough ash breaths in Titus' ear.

"You are not very good at staying hidden."