Well, Marcus thinks to himself, so much for making a good first impression with my punctuality.

Drawing himself up with a deep breath, Marcus turns and strides purposefully toward the alley.  "HEY!" he shouts sharply.  "That's enough of that.  Back off, before I call the guard."  He tries his best to capture the imposing grimace of his old sergeant -- the one he man wore whenever he felt his troops were slacking off.  The really terrifying one.

The alley is 10 feet wide and some 60 feet long with two story building on either side. The figures assaulting the man look up at you, their faces are painted half white and half black, "Bugger off!"


OOC: Give me a Smarts roll for the meaning of the paint.

13:35, Today: Marcus Bournstride rolled 8 using 1d20+1.  Intelligence check, face paint.

Not recognizing the strange facial colorings, Marcus presumes these to be thugs of some local street gang.  Unimpressed and undaunted, Marcus steps boldly into the alleyway.  There, he adopts a stern stance, arms folded, attempting one last time to emulate that intimidating glare of his old sergeant's.

"Last warning," he says, loud enough for his voice to echo between the tight alley walls.  "Let.  Him.  Go."

"He's all yours..." the larger of the pair say as the pair stand and slowly back away from the beaten up priest. Their hands near weapons as though waiting on you to come after them.

OOC: give me a perception roll please.

11:10, Today: Marcus Bournstride rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Perception.

Resting one palm comfortably on the hilt of his long sword, Marcus takes several careful steps, stopping once he's alongside the fallen man, never taking his eyes off of the two assailants.

"Be off with you, then," he says, jutting his chin.  He intends to help the man up -- but only once he's sure that his attackers are indeed retreating.

"Thank you, thank you friend. St Cuthbert has smiled upon me by sending you to my aid! the young man says as he stands up. He's dressed in priestly vestments as well as in a chain shirt which you hear chink under his robes and has a symbol of St Cuthbert around his neck. A mace sits a few feet away from him, apparently dropped or perhaps removed from his persons during the assault.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:19, Tue 12 July 2016.

Marcus smiles gently.  "Perhaps," he says, getting the man back onto his feet.  "Rather brazen of those ruffians, to assail a man of faith.  What were they on about?  Something about an orphanage?"

Turning, Marcus attempts to lead the priest out of the alley and back into a more well-populated locale, watching over his shoulder in case the thugs regain their courage -- or greater numbers.

The young acolyte frowns, "Yes I was headed to the Lantern Street Orphanage just now, to speak with the orphans and comfort them, when I was assaulted by those ruffians. Members of the Last Laugh from their painted faces ... I don't know why they would assault me... "

OOC: DC 20 Int check (with advantage) for info on the the Last Laugh

13:10, Today: Marcus Bournstride rolled 6,13 using 1d20+1,1d20+1.  Intelligence check, advantage.

"Well, worry not," Marcus says, handing the acolyte his dropped mace.  "We seem to have had the last laugh for now.  Is the orphanage far from here?  I'd be willing to escort you, before being about my business."  Still intent on seeing to finding himself gainful employment, Marcus nevertheless feels compelled to first ensure that this man reaches his destination unaccosted.

Obviously shaken by the events, the priest is taken aback by your question, "It's a couple of dozen blocks this way but I need to talk to Priestess Urikas about this ... would you escort me to the church? I'm Ruphus Laro, acolyte of St Cuthbert. " The traffic on the street has picked up, people are heading to work and carts are moving to and from the docks at the far side of town.

OOC: You're not from Titan's Gate so you're not sure who the Last Laugh is, though you're more than welcome to ask someone about them.

Sighing inwardly, Marcus starts to worry more and more about being on time for that guard duty assignment.  But he does not reveal his concerns.  "Very well, acolyte," Marcus says.  "Perhaps this priestess of yours can explain why you're being harassed by some local gang.  Lead the way.  But let's be quick about it, hmm?  I've an appointment this morning.  I'm Marcus, by the way.  Bournstride."

Though he's not all that concerned with who these Last Laugh thugs are or what their goal is, he is quite focused on the present goal of getting Ruphus somewhere safe.  Thus, as the pair make their way through the city, Marcus will continue to glance down alleyways and upon rooftops, to see if they're being followed.  Hopefully, members of the gang shouldn't be too tough to spot, given their distinctive facial colorings.

Making your way isn't overly difficult as people move out or Ruphus's way, perhaps they like priests around here or fear them. You comp upon a two story structure made of white marble with veins of vivid blue. It stands in stark contrast to the wood and stone buildings around it. A pair of white marble statues depicting armored warriors stand on either side of the temple's heavy oaken door. Each of the statues has a mace raised toward the darkened sky. Above the door's marble architrave are boldly inscribed the following words : WITHIN LAW LIVES HOPE.

---

"Ah! Yes here we are," the young acolyte says as he heads towards the door. "Do come in, no sense in you standing in the rain, and I'm sure superior would like to speak with you."

Another inward sigh leads Marcus to briefly contemplate his fate as he glances around one last time, staring through the rainy, gray haze.  Maybe the rain will delay the proceedings, he rationalizes.  Besides, you may as well see this out to the end.

"Fine," Marcus says, "but only for a moment.  I've someplace that I need to be."  Giving the architecture an appreciative glance, he then turns to follow Ruphus inside the temple.

An acolyte is near the door and greets Ruphus and takes him back to another section of the church. You note a rather well armed and armored man who's making rounds. A second acolyte comes to you and offers you tea as you wait.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:10, Thu 11 July 2019.

Not caring much for tea, Marcus leaves the cup untouched.  Instead, he paces, arms folded behind his back, waiting impatiently for either Ruphus to return, or for Priestess Urikas to send for him.  He tries not to display his agitation, however, as he doesn't want to prove an annoyance for the guard by portraying himself as a potential source for trouble.

<a href="http://tabletopaudio.com/index.html?46">mood music</a>

As you wait, two figures approach from deeper in the structure. A young woman with premature streaks of gray in her rich brown hair steps forward with her hand outstretched in friendship.  She wears a brown robe with gold trim and the symbol of St. Cuthbert around her neck.



"Good morning," she says, "I spoke with Ruphus and learned of his harrowing ordeal, as well as your coming to his rescue. I'm Jenya, the acting high priest, and am in your debt."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Wed 13 July 2016.

Halting his pacing to turn toward the figure, Marcus nods politely.  "I thought Urikas was -- never mind, doesn't matter.  There is no debt, rest assured.  I merely saw a man in trouble and stepped in to help."  He briefly contemplated mentioning -- again -- that he was in a hurry to leave, but thought it would probably be unwise to act rudely to a priestess in her own temple.

A frown comes across the woman's face, "I am ACTING high priest while Sarcem Delasharn is away on church business. If you have a moment I would like to request your help with something more grave than poor Ruphus's encounter this morning." She motions for you to follow her to a room nearby.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:37, Thu 14 July 2016.

Well, so much for not ruffling feathers.  Well done, Marcus.

Giving a quick glance toward the person who had accompanied the priestess, Marcus turns and follows the woman into the adjoining room.

"I meant no offense," Marcus says, trying to figure out how to apologize.  He opens his mouth to say something else, but then thinks better of it, for once, and keeps quiet.

She nods and motions to a chair across from a small fireplace. "I know, but perhaps I've a way for you to make it up to me, help some unfortunate children, and make yourself some coin too... if you're interested. If you're not then I'll leave you go on your way."

It wasn't often on the battlefield that Marcus was able to step outside of himself, gain perfect clarity, and notice when the enemy has begun to execute a flanking maneuver.  So rare, in fact, that he had made it a habit to pay close attention to that voice in the back of his mind that whispered a warning of when such a maneuver was about to occur.

Right now, that voice was shrieking itself hoarse.

Being extra careful not to sigh outwardly, Marcus strides calmly over to the indicated chair, and seats himself.  Immediately uncomfortable, he fights the impulse to fidget with his hands -- Discipline, soldier! -- and nods to the priestess.

"Please," he says, carefully.  "Tell me more."

"Well there have been several kidnappings of late. The most recent of which was three days ago at a local orphanage. The children taken were Deakon, Evelyn, Lucinda, and Terrem.

This particular orphanage has barred windows and excellent locks on all the doors. The children were locked in their rooms at night to prevent any mischief, you understand. They are kept in two large rooms, one for boy and one for girls, on the second floor of the building. It seems that no one at the orphanage saw or hear anything during the kidnappings.

Sarcem Delasharn has publicly vowed that we at the Church of St Cuthbert would locate the children and bring their kidnappers to justice ... before he had to leave on church business. As such it was left to me and those here to do what we could. We have the Star of Justice here which can give insight into events every span* or so. I asked 'Where are the children who were abducted from the Lateran Street Orphanage, and it gave us a riddle.

She takes out a sheet of paper and hands it to you. In a flowing script it reads :
The locks are key to finding them
Look beyond the curtain, below the gate,
Beware the doors with teeth.
Descend into the malachite 'hold,
Where precious life is bought with gold.
Half a dwarf binds them, but no for long.

"Now with all that said, my priests aren't campaigners as such aren't as well equipped to do this sort of thing. We do have a priest who's come from far to assist in this effort and we'll obviously pay, the church has some 500 gold pieces to the company who brings the children back."


OOC: Sorry for the wall of text but lots of info to give here

*Span is the common term for a week.

Staring down at the sheet of paper held in his hand, Marcus finds his mind stretching to make sense of the puzzle he's had thrust into his lap.  There was something -- no, several things -- that bothered him about the whole affair.

"I'm not..."  He trails off, starts again.  "I'm a soldier, not an investigator.  I --"  Stopping again, it dawns on him that he'd just spoken these same words this very morning, having breakfast at the inn.  Shoving the errant thought aside, he plunged onward.

"Why would orphans be targeted at all?" Marcus asks.  "If you're going to conduct a maneuver, the gains must justify the losses.  Spending whatever effort and manpower was needed to abduct these children can't possibly be profitable.  They're only -- they're orphans.  If I had the resources at my disposal to run off with children kept in locked rooms without anyone noticing, I'd target the rich, the nobility, and hold them for ransom.  But no ransom demand's been made here."

Still looking down at the paper, Marcus avoids making eye contact with the priestess, for fear of losing his train of thought.  It's probably impolite of him to do so, but she's asked him for his help, so he's going to take the time to sort this all out in his head first, by the nine hells.

"And why re-lock the doors?  Kidnappers are hardly the type to be concerned with the well-being of children," he says, shaking his head.  "No, that to me implies an inside job.  Either someone who works at the orphanage and has access to the keys, or a third party who interacts with the place often enough to know the ins and outs."

The locks are key to finding them.  Why would the gods answer a priestess' prayer for knowledge with a riddle?  Especially when children are involved?  Marcus never could make sense of what gods want for their followers.  But this thought he wisely keeps to himself, as he continues.

"And they're not working alone.  They tipped their hand when they tried to have one of your acolytes roughed up," Marcus says, speaking more quickly as his thoughts tumble forth.  "The Last Laugh is involved.  Some sort of local gang, I presume.  Whether they orchestrated the kidnappings or are just acting as hired thugs, they made it clear that there's at least some sort of conspiracy, and that evidence of some kind still resides at the orphanage.  Why else would they threaten your man when he tried to head over there?"

Where precious life is bought with gold.  "Getting back to motive, I suppose orphans could readily be sold into slavery, or worse," Marcus says, absently clutching the sheet of paper with both hands.  "Deakon and Terrem; Evelyn and Lucinda.  Two boys, and two girls.  If there's slave trade here in Titan's Gate, and the Last Laugh have connections, then they may be using this orphanage as a source for victims.  If that's so, then it likely won't be long until they use the same technique in other orphanages.  There could be more at stake here than we know."

As silence descends, Marcus suddenly realizes how long he's been talking.  Suddenly self-conscious, he finally lifts his head to meet Jenya's gaze.

"You... you've thought of all of this already, I'm sure," he says, feeling embarrassed.  "As I said, this is not the sort of job I've been trained for."  Still self-conscious, he apprehensively awaits the priestess' response.

As you look up you notice Jenya smirking, "For someone who's not an investigator you seem to be asking all the right questions. " She takes a sip of tea before continuing, "Also it seems the Saints have plans that we mortals can't fathom, a visitor from far away has come to help with this... he follows Saint Fenwyn who I've never heard of but Saint Cuthbert seems to believe this person will be of use in this quest."

"Raszire, please come in."

OOC: Have inspiration for such a nice write up and character work
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 17:04, Fri 15 July 2016.

The door opened and a large muscular dragonborn steps through his head barely clearing the doorway. His dark brass colored scales contrasting with the gray chain mail and white cleric vestments he wore, his vestments adorned on the chest with a sun rising over water and overlayed with a large tree, most likely the holy symbol of his order. He walked over to the two seated individuals and bowed slightly, "Priestess Jenya, I am assuming this is the individual that helped Ruphus out of his predicament."

Taking Jenya's smile and ever so slight nod as a yes he proceeds, "Good day to you sir, I am Raszire Toumash faithful follower of St. Fenwyn formerly of Ziris. It is an honor to make you acquaintance."

"Jenya has informed me that you may be inclined to help us with the current situation involving the children of the orphanage. Being a recent arrival here I have yet to learn the streets of the city and your help would be greatly appreciated."

He pauses and then looks at Jenya "My apologies priestess, I hope that I have not overstepped. I tend to talk overly much at times."