Chapter 4 : Dead of Winter

[BigRedRod]

The white glare of the sun looks down mockingly on the icy streets of Edinway. Clear blue skies loom over the party as they trudge through the streets searching for a place where a traveller might exchange a few coins in exchange for a hot breakfast, Celeste was in little danger from red robed mainiacs in the light of day. Already the pure white cleanliness of the snow is being replaced with brown slush as hundreds of boots tramp the cobbles on their owners’ way to starting another day of work.

Here and there Malkanus finds himself the recipient of stares from the peasants. Some are filled with malice, as if they would hurl abuse if it was not for the large and obvious scythe hanging from his back, with others it is more amazed confusion. Harald and Finn find the Edinhumber locals sending a wholly different type of look in their direction, respectful nods, friendly smiles and brief Good Mornings. Lade, as ever, walks at the rear of the four and barely wakes eye contact with any of the other people walking the streets on this freezing morning. After all, this wasn’t his side of Edinway, the news of Yvonne’s death fortunately meant nothing here.

The sudden smell of bacon finds the four sat around a table in a tavern-cum-eatery. The only other customer sits slumped over his table with a half-full mug still in his hand. Noticing the party’s stares, the young girl delievering the essentials of a good breakfast to the table nods in his direction,
“’e’s had a rough one, ‘e has. Poor fella’ gone and lost ‘is wife in labour. Babbie was a stillborn too.”

Breaking the uncomfortable silence the door slams open and a round bundle of clothes steps into the rather warmer surroundings of the tavern,
“Letter for ya’”
The words are slightly muffled as the shape busily undoes a knot of scarves to reveal the face of a ruddy faced lad no more than fifteen years old. Approaching the table he drops a piece of folded paper sealed with a blob of red wax bearing the mark of Pelor in front of Finn.

While the youth expectantly waits for a reply or perhaps a tip, Finn cracks open the seal and reads the message within out loud,
Companions of the late Sister Franchesca,

It is with a heavy heart that I should write concerning the death of our mutual friend. I would implore you to, if possible, not mourn her death but celebrate her achievements in life. Your continuing work to protect this city from the lingering darkness is a testament to your own respect for our lost daughter.

A public requiem will be held in celebration of Sister Franchesca’s life at first light on the morrow at Pelor’s Cathedral, it would mean a great deal to a great many to have you attend.

With the utmost respect,
Father Drohan

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric ignores the hatred so set within each and every stare. It has long been a part of his bloodline to face the malice of supposed responsibility for the failures of the world to uphold the pact to the Gatekeeper. Nothing has changed... never will. Fools walking in ignorance in every step of their lives, thinking that every breath that they take is due to some God's divine will or immeasurable grace. With a sigh Malkanus turns behind him to ensure that the others are still keeping up with him. Perhaps one day they will all be enlightened to the pact and the role the true Moonbringers play in it. They respected us once, ages ago, so they can do it again.

Looking to the sky where the Red Moon should be, the cleric whispers a silent prayer to his Lord, asking for the strength to continue on this difficult path.


Once in the tavern with hot food, the standoffishness to the rest of society seems to lessen, if only a bit. Every so often Malkanus glances over to the man in the corner mourning his loss. He frowns, knowing that the man needs words of comfort but also knowing that none exist within himself for the man. His religious texts tell of how the Gatekeeper will ferry the souls of those lost to this world into an even better place, but even that is no longer true. It seems there is very little happiness truly left in the world.

Pulled from his desolate thoughts Malkanus looks over at Finn as he reads their newest correspondence, but chooses to not respond as he did not know the woman at all, save the sight of her corpse. He instead pushes another bite into his mouth and casts another glance at the man in the corner.

[itches]

Lade woke up in a foul mood. A night of fitful rest on the hard floor in a freezing house had left him all 42 years of his life very heavily and he trailed behind the others on the way to breakfast in silent and sullen.

Inside the tavern his attitude made a quick turn around thanks in part to the warm food and comfortable surroundings, but mostly due to the first flagon of ale he quickly downed and the second he was already working on.

"Whatat ya got there lad?" he mumbled to Finn around a mouthful of food, gesturing at the note with the half empty mug.

[The Alcotroll]

Feeling in better spirits this morning, Harald gulps watered ale and chews dry bread, watching Lade with a mixture of awe and respect.

"That's a lot of ale for so early an hour..." he ventures.

[Flagg Thornington]

The walk through town barely registers as the group meanders on its way. The cold morning and dreary sky keep Andrellew on edge as they pass many suspicious locals.
Once off the street the rogue relaxes somewhat. Finn savors the warm pork and vittles. The icy touch from the spirit still disturbs his otherwise delicious breakfast. Even after reading the letter the young man has little to say.

[LuneMoonshadow]

With Finn's relative silence the cleric finally speaks up, pulling the ragged tome from his pack and placing it on the table. He fingers the cover for a moment, his eyes locked onto the book as if waiting for some specter to be released from the book that once belonged to those he now hunts. One step closer...

"With everything that is going on around here I think it best that we reevaluate our priorities. At the root of everything is the Moon," he says quietly, his eyes making sure that the man in the corner and the serving girl are far enough away not to hear. "Beyond that things get complicated. There is too much here we don't know, so we should take a moment and try to figure out just what the hell is going on. No sense in walking into this thing blind."

He taps the book firmly, a bit of dust rising up from the decaying cover. "I'm hoping that whatever we're looking for is in this book. It belonged to the cultists so this is our best lead in my mind. I just need time to study it and find out exactly what these lunatics are up to. In the mean time we have the Ward-sheriff to placate and a little girl to watch over and a funeral to attend to."

[itches]

"That's a lot of ale for so early an hour..."

"Nonsense," Lade replied. "It's cold out, ya need ale to warm the blood after the night we had. Another couple of these and we should be set to to brave the day, so drink up lad, it's good for ya."

"I just need time to study it and find out exactly what these lunatics are up to. In the mean time we have the Ward-sheriff to placate and a little girl to watch over and a funeral to attend to."

"I won't be much help with the book there," the failed bodyguard added. "Reading gives me a headache. So we visit the bastard-sheriff after breakfast and see if he wants to arrest me again, go back to guarding tonight and then the funeral tommorow morning? I feel weird going to a funeral for someone never met ya know, but we better stick together until this mess is sorted out."

Looking over at the other man sitting alone, Lade yelled out to the serving girl who brought their good. "HEY LASS! Bring the fella’ over there another ale on me, something good. He looks like he needs it," he added quietly to his companions.

[The Alcotroll]

Loath as he is to be out-drunk by a southerner, Harald sticks to his watered morning-ale- preferring to face at least part of the day sober.

"Just don't warm your blood so much that you fetch up in a shouting match with the Sheriff again." he warns.

He paused to scratch his beard for a moment, then turns his attention to Malkanus.

"There's something been vexing me since last night," he confesses. "I'd never thought to see Koldsjal outside of Jedaart, and to find two in the same street makes me suspicious.
"But even if it were coincidence, it serves as warning that there are more such creatures out there than I suspected, and we can surely expect to face more in future.
"Yet, of the four of us, only you, Malkanus, was able to harm the Koldsjal last night. I think we need to prepare ourselves better for the next encounter, so that all our fates do not rest on the prayers of one man."

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric nods as he idly taps the cover of the book, continuing to watch the man after Lade's forward and obtrusive shout. "Indeed, but that is what I am here to do. I'm better prepared this time around, so if we do happen to run across any more of these apparitions I'll be ready."

He turns back to the group, eyeing Lade as he gulps at his frothy ale, but continues on without any criticism. "I'm not sure what all you can be expected to do against the once-living, since many of them are not bound by the rules of our material plane as we saw. Perhaps some Holy Water is in order, though. I'm sure the Temple of Pelor will be willing to help us out since you're in good standing with them. Most likely we can purchase some of the liquid at-cost, which will give you all something you can wield against these creatures."

[Flagg Thornington]

"Will holy water be enough? There must be some other way to distract these things. I'd like to know what interest they have in the girl. It seems unlikely that there were two of these foreign spectres near her by chance alone. Do either of you know more about these creatures? Why they exist? Or what motivates them to wander about with nothing but their lanterns. Lade, did the koldsjal not try to protect its beacon? Maybe that is the answer." Finn takes a swig of the tavern's finest swill. "Thanks for the frothy beverage."

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus shrugs, picking up the book and placing it back in his pack to keep prying eyes off of its dusty cover. The less questions the better, just like the rest of his life. "I'm not sure what else we can do to better arm ourselves against these things. Magical armaments are expensive and may not be the most cost-effective way to spend limited funds. This is the first incorporeal creature I have come across thus far. Can we be so certain that one occasion warrants a drastic response?"

The cleric pauses a moment to let that question sink in before continuing on with some more of his wisdom. "I am also not quite sure we can draw any conclusions about the specters being in the same location of the girl yet. Had we been guarding the house next door wouldn't we have come to the conclusion that they must be coming after whatever was in the house? I don't think we should be jumping to any sort of conclusions just yet. We are still relatively uninformed, which is something I intend to change. I think it would be best if I head to the Temple of Pelor and find a secure and quite place to do a bit of studying. I believe they would treat me well enough considering that I had returned with the two of you," he says while nodding to Harald and Finn. "You two are in good standing with them so hopefully a bit of it will carry over to my requests. If they also have any sort of library it may prove to be useful if any further research is needed."

[Flagg Thornington]

"Well please shed some light to clear things up. I'll ask around while I'm out on errands, to see if anyone else has noticed strange lanterns wandering the streets of Edinway."

[The Alcotroll]

"So," says Harald, attempting to draw some consensus from the group. "If Finn and I go to the Sheriff's office to pick up our payment, Malkanus will go to the temple of Pelor and glean what he can from this book. Lade, do you feel inebriated enough to accompany him, or would you prefer some more time to warm yourself up?

[itches]

"I think I'm done for this morning," the man said draining the last of his ale. "Becareful at the Sheriff lads, he can be a right royal bastard when he wants to, and he won't worry about proving it if he thinks ya've done something wrong."

[BigRedRod]

Lade's gift of a fresh mug of ale goes seemingly noticed on the table of the sole other patron of the eatery as the foursome make tracks leaving a smattering of coins behind in payment.

Outside, the clouds have returned and large flakes of snow flutter effortlessly down through the chilling morning air. Walking the streets of Edinhumber, only Harald shows no signs of the biting cold. In fact the northerner seems rather more clement than usual striding along the frosted roads, frozen puffs of breath gathering around his nose and snow flakes catching in his beard.

Where the houses begin to get a little larger and better maintained, the party split up. Harald and Finn heading over to Eastgate while the other two aim themselves toward The Great Plaza.

...

Despite the weather, a great market is thriving in the vast cobbled expanse which gives The Great Plaza its name. On a day like today it seems like anything can be bought or sold in such a place. The pungent smell of mint washes through the air as the pair pass by a merchant cursing the Gods for his ill fortune at having smashed a large jar of the dried herb. Despite his best efforts the snow is already landing upon his exposed wares, ruining them for sale.

Pushing out of the throng, Malkanus and Lade look up at the imposing form of Pelor's Cathedral. Avoiding the main doorway, where from the sound it would seem a service is in progress, they reach the doorway to Sister Malta's refectory where the large nun greats them in a friendly enough manner despite having only barely made their acquaintance shortly after they deliver Sophia's body. Offering tea, and asking after Harald, Sister Malta points the way towards the athenaeum, insisting that nobody is going to mind the pair making use of the room.

Walking the winding passages and stairways, Lade and Malkanus find themselves in a rectangular room filled with bookshelves and a number of narrow tables attended by benches. Above there is another half-floor containing further bookcases but only a single table. Much of one wall is dedicated to a series of ornate stained glass windows. The bright winter sunlight streams through the series of images which Malkanus recognises as a retelling of the story of Saint Vulpecula, a servant of Pelor who gathered up all of mankind's knowledge when a star descended from the heavens and lay waste to the world.

The library is mostly empty with only two monks studying tomes of theology. Both give Lade and Malkanus uneasy looks but do not question their presence. Malkanus can't help but notice the glances linger upon him a little longer than on Lade.

Sitting down in the silence, the cleric begins the careful study of the Moonbringer cell's tome.

...

Harald and Finn find their walk to Eastgate rather uneventful, it almost seems like Edinway isn't a city on the brink of being overwhelmed by wandering spirits, insane cultists and cunning demons. Stepping inside the guardhouse buiilt into the city wall, the pair arrive just in time for the door down to the dungeon to slam shut.

Ignoring the shouts of protest from whichever hapless prisoner is being forcibly led down the steps, the grey-bearded man sat behind the cluttered main desk squints at Harald and Finn, before offering a greeting,
"You two ain't one called Harald and one called Finn? I was told they'd be four of ya and that that fella we brought in not long ago would be with ya, still a lad wanderin' the streets with a big bastard from the north ain't an everyday sight, so you're 'ere for Tybalt, ain't yah?"

Pausing briefly to recognise the looks of agreement with his question, the old guardsman continues in his slow rambling voice,
"Right, well, see the thing is that Tybalt ain't here. Ward-sheriff ain't a cakewalk, gods no. That warehouse though-"
The man vanishes briefly as he reaches for something in one of the lower drawers of the desk while whistling,
"-was stocked to say the least. Bloody red bastards. Could've 'ad a whole bloomin' army from that little lot. And a little dug out underneath with a cell in it. Weird stuff. No sign of the cultists though, must've known we'd be comin'. Still, Tybalt said to make sure you know just 'ow much we appreciate what you did in lettin' us know about that and not just goin' off ignorin' the law. So-"
Reappearing, he brings a large cloth sack of coin down on the desk, the sound of the coins clinking inside sets Finn's mouth watering,
"-this is for you. The four of you mind. Sixty bits o' gold in there, there are. Sixty! Tybalt must reckon it's worth keepin' you lot sweet."

Letting Finn take the bag and peer inside, he adds,
"So then fellas, owt else I can help with this cold and frosty mornin'?"

[Flagg Thornington]

"Please tell Tybalt that we are grateful for his generosity and to contact us if he learns anything we should know. Good day sir." Finn pauses and stows the gold in his pack before he eases open the front door. The rogue looks about before stepping out into the weather.

Once outside he waits for the northerner with his hands tucked into his cloak.
"I plan on mingling for a while with the locals and asking some questions. Can you tail me and watch for anyone that acts suspicious? Of course try to let me know if you can, but do not let them get out of your sight. I plan on prying into many subjects of interest and somebody may get upset or worried."

"What do you think Harald? Touch on the red cultists? The murder? The lanterns? The rats? That ought to cause a scandal." Finn lips spread and expose a wide grin after his last word.

[The Alcotroll]

Harald shrugs.

"If you think a large, armoured Northman won't arouse too much suspicion while following you around, then of course." he says with a shrug.

"Don't mention the rats though, or they might lock the both of us up."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn eyes the Northerener and only shrugs.
"Just do the best you can, try to act like you're in town to trade. Visit some merchant booths and inpect their wares. No rats, fair enough."
The rogue starts out in the direction of the busiest place in town, the plaza that holds the sprawling market of the old city.

[BigRedRod]

The people of Eastgate aren't very talkative on the whole, most attempting to get rid of Finn with just a shake of the head or a shrug of the shoulders. Those that can spare a few words don't seem overly concerned about Yvonne Stroud's murder, most believing it was settled with the rightful arrest of Lade and the rest seemingly believing that so long as they stay away from the cultists they'll be fine, after all the Moon Bringers aren't going to burst into houses are random, not to speak ill of the dead but that Stroud must've been up to something.

As for the Moon Cult, most people seem unsettled but not to the point where they intend on doing anything above blaming the authorities for not having done their job and put a stop to it. Worryingly, more than a couple, actually seem to agree with the cult, seeing their crimes as drastic but necessary for the return of the Red Moon.

Mysterious lights are something which the people seem to feel the most strongly about. Spirits were being allowed to walk the streets, there were just too many for the Temple of Pelor and the Magewright's Guild to keep them all at bay. Nobody seems to actually know what a Koldsjal might be, and a few cues about them being the remains of folk claimed by the cold just sets them off on long conversations about how many problems the snow causes.

Lingering behind, hopefully out of sight of Finn's marks, Harald watches the young rogue but spots nobody else following.

Frozen to the core after spending their morning wandering the snowy streets, Harald and Finn find themselves inside a crowded little teashop enjoying a hot meal and impressively large clay mugs of flavourless tea.

...

Somewhere inside Pelor's Cathedral Lade drums his fingers on the wooden table as he stares out blankly. The sound of Malkanus shutting the recovered tome jolts him back to alertness.

Aside from serving as a catalogue of crimes performed by the now defunct cultist cell, the passages hint at some kind of event which will purge every soul bound by blasphemous magics from the streets of the city. It continues, the handwriting gradually becoming less legible about how this act will undoubtedly bring about the long awaited dawn. As troubling as these words are, there is an upsetting lack of detail.

Malkanus finds a number of references to Lufan, although it is hard to decipher what is being referred to in the text.

The last few pages suddenly make mention of a demon in the form of a young, innocent girl but marked with wings of black feathers somewhere in Edinhumber. Orders on just what to do about the demon are spelt out, as soon as it was located a message was to be sent to a Mr. Lysander at the Great Plaza Merchant Guild Offices. The message was regarding the arrival of a caravan thought previously lost from Harton. The demon was then to be captured the following night and held until it was collected.

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Well, it turns out you learn quite a lot when you take the time out of your day to read," the cleric says with a glance over at Lade. "Just a few more things and I'll be ready to go and you can drawn your boredom with a flagon of ale."

Malkanus tucks the tome into his pack and rises from the table, moving about the vast library with a finger brushing against the spines of the numerous books. He mutters to himself as he traces a path along the outer walls, looking for some semblance of a section on undead lore and possibly demons. With a keen eye he plucks out several books, looking for any information on lichs and demons that may have the name Lufan. Though skeptical of any result it never hurts to try, or so he suggests to himself.

Once finished with the books he waves to Lade and makes his way from the temple, paying his respects as he leaves and setting off to find the others to explain what has been uncovered.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn sips his tea, savoring its warmth. He occasionally glances about the room noting the faces that match the voices he listens for. The rogue only speaks when spoken to by the server and avoids idle conversation with a generally quiet Harald. After finishing his meal Finn will try his chances with the patrons of the eatery, starting with whomever had the most interesting conversations.

[BigRedRod]

As might be expected the conversation filling the teashop is little more than local gossip. Still, Finn strains his ears while quietly ignoring the large man sat before him.

After several minutes of the silence, Harald finds that he has both finished his tea and that Finn has parted company with him. The youth sits at another table, somehow having managed to have struck up a conversation with a trio of perfect strangers. Sighing loudly, Harald raises a hand and a worried looking serving lad deposits another steaming mug upon the table.

Nearly an hour later Harald finds the chair opposite him refilled as Finn abandons his flitting between tables in search of any pertinent news. The pickings were rather slim to say the least, little more than idle chatter about the growing problems brought by each death in Aos when the souls have nowhere to go. Coupled with the constant undercurrents of seemingly motiveless violence by a group claiming to be trying to bring about the Red Dawn, the mood in the teashop bordered on the grim to say the least.

The only useful fact which the young rogue actually managed to pick out of his conversations was that the recent freezing weather has claimed the lives of a rather large number of immigrant vagrants. Folk who manage to get inside the Edinway walls to escape the perils of the world at large are forced to do so with little more than the shirt on their back for fear of being turned away and with a surplus of population comes a distinct lack of employment. Each day frozen corpses are turning up on city streets, and people are crying out for the gatesmen to do more to keep immigrants out of the city.

...

Malkanus can only really express disappointment at the paltry selection of books touching on any subject outside the myriad holy texts of Pelor and supplemental works describing the life and times of his various saints, prophets and incarnations. Skimming quickly through the few likely looking books, the priest finds no reference to what Lufan might mean.

Looking up from the final text, Malkanus spots that boredom has finally gotten the better of Lade. Silently the older man lies slumped on the table, sleeping deeply.

[Flagg Thornington]

"Well you folks have a fair afternoon and do your best to keep the biting cold off your heels. I must return to my comrade, though I must say your company is far fairer to say the least." Finn makes his exit with Harald shortly after returning to their table. On the way back to meet up with the others the rogue turns to Harald and whispers as the wander. "It seems these Koldsjal have been mighty busy. Only the locals are foolishly blaming it on the weather. I hope the others learned more."

[The Alcotroll]

Harald shrugs eloquently and returns to glowering at the locals.

Bones of my ancestors, what a boring day! Maybe I should have taken a few drinks this morn myself. Wonder if Lade had a better time of it...

[LuneMoonshadow]

With a small sigh Malkanus replaces the tome back on the shelf, shaking his head at the relative lack of knowledge stored within these walls. Libraries should be a wealth of knowledge, not a training ground for religious indoctrination. With a deep breath to contain himself and also to serve as a reminder that this is simply the way things are done, he turns back around and begins walking to the old man who now rests peacefully on the table.

The cleric slaps a hand down the table and shakes his head at the now startled Lade. "Pay your respects to the hallowed ground in which we were so graciously given access to." With a dark stare and a wave off in the direction of the exit Malkanus leads them both out of the temple, giving his thanks to those in charge and dropping a coin in the offering plate on their way out. Once out on the street he pulls his cloak up on his shoulders to protect his neck and drops the front of his hat down a bit to help shield his face from the wind. "Come, we have much to discuss about this cult business and that little girl. It seems everything is not quite as it seems, or so they suggest."

[itches]

"It wasn't a total waste of time then," Lade said as he followed afterwards, stiffiling a yawn. "What did ya find?"

[The Alcotroll]

"So," says Harald to his companion after a few meters of awkward silence. "If you've finished pestering the locals, shall we return to the Inn? Perhaps Malkanus will have had some luck at the library. And I could do with something stronger to drink than tea."

[Flagg Thornington]

"Let's go, they should be getting back sometime soon. We'll figure out where to go from there." Finn continues on toward the meeting place. He keeps his frustration silent.

The people here are a tight-lipped lot, or the cultists really know their business.

Finn thinks of little else and watches the locals while the two move down the muddy lanes.

[BigRedRod]

The short winter day has all but vanished when Malkanus strides into the eatery-cum-tavern bearing the sign showing a poorly painted fox and slug. Finn's hand waves from one of the few taken tables, evidently a sign of most people having to squeeze as many working hours of the day as possible, and the two pairs are once more made a foursome.

Of the childless widower who had been slumped across a table this morning there is no sign but the four or five new faces in the establishment deliver more than a passing glance to the odd assortment now gathered at one of the small tables with a mug of ale each and food on its way.

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric heaves himself down into the chair, removing his hat and running a hand through his black hair with a heavy sigh. After giving one last shiver as a final testament to the cold bearing down outside of the eatery, he picks up a warm piece of bread and begins to chew on it.

"This is all very disturbing," he starts off after finishing his small ration. "The tome that I had originally recovered does very little to ease my fears. These people honestly do believe they are the Moonbringers, here to purge the world of the wandering souls keeping the Red Moon from dawning. Every word within that text speaks in a way only a religious believer could write. These people are tenfold more dangerous than any kind of common gang or organized crime ring, simply because they believe in their purpose."

With another sigh, this time at the predicament they have seemingly fallen into and not at the weather, Malkanus leans back in the chair and idly looks about the small establishment while continuing on with his explanation. "These cultists refer to some sort of event that could theoretically bring back the Red Moon, but the details are sketchy. It refers to removing the wandering souls of the world but the incredible lack of detail makes the whole process seem more cataclysmic than anything else. And after what all we've seen only in this short time we've been together," he says with a glance to Lade, "I have no doubt that they would try whatever it takes to fulfill their beliefs."

"But, that is all," he admits and clears his throat, leaning forward and breaking his gaze with the other patrons. "There are numerous references to Lufan. Whether this is a person or an object I cannot be certain. This could also be in another language or dialect long lost to the sands of time. If we could somehow find out what this term means, though, I do believe that we might have a good idea on where to go next. Haste would be needed, however, as religious fanatics never grow more rational, only more extreme."

With that grim tone set he looks to each of his companions and frowns, clearly not finished with the bad news. "There is also one last matter. The girl we just saved; the one with the wings. Celeste was her name, I believe. These cultists believe she is a demon, an incarnation of a form of evil that is, in short, here to destroy us. There is absolutely no proof of this, but the oddity that is so ironically named Celeste does have traits that are not quite... normal. Perhaps you and Lade did not get to see it fully," he says while glancing to both Harald and Lade, "but I think Finn would agree with me that there isn't something quite right with her, besides the obvious fact that she has wings."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn leans in closer and weighs the priest's words.

"I never heard mention of 'Lufan' from the locals, but I was not armed with the name during my idle search."

"Do you have a means to identify the child's true aura? Does your god grant such insight? Knowing would simplify things greatly."

[itches]

"Wait," Lade interrupted holding up his hand. "One thing at a time, what do ya mean 'not quite right'? Except for the ... feathers thing she just seemed a scared girl who had been kiddnapped to me."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"The girl doesn't eat," the cleric simply says with a glance over at the curious older man. "She was in that cell for quite some time, covered in grime by the time we got to her, but she hadn't once touched her food. It was rotting on the plate they gave her and the girl didn't seem a bit famished to me."

With a shrug Malkanus concedes that he doesn't know whether or not such a thing actually has any meaning, but it certainly is odd. Turning back to the rogue Malkanus continues on, "No, I can't simply divine the nature of her true form, if there is even any such thing to be divined. The best I can do is attempt to discern the truth through questioning with the aid of magic, but there is no possible way to forcefully have her admit her true nature. This is also operating on the very big assumption that she even knows she is a demon, celestial being, or whatever else. It could be possible that she really is a demon waiting in a mortal body to be released through some means. I do not study demonology so your guess is as good as mine."

After shaking his head at the current lack of options, the cleric motions back towards the direction of the temple where he and Lade were not long before. "A possible idea is to retrieve a bit of holy water and see if the girl reacts with it, but I'm not sure demons react to it like the undead do. It may not work at all if she is inhabiting a mortal body. Demonology is not my specialty."

[itches]

"We seem ta be raising more quest'ns then we answer, life is so much easier when all you have to do is fight a flesh and blood foe." Draining the last of his second ale, the old bodyguard set the empty mug aside regretfully. "I don't know if they woul' let us test tha girl, they don' seem ta think tha shes a demon."

[Flagg Thornington]

"Lade I agree that those scared folks are not going to want us bothering Celeste any longer. I also agree with the priest that she in not a normal little girl. We should try to speak with the girl's mother, now that she's had some time to console her daughter. Maybe during our visit we could accidentally spill some of your holy water on the child." Finn's gaze had returned to the priest. Before proceeding he turns his eyes to the group.

"One other thing that you might find interesting. Several people responded strongly when I mentioned the lantern lights of the koldsjal. The bodies of vagrants have been discovered completely frozen in the back alleys of the city. Most of them had heard tales of drifitng lanterns and one short-fellow even claimed he saw one himself."

[The Alcotroll]

Harald shifts uneasily and clears his throat.

"There's... something else."

Turning to Finn for support in his far-fetched tale, Harald explains about the white rat, the broken tower and the mysterious Attrox.

"Meleaga, the fool, promised that we'd meet this white rat at the Broken Tower tomorrow. What say you, shall we keep his promise?"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Their presence is disturbing, to say the least, but not a surprise considering the state in which the world is now in. With so many wandering the streets there might be some lucky fool who manages to kill one without the aid of divine intervention. Hopefully we can manage to talk to said fool and find out what he did. The information would be valuable."

Once Harald finishes his tale of the Attrox, Malkanus leans back in his chair and chews on the inside of his cheek in thought. "That is definitely interesting. So this Attrox, or these, I suppose, are guarding a tower where the white rat wants to go? Hmm..."

A little overwhelmed by the information the cleric leans forward again and rubs at his eyes. "This changes things a bit. So we have a possible demon child in the city as well as two warring rat races that have something to do with an 'Attrox'." Slightly annoyed at his own lack of knowledge on the subject, the cleric continues on in a more frustrated tone. "I suppose we'll have to go visit this white rat or Attrox. They might know something about the Moonbringers, considering the close proximity the two had in the district. Perhaps they know something about the girl and the wandering ghosts as well, though I am not placing any wagers on this tidbit of information."

[itches]

Lade sighs, barely resisting the urge to have another ale. The more they dig into this mess the more complicated and confused it seemed.

"I'm don't know nothing much about these ghosts, but I've heared stories about monsters like them before," he offered. "Malk is right, someone must have beaten one ya know. If not tonight then years ago, and if that had happened one of the tales must say how. We've tried the library lad, let's try to find a storyteller or someone that knows the folk stories and see what they can tell us.

"But rats? I don't know nothing about rats, ya mean like rat-men thing? I suppose with everything else it aint so strange and can we really turn aside any help?"

[The Alcotroll]

"I'm not sure how much help they can offer us, but I can't think that we have any better leads to follow. I'm just hoping that the presence of Koldsjal, giant rat-men, crazed cultists, a demon-girl and a mysterious Attrox in the same cursed city is more than a coincidence.

"Are we decided then?"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Sounds like we are," Malkanus says with a nod to his companions. "The funeral is tomorrow and there is no telling how long such an affair could last considering the apparent standing of the woman's standing both within the church and this city. Lade and I could depart as early as first light considering that we know nothing of the woman or her deeds. Fate only had us stumble upon you two after her unfortunate demise, so I doubt the church or her family would miss our presence." With a slight pause the cleric adds in the obvious, though often unspoken. "It may be better if I not attend in any case. My presence tends to only draw stares and make matters more uncomfortable for others than not."

Shrugging with acceptance of the duty he wears he continues on with his plan. "After the funeral the two of you could meet back up with us, assuming the event does not take all day. There is of course a degree of risk involved in this, but in times like these when isn't there? Sitting around doing nothing could possibly be even more damning than walking back into that hellhole of a district."

[BigRedRod]

The colour drains from the sky all too quickly and before the men assembled in the tavern realise it, another day has passed before them. Leaving a pile of coins behind, the foursome set out onto the slushy street. A few fresh white flakes drift from the clouds above. Brownish orange clouds sitting in a similarly coloured sky, a mixture of illumination from a thousand torches and lanterns across the city with the last dying glimmers of daylight somewhere far out of sight.

Aside from the strange colour of the sky there is only the cold to focus on, as the party splash through the icy-cold, filth-ridden, ankle-deep sludge covering the cobblestones. The shortness of the days around midwinter sees a fair amount of traffic despite the absence of the sun. Doubtlessly in the more well to areas street lamps provide clean illumination, but here in Edinhumber men move through the crowds carrying short wooden sticks daubed with all manner of smoky combustible.

The swell in the crowd is short lived as everybody else seems to be heading toward one of the various drinking establishments dotted around the district, eager to spend another long night indoors around a fire with company attempting to forget the horrors which come with the moonless dark.

Light leaks out from between the shutters of Roen's home, the intersection nearby is devoid of traffic, making it a simple task for the party to surreptitiously enter the empty husk of Annie and Celeste's house. The smell of sawdust hangs in the air, and it is good to see that even in such dark times, progress can be made. The night won't be any warmer but the shell is looking rather more like a house under construction than a scene of arson.

Settling in, and wrapped in the few extra pieces of clothing each man carries, the evening's watch begins.

...

Shuddering, Harald suddenly wonders whether he fell asleep during his watch. Looking behind him, he sees his companions are fast asleep and outside there is nothing. Or there was nothing a second ago. Seemingly from nowhere a shape has emerged, and not the vaguely translucent of a trapped spirit, but the very solid outline of a man. A man standing on the freshly laden snow in the middle of the silent night in Edinhumber.

Squinting, Harald notices the bleached shade and oddly elongated shape of the man's head. The rest of its body hidden in a dark robe, of colour lost to the poor light, but one which could quite easily be cultist red. Arms inside its robe, the strange figure remains still, stood a small distance from the intersection looking inwards. A knot of dread begins to collect inside the Jarl's stomach.

A twitch of movement at the corner of his eye has Harald look down the other branch of the intersection, and there stands another of the still figures. This one a good deal further away, but just as eerie and unsettling.

Doing his best not to be seen but craning his neck, Harald can see little of the third tributary coming to an end at the junction below the house. If another of the robed shapes is blocking the path to Broken Tower then it is doing so out of sight of Harald.

Before he can ever wake his companions-in-arms, a sound reaches Harald's ear. The crisp crunch and splash of a boot coming down on fresh snow atop old slush closely followed by hushed words of annoyance. Outside, the two shapes maintain their watch over their own paths having not moved an inch. Somewhere out of sight, and doing its best not to be heard, somebody is moving around at the Edinhumber intersection.

[The Alcotroll]

Moving as quietly as he can, Harald shakes Finn awake. With a theatrical motion to silence, he points at the window, and then to his eyes.

With Finn roused, he quickly shakes the other two awake as well, pressing a finger to his lips for silence and then tapping the hilt of his scabbarded sword.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn springs from his slumber and heads to the window where he casually peers down onto the street below. When he sees the robed figures his hand immediately moves to the hilt of his sword.

[itches]

Blinking away sleep with a sudden pre-battle rush, Lade nodded his understanding of the message, taking his cue from the younger man and remaining silent.

Gesturing to where his armour lay on the floor, the man mimed helping him into it.

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric rubs at his eyes before standing up, brushing the dirt from his hat before putting it on habitually. He looks over to Lade and shakes his head, holding a finger up to his mouth to signal silence. After turning away from the old man, Malkanus steps up to the window to have a quick look at what they are up against.

[The Alcotroll]

Harald shakes his head in support of the Cleric's denial, offering as an after-thought his own heavy shield as a replacement for Lade's light one and then moving with exaggerated care to stand beside the door on the opposite side to the hinges.

[itches]

Lade gave a silent sigh and nodded his understanding, things were too close to risk the noise. For a moment he wished he was still young enough to sleep in armour like he used to. Taking the proffered shield he returned his own in exchange and joined the others readying for combat.

[BigRedRod]

Doing their best to remain hidden while peering out of the window, Malkanus and Finn can also both spot the two strange robed figures. Whether it is their strange heads, absolute stillness or something less obvious the two forms seem to radiate a feeling of wrongness. Although not able to communicate their opinions without words, after a few seconds Finn becomes certain that the elongated heads have an oddly bovine cast to them, as though they might be bipedal goats, he ever fancies he can see the outline of dark curled horns.Given their absolute stillness however, Malkanus wonders whether the figures are anything more than a mask set atop a poll shrouded in a robe, although it begs the question of quite how they were erected without Harald spotting anybody else.

The sound of boots on the snowy slushy streets penetrates the still night air and it comes as little surprise when a trio of red-robed men emerge step into sight. Even in the low light conditions which drain the colour from almost everything the robes are clearly those of cultists. Sheathed swords hang from their belts at their hip, and all but one of the cultists move with their hand ready on the hilts, as if they are expecting trouble.

Down the two visible paths sprouting from the crossroads the goat-headed figures continue their motionless vigil while the trio of mobile cultists walk in an unerring line toward Roen's house.


http://www.bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/NS/NS%20Edinhumber%20Intersection%20Night2%20ii.png

[itches]

Moving back across the room, Lade risked a quick glance out the window and then pulled back, waving to get everyone's attention. Miming first pulling on a bow, the man pointed to Finn then the window. Then motioning to include Harald, Malk and himself he gestured downstairs.

Pointing at the window again, he first mimicked kicking a door, pointed to Finn then cupped his hands to his mouth in the gesture commonly associated with shouting. Moving his hands to include himself and the other two men he pumped his arms an approximation of running and then chopped his axe through the air.

Without waiting to see if the others wanted to argue with his hastily thought up plan, Lade moved on silent feet downstairs.

[The Alcotroll]

Frowning in honest confusion at Lade's display, Harald shrugs his shoulders and follows the older man, confident that he'll know what to do once the fighting starts.

[LuneMoonshadow]

With equal confusion Malkanus follows Harald down the stairs, taking his scythe in hand from its place against the wall. With a quiet frown the cleric wonders if he will ever get a decent night's sleep.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn nods his understanding and nocks an arrow on his bowstring while silently watching. He visualizes a well-placed shot to the neck and reloading another to strike again. The rogue does not think to mention the sound he thought he heard due to the group's rapid departure.

[BigRedRod]

The door barely creaks and the new stairs are even forgiving as the trio make their way downstairs. Harald waits beside the door, his ears focused on the silence, waiting for the impact of boot on wood. Lade takes the other side by the window, doing his best to see but not be seen and Malkanus stands behind the pair, his knuckles white around his scythe.

Unbeknown to the three, sound was also a concern to the cultists standing outside Roen's house and one of them was evidently a devout enough holder of his faith that he could channel it to perform minor miracles. Finn isn't able to guess what the spell is, but the effects are immediate. The cultist reaches inside his robe and pulls out the red disc which serves as a conduit to the divine speaks a few quiet words and then all of a sudden a layer of previously inaudible sound drops away as a true silence washes between the two houses.

Content that they can now be as noisy as they wish in smashing down the stout wooden door barring entry to the house, the nearest cultist slams his shoulder into the door. It shudders but holds.

Taking the initiative, Lade bursts through the wooden door closely followed by Harald as soon as the northerner realises the audio cues he was awaiting won't be coming.

Another night and another silent battle was brewing in Edinhumber.

From above a single arrow penetrates the night leaving Finn's bow and arriving between the shoulder blades of one of the cultists in what seems like the same instant. In a world without sound, the appearance of an arrow shaft protruding from one of the red robed forms is startling but also serves only to aid the party in their ambush.

[ooc: C1 is breaking the door down, C2 cast silence, and C3 has been hit by an arrow. It's a surprise round so only standard actions]

Initiative
Finn
Lade
Harald
Malkanus

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/NS/NS-Edinhumber-Intersection-Night2-r1.png

[itches]

The shadows of the street and the eerie silence as they rush towards the cultists give the entire experience a dream-like quality. For a moment, as an arrow appears as if by magic in the back of the nearest man, Lade wonders if the whole thing is nothing more then a dream caused by the stress of keeping watch.

Shrugging aside the momentary reflection, the ageing mercenary stepping up besides the wounded cultist, borrowed shield held at the ready, and swing his war axe in a great sweeping blow.

[The Alcotroll]

With sword in both hands raised high above his head, Harald steps to the side of the arrow-pierced cultist to deal his companion a mighty blow to the back of the head with the full weight of his blade.

[OOC: 5' step to the right, and a jolly good thumping to cultist number two.]

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric's steps slow to a halt when he stares out across the street to the cultist holding the symbol of the red moon. His hand drifts down to his pocket where he has been keeping one of the very same insignias.

How...?

Stunned that a cultist had enough faith to channel the power of the Gatekeeper, the cleric is lost. His mouth opens slightly as if to question to the man, but nothing escapes his slack jaw.

Are they... truly doing the work of the Gatekeeper?

With his faith shaken Malkanus cannot rally himself to act, but instead stands there near motionless with his eyes locked onto the cleric who apparently shares the very same faith.

[BigRedRod]

Lade's axeblade falls upon the injured cultist as he turns in surprise, it catches him at the shoulder and drags a wound down his torso shredding his robe and tearing open the iron links of the armour beneath letting a thin line of red spray out upon the eldest member the party. In response to the quick succession of wounds, the cultist falls to the ground, unable to even draw his own weapon.

Unable to react, the man holding the now familiar red lacquered disc with black keyhole receives the heavy clout of Harald's sword to the back of his neck. Had the man been unarmoured the two-handed blow would have been sufficient to separate his head and body, instead it sends him reeling away from the northerner in a whole world of agony.

A second arrow from Finn arrives at Gatekeeper's devout follower just as he begins his turn to face the ambushers. Either by incredible luck or by incredible skill the arrow enters the open mouth of the cultist and digs deeply into his throat sending him down onto the ground in a bloody heap.

Initiative
Finn
Lade
Cultist 1
Harald
Malkanus
???

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/NS/NS%20Edinhumber%20Intersection%20Night2%20r2.png

[itches]

Gratified to see two of the three cultists down in such quick succession - even if it meant being covered in blood - Lade turned his attention to the remaining man who but a few moments before had been trying to break down the door. Stepping closer, the mercenary continued to hold his shield ready and brandished his axe, shouting words that went unheard within the confines of the magical silence.

[[OOC:5-ft-step, full defence]]

[BigRedRod]

With a fallen comrade on either side, the remaining Moonbringer wastes no time in pulling his sword free of his belt and delivering a swift horizontal slash as he turns to face Harald. With his own weapon to far to his right to make a blocking motion and his footing being somewhat awkward on the slick cobblestones, Harald merely braces himself praying to his Gods that the bands of metal encircling him are enough to keep his flesh from being shredded. The sword edge meets the bands at an angle and rebounds merely bruising one of the northerner's ribs.

Initiative
Finn
Lade
Cultist 1
Harald
Malkanus
???

[The Alcotroll]

Ignoring the blow, Harald lets his bloody sword fall to the floor and lunges forward to embrace the lone cultist in a bear-hug.

[OOC: Near-suicidal grapple attempt, if you please.]

[LuneMoonshadow]

The blood and silent battle shocks the cleric back to reality and he steps forward and assesses the situation. When Harald lunges at the cultist and makes it obvious that the new objective is taking a prisoner, Malkanus step forward and hooks his scythe to his back again.

With one last glance to the goatmen at the end of the street, Malkanus engages their newest prisoner.

OOC: Aid grapple attempt.

[BigRedRod]

Malkanus circles around the remaining cultist with unspoken coordination splitting his focus and Harald takes that opportunity to leap at him. In desperation, and with expertise that shows the red robed man to be rather comfortable with a longsword, he sets his weapon towards the airborne northerner scoring a painful line down his attacker's waist before being overcome by the impact. Harald quickly grips his quarry in a bear hug and pushes him against the door, causing it to lean inwards rather distressingly.

From his window, Finn opens his mouth and screams silently at Lade. The older warrior does not see his companion's warning and instead turns only when the hairs on the back of his neck decide to stand on end. Twin stars of pure red drain what little colour the cold night has left in his cheeks. His mind releases the paralysis of his body only with an explosion of pain as a fleshless hand emerges from somewhere within one of the robes and claws across his face with fingers sharpened like knives.

The creatures move without individual steps, instead they jerk about random, simply blurring between a uneven series of points until they arrive at their destination. From having been motionless statues now the three goat-headed robes have become shifting masses of red cloth, dirty bone and distilled fear.

Finn nocks another arrow with trembling hands but slips before the bowstring is fully pulled or the missile aimed. Instead of striking at one of the strange pair of abominations confronting Lade, the arrow shatters harmlessly against a brick of Roen's house.

[ooc: I had Harald delay to after Malkanus in order to let the aid another action work, shouldn't change anything important and I figured that was the intention rather than having Malk join a manpile in a dark doorway. Lade and Finn are now shaken due to gaze attacks, everybody made the saving throw this round.]

Initiative
Finn [Shaken]
Lade [Shaken]
Cultist #1 [Grappling Harald]
Malkanus
Harald [Grappling Cultist #1]
Skull of Terror #1
Skull of Terror #2
Skull of Terror #3

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/NS/NS%20Edinhumber%20Intersection%20Night2%20r4.png

[itches]

His breath came to him with a sudden difficulty as the shock of being face to face with the two ... creatures came to him. Not even the fight with the ghosts the previous night had effected ageing man this much. Tightening his shaking, numb hands on the axe haft and wishing he had taking the time to don his armour, Lade swung his axe at the centre of the nearest creature.

[[OOC: Attacks S3 and wets himself]]

[BigRedRod]

The urge to flee the battle is powerful. To leave all of this behind, forget about the moon, forget about fighting, forget about Yvonne, forget about it all and find himself a nice bottle of something strong. A lesser man might have done just that, in the past, Lade might have been that man, but not on this night. Casting aside fear and doubt, he swings his axe, tearing through cloak and bone. The twin red stars peering out from within one of the bovine skulls flare up for a moment and then dwindle to nothingness. Blasphemous magic trickles away and the robe deflates leaving only a pile of bones and a few red rags.

Pressed up against a door, the cultist does not attempt to squirm free of Harald's grasp, instead he takes the more honourable route, drops his sword, grips the elbows of his opponent, grins, and slams his forehead into Harald's face, adding extra force by kicking off from the door behind. Harald sees stars and feels the hot trickle of blood down his face. This one was a fighter.

Initiative
Finn [Shaken]
Lade [Shaken]
Cultist #1 [Grappling Harald]
Malkanus
Harald [Grappling Cultist #1]
Skull of Terror #1
Skull of Terror #2

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/NS/Kidnappers/NS%20Edinhumber%20Intersection%20Night2%20r5.png

[LuneMoonshadow]

With the battle taking a slight turn for the worst the cleric takes stock of everything going on around him. With Harald's opponent fighting back with ferocity and lade cutting down one of the creatures Malkanus now has a choice to make.

No corporeal body...

Taking a quick step backwards the cleric pulls forth his holy symbol from under his clothing, holding it out in front of him for both of the creatures to see.

Empower me to do your will.

OOC: 5 foot step backwards and Turn Undead

[The Alcotroll]

Responding to the affront with a roar of pain, Harald spits blood in his opponent's face and tries to slam his head into the cobble stones.

[OOC: Damage Opponent]

[BigRedRod]

The holy symbol begins to give off a shower of tiny sparks as Malkanus puts his back up against the wall and brings the wrath of his God to the silent crossroads. The red eyes of the goat-headed skeletons turn upon the cleric as divine fire begins to climb upwards from the cobbles. Shrouded in flames of brilliant crimson the pair of undead abominations look even more fearsome. The effect is brief as both suddenly vanish from their positions, one reappearing atop Annie's burned out house and the other a dozen feet away on the road towards The Broken Tower, fleeing in their jerky series of appearances and disappearances connected only be a strange blurring of the air between the points, the red fires of The Gatekeeper dogging them at every step.

It takes less than a second for both to be out of sight, not that Harald had noticed the silent lightshow occurring behind him as he continued to wrestle with the cultist. Pulling downwards, the man stops himself inches before his head would have made a possibly lethal contact with the cobblestones only to have Harald continue the attack by lifting his own feet from the ground and putting his entire bodyweight on the cultist's back. It gives and Harald pins the man to the ground beside his three companions, one freshly dead, one newly redead and the third just bleeding heavily and quite unconscious.

[ooc: I took a bit of creative licence with Harald and the grappling seeing as the other threats have dispersed much faster than you can chase them. Unless somebody has a clever plan and really wants to take them down. Silence is still in effect. C1 is pinned, C2 was the caster and is dead, C3 is dying, S3 is a heap of bones and S1 and S2 are gone]

[itches]

Lade gave a shout of exhalation as the monstrous collection of bones and robes collapsed under the swing of his axe. His hands which had previous been shaking from fear began to shake from excitement, and despite the pain from the scratch on his face starting to be felt, the thought that hung foremost in his mind was that they would win.

But then the creatures became engulfed in flames and fled from the site of battle, too fast for Lade to even think of giving chase. Shouting profanities at the fleeing figures for a moment - unmindful of the magical silence - he turned back to see one of the cultist still alive.

Waving his hands to get Malk's attention, the ageing mercenary pointed him at the cultist now dieing on the ground before dropping his axe and jumping in to lend his fists to Harald's struggle.

[Flagg Thornington]

After seeing the battle dissolve below on the street, Finn rushes down the stairs to join the others leaving his bow just inside the door of the burned out house. The rogue hurries to assist the others with the remaining cultist.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus looks down at the dying cultist and just shakes his head. This will be the second one that he has saved from death. With a silent sigh he drags the cultist out of the silences area in order to effectively cast his spell, assuming the man is still alive at that time.

OOC: Drag the body out of the silenced area and replace Create Water with CMW

[BigRedRod]

Reaching inside the cultist's hood, Malkanus wraps his fingers beneath his still-living foe#s armour and drags him across the cobbles leaving a track in the wet slush with a noticeable red cast to it. Able to enjoy the ability to make sounds once again, the cleric sighs before tending to his enemy. The Gatekeeper once again proves his rather odd stance on the belief systems of the two faiths by allowing the spell to succeed and save the man from death. He wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon though.

Harald is already firmly in control of the third cultist as Lade and Finn come to his add, their presence only serves to force the man into accepting the inevitable and ceasing his silent struggle.

[The Alcotroll]

With the cultist restrained and in Lade's tender care, Harald taps Finn on the shoulder and points to the bottom half of the recently deceased before taking his place at the top end.

"Well," he says to Finn once the corpse and the scattering of bones and rags have been dragged inside the burned out house, and all evidence of the scuffle expunged: "Shall we check on Celeste and her family?"

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn aids his companion in clearing the street.

Finn responds quietly without looking in Harald's direction.
"My thoughts exactly."

Though such words would usually be a lie, the rogue finds himself earnestly worried for Celeste's safety.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus watches as Harald and Finn drag the bodies through the dome of silence and into the house where they previously were keeping watch. Where he was previously sleeping. Where he wishes he was sleeping now.

With a small sigh the cleric goes back into the house and puts on his armor without a single glance at the bodies now stashed here for the night. With the recent turn of events he's no so certain anymore. How can you be when two identical ideals clash over something so serious?

He shakes his head to rid himself of his thoughts. Second guessing his faith wasn't needed now. Instead he goes back outside of the house and stands at the edge of the silence and motions over to Lade. "So where are we taking them? Knowing you it will need be quiet, and that's kind of hard in the middle of the night."

[itches]

Lade grinned at the implication in Malkanus' comment, but didn't respond, collecting his thoughts in the chill air.

"The house should do for now, I thought I'd just ask them before we tried anything ... more drastic. And no one will notice a few screams in the middle of the night, not in this city ya know. Comeon, let's get 'em inside, we'll need 'em both in the same room and only one awake for this ta work."

[BigRedRod]

The magical silence has dispersed as Harald and Finn step back outside into the cold night air and Lade manhandles the still cognisant moon cultist into the lower room of Annie's home. He offers some resistance, but nothing that the older man can't handle. As he persuades the man to lie on the ground, so as to ensure he doesn't make a run for the backdoor, Malkanus arrives with the other surviving fanatic. Dragging him along with more than a little disdain the cleric lets him drop just beside the stove, eliciting a low moan but no other stirrings of consciousness.

Malkanus stands beside Lade, who crouches with one knee driven into the back of his captive and his hands firmly locked around the other's wrists. It was another long winter's night in Edinhumber and the party find themselves once more with a foe in need of questioning.

[itches]

Lade nodded to Malkanus, driving his knee extra hard into the captive's back before jumping just out of reach, then stopping to talk to him.

"Hey now, just sit still. I wanna have a talk with ya.

"I just wanna let ya know from the start, my mates want to know some things about ya. But I'm not going to ask you any questions, I don't really care what you have to say. See, while we want to know lots of things, we don't need ya. We're just going to ask yer friend over there when he wakes up. All I want from ya is payback.

"I'm going to kill ya. Yer going to scream, but no one will hear ya. Yer going to beg for mercy, but no one will care. Ya are gonna earn yer death in a living pain-filled hell, and that's just how I want ya. I'm not sure how to start, I could cut off ya thumbs, yer not gonna need them for the rest of ya very short life. I should cut out yer tongue at some point, so ya don't choke and die before I want ya too. Yer teeth will have to go for that, hell it ain't like yer going to be eating again. And yer eyes ... ya get to keep yer eyes. I want ya to see every horror as they descend on ya, I want ya to know when yer death is finally here to release ya.

"Do ya know where we are? It's a house, once a young couple in love lived here with their little girl, they were a happy and simple family, and do ya know what happened to them? Ya happened, ya and yer scum friends. Look around, ya can still see burn marks from the fire that claimed a good and innocent man's life. I wonder if his ghost is still here, waiting, watching, ready for ya once ya cross over. But as much as he may hate ya, I hate ya more.

"I hate every last one of ya bastard red-cloaked murdering bastard sons of whores, I've had enough of ya terrorising poor folk, of taking away things that I care about. I mean to make every last one of ya suffer, but right now yer the only one here so I'll make ya pay in place of the rest. It's all on ya. There are things worse then death boy, and by the time I'm finished with ya, ya will believe, ya will see death as sweat release."

Looming over the prone prisoner, Lade glared down at the man, drawing his knife slowly, letting the chilling sound of metal of leather fill the room.

"But there is just one small thing. The good man ya burnt alive right here, he might not have liked what I'm about to do to ya, being a gods fearing man after all. So for his sake, in his memory, I'll give ya one single chance. Ya tell me and my friend what we want to know, and ya'll be spared. But if ya lie, don't answer, or if ya even look at us funny, then his ghost will have to turn away while I gut ya like a squealing little pig.

"Understand?"

[[OOC: Intimidate +6]]

[BigRedRod]

Lying motionless as Lade speaks, the man is silent for a few impressively long seconds. Clearing his throat, and still face down on the flagstone floor, the rushes having either perished in the fire or been cleared as part of the restoration work.

Moving with impressive finesse and speed, the cultist, no longer having Lade bodily restraining him, leaps to a standing position and turns to face his pair of captors,
"Aye, I understand, now shut up and kill me, old man."

Maybe he was attempting an elaborate bluff, maybe his faith gave him no fear of death, or maybe he just hadn't noticed the escape-route in the form of the backdoor behind him. Regardless of reason, the cultist, still bloody and bruised raises his fists up to his face ready to fight his way out of an impossible situation.

[ooc: It's a fairly cramped kitchen, a tactical map would serve literally no purpose. Also, I'll make spot and listen checks for Finn and Harald at the bottom of each round to determine if they notice anything going in wrong, bearing in mind they fully expect the sounds of torture]

Initiative
Lade
Malkanus
Cultist

[The Alcotroll]

Harald gives the abused door a cursory inspection and then, satisfied that it will stand, steps back and claps Finn on the shoulder.

"Come on," he says. "Let's check around the back and then get back to the others. We can take watch from inside for the rest of the night."

He sets off, boots crunching in the snow, sword still in hand and his black cape trailing in his wake.

[itches]

Lade raised his knife and drew back half-a space, throwing a glance at Malkanus over his shoulder, not wanting to fight it out with the cultist anymore.

"Can ya use yer magic?"

[[ooc: full defence]]

[LuneMoonshadow]

Without a word to the cultist the cleric dutifully asks the Gatekeeper for the strength to end this conflict in one swift motion. He then motions towards the doomed fool, hoping that this is all it takes.

OOC: Cast Hold Person (Will Save DC 16)

[BigRedRod]

Evidently the cultist has had some experience of getting into fights without a weapon handy, he weaves and bobs even as he stands in an effort to make himself a more confusing target, causing his opponents to miss place blows and expose weak spots. Suddenly stepping forwards, he pulls a fist back and lunges at Lade.

Malkanus completes his prayer and unseen forces freeze the unarmed cultist with his outstretched fist only two inches shy of Lade's nose.

The door opens and Harald strides in with Finn close at his heels to see the aftermath of the escape attempt. A robed man standing absolutely still on a single foot, supported only by mysterious unseen forces and quite unable to move.

[ooc: He gets another will check on his turn, so we'll stick in combat mode for now to see if anybody is going to get punched in the face tonight]

Initiative
Lade
Malkanus
Cultist [1/4 - Paralyzed]
Harald
Finn

[LuneMoonshadow]

Without wasting a moment Malkanus pulls back and plants his gauntlet in the face of the finely balanced cultist. With a bit of his anger taken care of he motions to Harald and Finn then at the frozen body. "Happen to have a rope on you?"

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn nods to the priest's request and reaches to retrieve his rope. The rogue thoughts race through what he imagines could have unfolded during the interrogation.

[BigRedRod]

Moving the paralysed man is like moving an oversized, elaborate child's toy. Before he manages to regain use of his muscles the party have him kneeling upon the ground with his hands and ankles tied together, in an arrangement which doesn't look entirely comfortable.

A large red mark fills much of his face where Malkanus struck out in anger, if the cultist lives until morning he'll have an impressive black eye with an equally bruised cheek below.

[ooc: Cultist failed his next save, so he was helpless to resist being tied up. We do seem to be switching in and out of combat all over the show here]

[Flagg Thornington]

Satisfied with the silk bindings he steps back and just stares blankly at the man. The rogue's hand quickly produces a dagger from his belt. He makes sure he catches the prisoner's attention by drawing the blade across his sharpener.
The rogue's expression does not change untill the edge is freshened up. After testing the job on his thumbnail Finn's face pulls into a dangerous scowl.

[The Alcotroll]

Never one for theatrics, Harald returns to his vantage point upstairs and continues his lonely vigil.

[LuneMoonshadow]

After only a momentary glance at Finn a sly smile taints the lips of the cleric, revealing a deeper hatred for the cultists than previously revealed in near emotionless rhetoric. "We should get whatever information from him in whatever manner possible. Then afterwards I believe some red paint and a small fire should lighten the mood. The bastard deserves it."

[BigRedRod]

Motioning for his companions to give him some space, Lade crouches down beside the bound captive and leans close to his ear. Nobody could hear what the older man was saying, but as his lips moved the colour slowly drained out of the cultist's face.

"So."
Lade returns to his normal speaking voice as he gets back to his feet and claps a hand, companionably, on the captive's back.

He tries to respond almost immediately, but makes little more than a croaking sound. Clearing his throat loudly, he tries again,
"Old man, what you don't seem to be understandin' is that you're just four men, you are. We are an army. And we know all about you and what you are tryin' to do. You've gone and already said I gonna die tonight. So you can sweet talk me all you want, but it is time to stop with the bullshit. If you want to torture me, then torture me. I ain't sayin' owt."

[itches]

"Well boy," Lade said towards the cultist with as evil a leer as he could manage. "I ain't want no one to say I didn't give ya what you want."

Lashing out with a series of vicious kicks, the elderly mercenary kept the leer pasted on his face until the cultist is well and truly knocked out. Turning to his young companions, the man let the leer slide from his face to reveal the sickening emotion he felt within.

"I could really use a drink," he muttered, leaning his weight against the fire warped walls. "If ya lads don't mind, why don't we take a few minutes break before we try questioning the other one?"

[Flagg Thornington]

"Go ahead, I'll keep an eye on things down here." Finn glances toward Lade reading his body language and sincere disgust for the beating he just delivered. "If he wakes up I'll try some different questions."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"We have the other bastard as well we will need to question. I'll haul him upstairs and keep him company so when he wakes up we can immediately launch into it, groggy self and all. Harald will be up there with me to help in the questioning should I need it and Finn can do the dirty work down here. Lade you take a break." The cleric shakes his head at the old man, quite displeased that he let himself go as far as he did if he had such a distaste for it. "You don't have to do everything here. It won't bring her back."

With a bit of wisdom imparted the cleric steps over to the second cultist that they just happen to have lying around, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him upstairs without a regard to what would and wouldn't end up feeling well once he awoke. Once there he tosses him into the corner, making sure he is bound, and plays the waiting game.

"When he wakes we're going to try and get a few answers from him. The other one didn't want to talk so he might be our best chance. Lade and Finn are downstairs with the other one to do the same when he awakens as well," Malkanus informs Harald.

[The Alcotroll]

Harald turns from his window-gazing to look from Malkanus to the cultist, then back again. After a slight pause he shrugs with a rattle of armour.

"Let me know when you need me." he says, as he turns back to the window.

[itches]

Lade shook his head at Finn's suggestion that he go get the drink he desperatly needed. Without looking he heard them drag the second cultist up the stairs, and he knew he should follow them, make sure they didn't go too far with the questioning.

But right at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to move.

[BigRedRod]

The second captive lies on the upper floor of the small building sprawled out where Malkanus dropped him like a sack of root vegetables, one arm resting awkwardly underneath his chest. A casual glance might mistake the unconscious cultist for dead, his only movements being the unsteady rise and fall of his back accompanied by rasping sounds of pained breathing.

Outside the window, the night-time scene remains almost motionless and silent. The clouds above gradually shift positions as they debate whether to release another wave of snow upon the city beneath.

An hour, or possibly two drift by before either of the two cultists begin to stir. Downstairs the cultist rolls over and groans loudly, attempting to bring his hands up to feel his heavily swollen face resulting from Lade's attack. The rope binding the cultist pulls painfully on his ribs with his movement causing a sharper gasp of pain.

"Shun off uh butch"

The words come out hoarse and distorted as the man carefully opens his eyes and glares at Finn and Lade. From behind his bruised eyes there burns a raw and dangerous fury. The questioning, threats and beatings have not broken the man, instead they have added fuel to his determination to resist. The eyes convey a wordless message to both the rogue and his older companion. A message of hatred. The slightest chance is all he needs. Any tiny mistake and he'll do everything in his power to hurt, maim or kill the pair of them for what they have done.

Lying on the ground in a rather ungraceful position, the battered man silently glowers at Finn and Lade.

Back upstairs, the red robe twitches briefly, but Harald and Finn's captive remains locked in a restless sleep. Sounds of his surviving ally's reawakening are easily heard over the silence of the long night.

[Flagg Thornington]

The rogue approaches the spiteful man silently. He twists his wrist to display the dull steel of his dagger to the cultist.

"I've been waiting on you."

Without another word Finn places his booted foot on the man's chest to hold him down. The rogue then turns to Lade. "He didn't want to answer your questions, perhaps his does not like old people." Finn chuckles. "I assure you he will not like me after I skin him alive, member by member."

"Now chap, you think your cause is just and that gives you strength. You can either answer our questions now or I will begin feeding you your skin."

[BigRedRod]

"Youf wanuh cuff unh me, youf do uht."
The battered cultist meets Finn's eyes with a look of steely determination upon his bruised and swollen face,
"Ah ant shaying nuffin."

[Flagg Thornington]

"That is my point exactly. You will be unable to say anything when you are chewing on your skin. Your boy upstairs has already told us enough. You are only usefull to confirm what he told us. The fool talked so quickly that I only manged to show him my blade before he told all he knew about your cult. But it's plain to see that you're not going to be so helpful. Ahh, that's just too bad." Finn pauses and eyes the man before beginning his grisly task.

[BigRedRod]

The cultist attempts to avoid screaming as the young rogue sets to work with his knife. Finn grips the head of his victim and forces a lengthy strip of bloody skin into his mouth. His squirms and grunts make feeding him portions of his own flesh a difficult one, and Finn believes he may have dislodged a few teeth in the process. Their eyes meet briefly, and while Lade looks away to avoid vomiting, Finn receives a look of absolute horror which will haunt him for the rest of his days upon Aos.

Suddenly the eyes of the bound man bulge and the noises change, at first Finn believes he has won and the man is broken, but his renewed writhing on the ground tells of a different result of the torture. With the back of his throat filled with a grisly plug of his own flesh the cultist is unable to empty the contents of his stomach upon the floor. Realising that he has made a grave error, Finn attempts to save the man from drowning in his vomit, but his victim will not stay still long enough for the rogue to attempt to remove the blockage.

Even with Lade rushing to his aid, there is nothing that can be done. Lade grabs the head of the cultist and attempts to hold his mouth open but already the foul-smelling contents of his stomach have filled his lungs.

Less than a minute later, the man is dead.

...

Upstairs, Malkanus and Harald do their best to ignore the horrifying sounds coming from downstairs.

"Unnng."
The sound from their own captive, immediately shifts their attention. The sounds of torture seem to have woken him.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus adjusts his hat before stepping over in front of the waking cultist. He wants to ensure that he is there when he opens his eyes and begins his questioning before the prisoner can open his mouth and ask his own. When he finally opens his eyes the cleric unhooks his scythe and swings it around, placing the blade end on the ground and leaning on the shaft of the weapon. He hopes his posture reflects a relative relaxation but also a willingness to use the weapon should the prisoner become an issue.

"I'll make this short and sweet. You're now our prisoner and we want answers. By the sound of things downstairs your companion decided not to cooperate. You may not have heard everything due to your unconscious state but it was certainly enough to wake you." Malkanus gives that statement a moment to sink in, giving the prisoner an emotionless stare to accompany that subtle threat.

"If you cooperate your life will be much longer and much more enjoyable. Now, I want to know how many of you there and what you want with the girl; and please don't make me ask a second time."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn silently blames the stubborn cultist to ease the remorse flooding his thoughts. He stands above the corpse for several moments before taking a deep breath. The murderer mutters under his breath.

We all get what we deserve.

He then heads over to keep an eye on the street and think things over.

What kind of monsters can give up everything so easily? These men are truly brainwashed.

[BigRedRod]

The cultist makes it to a crouched position before he seems to notice Malkanus' weapon and the situation he has awoken into. Freezing into position he avoids meeting the cleric's gaze until after he has finished speaking. Rather unsubtly he glances around the room assessing his possibilities of escape, after a moment though he sinks into a sitting position rather than attempting to run.

Sensing that stalling could cost him his life, the man clears his throat and sets his own pale blue eyes upon Malkanus', his voice starts softly but gradually builds in intensity,
"How many? Who can say, really? But you know that, don't you? I didn't actually believe there really was a traitor, but there you stand, how can you betray everything? What did the demon offer you that is worth the soul of every living person in Aos?"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"If you truly believe that load of crap that was so amicably fed to you then I suppose no matter what I say will have any impact. Simply put I don't even know who you or your little cult are. Children prancing around town in red clothes burning people while singing songs for all I know." The cleric takes a moment to remove his hat and straighten the feather, audibly sighing to inform the prisoner that he is indeed a fool.

"Grown men brainwashed by someone claiming to be a Moonbringer," he explains while replacing the hat. "Has your leader ever even studied in our libraries? Been to the burial grounds where Moonbringers have seemingly died in vain? Died a death now woefully forsaken by fools like you? You're destroying everything my ancestors worked for. Everything I am living for.

"If you want to believe me a traitor that is your choice. You'll burn for all eternity for the sins you have committed; your ignorance won't save you from that. Now speak up and inform me of your little cult before I lose my patience and decide that you're more trouble than you're worth."

[BigRedRod]

As Malkanus speaks he can see a look of horror slowly crossing the face of the cultist.
"You are as crazy as everybody says. I wouldn't have believed it, I thought we could bring you back, offer forgiveness but... you actually believe that you're somehow serving the Gatekeeper, don't you?"
His voice trails off, and the cultist is left sitting on the floor staring in disbelief at the red-robed scythe bearer.

[The Alcotroll]

More than a little perturbed by the exchange, Harald looks from the captive to Malkanus and back again, wondering what to make of all this religious mumbo-jumbo.

"For fuck sake!" he snarls, "Save your theological discussions for later, and answer his damn questions!"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Yes, I'm a damned crazy fool running around trying to undo everything you true Moonbringers have so honorably done to this fair city," the cleric responds with dripping sarcasm. "I can already tell you're going to be far more difficulty than you're worth. I'd try to make you talk myself but I fear that you'd annoy me to no end while doing it and in turn force me end your life prematurely."

While still staring at the cultist to ensure he doesn't try to run or whatever else, Malkanus decidedly stops speaking to their prisoner who is seemingly content just spewing off whatever he was indoctrinated with. "We should probably take him to the Ward-Sheriff. I'm sure he'd be interested in whatever our little friend has to tell and he'd have the expert hands to make him talk to boot."

[The Alcotroll]

With the interrogation clearly going nowhere and his patience wearing thin, Harald readily nods his assent to Malkanus' suggestion, and wordlessly moves to assist in binding the man.

"So, Finn," he calls as he descends the stairs once more, "What has this... Fucking hell!"

Harald pauses at the bottom of the rickety stairs, and his gaze takes in the prone cultist, the blood, and the revolting evidence of the man's last unpalatable meal. Then his eyes swivel to the silent Lade, and finally Finn.

Brows knitting, eyes narrowing, Harald speaks with the slow, quiet care of a man struggling to maintain control.

"What, in the name of the blessed ancestors and all the fucking gods, have you managed to do?"

[Flagg Thornington]

"I didn't mean for this to happen, the stubborn son of a bitch choked on his own tongue. The was not a planned result." Finn responds while keeping an eye on Harald.

[BigRedRod]

A loud purposeful cough interrupts any further discussion of quite what Finn has been up under the half-closed, drunken eye of Lade. Standing at the shutterless window looking in at the trio is a man with a black handkerchief to his mouth. Having gained the attention of the party, he lowers his arm allowing for a better look at his face.

Short golden hair covers the top of his head, his closely trimmed sideburns extending into a thin line of a beard tracing around his jaw. The handsome face smiles,
"No need to worry, I'm a friend. Or not an enemy at any rate. you've attracted yourselves a fair old bit of attention, haven't you? Eyes of Terror aren't sent after just anybody, and you lot manage to drive them off quick as that."
He snaps his fingers to emphasis his point, still smiling he waves his handkerchief in the air,
"How rude of me, I have not introduced myself. I am Rosencrantz, and I would very much like to offer you some help. Now, it is really quite cold outside, might I come in?"

With his lower portions obscured by the wall, it is difficult to see if the man is armed although it can seen that the man wears no obvious armour, instead having elected for a heavy looking but exceptionally well-tailored shirt of black velvet with white detail and small silver buttons. In fact, dressed as he is the man must indeed be exceptionally cold given the frigid night air.

[itches]

"More of the blasted cultists," Lade muttered picked up his axe and turning around to face the man with bloodshot eyes. "Wait, ya aren't wearing no red cloak. Are ya a cultist?"

[BigRedRod]

After a light chuckle, the smiling man responds,
"No. Not a cultist, and it is rather handy that they tend to mark themselves out so clearly"
Taking Lade's lack of refusal as acceptance, the man vaults through the window with a casual ease and deposits the black handkerchief into a pocket,
"You seem to be missing one of our red-robed friends yourselves, or is he upstairs? No matter, he shall hear now or you can explain later should he return from an errand."

He tilts his head to one side as if in thought, and meets the gaze of Lade, Harald and finally Finn,
"Now then, no need for introductions on your part, I am well aware of your own names and misadventures since you came to this gem of a city. Where to begin though? I shall avoid being overly verbose, for the Lady Sophia deserves her friends, no matter how brief, and her successors to be present for her send off. No matter how temporary such events tend to be these days."

Rosencrantz's voice has an odd rhyming flow to it, which to both Lade and Finn sounds vaguely like an Odril accent. Regardless of his origin, his words have a near hypnotic quality to them,
"I am here to offer an exchange of knowledge of the cultists. You are not alone in attempting to persuade the Red Moon to dawn over Aos. Some have a rather near-sighted approach, the cultists who enjoy calling themselves Moon Bringers spring to mind on that front. They are, of course, quite misguided. If it was as simple as need to reach some kind of celestial soul quota before the gates to the Netherworld could be opened then we wouldn't be in this mess unless a method of extending the lifespan of every living soul could be found. And then we would not have the wandering spirits! No, this is a naive view as you are doubtlessly aware."

As he speaks he punctuates his words with wide gesticulations, not of a rapid or panicked style but of a man who is oddly comfortable at delivering a lecture to three dangerous looking men having clambered through an open window into the scene of a failed interrogation.
"The girl they call the Demon is a clue, of this I am sure. And you are the people who seem to have found themselves in the best position, what with having seen her in person and even spoken to her. So, what of the girl? What truths have you managed to uncover from beneath all of this stabbing in the dark?"

[The Alcotroll]

Harald's mouth, having been open to snarl a curse at Finn's blatant lie, then closed at the appearance of the newcomer, dropped open once more at his speech and shut again at his entrance, now finally manages to produce sound.

"Er... Well.... She has feathers?"

Even to his ears, it seems weak and foolish, so he adds hastily, "But apart from that I know nothing- save that she was threatened by evil men and is now safe..."

Finally, his brain catches up with his mouth, and a sinking weight settles in his gut.

"Is she... really... a demon?"

[BigRedRod]

Rosencrantz looks a little disappointed by by Harald's question, but it is only a minor twitch of his otherwise sunny expression,
"Well, I'm not a father but it was my understanding that most little girls are born without wings. I was hoping that you might have gleaned some knowledge of her arrival in Edinway and quite what she might be. Still, our friends in red robes have made their decisions. Your own efforts to keep the little demon safe should start to poke holes in that lovely cell structure they've been employing. If one independent cluster of fanatics can't succeed then they'll start sending two or three, and that means they have to talk to one another."

His eyes sparkle with excitement,
"And that is when they lose their main advantage, assuming it can be done at a time not of their own choosing. The stockpile of arms was a worry, although an armed uprising just does not seem right to me. How does taking the city cause the red dawn?"

[itches]

"Wait a minua," Lade said with a slightly unstready wave of his arm, slowly processing the rapid happenings. "Who are ya?"

[BigRedRod]

"Like your fine selves, I'm just a citizen of this fine city. A citizen concerned enough about the lack of a certain moon to try and find the reason behind it, much like you. Between that and not enjoying the sight of innocent people being strung up in the night, I've found myself at odds with the cult which seems to spreading across Aos like a pestilence."
As Rosencrantz speaks his smile fades slightly, and he pauses for a moment lost in a memory before regaining his composure and continuing,

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, that and you all seen like fine fellows so I thought I would come and see if you knew anything that might be of help as all of the various threads I have managed to pluck free seem to be connected to one another and too short and unhelpful. A cyclops with a pet orc direct the cells, although they are slippery in the extreme. I am sure you would all agree, that hiding an orc in a city of men is quite the feat and it vexes me so that they manage it."

Turning for a moment to look outside the window, he pauses and stares for almost a minute in silence before turning back,
"Thought I heard something, must've been the proverbial early bird. Moon Bringers themselves are an odd bunch, everybody knows the general idea; a group of heroes who fought evil wizards who sough to live forever and were eventually destroyed leaving behind a tiny number of dandy followers to allow their numbers to dwindle over the years into the group of thugs we have now. Not just thugs either, there are [entire cells of believers. Entire cells. Who would have thunk it, eh?

Rubbing his chin, Rosencrantz looks to be attempting to remember the point he was trying to make,
"The history of the Moon cult isn't as clear as people seem to think though. I have done a little digging. A lot of digging some might say. Through all the contradictions and the nonsense I've found a few tidbits that ring with truth. One; the Red Moon, the Gatekeeper's eye, used to hang in the sky without fail, no dawn, no dusk, just the two moons. Two; something happened to leave us with the not quite yearly cycle we used to have. Although I would not believe that the birth of the first vampire was behind it all, that seems a little too much like a story. And third; when the Bringers were defeated then didn't just leave behind a smaller group, they left behind a whole slew of factions. I would not be surprised if the cells in Edinway are just the most successful splinter, that is pure speculation. Tracking down the other factions looks to be the key, one of them must know the truth about the Red Moon."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"You know more about the history of the Moonbringers than I've heard in quite some time," Malkanus says as he steps lightly down the stairs, careful not to take a false step on the burned out wood. "Though your words ring true I can't help but wonder if all of it is actually fact as you say. I was not around in the time when the Moonbringers thrived, virtually acting as guardians for people worried about wizards and clerics rampaging about the land with eternal life. Much of the history we have been left with is tattered remains of books salvaged from fires or broken libraries and the faint whispers of the elders. Even stories told by those who lived in that time often change through simple human error, so you can't help but wonder if what they say is all true."

The cleric steps down to the bottom, his little introduction finished and allegiance now truly obvious. He makes no true attempt to hide who he works for - quite the opposite really. His black and red dress is worn out of pride, a certain distinguished look that was earned through rigorous schooling, studying, and training. If anything, Malkanus hopes to draw out those who know of the history with his appearance; some turn out to be allies with stories and wisdom to share while others seem to be simple mimics, a cult with a habit of brainwashing members to believe a watered down version of Moonbringer history to use as an excuse or cover-up.

"The Moonbringer history seems to have earned the status of a child's bedtime story, complete with evil monsters and heroes who fight for all that is righteous. I won't pretend to know everything there is to know about Moonbringers - there is simply too much missing from the record. I am interested in what you have heard, however."

"You've spoken of a cyclops and a pet orc? And what of the cult cells? How many are there and where do they operate from? If they all have the same purpose, unbeknownst to each cell, that seems to be definitive proof that they are not using the Moonbringer name for some misaligned crusade for justice - though I think everyone here already knew that."

"As for the girl what they've told you is true. Likewise she has no need for meals and her father is absent, though I am unsure what has happened to him. Harald may know more of her history since he has been with the girl's mother more times than I. Certainly though the girl is of interest to us, though we're just not sure whether to be protecting her or watching her at this point."

[BigRedRod]

Rosencrantz's grin broadens at the sight of Malkanus descending,
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, I was growing rather concerned that perhaps you would not be present for this brief discourse. You, my friend, are the walking proof of the cohesion lost by the Moonbringers at some point. A shame to be sure."

Nodding along with the priest's questions, the smiling man does his best to answer,
"How many? Who could possibly say except for our one-eyed man. From where? Well that is the beauty of each group of red-robed thugs and fanatics being entirely separated from their colleagues-in-arms. Channels of communication are simply not in existence. When it becomes time for a message to be delivered then action is taken, a member is dragged into a dark alley, a piece of paper finds itself in a pocket, a pigeon might arrive, throw a lad a copper and he will carry a message with no questions. I don't doubt there are more elaborate methods either, secret drop points and the like."

Despite the grim news, Rosencrantz remains smiling as though he is impressed by the cunning of his foe,
"A cell begins, or I would have it begin, as one man. All the man needs is a pinch of faith and a location. He finds a few like minds and does little more but quietly preach until he receives orders. And then he acts upon those orders using his new acolytes to the best of his ability whether he has inspired truth faith in those following him or merely common ruffians in search of their kicks. The head of a cell knows nothing at all that could possibly endanger those in command. Quite ingenious. Only now, you have appeared and you act in direct opposition meaning that one cell is not enough and they must band together to combat your... useful meddling."

His words begin to speed a little, as his excitement mingles with his adept oratory,
"Sending the same message twice gives twice the opportunity for interception. Three cells gives thrice the opportunity. And so forth. Assume that the cells are carefully watched somehow, and it would certainly be unwise to say otherwise, then if just one has its share of a task interrupted the others must be informed so that the plan may be changed. This is the weakness that we must exploit. Otherwise we will spend the rest of our days playing cat and mouse with the enemy."

Taking a deep breath he adds,
"I would be surprised to find that I knew more than yourself about the Moonbringers, I have told you all that I can comfortably state. If you have a specific query then I would suggest an afternoon or a dozen buried in the library of the Magewrights."

Pausing, he finally asks the question he seems to have been holding since his arrival at the window,
"So then, what will you do? I will, of course, do all that I can but I am no warrior. The frontlines are not for me, I shall leave that very much in your own hands."

[itches]

Lade listened to the talk, the seriousness of the subject and the cold wind served to push him slightly in the sober direction.

"Okay, yer just a guy. Then how do ya know so much about these bastards?"

[BigRedRod]

"I look at the dots and I draw lines until I get a shape. Was I hiding in a cupboard when the cyclops was drawing up his plans for a network of cultist cells? No, so you speculate based on what is known. Those few little shreds of information aren't much alone but if you look at how they can be combined there is only one way. And as for acquiring the scraps themselves, I am sure you too have some experience in that regard."

Rosencrantz sighs for the first time during the conversation,
"Moonbringer lore comes from days spent surrounded by ancient, musty tomes. The activities of the cult come to light after the fact usually, or from reports when the guard get lucky and catch a few members, I even spoke to a brother-in-arms who had spent a short period within a cell, not that he achieved much aside from burning a few bridges. I am not sure that recruitment is a trick which could be attempted again."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Forgive my forwardness and most likely seeming untrustworthy nature, but I'm curious about two things you stated earlier. You said that you already knew who we were ever since we arrived. How did you track us and even go so far as to find out our identities? No doubt if you did such a thing the cultists can as well."

With that unsettling little question asked the cleric moves on to another query that interests him a bit more and has less unsettling nature to it. "You also said the fact that the pet orc was hidden here in the city irked you. How can you be certain that the orc is here in the city at all?"

[BigRedRod]

"Knowledge is power, as they say, and I have a certain knack. Now, I doubt that the cult have a man as talented in this regard as I, but you have hardly been discreet during your time in this fair city so it would be really rather prudent to assume that they are fully aware of who each of you are. My attempts to uncover details about the one-eyed man are... lacking right now, but if you find a name or any other little nugget then I should be able to discern exactly who he is."

The man waves a hand dismissively,
"Are you suggesting that rather than hide they are retreating outside of the city? Even with our corrupt duty officials I would have liked to think that such an enterprise would have attracted the attention of somebody. It's one thing to line your pocket as a few refugees are smuggled in to restock the house of leisure, but would any man really turn his back to an orc?"

He ponders, for a moment,
"I suppose the arms got in, so they if they have the money to move enough equipment for an army with no questions asked they could do the same for a wagon with an orc inside. The guards wouldn't need to know what was in. It is possible, I suppose, but why would the one-eyed man keep his bodyguard outside of the city, unless he too was not in Edinway. A one eyed man with a wagon generating a fair bit of traffic. Hmmmm, might bear some questions."

[The Alcotroll]

"There are giant, walking rats living in the quarantine zone," interrupts Harald.

"It's not too much of a stretch to hide an Orc bodyguard there as well, and we already know that there the cult has bases and lairs out there."

After a moment more thought, Harald feels motivated to contribute further to the discussion.

"As I remember," he begins, "when we first met Celeste's mother, she admitted that the child was not of her blood, but was found outside their house one morning. Perhaps someone chose the house for a reason?"

Looking hard at the newcomer and adds, "And when we captured the child from the cultists, she'd been in their clutches for several days. Why were they keeping her? If she was a dangerous demon, like all these fools keep claiming, why not kill her?
"You seem to know more about these so-called Moon-bringers than any of us, master Rosencrantz. What need would they have of this child, that they risk keeping her captive despite their fear of her?"

[BigRedRod]

"Ah yes, the rats. A children's tale come to life and people have already come to accept them as just a hazard of one of the plague zones, humanity really can amaze me at how easily it takes things in its stride sometimes. I suppose those old stories had to be based on some little nugget of fact, eh?"
Rubbing his chin he adds,
"The plague zones are an option although even without the plague they tend to be dangerous. Dens of thieves, trapped spirits, the rats of course and goodness knows what else. Quite possible an orc is among them, hopefully Broken Tower will spur on others to assess the remaining quarantined regions, that way undesirables lose their hiding places."

Harald's observation regarding Celeste gives rise to a chuckle,
"Indeed, my friend. Indeed. Still, how do you end a demon? you hear all kinds of rubbish, don't you? Cold iron, silver, sunlight, a weapon not forged by the hands of man. Maybe they have no way to slay her off hand, although it does seem a little more likely that she offers them something. Knowledge perhaps, something to do with their own ideas of what brings the moon. Or perhaps they want her for a weapon."

Clapping his hands together,
"In short, I have no idea at all. Which I find fascinating, there is something very important that those in charge know and they are certainly keeping their lips sealed. Going on their track record though, I can see why you are doing your best to keep her safe. I can't say I am sure that anywhere inside the city walls will be good enough though. Not in the long term."

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus nods as he watches the newcomer rather carefully. The information given has been valuable but they still cannot be certain of whether he is trustworthy or not. The best of spies are those who seem like anything but.

"We will certainly keep everything you've told us in mind. Ever bit of information aids in some way or another, that is for sure. Is there a way we might be able to contact you should we have need of your expertise or experience?"

[BigRedRod]

Rosencrantz shakes his head and his smile vanishes briefly,
"I am afraid not. The risk is simply too great what with you entering into regular skirmishes with the Moon Bringers. I enjoy my freedom and I'd rather avoid losing it should you one day find yourself... out of your depth."

His grin returning, he adds,
"Do not worry, we shall meet again. Perhaps next time we can speak over a drink or at least somewhere a little less chilly."

Turning quickly, Rosencrantz hops back out of the window and with a quick nod, disappears from view,
"Ta-ta"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Curious fellow." Malkanus stares at the window where Rosencrantz departed from, still wondering what to make of it all. Probably won't know what to think of him for a while yet...

"Let's try and get some shut eye before the sun bears down on us with all its fiery vengeance. It's been a long night and we still have a funeral to go to then the Attrox to visit. The girl is probably safe for now - I don't foresee the brigand returning after such a recent failed attempt."

[Flagg Thornington]

"Let's continue our watch. just in case. When these few do not return the cult may send someone to investigate. I'll take first watch, besides I don't think I'll be able to sleep any time soon." Finn returns to shadows near the window and focuses on the little aparrtment across the street.

[BigRedRod]

Although not having had the best rest, the foursome troop out of their cold watchpost at the first signs of light on the horizon having made their best attempts at looking presentable with icy water drawn from the well. Already the city has come to life, in these short winter days everybody finds themselves forced to begin the day before the sun crosses the horizon and continue after it has descended. The lack of daylight has a visible impact on the citizenry, the men and women look plaid and depressed as they go about their business.

Turning out onto Edinway's Great Plaza the party are nearly blinded by sunlight despite its rays still making little more than a yellowish hew at one edge of the sky. The huge sun icon atop the front most spire of Pelor's Cathedral has become an actual sun, shining divine light down upon the whole of the Plaza. The effect is both awe-inspiring and spiritually uplifting.

The great doors of the cathedral stand open and outside a loose group of well wishers have arrived. They offer polite nods of respect, even to Malkanus, as the four stride through them and up the steps. Beneath the fan-vaulted ceiling of the nave roughly half of the long benches are currently occupied by amorphous black shapes. A number of shorter and rather less aristocratic looking figures in black and yellow robes flit about attempting to organise the grieving to their assigned seats.

One such lad appears the side of Harald and offers him a polite nod,
"This way please, sirs."
Walking ahead, the youth leads the four up towards the altar indicating the aisle end of the second bench back on the right-hand side. The honour of such prominent seats does not elude anybody.

It takes only a few minutes of gazing at the vast windows of stained glass and magnificent architecture of the huge and strikingly light hall, before it would seem that everybody has been seated and the service is to commence. The two front rows remain empty. Piping organ music strikes up a sombre dirge.

The coffin looks oddly small in such a vast space as it is carried by a team of stout men up the aisle and deposited just before the altar. Following behind, the Franchesca family seat themselves on the front row and as the music comes to a close Father Drohan appears in his own black and yellow funeral attire flanked by a number of lesser priests and the horde of altar boys. It would seem that almost every single member of the cathedral is in attendance.

It takes only an hour for the funeral service itself and Harald breathes a sigh of relief when it becomes apparent that he will not be invited up to offer a few words after his short period spent battling the red-robed scourge or the mysterious rats alongside Sophia. As the coffin rises once more, the party find themselves near the head of a long snaking precession on the way to the actual burial.

The party have barely descneded the steps of the catherdral when Lord Gavin Franchesca raises a hand and stops the coffin. During the service the crowd outside has grown significantly, although they maintain a respectful distance from the precession. An aide rushes to the side of his Lord with a small wooden platform onto which Lord Franchesca steps for an extra foot and a half of height. Taking a deep breath he does his best to project his voice as he attempts to address all in the plaza,
"On behalf of my daughter and of my family, I thank each and every one of you for being here this morning to show your respect. It would mean a great deal to Sophia to know how many lives she touched in her short life."
He pauses and coughs leading his wife to take his hand,
"Our city is a dangerous place and each days lives are lost when they need not be. What I am about to say is not meant as retribution, I am not concerned with revenge, nothing will bring my daughter back and I have accepted this. I will have this city made safe. I will do everything in my power to ensure it."
Raising his voice to almost a shout, so that as many as possible hear he continues,
"Rats that walk as men lurk in the dead areas of our city. They have killed many, not just my daughter and they will kill many more. For each of their heads you bring to my estate I will pay one hundred silver pieces. Together we will remove the menace that haunts our fine city."

As he steps down there is a stifled cheer from the crowd and the precession continues to move. It isn't hard to spot more than a couple of the mourners attempting to discreetly leave.

...

Not far from the Franceshca estate, the sprawling walled section of Edinway situated near the estates of the other great families lies a small cemetery. The region of neatly trimmed grass features a surprising amount of tombs, their small entrances looking like miniature palaces. At one such palace the precession stops and it comes clear that only the family and a number of senior priests will be present for Sophia's actual interment.

...

The hour has already crept to noon and the party find themselves in a large function room in the Franchesca mansion. A fleet of servants are in constant motion ensuring that each of the mourners are kept with an amble supply of wine and miscellaneous small items of food. A dizzying number of people have approached the four, introduced themselves, paid some compliment or other and then vanished into the throng of black. Lord Franchesca and his wife are not among those who speak to the party.

Another such aristocracy steps in front of the party along with his manservant, a lean man who even at a wake seems to constantly be surveying the scene for any threat to his master. The aristocrat himself wears a long robe of black and silver and he manages to equal Harald in height although he lacks an visible muscle mass. His face is framed by thick blond locks of hair which seem almost to have a life of their own and features a pair of watery-blue eyes that seem to slightly let down the rest of his grandeur,
"Well if it isn't the heroes of Edinway, charmed to make your acquaintance. I've heard a great deal of you, which I admit I believe you may owe to a former travelling companion, but still it is good to know that men of such strong character can be found even in the bleakest of times. My name is Amides Hone and I would like to extend an invitation to you. In four days time it is the winter solstice, a day which is celebrated as it marks the end of these dreadful winters. I would very much like for you to join me at my abode to mark the occasion. Even great men such as yourselves need a little time to unwind every now and again and I am sure it could only help your cause- the cause perhaps I should say, or even the city's cause."
He chuckles,
"Well, I do believe that a less morose setting in which you could allow a number of Edinway's rather more important officials to put faces to your fame would be of benefit."

Smiling like a snake, he offers a short bow,
"Well, perhaps I shall see you there. Remember, four days from today. And it was a pleasure."

And with that the man joins a sobbing pair sat by a window. His manservant offers a short nod of mutual respect before following the man known as Amides Hone.

[LuneMoonshadow]

"If I was doing this for fame and fortune I would have picked a profession that didn't include sleeping in burned out houses in the middle of winter. I don't even have a servant," he scoffs rather sarcastically. Singular fame is not what the cleric seeks, but more of a recognition of his cause and his organization. They respected us once, they can do it again.

"I suggest we finish up our rounds of small talk and hand shaking and make our way to the Attrox, wherever it may be. It is already noon and I do not feel like being there when the winter sun finishes its descent."

Malkanus makes a move to begin walking in the direction of the exit, though he stops himself mid-stride and turns back around to his companions. "Do any of you know exactly who that man is?"

[The Alcotroll]

"No," responds Harald in an undertone, "But I think I smell a trap."

[BigRedRod]

Doing their best to avoid being noticed as they leave the wake, the party exit the Franchesca estate. In this region of the city, the streets are paved with flat, even stone and flanked by tall wrought iron cylinders which are enchanted to light the wide streets when the sun sets. Each of the noble estates is surrounded by tall walls, and many are topped with cruel spikes. Every few minutes, the party pass a pair of guardsmen in shining chainmail who offer a polite nod.

The entire district is walled off from the rest of the city with a wall only a shade shorter than the city wall of Edinway itself. A carriage thunders passed as the party reach the gate leading to the rest of the city.

It's a long, cold walk back to Edinhumber. The homes immediately on this side of the wall are smaller although still detached and set back a little from the main thoroughfare. The middle classes who spend their time imitating their betters so that one day perhaps they will ascend to that life. The decline in quality of the housing is rapid, and it's only ten minutes before the homes have become a solid barrier on either side of the cobbles.

A few minutes after stepping across the invisible border into Edinhumber and a solitary guardsman dashes past, catches sight of the party and turns to rush back toward them,
"Hail! Ward Sheriff Cassio sends his greetings... and a request. Lord Franchesca's words outside the funeral has turned the whole soddin' city into a bloody madhouse. Every single idiot who can find something half sharp has been tryin' to get up into Broken Tower. We've got men at all t'gates but the sods getting past us, over the walls and like, and it's going to be a soddin' bloodbath. People just don't know how dangerous it is in there. We don't have the manpower to go in there ourselves... our own men are deserting and going in too. One hundred silver pieces is a lot more of money, more than I earn in a..."
The guard pauses as he attempts the mental calculation,
"...a bloody long time. We can't hold the gates forever and the more people that get in there with no proper equipment, the more bodies we'll be pulling out next week. Cassio said if anybody saw you that we should let you in."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, glad to see you're keeping it that way." Malkanus gives the man a nod before looking around, wondering just how many people have gone inside. Wondering how many will make it back out...

"Just make sure you hold the gates for as long as you can. Those things in there are vicious and they won't hesitate to kill a poorly armed civilian. Hopefully the fools won't manage to stumble upon any of them." The cleric can't help but mumble just how unlikely that is.

"We appreciate the Ward Sheriff looking out for us and you as well." The cleric claps the man on the shoulder and gives him a final nod before stepping by, urging the others on towards the gates where their only true lead awaits. "We'll keep an eye out for anyone in there. You and your men just keep doing what you're doing for as long as you can."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn remains silent as he contemplates the fools rushing toward the broken tower dreaming of the reward. The rogue understands exactly how motivating the promise of coins can be. Finn starts to keep a sharper lookout all around and above the group as the enter the abandoned section of the city.

[BigRedRod]

The middle-aged guardsman, whose name turns out to Seyton, offers his thanks and accompanies the party to the nearest of the gateways to the quarantined region of Edinhumber known as Broken Tower.

Half a dozen peasants armed with a variety of ancient relics, improvised bits of wood and kitchen implements are crowded around the two guardsmen standing within the doorway. The iron-bound door lies bent and shattered behind them, the small equally worried looking wooden post lying in the street speaks volumes for the determination shown by the local populace to overcome any obstacle standing in the way of their fortunes.
"By order Ward Sheriff Cassio, Broken Tower is still off-limits. Anybody who we catch trying to get in there is going to spend a night and a day in the stocks. You want in? Go tell it to the Ward Sheriff, as until you get his word none of yous are getting in 'ere."

Pushing through the crowd, Seyton joins his two allies at the doorway and waves the party through the small doorway,
"They've got the Ward Sheriff's permission, we'll be here all day so don't think you can just slip through later."

Snow remains settled upon the ground of Broken Tower rather than the omnipresent brown slush which now coats the rest of the city. A dozen feet or so beyond the quarantine wall sees the narrow road reaching a larger artery in a t-junction. The sounds of the crowd outside drown out any other sounds but aside from a few footprints in the snow there isn't any sign of those who made it through the portal before the guard arrived.

A little way along, and the first signs of red mixed in with the white snow becomes visible. Here, a building has collapsed into the street. It must have happened years ago for even the rubble now has a white frosting. The two sets of remains rest upon mounds of snowflakes turned pink from the blood. Only at the very top of the snow has the blood remained its deep crimson.

Drawing closer it becomes very obvious how poorly prepared the two men, or boys might be more accurate, for neither could be more than seventeen, were. Their only armour was the extra layers worn to keep out out the cold and their weapons were a fire poker, now a twisted rod of metal, and a kitchen knife, obviously the largest and most weapon-like he could find in a hurry.. The claw marks covering them reveal the unsurprising truth about the identities of their killers. More unsettling though is that one of the two is missing an arm, bite and claw marks surround the shoulder joint.

[itches]

His shield held tightly in one hand, Lade waved at the others to remain where they were and moved closer to the bodies, trying to workout what happened, where the 'rats' went and doing his best to not disturb the tracks. After a few moments of study he returned and relayed the information.

"Poor kids, but I'm starting to think that these rats are real. So we have a question, so do we follow the rats that killed these here boys, maybe finding a way back to their nest, or do we try to track down the people who have snuck in and escort them out to saftey? Personally I think we can do more good by finding these rats and finishin' them off then looking after people with too little sense, ya know."

[BigRedRod]

Looking at the foot (and paw) prints on the ground is rather confusing. The rats just seemed to have appeared out of the aether taking the men completely by surprise. At his best guess, the tracker would suggest that there were four or possibly five of the fairy tale creatures. The pressed snow shows little signs of a scuffle, the rats appeared, killed the two youths almost instantly and, aside from one of the bodies being dragged slightly while the arm was removed from the more unfortunate of the pair, the rats then departed quickly. The tracks leads up over the collapsed building telling Lade a few important things; the attackers most likely initiated the fight from the rooftops, dropping upon the two youths and the creatures move more more quickly than a man based on the spacing of the paw prints.

It takes a few minutes for Lade to complete his search and in those few minutes the sky above decides to begin unleashing another wave of snow. The first flakes drifting down slowly on the bloody scene.

[LuneMoonshadow]

In a bit of solemn silence Malkanus stares down at the two bodies. Snowflakes still drift down, adding a bit of a dream-like quality to the whole scene. With a sigh he steps up to the two and grabs hold of the collar's of their shirts. Expending a fair amount of effort to drag the corpses, even if he has to do it one by one, he makes his way back to the gate.

In a bit of theatrics rare for the cleric, though seemingly necessary at this point, Malkanus drags the two bodies out where the crowd waits. He drops the collars without a care for the relative harmless disrespect for the bodies, hoping that it makes a point to all those itching to come inside.

He pauses a moment longer, making sure that each and every person sees the two mangled bodies - sees what would happen to them.


When he returns to the others he shakes his head in a manner of contempt for modern society. "Fools, all of them. I just hope that one or two had the sense in them to go home when they saw what would happen." With a glance over his shoulder back to the gate, he adds, "I doubt it."

"Anyway, we should just press forward and try to locate this Attrox. Going after civilians could take far too long and they would simply slow us down in the end. We should also keep an eye out for rats and kill one or two if we have the chance. Slipping a head to the guards out front could garner us some very important allies."

Malkanus looks to the others for comments, possibly even a rebuttal for his seeming refusal to help the citizens. No sense in us dying for their foolish mistakes. "Harald, do you remember exactly where we were to find this place?"

[The Alcotroll]

Having watched Malkanus' theatrics expressionlessly, Harald's only response is a curt nod and a cloak-swirling turn on the heel of his boot. Drawing his sword, he strides off down the street towards the spot where he first encountered the white spokesrat.

Given Malkanus' mood, it seems diplomatic not to point out that presenting an angry mob with the mutilated corpses of two very young men will likely only provoke them to further rashness.

[BigRedRod]

Having entered from a new direction, Harald does not quite have his bearings and so choose to skirt around the edge of Broken Tower so that he might pick up on somewhere more familiar and then proceed to the place of his encounter with the white rat three days ago. Back then Harald and Finn had a different pair of travelling companions and it was raining rather than snowing. Despite the differences, the quarantined region of Edinhumber is as grim as ever.

It takes less than a minute for trouble to catch up with the party. Every so often there is a shout or a scream in the distance as yet another desperate commoner meets his end. Trouble comes from a horrible whirring sound followed by a loud snap that causes Harald to leap backwards with surprising grace for all his bulk and the snow beneath his feet.

The black shafted arrow missed the Jarl by only a inch and snapped unceremoniously on the cobblestones lurking beneath the layer of snow. Now is not the time to examine the missile, but even an untrained ear could tell that it didn't sound quite right.

A second shot catches Harald's shoulder, although at least this one travels with the more traditional and much quieter sound. His armour prevents the head of the arrow from ever reaching flesh but the impact is still painful.

Lade's eyes have seldom left the rooftops since his earlier conclusion that the rats were travelling by them as a method of ambushing hapless intruders. He silently curses himself for not spotting the two small brown shapes taking cover behind a chimney stack across the street. Both of the creatures carry shortbows.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR1.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus

[ooc: Harald has taken a hit in a surprise round. You don't know which rat fired the strange arrow, they both have cover and they are both on the rooftop of a second floor house]

[The Alcotroll]

An experienced warrior, Harald knows that the best way to survive an ambush is to close with the enemy as quickly as possible. Accordingly, he turns with an angry roar and runs full-pelt towards the doorway of the house and puts his shoulder into the woodwork.
Hopefully inside there will be steps and some way to gain access to the roof-top or, failing that, a place to shelter from arrows.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn readies his bow and returns fire. He aims at the nearest brown blur and looses an arrow.

[itches]

As Harald roars and makes to break towards the house the ambushing rats are lurched on top of, Lade turns and in a mirror of the move rushes the door of the house on the opposite side of the road. The rats had cover and elevation advantage over them, in the house - at a second story window - he could pursue the battle on a more evening footing.

[BigRedRod]

Finn moves with frantic speed but his aim is not true and his position seems to enhance the cover that the nearest rat is enjoying, his arrow skirts the roof and is torn to splinters as it collides with an ancient roof tile.

Harald and Lade are equally swift in their flights from the potential killing field the wandering street carves out between the rotting houses. Both burst through the rotting remains of the doors without a hint of ceremony. Fragments of damp, worm eaten wood fly in all directions.

The stench is near overpowering as Harald collides with the mostly skeletal remains hanging down from a beam behind the door. Three other sets of bones litter what was once a bustling kitchen and the room that a happy family spent most of their time together in. Only one set of bones is large enough to belong to an adult, the others are children and judging from how all three have skulls lying in tatters, it wasn't plague which claimed their lives. Rats, although thankfully the more usual type of vermin which doesn't grow to almost five feet in height, scatter in every direction as the Jarl makes his loud, roaring entrance.

Doing his best to push aside the scene of horror, Harald's gaze travels to the staircase. It is in no uncertain terms a deathtrap and depending on the build quality of this particular home may actually bring down the entire upper floor when it does collapse. In order to ascend with the hope of finding a convenient path to the roof, Harald will have to move with great care and attention and even then it is a particularly large risk.

Lade is rather more fortunate in that thee is nothing he can identify as previously being human in the room of uncertain purpose he invades. A steep staircase on the opposite side of the room leads upwards and without needing any further prompting Yvonne Stroud's bodyguard rushes to ascend.

His allies react to the ambush before Malkanus can even acknowledge anything is amiss. Two of the strange buzzing arrows escape from one of the rat's shortbows, the first missing the cleric entirely and the second lodging itself in his hip. The black shaft has a gradual twist in it and Malkanus can feel the missile moving as though it were alive in his wound. The pain is otherworldly.

The second of the rat archer reacts to Finn's own shot and responds with a pair of his own. The first Finn avoids with a graceful twists sideways, the second he does not have time to react to. It strikes him in the thigh, not a deep wound and unlike his companion, one in which the projectile seems content to remain still after striking, but a wound none the less.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR1-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus

[ooc: Right. Not entirely sure how to present Harald and Lade being inside houses, so I just made their tokens smaller. It's going to take Harald a balance check DC12 to get up those stairs without them collapsing on him, unless you've got an alternate method of doing it, Harald's balance check is -5.
Lade will be able to take up position at a window looking out on the street with a move action next round.
It's A1 who is firing the weird arrows. Malkanus can either take a move action to pull the arrow free or he'll take 1d4 damage from it next round]

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Fucking cowards," the cleric mutters as he glances down at the arrow. He grits his teeth and grunts as the arrow digs itself deeper, but makes no move to pull it out. More important things were at hand.

In a quick motion he reaches into his pack and pulls forth a figurine only several inches tall and shaped rather crudely like a tree. Malkanus tests it weight in his hand only once before letting it loose several feet in front of him.

"Shoot through that, you bastards."

OOC: Move action to remove feather token: tree out of pack. Throw it at the ground in front of me to provide cover (assuming this doesn't kill me because of the sprouting tree. The exact description is rather vague)

[BigRedRod]

The crude tree lands with an unheard crunch in the crisp snow and then something which should take hundreds of years happens in four seconds in a place it should never happen to begin with.

Cobbles crack and the ground shakes with enough vigour for a collection of roofing tiles to slide free of their home and shatter upon the ground. Malkanus barely avoids a broken neck as a tree trunk bursts out from beneath the city streets, sending out supplemental branches in all directions as it does so.

When the cleric catches his breath he can no longer see either of the rats, a huge, ancient oak dominates the battlefield its green leaves an open defiance of the winter month and grey, decaying surroundings. The agony of the arrow burrowing into him snaps him back to reality however, although it lasts for only a moment before the power animating the cruel weapon is exhausted.

At this point, the full extent of the ambush reveals itself. As if summoned by the birth of the tree, rats pour from the smallest of gaps, squeezing and tumbling past obstacles. One cartwheels out between both Malkanus and Finn in a particularly bold move which results in Malkanus brings his scythe to bear upon him, sadly the keen blade finds only air but the sweep of the rat's own blade at the cleric is equally ineffective.

Two more emerge on the other side of Finn, catching the rogue at a significant disadvantage given the bow in his hands. Making the best of a bad situation the rogue deftly parries both of the sword sweeps using his shortbow, the success of the desperate action comes as much of a surprise to him as it does to the annoyance of the two ratmen who hiss at him in impotent rage as they attack.

Malkanus turns at a sound coming from the narrow gap between houses behind him just in time for a club to come down heavily on his shoulder. Even for a small creature with a collaspible skeleton fighting from such a narrow entry is not ideal as the confines give him little room to manoeuvre in either offence or defence.

The unexpected tree prevents the cleric from becoming entirely surrounded, but he still faces three rats on three sides. Tripping on a root, his third attacker touches only empty air with his own club. Behind him though, two more of the figures stumble into view. The first squeaks at protest at the sight drops his sword and scrabbles about on the floor for stones while he pulls a sling from his filthy belt.

His companion, however, is no grunt. Purposefully standing back from the chaos this figure is clad in dull grey chainmail, armour which seems is obviously well maintained and in his paws he holds a mighty flail, which has been forged in such a manner that a rat's head hangs at the end of the chain penetrated by vicious spikes. Of more significance to Malkanus though is the icon around his neck, this rat is clearly a priest of somekind.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [6]
Rat Cleric

[The Alcotroll]

Feeling like a bit of a fool, Harald turns around and heads back outside through the ruined doorway, loosing another bellow as he explodes back into the street with shield up and sword back-handing across the spine of the rat-man on his right.

[OOC: Charge M5 [roll0] to hit, [roll1] to wound.]

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn drops his bow at the feet of the rats surrounding him. He draws his rapier and lunges with the deadly blad while manuvering to a more advantageous poition. He concentrates on dodging the rat that he anticipates will move in from behind.

[ooc drop bow, draw rapier, stick M1 and 5-foot step to square left of m1 (do not move if he would have to squeeze) dodge m2]

[itches]

As the groaning of the growing tree and little ratty cries of newcomers reached his ears, Lade turned around and rushed back out of the house, there were new foes to fight and he could do more fighting hand to hand then shooting at rooftop rats. Skidding to a stop as he leapt through the doorway he had previously burnt open, the failed bodyguard took just a moment to exclaim aloud at the changed landscape before turning instead to confront the rat-man he now faced.

"What the hell is that tree?"

With a grunt his axe almost leapt into his hand and he swung it towards the chest of the subhuman creature.

OOC: Run out (I might get hit with an AoO), attack M4. Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]

[BigRedRod]

Charging back out out into the street, Harald swings his sword with such force that his quarry is entirely unable to react or even to turn to face his attacker before his life is ended. The sword passes cleaning through the rat just above the waist in a horrible shower of gore, and ploughs onwards where it catches the tree. As the northern warrior pulls his blade free of the new street feature, the rat's torso strikes the ground. The pure white snow is tainted with dead crimson.

Finn thrusts with his rapier as he shifts his position to somewhere more favourable, but even sandwiched between two enemies, the rat remains agile and light-footed avoiding the attack entirely.

Treading upon a fallen enemy, Lade joins Harald in a decisive return to the street. Spotting the rat-man half-emerged from a narrow alley, he turns his axe upon the beast only to have it recoil at the last moment. Still swinging at full force, the weapon strikes the stone wall of one of the houses forming the alleyway. The blow sends up a brief cloud of dust and leaves a deep groove in the stonework which can't be good for the already dubious structural stability of the abandoned home.

Finding their targets somewhat more obscured, the two archers on the rooftops switch to more considered approaches. The first leaps onto a neighbouring rooftop which affords a better view and fires a single arrow toward Lade. It's buzzing path through the air is unerring and it hits the axeman in the back beneath one of his shoulder blades. Continuing to burrow the arrow head reaches bone where it proceeds to scrape and scratch sending a horrible itching sensation throughout the rest of his bones. As Lade exhales the coppery taste of blood in his mouth warns him of just how severe that wound was.

The second archer steps to the edge of the rooftop in a more direct approach and taking careful aim fires downwards through the branches. The arrow punches straight through the armour atop Harald's shoulder sinking in a surprising distance. Blood surges up around the shaft and drips down onto the bloodied snow below.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR2-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [5]
Rat Cleric

[ooc: From A1s new position neither Harald or Lade have cover but Finn now does, Malk remains concealed. Lade took a critical hit and has to either spend a move action of take an additional 1d4 damage on his next turn.]

[LuneMoonshadow]

With things turning foul, so does the cleric's language. He spins around, catching sight of Lade and Harald taking hits. With a single curse to his group's seeming bad luck he decides to take things into his own hands. He lunges forward at the rat next to both him and Finn, reaching out to try and grab the creature by his throat.

As he leans in he grits his teeth, muttering a simple curse that doubles as a prayer. "In the name of the Gatekeeper I command you to exit this world!"

OOC: Death Touch as a melee touch attack that deals 1d6 damage per cleric level (4). Should this amount go over the creature's HP it dies, otherwise it has no effect.

[BigRedRod]

Malkanus grabs the rat by the throat and he stares into its bestial eyes as he chants his short prayer. The creature drops its weapon and brings its paws up in an attempt to wrestle free of the hold but its too little, too late. The life simply vanishes from the rat leaving behind an empty body which falls unceremoniously to the ground.

Advancing menacingly toward Finn both of the rats at the end of the street hiss insults in some unknown language before suddenly darting and lunging with their weapons. Finn dodges the first of the blades and parries the other in a such a manner to make his movements look almost casual.

Evidently not thrilled by his poor position in the alleyway, one of the rats lunges outward at Malkanus. The club sweeps out a much too high arc in the air, but allows sufficient diversion for the rat-man to leave the cramped confines and take up position above one of his fallen allies.

A stone strikes the back of one of Lade's thighs, glancing over his shoulder he spots one of the rats twirling his sling in the air as the cleric makes his own attack. Putting full force into the attack the rat-priest begins with the weapon held above his head, the spiked-ball hanging back between his shoulder blades and in one movement he both strides forwards and pulls his arms down. Lade manages to sidestep the powerful blow which instead destroys a cobblestone.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR3.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [4]
Rat Cleric

[The Alcotroll]

Fighting the urge to take cover from the arrows, Harald ignores the barbs as best he can and turns his attentions to the apparent leader of the rats. He looses a savage fore-hand cut at the creature's face, then steps smartly back into the doorway behind him, keeping the shelter of the decaying eaves between himself and the archer above.

[OOC: Standard attack and a 5' step back into the doorway of the house. [roll0] to hit, and [roll1] to wound. ]

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn strikes out again with his rapier intent on dealing death to the rat flanking Malkanus. He then step back to the cleric's side under the protection of the oak boughs.

[ooc attack M4 5-foot step to Malk's side, assign dodge to M2]

[itches]

Lade pulls the offending arrow out of his side, the elderly man twists and swings his axe at the cleric standing next to him.

OOC: Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]

[BigRedRod]

Unable to use his weapon to parry effectively, the rat priest is left relying upon his skills of evasion and the chain links covering his furry body to protect him. And when Harald swings neither are sufficient to save him from injury. Only the very end of the blade makes contact with the creature on account of its lurching backward, but that tip still manages to split apart protective metal rings and the flesh beneath. The sword draws an arc from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Despite the obvious pain that such a significant wound must be causing, the creature does not cry out, instead its eyes just focus on the retreating Harald and the northerner can read the very human emotion of anger swirling within the two glittering orbs.

Finn falls back beside Malkanus making a series of lunges and feints as he does so. To an outside observer it is impossible to know how many of the thrusts were legitimate attempts at injury or which one actually dealt the single killing blow to the creature. Clutching at the small red wound in its stomach, the rat falls atop its companion.

Not allowing the arrow to continue to bore inside his body, Lade reaches his freehand around to his back and wrenches the squirming object free casting it down onto the cobbles were it writhes briefly before accepting its fate and remaining motionless upon the bloody snow.

Before the cleric has a chance to express its rage at Harald, Lade twirls his own weapon around in a wide arc that cleaves deeply into the torso of the creature. His flail drops to the ground, as the creature wraps both of its paws around the holy icon tied to his neck and falls to its knees. A moment later the rat falls forwards into a bleeding unconsciousness.

Another two of the buzzing arrows descend upon Lade, the first going significantly wide and finding a home in the trunk of Malkanus's tree (Where it proceeds to burrow with limited effect into the wood). The second strikes the axeman square in the chest, punching through his steel breastplate.

Malkanus notices the shape of the second archer on the rooftop in enough time to avoid the single arrow it loses from its blow.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR3-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [3]

[ooc: Given that I made the rat tokens a bit smaller to represent that they are in fact small creatures, I've gone with a black spot to identify those within houses.]

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus glances around quickly to asses the situation and he can't help the sly smile that forms on his lips from the sigh of the opposing cleric laying on the cobbles. That smile draws thin though when he notices Lade's wounds and instead of pressing his attack he instead turns around and places a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Grant this soul the will to continue fighting..."

With his prayer complete the cleric takes a step to his side to open the opportunity to flank should any of the rats be unwise enough to come all the way forward. "May the Gods grant you pity in the afterlife," he growls as he stares over the pile of bodies to the rat across from him.

OOC: Replace Hide from Undead with Cure Light Wounds (1d8+4) for Lade; 5-foot step to the right

[BigRedRod]

Lade gasps as the divine energies flow from Malknaus into his body. Wounds close and aches vanish, although the spell does little to alleviate the pain of the arrow burrowing into his chest.

Pressing forwards, the pair of rats at one end of the street scramble over the bodies of their allies with sword held high both focusing their slashes upon Finn. Even with a wall on side of him and a tree trunk on another, the rogue is lucky and agile enough to avoid the clumsy attacks of each rat with ease.

At the opposite end of the snow and gore covered street a leather sling whirls once again in the air sending a stone impacting with Lade. Realising that there is now no barrier to the axeman rushing him he casts the sling aside with his shot successful and scoops his club back up from the ground. Gripping the crude weapon in both of its paws, the creatures rolls its shoulders back while it stares toward Lade.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR4.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [3]

[The Alcotroll]

Relinquishing the cover of his doorway, Harald heads up the street with his side pressed firmly against the wall, trying his best to keep the eaves of the buildings' roofs between himself and the rodent archers.
With his sword he lunges at the club-carrying rat.

[OOC: move NE to stand south of M6. hit: [roll0] wound [roll1]]

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn puches his long thin blade at the nearby rat. He tries to stay under the overhang of the roof and avoid a counterattack at the same time.

[ooc attack and assign dodge to M2]

[itches]

"Thanks," Lade murmered over his shoulder while clutching at the arrow burrowing it's way through his chest. Tommorow he was going to have to find a blacksmith to repair his armour.

With the offending arrow removed, the man dashed back into the house he had broken into, those archers were cutting them down and they needed to return fire.

OOC: He is going to run as far towards an upstairs window as he can

[BigRedRod]

The rat raises its club in defence but the piece of wood is shattered by Harald's greatsword. The lunge continues onwards and the weapon pierces the flimsy leather armour of the creature and the flesh beneath. As he yanks his sword free the wound sends out a spout of blood and another of the creatures drops to the snowy cobbles.

Finn's sword thrust is smooth and fast but his target is swift enough to turn his body and change a killing blow to a minor wound. The point of the rapier runs along of the beast's arms slashing through his patchwork clothing and leaving a long stretch of torn, furred skin.

Tearing out another of the burrowing arrows and moving rather less swiftly than he'd like on account of his multitude of wounds. Reaching the top of the stairs in the abandoned home he wheezes loudly and spits a glob of his blood onto the elderly floorboards.

Still focused on the quarry collapsing before him, Harald doesn't notice the rat archer repositioning on the rooftops. The first of the buzzing arrows penetrates the armour just above his groin and burrows through the flesh around his hip. The second deflects from the bands of armour around Harald's chest and shatters uselessly.

Malkanus finds himself the target of the second archer, who despite the cover of the tree branches reverts to less considered but faster shots. One lodges itself in one of the tree branches while the other somehow navigates the foliage and strikes Malkanus's right arm only to fail to penetrate his armour. The shaft splits and the arrow bounces uselessly to the ground.
http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR4-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [2]

[Note: The house Lade is in has windows only on the front face, so he doesn't really have a shot at A1 from in there when he gets across the rest next turn. A2 also has cover from the tree from the window. The two dots on Lade are just to remind me he's on the second floor]

[LuneMoonshadow]

From his position to the right of the rat beast the cleric takes a step forward, using a bit of the momentum as he swings his scythe around in a wide arc, hoping to cut one down and start to bring an end to all of this.

OOC: Attack +6, Damage 2d4+3 (x3) on M3

[BigRedRod]

The cleric's scythe sweep comes in just two short and does little but graze the ratman's leather armour. Both of the two remaining street level foes switch chutter and grunt at one another for a moment before swinging for Finn once again, but this time with a little more caution, not quite willing to fully compromise their guard for a better chance of a serious blow. Their restraint makes it all too easily for the lithe rogue to avoid the attacks altogether.

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rats [2]

[The Alcotroll]

There comes a time in every warrior's life, that discretion must take the better part of valour.

For Harald, that time is now.

Wincing, limping and cursing foully in his native tongue, he retreats as best he can back down the street to the relative shelter of the ruined residence whose door he had earlier barged down.

Slumping back against the ancient, crumbling wall, he lets his sword and shield clatter to the floor and concentrates his energies on extracting the enchanted arrow from his body before it can penetrate further into his bowels.

[Flagg Thornington]

The rogue glimpses the warrior falling out of the melee and renew his efforts against the rat he stands against. Finn lunges with his rapier looking to end the overgrown rat's breathing.

[ooc attack M2, if M2 falls assign dodge to m3]

[itches]

Rushing to a window, Lade swiftly cleared out it with an axe, peering through to see if he could draw find a vantage to shoot at one of the rat-archers.

[BigRedRod]

Gritting his teeth, Harald tears the squirming arrow free of his own flesh and casts it to the floor. It flails around like a fish out of water for but a moment before its magic departs and it becomes an insert missile in a small pool of the Jarl's blood.

Even with the rat making his best attempts at fighting defensively the superior skill of Finn's fencing is clear and his narrow blade finds a home within his foe's chest. Pulling the blade free it comes with a little gush of blood before the rat joins his companions in a messy heap of the dead and dying at his feet.

Lade's axe bits through the rotten wooden shutters and frame of the windows, peering out through the wreckage and between the branches of Malkanus' tree the old warrior can see one of the archers aiming down at the cleric.

The shower of wooden fragments and sound of a window being opened with an axe alert the rat to Lade's presence and so he switches his target. Aiming between the branches and through the gap in the upper storey of the house at the axeman. The single arrow is superbly aimed despite complications arising from both the intervening tree and Lade being only half visible at best from the outside. Each of his senses cuts out for a entire second as the arrow announces its presence through otherworldly pain. Regaining his composure Lade can feel the arrowhead pushing against his collar bone, the shaft having mostly snapped off after penetrating his flesh. An inch more toward his neck and the blow would have been lethal.

Finding himself without a target, the lead archer deftly hops to another rooftop and lets off one of his buzzing arrows toward Lade. The shot goes wide though and strikes only elderly bricks.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR5-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rat

[ooc: I described Rat 2's action first just for purposes of flow, not some weird rule.]

[LuneMoonshadow]

With only Finn in sight now, Malkanus worries for the other two. He hopes that should his assistance be required they let him know through whatever way possible - though in the heat of battle he can't help but wonder if it will be enough.

Without idling on the worrisome he instead presses his attack once more, hoping to bring the melee to a close with a quick swing of his scythe.

OOC: Attack +6, Damage 2d4+3 (x3) on M3

[BigRedRod]

The red moon cleric's scythe cleaves through air catching the grey sunlight as it does so. In response the rat's eyes bulge and then roll upwards in their sockets as a red line appears around its neck. The body backwards while the head detaches and rolls for a short distance in the snow nearly turned to slush by the dancing footsteps of combat.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR6.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus
Melee Rat

[The Alcotroll]

Sitting with his back against the wall, Harald inspects the rents and dents in his armour for a second, and finds time for another choice Jedaartian curse.

I hope there's a decent armourer in this shit-pit of a city...

Raising his head, he shouts; "Malkanus... Some help here... if you're not too busy..."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn glances quickly at all the fallen. The rogue drops his rapier and produces his bow while maneuvering to get an angle on the nearest archer. The rogue silently prays for his aim to strike true as he releases the heavy string.

[ooc 5' step down and right, move further if needed to shoot at A2]

[itches]

Lade's eyes watered as the arrow slammed home, his axe falling out of suddenly numb fingers, echoing hollowly as it bounced on the floor of the abandoned dwelling. Something remained lodged in his chest, grating against bone and causing every instinct to scream to draw it out. Lade - with gritted teeth - ignored it, he'd seen enough men die from not waiting for a professional healer to attempt to do it himself.

Dropped his shield next to the axe, the man who suddenly felt every one of his 40 odd years, drew his bow, notched an arrow, sighted towards one of the rats and released.

"Come on Norebo," he muttered, calling on the God of Luck, Gambling, Risks and Drinking. "Don't turn yer back on me now ya bastard."

OOC: Shoot A1 and don't bleed to death

[BigRedRod]

Finn snatches his bow up from the ground where he let it drop after the arrival of the swarm of street rats. Any position down on the street is going to prove less than ideal for fighting rooftop targets, but Finn does his best to find a spot that affords him the best possible view.

Lade's god clearly decides that his prayer is worthy and the arrow flies true striking the rat with the enchanted arrows. The creature squeals loudly as the missile punches through his leather armour and embeds it somewhere near its stomach.

The pain is sufficient to throw of its aim, and its own burrowing arrow passes by Lade and buries itself in the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Seeing that Finn is now a more favourable target, the second archer draws back his bow and lowers his aim toward the rogue, although a last minute hop has the arrow striking the heap of downed ratman upon which Finn dances.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR6-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus

[LuneMoonshadow]

Harald's call brings to light Malkanus' worst fears and in and instant he turns and dashes through the snow in an effort to find the man. For a moment he seems a bit confused as his attention had been on the side of the street but the cleric finds the Jarl. He drops his bloody scythe and places both hands on the mans chest, ignoring the blood now coating his fine gloves.

"Please renew this man's vigor. Give this man the strength to continue on."

OOC: Move to Harald; Drop scythe as free action; Cast Lesser Vigor to heal 1 HP per round for 14 rounds

[The Alcotroll]

"Thanks..." gasps Harald, collecting his gear somewhat sheepishly and inspecting his wounds once again.

Reluctant as he is to go back out into the street, nevertheless Harald is aware that there are two more rat-things at large.

It wouldn't do to stay in here, he thinks, while the others are still fighting out there.

That would be... embarrassing.

He sheaths his sword, slings his shield across his back, takes a deep breath and then sprints across the street to Lade's house, staggering up the stairs and fumbling over his shoulder for his bow.

"Bloody thing... never used it anyway... not even sure why I bought it... Don't even remember buying it..."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn looses another arrow as quickly as possible. His concentrates on nothing but his target and guides the arrow home.

[itches]

The buzzing arrow sped past Lade's head, causing horrible images of what had almost happened to speed through his mind. But Norebo was still smiling upon it, and the failed bodyguard silently vowed to drink a heroic amount of ale in the gods honour at the first opportunity.

Sparring a glance over his shoulder as Harald stormed his way up the stairs, Lade spared him a grunt of greeting before drawing a second arrow and aiming back at the rat.

"Come on ya furry bastard, die already."

OOC: 1) Draw arrow. 2) Shoot A1) 3) Swear

[BigRedRod]

Confident that the hand to hand aspect of the ambush is behind him Harald charges across the street, moving between the two houses in a bulky blur.

Dropping to a semi-crouched position Finn launches an arrow up at the rooftop. The sharp projectile sails through the air at blinding speed and strikes the archer firmly in its upper thigh. A good shot but not sufficient to take anybody out of the battle.

Another arrow is released from Lade's bow with a loud twang accompanying his curse. With almost implausible speed the rat twists his upper body around as the narrow hurtles between buildings. The shot would have meant instant death for a stationary target but the archer's twisting means that the arrow does not strike him in the throat but instead cuts a deep furrow across the side of his face. A painful wound but not life threatening.

With steam rising from the bloodied side of his face, Lade's quarry returns fire. The arrow strikes Lade's breastplate but fails to penetrate the heavy metal and so it lies on the ground whirring uselessly.

The other surviving member of the ambush notches an arrow, draws his bow and fires twice in the blink of an eye. The first Finn avoids with his usual grace, the second though strikes him just beneath his left arm and makes good use of the lighter armour there. The rogue can feel blood seeping out around the shaft and he can taste copper at the back of his mouth.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR7-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald [12]
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus

[ooc: Harald sheaves his sword and moves, can't draw his bow on this round. The number next to Harald is just a counter so I can keep track of how much hp he needs to be given and for how long]

[LuneMoonshadow]

With Harald gone the cleric rises from his knee and picks up his scythe at the same time. He takes a careful step outside, keeping an eye on the rooftops hoping to spot the rat archers. The first one he spots is directly north and Malkanus quickly moves to get into the house under the rat, hoping that perhaps this home might have a way to the roof that won't collapse on him.

OOC: Pick up scythe, move into house under A1. Get as far up as possible without coming into view.

[Flagg Thornington]

The tase of blood gurgling up does not distract the young man from steadying his bow and firing up at the archer. Finn glances to the building the rat is standing atop and steps close to it under the protective cover of the thick limbs and overhanging eaves. Finn realizes he must reach the rooftop to press the attack and looks to see if it would be easier to clinb up the tree or search for a stairway.

[ooc attack A2 5' step nw]

[The Alcotroll]

Staggering gracelessly up the rest of the steps, Harald chooses a window to aim from and readies his bow, grunting as he heaves against the tension in the wood.

He aims for the northern archer, exhales, and releases the string.

[OOC: [roll0] to hit, [roll1] damage.]

[itches]

Pulling his third arrow, Lade released it at the bleeding rat swiftly following Harald's own.

"Comeon, your head is buying our drinks tonight."

[BigRedRod]

Malkanus is a blur of red, robes billowing around him as he rushes out of the suicide house and barges through the door of its neighbour. The door swings open on rusted hinges, bangs loudly against the back wall and falls onto the ground. Sparing time only to scan for the staircase, the cleric ignores the scene of decay that the interior is and races upwards (doing his best to ignore the ominous creaking). Reaching the top floor Malkanus is faced with only one obvious method for getting up onto the roof and it is not an inviting proposition. Even if if he could somehow clamber up out of the window and on top of the roof without the rat above not simply kicking him to the snowy cobbles below, there is no guarantee that the window and roof could survive being used as hand and foot holds.

Taking up position with Lade, Harald does his best to show himself up in front of the older warrior. Almost every aspect of the Jarl's attempt at archery shows up his lack of practice. His aim is much too low and the draw much too long, the result being that Harald comes closer to wounding Malkanus as the arrow punches a hole straight through one of the closed shutters on the second floor of the house and lodges in the floor a few feet to the side of the cleric.

Finn casually delivers another mostly superficial arrow wound to the rat lurking above as he moves beneath the great oak and sizes up his chances of using it as a method of reaching the rooftops.

Not put off by Harald's feeble attempts at bowmanship, Lade looses another arrow of his own and scores a form hit on his target. The long shaft of the arrow sticks awkwardly out of the rats thigh and is sufficiently powerful to cause him to sway awkwardly.

Neither rat returns fire, instead one of them squeaks and grunts loudly, evidently communicating with his sole ally. In response both creatures dig small black glass bottles from their persons and quaff the contents before casting the flasks to the cobbles below where they are dashed to pieces. The effects are immediate as blood ceases to pump from open wounds and the eyes of the creatures flare with a white light momentarily.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR8-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald [11]
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Rat Archer #2
Malkanus

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Damn it, watch where you're firing!" Malkanus yells at the window, not quite sure who fired at wayward arrow but certain that he doesn't want to attempt to climb onto the roof. Rot was one thing, but a well placed kick or another errant projectile could spell defeat.

Instead the cleric grunts in disapproval and makes his way back down the stairs and out into the street. He grabs at the holy symbol hidden under his clothing and pulls it free, his sights set on the archer on the roof directly in front of him.

OOC: Move action to get out into the street if possible. Ready action to cast Deific Vengeance (2d6 - Will DC 16 for Half) on A1 if he fires at me.

[The Alcotroll]

Sheepishly, Harald reloads and tries again, surreptitiously watching Lade out of the corner of his eye and then trying to copy the older man's technique.

[OOC: encore une fois, [roll0] to hit and [roll1] to wound.]

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn weighs his options and decides to step out from his safe spot and fires another of his arrows at the southern archer.

[ooc 5' step SE fire at A2]

[itches]

"Remind me to give ya some lessons when we have the time," Lade commented to his companion as he drew yet another arrow and launched it at the rat.

[BigRedRod]

Malkanus emerges back onto the street but rather than seeking cover he strides out along the snowy cobbles and then turns back to face the rooftop archer with the enchanted arrows.

Feeling significantly less close to the sweet embrace of death thanks to Malkanus' earlier spell Harald manages another pitiful shot, this time over compensating and aiming too high. The arrow vanishes over the rooftops and lands somewhere both out of sight and out of mind.

Darting into the open Finn looses another arrow with lightning speed and at first it would seem that his release was at too steep an angle. The missile rises quickly, turns lazily in the air and then plummets back downwards with incredible speed. The metal head punches through the snout of the creature and out through the bottom of his jaw sealing his mouth shut so that its scream of agony is barely audible. Taking an unsteady step backwards, the rat lands in a heap on the rooftiles.

Lade's own arrow goes wide as his target adjusts his position slightly. Seeing Malkanus as an easy target, the rat shifts his aim unaware of the fate which has befallen his companion. The creature nocks an arrow, draws his string and fires as Malkanus begins his call for punishment,
"Gatekeeper, this verminous beast seeks to block the restoration of the moon. I call upon you to deliver your deific retribution."
The buzzing arrow strikes Malkanus at the same time as a red flash of light streaks diagonally across the archer.

A tide of black starts to encroach on the cleric vision as the arrow punches through his armour and burrows into the flesh of his chest. On the rooftop it would seem that the sole remaining member of the ambush is in a similar bad way, his armour bears a deep gash where the spectral scythe cut at him and his filthy fur is encrusted with blood.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR9-2.jpg

Initiative
Harald [10]
Finn
Lade
Rat Archer #1
Malkanus

[ooc: Malk has to do the move action or 1d4 damage dance]

[LuneMoonshadow]

With his damage done Malkanus moves to the house where Lade and Harald are both firing from and takes cover against a wall. He leans back and heaves out a heavy sigh before gripping the writhing arrow. He grits his teeth and tenses up, preparing for the another stab of pain as he rips the projectile out.

The cleric tosses the arrow to the ground and in a fit of vengeance steps on the animated arrow as if it would somehow share in the pain it has caused him.

[The Alcotroll]

Harald treats Lade to a surly glower, and tries once more to hit the accursed rodent archer.

More practice down at the buts for me... he thinks glumly.

[OOC: here we go again. [roll0] [roll1] ]

[Flagg Thornington]

After seeing his foe fall, the rogue hustles toward Malkanus and looses an arrow at the lone remaining archer.

[ooc move 3 squares north fire at A1]

[itches]

"Take a moment to aim before realeasing," Lade commented to his younger companion as he drew and realised another arrow at the rat. "Be quick but don't rush"

[BigRedRod]

Malkanus leaves a trail of red spots in the snow as he retreats to a safer location. Up above, Harald fires again his aim steadily improving but still not actually good enough to hit his target. The arrow glances across one of the rooftiles.

Leaving his pile of rat corpses behind, Finn pushes forwards to add his own rain of arrows to the solitary target. The shot is good but even in his weakened state the archer has trained his lightning reflexes managing to stoop and let the arrow sail overhead.

The luck of the Gods shines down upon Lade again as his arrow finds its mark striking the rat in the shoulder and sending him spinning slightly. As a result the creatures loses his footing and falls down to the cobbles with the cracking of bones. The archer twitches, its eyes open wide and blank.

http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/PASG/BallacheJunctionR10-2.jpg

[itches]

As the rat archer plummets, Lade turns his attention to the rest of the street, searching for any remaining targets, taking a moment to finally realise that the fight was over.

Shrugging off the backpack that he hadn't thought to remove at some point in the fight, the aging former mercenary rummaged through it, searching for a well padded vial. Pulling it out and breaking the seal and swigging the bitter contents, the man felt the magical contents taking the edge of the pains he had suffered.

"Well lad," he said beginning to recollect the weapons he had dropped. "Did any of the others survive?"

[The Alcotroll]

Harald shrugs, unstringing his bow and replacing it, manfuly resisting the urge to snap the thing in a fit of pique.

"I suppose we'd better go and find out," he grunts. "That was a little closer than I'd have liked."

Limping slightly, he heads back down the rickety stairs and into the open.

[LuneMoonshadow]

With a heavy sigh the cleric sinks to the ground and manages to pulls his pack out from under him without much fuss. He fishes around a bit before finally pulling out his wand and his spirits lift just at the sight of it. With a prayer and a bit of finesse he taps into the wand's potential and closes some of his wounds.

With that taken care of Malkanus rises, groaning at the ache that still haunts his once broken body, and grabs his pack. His steps are slow but steady and his energy is returning. When he finally makes it out into the street it is the first time he has truly surveyed the battlefield. Before it was blurred with anxiety and adrenaline. Now it seems like organized chaos with a tree stuck in the middle of it.

"Let us hope that we don't come across any more of those on our way there..." His resources were drained and another such battle would be far more difficult the second time around. No doubt they all knew it.

"Harald, how grave are your injuries?"

OOC: Spend enough charges to get me back up within 5 of max HP. If anyone wants healing you can have all the charges you need.

[The Alcotroll]

Wincing, Harald checks himself over.

"Thanks to you, I'm in better shape than my armour- just. For the moment though, I think I'm the least of your priorities."

He looks around the street for a moment in reflective silence.

"Gods, we made a mess here, didn't we."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn quietly climbs the tree to examine the corpse on the rooftop. He nimbly maneuvers from the tree limbs to the rooftop and steps carefully toward the dead rat after making a visual scan of the surrounding area. Once he reaches the deceased archer he rummages through its belongings, taking anything of value.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus stores the wand once more after everyone's wounds have been treated. With that bit of business out of the way and another ambush much more managable now with everyone in better health, if not spirits, the cleric moves to the closest of the dead ratmen. In a quick motion the scythe bears down on the creature flesh and the head is severed. A disgusting process to be sure, but necessary.

"We can take this back to the guard who escorted us in here. Another ally in the city would be good to have. Another pair of eyes and ears at the very least." Malkanus drops the head into the slushed snow, deciding to let is drain of its fluids before he covers himself in them.

"We should probably clean this up. If any of the civilians manage to find this place they'll have made some free money. And in the end that will only encourage them and others to keep coming..."

[BigRedRod]

With the adrenaline of battle gone all that is left is cold work. Work made a little easier by the judicious use of Malkanus' healing wand. The heads are easiest severed by Lade's axe, and as a result he ends up with a fresh spray of blood coating his armour. All in all there are eight of the elongated murid heads. Eight severed heads, and no handy sack to keep them in. A problem soon rectified by Finn, the houses in the better states of health contain all that might be expected, including burlap sacks.

Most of the equipment the rats armed themselves with is poorly maintained, most likely stolen from the city at large and then poorly altered to suit their smaller statures. The cleric's dire flail stands out, but remains mundane. Of more interest is the holy symbol, a flail tipped with a great star, the sign of the goblin peacekeeper, Bargrivyek. A deity who exists to see goblins destroy their enemies rather than fight amongst themselves in order to expand their lands. Holding the symbol in his hands fills Malkanus with feelings of revulsion, as if the worked copper can feel his lack of faith and hates him for it.

Four bottles of various shapes and sizes are recovered from the corpses, although the thick, vile-smelling liquid within each appears to be the same. Looking at the remains of the healing potions quaffed by the two archers confirms that the bottles likely contain the same brew.

Of the enchanted arrows there are three which remain unfired and only two which the party manage to recover undamaged. There is not a single coin to be found.

The snowy street is stained brown and red with gore, steam rises from the heap of headless corpses and the sound of indistinct combat drifts quietly through the air. It is time to move on.


[ooc: Loot: Sack of eight heads, Copper Bargrivyek holy symbol, four CLWs, five of the mysterious arrows. The best of the mundane stuff is a composite short bow and the dire flail, if anybody wants it]

[itches]

Lade looked at his blood splattered, ripped and torn clothing and armour with faint disguist. While he didn't normally care that much about the condition of his clothing, blood stained was a far cry from dirt stained - and his armour was always impecably cared for. Normally the aging man held firm in his belief that bathing in winter was unhealthy, but he considered that he'd have to make an exception when they returned to

"Well lads," he said gazing across the battlefield when they were done sorting the loot. "We have some decisions to make. This might not the last attack we'll have to face before the reach the tower, do we try to climb along the rooftops and hope not to fall and break our necks, or have someone scout ahead and hope not to be attacked themselves? Personally in the end I don't think we did all that bad ya know, if we agree now on a plan of action, next time it would go even better. Say, we all bolt for the nearest house and hole up there until we come up with a better plan?"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"I think a scout would work well enough. Walking across rooftops in a state of disrepair, in slippery snow, and weighed down by heavy armor seems rather unwise. I like my neck the way it is now."

Malkanus casts a glance at the bloody bag, wondering to himself if the rodents have a powerful sense of smell. If they do, they might just be walking around with a bag full of their own undoing.

"We best get moving quickly. No sense standing around in the snow. We need to find this Attrox, whatever it is, and find out what is going in in this part of town. Whoever is going to scout should go first, I suppose."

[The Alcotroll]

With a rare grin, Harald gives Finn a comradely pat on the back.

"Get yourself up there then, lad."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn starts off manuevering from rooftop to rooftop, stepping along the slick rooves with practiced ease. The rogue keeps his bow in hand, just in case.

[BigRedRod]

The decaying husk that is Broken Tower is for the most part a network of narrow alleyways meaning that from his elevated position Finn is unable to see little more than his companions beneath him and the expanse of ancient rooftiles around him. Screams and groans catch the wind, although the hidden conflicts seem to be occurring in every direction. Every so often a brown blur catches his eye, but the rats are both naturally faster and more adept at manoeuvring across slick and incomplete rooftops.

Down on the ground it doesn't take long for the remainder of the party to find another trio of corpses. Desperate peasants looking for a better life and losing everything in the gamble.

The fallen structure which gives Broken Tower its name is not hard to find, the open expanse in the middle of a overcrowded swarm of empty houses. Finn crouches on the rooftop while beneath him the other three are squeezed into an alley which seems to be little more than an oversight between the architects of the two opposite buildings.

Directly above the sky is a pure white, the smoke of a thousand fires adds a grey edge. Bright and very cold, but not snowing or raining which makes for a change. The broken form of the tower nestles at the centre of the clearing in the city, a circular pile of rubble around a short tower stub. When the tower fell it seems to have come almost straight down upon itself. The stub barely reaches the same height as the houses of Broken Tower.

Hulking brown shapes move amongst the rubble. The rats here look rather more like deformed bears than particular large rats who've somehow mastered the trick of walking on their hind legs. It was these larger specimens which claimed the life of Sophia and sent Meleaga fleeing terrified and alone.

A dozen of the creatures are visible arranged in what looks like a defensive perimeter just within in the rubble. Most are unarmed, although from the size of their teeth and claws, that is no real reassurance.

[itches]

Sneaking a look at the assembled rats, Lade pulled his head back and hastily whispered to his companions in a barely audible voice.

"I know this might be considered a tag against our operating method, but maybe we should try talking to these ... things. There are too many to fight and win. And I guess since it's my idea I'll try take the risk and try it."

Moving to step out into the open, the man hesitated and threw a glance over his shoulder. "If they eat me, tell everyone I died fighting a dragon."

Stepping out - but not too far into - the open, Lade waited a moment before calling out in his loudest voice. "Greetings rat .. creatures."

[BigRedRod]

The guards instantly change their spacing as Lade steps into view. They still form a perimeter but the rats at the point nearest the aged warrior are much more tightly packed. Lade's words are answered with only silence for nearly a minute as a dozen pairs of eyes burrow into him. Finally one of the creatures speaks, or makes a series of sounds at any rate. A bizarre mixture of roar and squeak in two short bursts.

It would seem there is something of a language barrier, still, the rats are clearly on the defensive and with Lade not making any overtly hostile gestures or venturing too close they have elected to hold off hostilities.

[itches]

"Well that could have gone worse," Lade commented as he glanced around, making sure to keep his hand well away from his axe. "Ofcourse it would help if one of ya spoke a civilized language." Switching to the dwarven tongue, the middle-aged mercenary again called out in a loud voice. "Do any of ya understand this?"

[BigRedRod]

The creatures don't seem to notice Lade switching language although the two nearest engage in a short conversation in their own feral tongue ending with the slightly larger of the two pushing his fellow's head with one, razor-sharp claw tipped paw, which sends him bounding to the centre of the ruined tower.

[itches]

"Gods I hope he isn't going to reenforcements," Lade said still in a loud voice as the rat ran off. "And I'm out of ideas here ... wait what was the word the they said ... Acktrik ... Ackrox ... Attrox!"

[BigRedRod]

The word Attrox clearly means something, most of the tower guards tilt their heads or lean in slightly closer, it doesn't however trigger any sort of magical reaction which might aid Lade.

[itches]

Lade waits for a few moments, hoping for some sort of reaction before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Oh come on ya bastards. It means something to ya, but I can't do all the work. Attrox! Give me something to work with here."

[LuneMoonshadow]

With the hostilities seemingly on hold for now, Malkanus checks to ensure his scythe is secure on his back and steps out from the alleyway. He makes an effort to move in a slow and methodical pace, ensuring that his movements don't seem erratic or threatening. Once beside the old man screaming at the ratmen, the cleric can't help but comment. "So eloquent."

He glances around, doing one final count of number and readying himself is things go south because of his appearance. It wouldn't be the first time his garb got him into trouble. "Perhaps we should wait on the return of the rat who left."

[itches]

"Hey they're not trying to eat me, that's a victory in my books" Lade said as he also tensed incase the rats attacked at the appearence of his companion. "Yet anyway."

[Flagg Thornington]

The words mean nothing to us, perhaps their leader will translate.
Finn listens and watches intently, but stays put for the moment. He occasionally looks about for other lurking dangers.

[BigRedRod]

The perimeter tightens further as Malkanus, bearing the Moonbringer's colour, steps out to join Lade but the rats still do not attack. Both are left standing awkwardly in the open for some minutes until finally the rat returns from within the tower, he growls a few words to his companions before gesturing toward the pair and then to the tower.

One of the others, the larger rat who directed the other into the tower, barks a single syllable at the pair and points at the tower. Around him the rest of the guards move slightly to present an opening in their line.

Only twenty feet or so away, Harald and Finn watch from their position which seems to have remained hidden from the eyes of the tower guards.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn looks toward Harald silently beseeching advice.

They seem peaceful enough...But we are in a good spot to pull off a rescue if needed.

The rogue shrugs his shoulders looking for a suggestion.

[BigRedRod]

Harald shakes his head, and doing his best approximation of whispering adds,
"Aye laddie, best we don't all march into the trap. We had best be looking for a fast way in if it does look like it's all gone wrong."
The Jarl remains where he is for the moment, eager to see what happens with Lade and Malkanus.

[Flagg Thornington]

Content to wait and react, Finn's mind turns to developing a rescue plan.

The odds are not very good. We may need to enlist more help. Or we could sneak, I do enjoy sneaking.

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric hesitates a moment, glancing around at the line of rats. With each additional rat in the perimeter their chances of survival decrease should the beasts become hostile. Not wanting to look like he's delaying Malkanus begins to walk forward, making sure Lade stays within a step or so.

"If you're not accustomed to praying perhaps now is the time to start," he whispers as they approach the tower.

[itches]

"If ... when we get back I'll drink a tankard or six to Norebo," Lade whispered back. "If you want you could join me with a few to the Gatekeeper," he slyly added.

[BigRedRod]

Trapped on the outside, Harald and Finn watch their companions enter the circle of ratmen. The perimeter closes behind them, though two of the creatures remain with Lade and Malkanus, one at the front to guide and one following behind clearly reading to put his claws to work if either man demonstrates any violent intentions.

The tower interior is not overly large, although it is surprisingly dim. The only light enters from the doorway, the rest of the windows have been boarded up or at least shrouded in swatches of rather filthy looking cloth. Evidently this is the room which serves the as the living quarters of the particularly large rats currently guarding the Broken Tower. Now it is empty except for nests crafted from rags, rubble and what was once rather fine furniture. A foetid odour hammers home the different standards of cleanliness to which the vermin people subscribe.

One of the two rats remains standing in the doorway while the other moves to stand at the staircase (Which not only leads to the remains of the upper floors but also downwards into the unknown). The ceiling is dominated by a large hole and it is from this that the voice comes,
"We are greeting."

The small shape looks very much like a stained burlap sack, it's voice is exactly what one would assume a talking rat would sound like. A talking rat who is not very familiar with the language of men.

A second voice joins the first,
"We are apologising for our words. Men are not for words too soon. Just the killing of ours."
A thin laugh accompanies the broken words as another of the strange sack creatures joins its companion at the edge of the hole to look down upon Malkanus and Lade.

"You and we are in falling times. They, Nurren, seek to tip the ways. They will come soon. We will fight. We will lose. Nurren will call to their brothers and then you will lose too."
The third sack-creature shuffles to the edge as Lade and Malkanus' eyes adjust to the gloom. The creatures seem to either animated patchwork sacks or much smaller creatures than even the more common ratmen who have been sewn inside collections of rags.

Outside, Harald rolls his shoulders and whispers to Finn,
"We can skirt around once, maybe there is another way in. Can't say I have much hope though. Looks like sprinting from here to the door would be the best way."
Their position in the alley affords them a relatively straight line to the door of the tower, but it's not possible to see much given the darkness inside except for the creature blocking the doorway.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Uncertainty overwhelms the cleric, tearing at his gut. The message seemed simple enough - help us or you'll die. And yet here he was, staring at a... sack. Standing here wondering if the sack's words rang true.

"Your words are fine, I assure you," is all he can muster up as a response as he goes over what he was just told for a second time.

"Who are the Nurren? The others of your kind? The smaller ones? And who are their brothers and where do they come from?"

[BigRedRod]

One of the sacks laughs, a horrid inhuman sounds,
"Greater than we but less so than they with us."

Another of the voices chimes in,
"Nurren, they, are as snow. They are with the thoughts on the outside. They would destroy you so that all of us might... feel. They being here, on the outside, beneath us. The tower is the gate."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"So they are white and bigger in between these two types in size," Malkanus says to himself. The fact that this... sack is telling him the white rat is now an enemy is making the whole situation seem rather confusing. He brings up a gloved hand and rubs at his temples while watching the floor.

"Do you know anything about the Attrox?" The cleric asks, eyes still set on the ground. We're being led around like damned animals. Now I don't know what to believe...

[BigRedRod]

The same ghastly tittering,
"We!"

A loud grunt or squeak issues from one of the other sacks, a single syllable of their own language which silences the laughter,
"We are being Attrox, we and larger kind. We are protecting gate. Nurren, means like truth-"

"One path."
The third voice interjects,

"-They are wanting gate. They are not understanding. Going from inside to outside makes gate more. Gate too more and no longer outside and inside."

The voices pause briefly,
"Others, they are being Orraka. Many. Orraka are as earth not snow. They are fighting they. Now they fighting only you. They together more than we. And Nurren"

[LuneMoonshadow]

A moment of silence befalls the cleric, who simply stares at the sacks. The implications of their broken words are dire. This was turning into something much more than a simple extermination of the rats in the distract...

Malkanus clears his throat while gazing at the three creatures. "May we see the gate?"

[BigRedRod]

A few minutes pass with the three sacks speaking in their own language of clicks, squeals and grunts until one finally returns to forming the words of men,
"No. We are not trusting you. Understand. Gate is dangerous. Together we are speaking..."

The sack squeaks at one of the others who finishes his thought,
"Before there were only being our kind here. Now you. You are killing. We are killing. Nurren are being the problem more now. Nurren must be gone. Where will Orraka and Attrox be?"

[LuneMoonshadow]

"Hmm, fine." With a sigh the cleric realizes that he is once again in square one - lacking knowledge but filled with doubt. He can't help but wish he wasn't forced into the position of diplomat, but after a glance at Lade he decides it's probably for the better. The old man seemed intelligent enough, but not educated in such matters.

"You said that if the gate is used too much that it will open too far and tear a hole in the planes. Where does this portal go and why do the Nurren want the portal so much? Why have they turned their backs on you, their brothers?"

[BigRedRod]

"Like looking up. We are not thinking you can understand. Hearted you have been for all of life. We are not until coming through the gate we are. All at once changed. Nurren want all to be Hearted. Greed. All Hearted, all would spread and be taking this-"

To answer Malkanus' earlier question of the gate, one of the other voices interjects,
"Gate from there to here. There is being outside, here is inside. If outside is inside, there is not... not. Nurren no believing this. Hearted making them blind to world. Seeing what they want, not what there is being."

[itches]

"Bloody hell, the Red Moon's gone missing and now we're being invaded by alien rats?" Lade muttered under his breath, struggling to follow the simple conversation without throwing up from the stench. "The world's going to hell, way things been going I've half a mind to let them and the damn ghosts fight it out. I don't know about ya Malk but I'm feeling way out of my depth here, we may need backup."

"You let us others bring," Lade said louder to the rats, unconsciously dropping into a simplified tone. "Others talk. Help."

[BigRedRod]

"Fine fine. You are bringing man to help. Be hurrying."
The broken words sound impatient and are followed by another burst of rat language.

[LuneMoonshadow]

"We will hurry," is Malkanus' only response as he leads Lade out of the broken tower and back out into the rotting town. He keeps his distance from the larger rats, hoping not to incite any of them to any sort of action. Misunderstandings seem to be common when no common language is shared. Luckily the other creatures understand Common and some semblance of a conversation can take place.

Once far enough away from the tower and it's guards the cleric waves at the alleyway where they left Finn and Harald. "Finn. Harald. Time for you to meet our new friends."

When they are all back together the cleric leads them slowly back into the tower, slowing his pace to ensure that he has enough time to catch them up on everything the sacklings have said.

"This is rather important so you might as well hear the rest for yourself."

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn shrugs and follows the group into the tower. The rogue's shifty eyes dart from creature to creature during the approach. He squints his eyes once inside to allow his vision to adjust.

[BigRedRod]

Harald looks clearly uncomfortable in the nest and at conversing with talking sacks while being watched by a number of beasts that look like the horrible offspring of a rat and an ogre. Still, he keeps his mouth closed and allows his eyes flit between the various darkened corners of the dim tower searching for other dangers. Finally, one of the sacks pipes up,
"Others you are having, now you are helping we, yes?

"Yes, yes. Nurren and the you, both are wanting to be killing the we. You only hate to protect, the Nurren kill to destroy. For all, Nurren must have killing."

The third voice adds,
"For us, both are worst!"
Along with a short tittering laugh.

[Flagg Thornington]

Finn speaks up toward the three. "I'm still confused. Can I ask a few questions to paraphase, sort of sum up the grand scheme of things?"

The rogue pauses for an affirmation before continuing.

Better to pay attention to formalities...

"You are Attrox?" You protect the gate? You have been waring with the Nurren for some time? Are the dangerous Nurren brown or white? What help can we offer to keep the balance in order?"

[BigRedRod]

The response to Finn's questions is clearly agitated,
"Yes, yes. Nurren as snow. We keeping gate. You stopping Nurren. Saving gate-"

"And men!"

"Yes, and stopping men. You would be controlling gate, all would, but none can. Just watching we are. Watching and keeping. So dangerous. To all."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"We don't seem to be getting anywhere fast with this. I'd like to head back into town and make a visit at the library and see what I can turn up about this strange little turn of events. Perhaps there is something there, or even someone, who could shed a bit of light on the matter."

To add a bit of closure and excuse themselves from the presence of the strange beasts, the cleric addresses the sack creatures. "We thank you for your help. We will return shortly after we have learned more."

[BigRedRod]

Any comment by the sack rats is cut off by a sudden loud roar from outside. The sound is closely followed by a much louder crash which sends spirals of dust dropping from the uneven stonework.

Outside, there is chaos. A huge charger, covered in glittering barding decorated with stripes of red and blue material stands by the doorway. One of the hulking rats is pinned to the wall of the tower by a massive lance passing straight through his chest. Somehow the creature is still alive. A figure, his features hidden behind his highly polished platemail. The knight holds a large sword in both his hands and raises it as he advances upon the trapped rat, ready to end the life of the beast.

From the edge of the tower's clearing a trio of men in chainmail bearing the same colours rush forwards, drop to their knees and aim their crossbows at the already swarming ratmen.

The scene pauses briefly as the knight catches sight of the party,
"You!? Here? How dare you! The noble lady Francescha laid down her life and you honour her memory by cohorting with her murderers? Explain yourselves knave,s lest I cut you down where you stand!"

Strangely even the ogre-like rats, fangs and claws drawn also pause as if waiting for some kind of signal to commence their counterattack.

[LuneMoonshadow]

Immediately the cleric steps forward and subtly touches the holy symbol hidden under his clothing. May my words ring true.

"You fool! Lady Frencescha died at the hands of rats dressed in the color of the cultists, not these. By killing these creatures you are aligning yourselves with them! You are aligning yourselves with the murderers!"

In a slow a deliberate motion Malkanus pulls the scythe from his back and points it at the knight on top of the steed. He waits a moment before speaking, giving them enough time to consider his words. "Your betrayal to Lady Francescha is most unsettling, knight. Where do your allegiances lie?"

[BigRedRod]

There is a pause in knight's reply as he pushes back his helmet's visor revealing a face which fails to fit anybody's classic archetype of heroic knights. The face is long and with pronounced features, possibly comical if it was not for the sallow skin tone and black wells around the eyes.
"Perhaps I have been too hasty in my quest for vengeance. I am Sir Gavin DeWark. The lady Franchesca was to be my wife. You say that the rats which robbed her of life have some connection with these accursed Moon Bringers?"

He raises an eye brow,
"Sir, I cannot help but notice, you also wear the colour of the cultists. Should I claim your head for my beloved, also?"

[itches]

"I ain't wearing no red cloak and I've lost someone to the bastards too," Lade growled in anger then jerked a thumb at Malk. "And he's spilt blood at my side fighting them, but howabouts we try to save the ally yer bloody murdering before exchange our life stories!"

[LuneMoonshadow]

Malkanus motions to the impaled rat as he replaces the scythe on his back. "The relationship between the cultists and the rat creatures is not understood as of now but they have been seen together in the contaminated area. In fact, it was those very creatures that took the lives of not only Lady Francescha but my ally's companions."

The cleric takes a step over to Harald and places a hand on the man's shoulder, waiting to see whether or not the impaled rat needs divine aid for its grievous wounds.

[BigRedRod]

"Humph"

The eyes of the knight twitch sideways to the pathetically struggling figure of the rat impaled against the tower and in a smooth movement he plants his sword in the ground and raises his hand,
"Stand down men"

"For now, I give you the benefit of the doubt. You will explain yourselves and tell me where I might find the vermin Moon Bringers. If you have deceived me in any way, I will have your heads piked at the north gate for all to see."

Taking a deep breath, the knight grips his lance in both hands and pulls it back out of the tower causing the rat to scream loudly and a torrent of steaming blood to roll from his wound.
"I apologise for my unprovoked attack, creature."

Dropping the lance to the snowy ground, he motions to the party as his men at arms assemble behind him crossbows still in hand,
"Heal you ally then."

Harald shifts and moves as if to speak but instead thinks better of it and remains silent.

[LuneMoonshadow]

While reaching back into his pack the cleric steps forward and places a hand on the creature's wound. As blood pours out over gloved fingers he places the tip of the wand on the back of his palm. With a whispered prayer the power stored in the device slowly seeps into the bleeding rat beast.

Finished, Malkanus steps back and nods to his new found ally. "He will be fine for now. Perhaps we should leave the contaminated area and find ourselves someplace warmer and less hostile to discuss this. What do you say, sir knight?"

[BigRedRod]

"What about all the bloody idiots coming to fill their purse with gold? Sophia's father made a generous offer, one that'll see death on both sides. If we are trust these things - and they look just like the bastards that killed Sophia to me - then we can't just leave them."

Harald finds himself the victim of many stares on account of not having spoken for a while,
"It's true, Malk, and you know it."

Sir DeWark shifts uneasily and then nods,
"Godwinson speaks the truth. Lord Franchesca has made an offer which cannot be ignored and if these creatures really are innocent then we would condemn them to a bloody and inevitable death if we left. We owe them protection... at least until exactly what they are doing here can be explained."

[itches]

"We should be more worried about the idiots looking for some easy cash," Lade said, relaxing a bit as the potential for violence diminished. "We already encountered some and not many can fight like ya and yer friends. There are other rats in here, ones who ain't so nice. Best thing we can do for everyone is we get find a way to keep 'em out."

[LuneMoonshadow]

"These creatures are here because of very powerful magic. I know next to nothing when it comes to such matters and unless you happen to understand the inner workings of the arcane then we will inevitably have to seek guidance outside of this sector. It is unfortunate that civilians insist on killing themselves but if we stay all stay here and try and protect these creatures from the very fools that my friend speaks of, then we are no closer to finding an answer as to why these creatures are in the city, what their connection is the cultists, and why there are a clan of beasts warring with these here," he says with a motion to the creatures behind him.

The cleric begins to pace, rubbing at his temples to stave off the coming headache caused by all this chaos. The creatures did need to be protected but someone had to get to the wizard's library to try and find a book, scroll, or someone knowledgeable enough to begin answering some of the more fundamental questions.

He casts a glance back to the creatures, supposedly here from a different plane, supposedly their allies. How in the Red Moon did they get here? And where does their damned portal lead? Too many questions and it was all too obvious that he was skipping over important information that the knights needed.

"I do agree that they must be protected, but someone has to go back to the city to seek help and inform the others. If we fail to inform the people that there are different clans of these rat creatures then these will be hunted and killed the same as the others. These creatures have spoken of dire consequences should their kind be killed, Sir DeWark. They are the protectors of something - something we are not yet allowed to see."

Malkanus finally looks over at the knight and ceases his rhythmic pacing. "How would you have us solve this?"

[BigRedRod]

"Others? What others?"

Waving his own question aside, he continues,
"It matters not. You lack evidence, not all would share my grace in accepting you at your word. Evidence that these rats must be spared. And then you must conquer the further problem of letting the masses know. Lord Franchesca's words have travelled fast, I know not how you could recall such news. The man grieves, as I do. I fear he would rather see each of these creature die than risk his daughter's murderer walks free."

[LuneMoonshadow]

The cleric growls and can't help but snapping at the knight. "Your task is simple enough. You ride in, slay a couple of the creatures and ride back a champion. Blood on your sword means a job well done. Well what we are doing here isn't so damn easy."

After pulling his scythe free from his back once again he holds it out so the still drying blood on the blade can be seen. "I've killed my fair share of them, Knight. All four of us are standing here only because of some higher grace. And do we get to return triumphant heroes? No."

He sighs, realizing he is fully committed to the task now that he has lashed out at the knight. Self control. While taking in a deep breath the cleric replaces his weapon and takes a long look at the knight.

"No. We're here in the snow trying damned hard to understand what in the Abyss is going on. Talks of portals, clans of men-like beasts, cultists, murderers, and knights charging in all at once. You and your self-righteous men may do your jobs and do them well, but this is a matter you have no experience in. You and your men protect the city and its people, so perhaps you should do it now. This tower," he explains with a motion behind him, "houses creatures that came from another place. They protect a gate - a gate that if used improperly it could destroy you, me, your men, this district, this city. Everything."

The last of the cleric's words were surprisingly calm. A dull silence hangs in the air while he stares at the men that came barging in and disrupting everything. Finally, Malkanus speaks.

"We have a job to do. If you wish to help we would greatly appreciate it. This is a task bigger than the four of us as I'm sure you understand. However, I cannot stand here and bicker with you over such inconsequential matters when more is at stake."