Side RP: Chaos in Hara

The capital of Alcave is much reduced from its pre-War majesty. Fully three-quarters of its population went missing by the end of the War. Most of those died as a result of the various battles of the War, some simply disappeared. There are persistent rumors that many of those that disappeared were... transformed by the crossfire of arcane power. Indeed, over the years since the end of the War, the stories have only grown more outlandish, from a secret city of mutants in the deep forest, to ghostly apparitions that visit the unfortunate as they sleep and drain their life force.

The city of Hara has rebuilt somewhat under the leadership of Martin Ghara, a former captain of the city guard. The lawlessness and chaos of the immediate post-War period has settled into a routine, if not a particularly comfortable one. Mayor Ghara has rebuilt the city guard into an effective force, albeit one that does not suffer much mischief. Their heavy-handed methods have drawn grumbles from some of the residents, but there is no doubt that Hara has managed to settle into a functional state once again.

Over the last few months, though, something sinister seems to be happening.

Every once in a while, a Hara resident will go missing unexpectedly. Usually, they will return the next day, though anyone speaking to them will report that they refuse to answer any questions about where they were, who took them, or why. One thing is certain: the returned resident is spooked about something...

More concerning are those that never return. Some say that the city guard has taken them prisoner... others that the mutants have stolen them from their beds... still others that they've been sucked dry by the ghosts... but it has the entire city on edge even more than usual.

The two walk along for a time, the usual meager crowd of people moving along the street. Over the last few weeks, people around the city have grown increasingly paranoid. You can see it in the sideways glances they give each other, the tension in their voices when they speak to strangers, the reluctance to stay overlong in the streets.

After a block or two, a young woman, probably no more than 11 years old, comes running up to Coreene. Her plain dress has clearly been mended a number of times, her simple shoes show the signs of patched holes. Coreene would know her as Minama, the daughter of an occasional customer of herbs and home remedies. She's a little breathless as she speaks to the Naucan woman. "Mistress Coreene, oh thank the stars... oh please, help... it's my mama... she's gone!" she says, her voice breaking in panic and worry. "I... didn't know who else to come to. Can you help?"

Minama's panicked breathing slows a bit, now that there's a nominally responsible adult available. "She was there at home last night when I went to sleep, but she usually wakes me up in the morning... and she wasn't there. I woke up on my own, and everywhere I looked, she wasn't there. I waited for a while, 'cause I thought maybe she went to the market, or..."

Thinking it back over again, the girl's lower lip starts to quiver and her eyes grow wet. "Maybe the g-ghosts got her?" she squeaks in a tiny voice. "What if she's... gone?"

Minama takes a quick look at Uelten, not entirely sure about this... other person, but her worry about her mother wins out over her concern about Mr. One-Fang-Showing, and she moves back through the crowd. She looks back over her shoulder now and again to make sure Coreene and Uelten are following.

She leads them to one of the poorer parts of town, ramshackle run-down homes barely better than shacks. This part of the city was leveled in the War and refugees from all over the area resettled it in a haphazard fashion. It's a maze at best. Minama is more careful to make sure her companions are following as they reach this area, and leads them to a particular home. It's as well-cared for as one can manage given the little amount available to work with. It's predictably simple inside: one tiny bedroom shared by mother and daughter and an outer room that serves every other purpose. It's relatively clean and organized; if there's something out of place, it shouldn't be terribly hard to find it.

Minima points out things she seems to think might be of interest, like where her mother likes to sit while mending clothes, or how the curtain that separates the outer room from the bedroom doesn’t make any noise when it moves, or how when it’s cold at night, like it was last night, her mother likes to sleep closer together.

That last catches your ear. It’s obvious from the two piles of bedding on the floor that they weren’t pushed close together, which would suggest that the girl’s mother was abducted prior to going to sleep. You decide to spend your exploration in the outer room and immediately outside the rickety door to the street. Uelten notices an old woman outside the shack next door watching them looking around, though she’s all too clearly trying to not take too much of an interest. There’s also a partial bootprint in a patch of drying mud in the street, last night’s misty rain not enough to wash it away.

"Don’t know anything, so you can ask all y’ like," the old woman says shortly. She looks past Uelten toward Coreene, then sizes up the fellow in front of her. "Y’ don’t look none like the guard..."

The old woman fixes Uelten with a stern eye. "Yer not from ‘round here, that much I can see and hear," she says flatly. "So let me give y’a bit of advice."

She takes a careful look around the street. "Yer not goin’a have much of a life askin’ around about the activities o’ the guard. And that’s all I’m goin’a say."

Taking a few more swipes with her broom about the front of her door, she turns around and goes back into her house.

---

As Coreene studies the bootprint, she realizes that she’s seen these boots before, on the feet of the longer-serving city guardsmen. In fact, they’re fairly nice boots. Probably an officer’s. And as she continues to look around, she realizes that there are other prints around. There were at least four or five people here last night. Seems like an awful lot of effort to kidnap one woman from the poorest part of town.

Minama stares at Coreene with wide, almost worshipful, eyes. "You are? Oh, thank you, Mistress Coreene," she says, impulsively rushing forward to wrap Coreene in a tight hug.

When she lets go finally, she scrubs her watering eyes with the back of a dirty hand. "I can go next door and stay with old Katya. I do that sometimes. She's teaching me letters!" Minama says enthusiastically. She turns to the bedroom and waves her fingers. From under a pile of blankets, a thin beat-up book, its pages starting to fall out of the twine binding, rises and floats toward Minama's hand.

The girl apparently has some arcane talent.

"Mama says I'm not supposed to do that," says Minama as she clutches the book to her chest with both hands. "She says it's dangerous, but I don't see why. I can't make anything move very fast, so it's not like I'm going to hurt anyone with a flying book."

She grins, thinking her little jest to be pretty funny. "Besides, mama does it sometimes too. When she thinks I'm not looking, but I see her start the cook fire with her fingers."

Minama listens, and grows more serious as Coreene's admonition sinks in. "All right. I'll be more careful," she says in a small voice. "All I need is my book. I'll go now."

She darts out the door and heads to the old woman's house next door.

It is likely no surprise that the tracks do not lead toward any known outpost of the city guard. Instead, they go deeper into the run-down district Minama's home occupies. After following the tracks for a while, Coreene is able to determine that there were five individuals in this particular group: two wear the boots of the city guard, two wear different boots and one wears simple shoes of a similar fashion to Minama's -- probably the mother. Of the two that wear different boots, one of the individuals is clearly both larger and significantly heavier than the other, who seems more of a normal size.

When Coreene points out her findings to Uelten, he takes a closer look at the unknown bootprints. Upon a bit closer examination, he notes that the smaller of the bootprints is of a relatively well-known Rhamian make, and someone with some money and resources to be able to still get them, given difficulties in trade.

Following the tracks to their conclusion, they end outside a dilapidated warehouse in a nearly forgotten area of the city near the river. The buildings nearby are almost completely unoccupied and in a sad state of disrepair. The early spring day is getting on toward evening, and a chill fog is beginning to roll in off the water.

Coreene and Uelten sneak around the side of the warehouse and move toward a window. As they sneak along, they can hear the sound of conversation inside, though the words are too muffled to make out. There’s a pile of old crates near a window that’s just above head height, but climbing the crates ought to give a good look through the window.

As an alternative, there appears to be a wall board falling off near the corner of the building. Careful effort might be able to pry it loose without making too much sound, allowing access to the interior of the building and what might be going on inside.

It’s all going so well. Uelten carefully steadies the pile of crates, and Coreene deftly — if nervously — makes her way up. There’s an unexpected complication as she reaches a height where she can peer in the window, though. The pile is just a bit farther away from the wall than it seemed.

No matter. Coreene carefully inches forward to try and get a peek inside... carefully... carefully...

CRACK!

She puts her hand down on a crate that gives way beneath. As her weight shifts unexpectedly, the crates do the same. Everything teeters... teeters... and starts to tumble down. Coreene is just able to get a glimpse in the window as she falls past it: maybe ten or so people standing, watching over maybe forty others, who are all sitting on the floor, their heads bowed.

Of course, it’s hard to do much counting while you’re falling.

The crates collapse with a loud clatter. Loud enough to be heard inside? Hard to know. Coreene ends up in a heap, lying among the splintered remains.

Just when it seems like the disturbance is going to go unnoticed, two people appear around the corner from the front of the warehouse. One of the men is huge, both in height and girth. Shaggy brown hair juts out from beneath a dented helm, and his chin is lost in a cloud of bushy beard. He wears a breastplate, dented and even rusty in spots, and his clothes beneath are stained and in poor condition. He carries a longsword that manages to look somehow small in his meaty fist. The other is an elf, tall and haughty in his expression, wearing black leather armor that has clearly been polished and tailored carefully. He wears a pair of short swords belted at his waist.

They come a little way down the alley, looking for the source of noise. Neither seems to be looking toward where Coreene and Uelten hide.

The two searchers come upon the pile of crates, and they look at each other with skeptical expressions. The elf speaks up first, lip curled in a faint sneer. "Whoever was out here was certainly clumsy," he says, prodding at the splintered crates with a toe. He looks around the alleyway once more, eyes narrowed. "Trying to look in that window, I'd wager."

He gives a short jerk of a nod toward the window. "I doubt he'll like the sound of that. We might have to move the whole operation."

The larger man grunts, speaking in a deep, gruff voice. "We move all the time. We're used to it. Lots to do, no time to sit around and wait."

They continue on down the alleyway, and round the next corner, disappearing from view.

Just when it seems the excitement has passed, Coreene feels something in her pocket vibrate slightly, and muffled sounds come out from the same place. Not quite loud enough to hear more than a couple of feet away, but it’s still a bit of a surprise, given the tension of the moment.

Swan's search is fruitful: the poor state of the warehouse is evident in a number of loose boards. One should be wide enough to squeeze through without making too much more noise. But then again, the crates weren't supposed to collapse in a great heap either.

This potential entrance into the warehouse is at the opposite end of the building where the big guy and the elf appeared from. A back corner of sorts, if they're using the building in the usual fashion, front doors in front and so on.