Chapter One - The Adventure Begins

"That is strange, indeed." Kija agrees offering her arm for support. She follows the men with her eyes trying to commit the details to memory so she might know them later.

"Hmm.. a mystery."

Toe sheaths his weapons and walks back to his pony. "What do you say Korvy? Would be more interesting than another night spent at the tavern." He jumps onto Korvet with one smooth motion. "The company would certainly be an improvement." He turns to Kija and gives a wink.

He then looks around the motley crew from his steed. "So, social protocols would dictate we exchange pleasantries and introductions. I will go first." Toe takes off his hat revealing shiny black hair, slicked back. His face is olive-skinned with brown eyes and razor thin mustache, groomed with care. He is overall well put together with fashionable purple vest over white tunic (his leather armor kept underneath both) and a matching purple trousers with black leather boots over it.

"I am Tovuk Tinkerton of Hollowsky, also known simply as Toe. The circumstances of our meeting would suggest you are all honorable folks and as such I am pleased to meet your acquaintances."

" If you let me I can heal your injuries"

Rand steps forward putting his mace away. With both hands stretched out you hear him silently pray to himself, his hand begins to give off a soft glow and warmth like muted sunlight.

"May the warmth of Pelor be with you, Thank you all for coming when you did. Um ... excuse me"

The adrenaline beings to crash on Rand faster than he anticipated. This being the first time he raised his mace to other people. He promptly looks for a side ally feeling his dinner coming back.

Toe shrugs and tells Korvet "I guess introductions will come later."

Coming back after collecting himself, Rand makes his way back to the group.

"By Pelors beard! I'm sorry just too much excitement all at once. My name is Rand I'm a healer and cleric of the church of Pelor here in Cauldron. Nice to meet you."

The whiskered, pointy-eared stranger had lowered his crossbow: warily watching the thugs leave the scene, he stood silent and bristling with something between scorn and simmering anger, a cold, ferocious glint in his gold-colored eyes, who seemed to zero in and follow the direction the thugs were taking as they slipped away, melting into the shadows of the narrow and winding alleyway.

His attention turned back to the group.

He was a rugged, strapping specimen for a half-elf, although a little short in stature for his race, and both his tanned, coppery skin and his thick and somewhat tangled shoulder-length mane of black hair - the hairline growing in a very characteristic "v" shape atop a high, tapering forehead and a slightly jutting brow ridge - marked him as being of wild sylvan blood.
He wore a small ring of what appeared to be some kind of polished bone drilled into the outer side of his left ear, with a few leathery cords and other baubles weaved in his hair, that grew straight back from his forehead and came falling in long, coarse strands between his shoulder-blades. His ears were unusally long and pointy for a half-blood and, besides the small bone earing, they bore a few chinks and the scars of what could have been either teeth marks or tribal branding.
He was dressed in regular hunting gear, mostly buckskins and supple leather leggings and thick, knee-high elven mocassins, and besides the huge crossbow that he now slung over his back, the party could make out a small throwing axe hanging from his belt and what looked like a spiked stone hammer slung on his other hip, both weapons half-hidden in the shadows of a hooded cloak lined with rabbit fur.

Even after the rest of the group had made their introduction, the grim-looking trapper had remained silent for a little while, his lips thin as a knife's edge, his mouth bent in a bitter frown between the long, coarse black whiskers sprouting along both sides of his bony jaw. He now stroked one of these hirsute sideburns pensively, then finally spoke. His raspy, husky baritone sounded like the grating of a rounded stone on an old oak tree, as if he wasn't used to speak very often, and his common had the thick, guttural intonations of sylvan speech.

"I am Fheryn Thuath'An'Anthl, from the people of Llyrth." he looked at each of his new companions in turn, his eyes lingering intently on each and every one of them, as it to take in their features, then his attention turned back on the young battered clergyman. Apparently the presentations had been made, as far as he was concerned.

"Priest !" he almost barked, advancing on the poor cleric still shaken by all the recent man-handling: "You are from the Ones Who Heal, yes ? You meet a younger male, also half-elven as I, a little thinner, dark auburn of crown and dressed in dark velvet, about yay high ?", the hunter made a gesture indicating a size of about 6 feet to the dazed cleric.

"I must... I have to find him." Fhenryl said between clenched teeth. "Yet you speak of kidnapping". Something seemed to dawn on him as his expression suddenly froze. He then swung on the rest of the group. "We should catch the clowns. Ask them ! If they know, they will speak. And if not...".

His smile had frozen in a savage grimace, baring small, white elven teeth. His look had turned feral.

Jaqir moves to follow the pair of thugs before his mind stops him. What connection to Lantern Street do these bastards have? he thinks. WIth a turn he pivots back to the group. As he speaks, he draws his hood off, revealing his messy mop of ebon-black hair and bright red skin.

Well met all of you. I am Jaqir, known denizen of Cauldron and frequenter of bars the crater around. It would be good to speak to the other Cuthberites. I grew up in the orphanage those vile men were speaking of and it causes me great pain to think that any would think they speak for the facility. I had my issues there, we all did, but assaulting a priest is not the right way to express concern. I read about the kidnappings this morning priest. I am thankful you are there to counsel the littles, it's something missing in their lives almost assuredly. he bows deeply towards the group. You may call me Jaq, Jaqir, or Huhu as you'd like, I'll answer to nearly all of it.

Giving a quick but nervous smile.

" Yes I would love a tea, thank you"

Rand takes his cloak off to hang it on a hook if available to dry.

You now see Rand as a 5'8" human topped with red hair and a well-groomed beard which contrasts rather well with his steel grey eyes and fair tanned skin. He does have a somewhat imposing figure keeping himself well fit (Pelor does have the strength domain after all).

Looking towards Jaqir

" I sorry Jaqir but ah ..."

Rand looks towards the empty fireplace, the acolyte taking his time it seems.

Toe refuses the offer of tea. He sits idly for a while twirling his dagger around his fingers. Then sits up.

"So the kidnappings.... It must be related to the attack on the young priest. Too much of a coincidence.".

He then turns to Jaqir, "You mentioned issues you had with the orphanage. What did you mean by that?"

"I've been contemplating the words of the assailants. Warning the priest to stay away from the orphanage leads me to believe they intend to go back. They are...somehow...involved in the kidnapping, and by that I mean perpetrating it. The only other option is that they believed the priest was. And if that were the case, they would have accused him there and then I should think. We, the gathered audience, would have listened to their side if it had been in the pursuit of justice...so their guilt int he matter is...the only logical conclusion. Now I am cross with myself that we did not detain them." Kija rambles through these thoughts speaking both to the room at large and to no one specifically. Suddenly she looks up as though remembering she isn't alone.

"Sorry, I was lost in my own mind for a moment. We were exchanging names? Kija Fen. Wizard, specializing in divination and portents."

Jaqir smiles and moves towards the acolyte. Here, allow me to use some of my essence to give a bit of spark to it. he says happily, moving his hand in a small little circle ending with a snap of the fingers. Instantly, the pile of tinder and kindling in the fireplace flares into a small fire.

Now, just feed it normally. he says, winking at the acolyte.

Jaqir takes a large breath, as if he were going to launch into an explanation, but then stops. Were you ever orphaned or alone as a child Toe?

Toe's usual confident persona recedes for a brief moment at that question. With an uncharacteristically demurred voice he mutters "No." Then with a familiar smirk, "Anyway, I believe Lady Kija is on to something. There is only two possible conclusions - if we assume the assault is related to the kidnappings - and one of those conclusions doesn't make much sense. I recall in today's herald, this very church gave public support to the investigation of the kidnappings. This assault could be a response to that declaration."

"Well, not to delve to deep into speculation, but IF one were to commit a crime like this, it might be a good way to throw off suspicion if one were the first and/or loudest in condemning it. However, it is the least likely of conclusions. I mean innocent people don't go around with face paint to mask their identities."

"We're wasting time !", Fhenryl growled.

He was standing right next to the door, his body tense and looking obviously ill-at-ease within the massive marble structure of St Cuthbert's temple, what with the thick tapestries, the heavy candelabras, robed people walking around in hushed tones, and the sickening smell of incense... in fact the woodsman seemed like he was dying to spring out of the room at any moment, back onto the cobbled streets slick with rain. He gave the proffered tea a dismissive look. "The witch is right: the painted clowns are guilty and they must pay. We should have stomped the truth outta them there and then... but we let them get away to accompany a crippled priest, and now we're standing around doing fancy prattle while they're probably preparing to take more innocent people. Taking children...!". He spat disdainfully. "My brother. They have him, I can sense it."

His fists shaking and his face livid with barely contained rage, he concluded grimly: "I am going to track them down. I am going to find them. And if they did anything to Sdion, by all the ancient forest gods, I'm going to kill every last one of them."

The surly half-elf remained tense, but that last prophetic outburst seemed to have calmed his nerves somewhat. He seemed to snap back to his senses and suddenly walked up to the young novice carrying the tea tray, grabbed a cup of the scalding herbal beverage and downed it in one long gulp, barely taking the time to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve before grabbing another of the steaming cups, and proceed to sip at it a tad more leisurely, his eyes now slowly scanning around the room, as if taking the time to finally take the scenery in.

What is the best way to eliminate an encroaching ant colony? Do you squish the one or two you see taking sugar, or do you let them go back to their hill so you find the mound, where you seek out the queen and burn it all to the ground? Jaqir says, while a small wisp of smoke starts to curl up from his nostrils.

You are right that I think they are guilty, and they must pay. But my fury burns to see the entire group punished. Do not lose sight of that. These drones will suffer penance in due time. he goes on to say, a wicked smile curling his lips up. Gathering some information now and being blessed with a bit of legal authority makes our task that much easier Fhenryl.