Casting Shadows

Genrir looks at you for a moment longer, then nods – gesturing up the street, as he responds, “Fewer patrols head North.”

Holding out his right hand, palm up, as if it were a map of the city, he indicates the middle with his left index finger, and grunts, “Us,” before dragging that finger up to the base of his index finger, and saying, “bakers.”  That done, he moves it down to the base of his middle finger and grates, “Wizard’s guild,” before circling his finger around the tips of his fingers, then index finger edge of his hand, then along his thumb and finally down across his wrist while intoning, “Guarded stone wall.”

Astonishingly, he returns your query with a lengthy question of his own, “How would you get out: the sewers, a weak spot in the wall, magic, risking a small boat in the dark, or bribing the Watch?”

Player the First:

Marlin traces the city map on his own right hand just to make sure he has it firmly locked into memory. Then he indicates they press on to the base of the index finger. As they walk, he ponders the Dwarf’s rather lengthy question and muses aloud:

“The Alchemist said he was in a hurry and not comfortable in the streets, bought a hooded cloak, and overpaid… these are all signs of a desperate need to get out of the city quickly. Add to that a pair of goats and a hawk (should have asked if it was in a cage or not) it would seem unlikely that he could make his way over the wall with any degree of inconspicuosity. He may know a way through the wall though, which neither of us does, I presume… Waiting until dark to take a boat, with a pair of goats and a hawk in tow, nervous and hooded, is also lacking in inconspicuosity.
“Also to be considered is that, one, he has wanted posters all about the city for a substantial sum (for his death, mind, though without actually being in a summoning Circle he is as mortal as any other man, more so in many cases)… and b) given that the Watch has been hereabouts at least twice questioning the Alchemist, indicating they are taking an active interest in finding him, and that right soon, it would take giant adamantium balls to walk up and bribe a watchman, as suspicious looking as he must appear. Although, he does have a tidy amount of raw gemstones to scatter liberally about, and there is the possibility that he has an inside man anyway. That being said, the animals might in fact, play in his favour, as the Watch is apparently unaware of this, if the Alchemist is to be believed, so it is not out of the question for him to pose as a bumpkin returning to the farm, as it were… although I am not sure how many farmers have hawks at hand.
“Magic is of course an option, and the variables almost too numerous to mention. Scrolls are out, methinks, as he had nothing of the sort evident upon his person over the last few days and the Alchemist made no mention of buying any (which is not to say he didn’t, of course), though that is also not to say he didn’t have things squirreled about somewhere in the city. He may have accomplices or stooges in the Guild who would be willing to work wonders on his behalf, although I find the notion unlikely. I can think of no summoning ability that could conjure up a way for him to appear outside the walls, and such a thing would be a very uninconspicuous action to say the least… so I think ‘magic’ is not worth considering here.
“The sewers though, were he alone, would be an interesting option, but again the animals come into play. We as rational beings might choose to overlook the foulness that the sewers promise in order to effect a getaway, but the added effort of coaxing animals into them and keeping their noise-making to a minimum seems like too much effort and too much risk.
“Therefore, in summation, I would rule out an ‘over the wall in a blind spot’ sort of exit, however, ‘through the wall’ may indeed be an option. Boats: too uninconspicuous and an unlikely and dangerous option at best. Sewers: too much effort with the animals. Magic: always a possibility, but how does that help us? And so that leaves, bribery: very chancy, unless it has been done before and as such offers future promise to the bribe taker, but given his wealth at hand, he does have the possibility of making a very tempting offer, even to a first-time bribe recipient, for the same reason.
“So, let us buy some of this wonderful bread, now that we have reached the bakers’, and head back out of the city by way of the nearest gate to the north. All this thinking has made me quite famished.”

GM:

He grunts in affirmation of… hunger, agreement, or both, and replies, “Doesn’t matter how he gets there, if we can find where he goes to ground.”

The bakery is a culinary delight, and the enormously fat bakers, covered in flour and sweet confectioner’s sugar, have more delights on offer than you have ever seen in one place, in your life. Such is city life! Some treats for sale are of kinds about which you have only read~

Sated, and with a greater understanding of fairy tales like ‘The Prince and the Chocolate Bribe,’ ‘The Greedy Troll,’ and ‘The Baker’s Wives,’ you head off with your amused companion toward the North Gate. From conversations among the men as you made your way here from the mountains, you know it will be guarded by soldiers, as well as one or more Wizards or Warlocks… perhaps both.

Arriving at the gate, you see that most of the traffic is trying to gain access, rather than egress, so the line-up to leave is short and making good time. One bored guard in ill-fitting mail is leaning on his spear by the person-sized exit gate open in the huge array of iron bars blocking this lane of the roadway. Above him, however are two attentive-looking crossbowmen and a very finely dressed woman in silk embroidered with golden representations of fire. Speaking to those who wish to depart is a man in clean leather armour, with his long, greying hair pulled back into a very severe pony-tail bound with a silver clasp in the shape of a coiled dragon. He is not saying much, but is intently looking at each person in line as they approach, comparing their features to his collection of posters, pricking them with an iron pin to verify the reality of their appearance, and after a moment of silence, lets them pass. He looks weary, although nothing about his job seems particularly demanding.

“Mind Mage,” states Genrir. He sounds impressed. Obviously, the powers that be are pulling out all the stops in their quest to capture Alcome. Regardless… it just does not seem like he is the sort to get caught at a gate.

The other side of the road is congested with carts, livestock, and dirty peasants trying to work their way past the toll collectors, inspectors, and large number of guards overseeing the operation of the gate.

To exit, you will not need to pay, but you will have to leave your name and expected destination. It is more than most places ask, but with the piracy running rampant to the South, and the sort of rough-and-tumble miners and adventurers who pass through this port on their way to the Domains of Man, perhaps it is a necessary precaution.

Through the bars of the gate, you can see a trio of men, lounging on a large granite boulder, drinking wine from a large skin, and laughing. Each is armoured heavily and bearing many more weapons than one normally needs in the course of a day. Leaning on the other side of the boulder, but still visible, is a troll – equally armed and armoured, laughing just as hard, and getting just as drunk… but from a small keg rather than a puny bag of wine.

“It is my duty to inform you that the gate will be closing at sundown and will not open again before dawn,” the flat voice of the supposed Mind Mage suddenly states, drawing your attention to the fact that you are now at the head of the line. Above you, the female fire warlock is paying careful attention to Genrir.

“State your name and destination,” the fellow continues, comparing your features to those on his series of wanted posters. Over his shoulder you can see the trees waving as the wind picks up, bringing with it that rich smell of cut hay. It would be hard to tell, standing here, that a person were this close to the ocean.

..but the seagulls overhead are a constant reminder.

Player the First:

At the Dwarf’s comment of “Mind Mage” Marlin thinks for a long moment as they approach the gate. He knows little of their powers and abilities but by their name alone, he can surmise that they can read thoughts, at least on the surface. Surely if they could call up deeper thoughts from within another no secrets would be safe and the powerful would have outlawed them long ago, if not had them killed outright. A form of “truth sense” however, seems a most likely ability in such a man as this. Therefore as he approaches the gate it seemed most prudent to stay as close to the truth as possible in answering questions, yet avoid giving out his last name, which would simply lead to too many uncomfortable questions and possibly detention.

Marlin bows his head respectfully and responds matter-of-factly. “My name is Marlin and I am intending to spend the next few days hunting for yon renegade Summoner. As I doubt he is within the walls of this city I shall search for him beyond them. I will return three days hence and set sail from the harbour. While I know that chasing a Summoner is no leisurely activity, nor one for the faint of heart, I would rather spend the days before I set sail in pursuit of something that offers more interest and potential profit than inns and taverns.”

GM:

Although Kadmius trained and taught you well, there was little in your studies about those men-of-magic whose power is born wholly from within, and does not require the fostering, tapping, and shaping of the mystical lifeblood of worlds.

Tales told by travellers mention strange physical augmentations, but the one tale more unsettling to most than these was of those mages who can probe the thoughts of others. If those tales are true – if mages such as this one can actually read minds, would the victim know? Would there be some sign? Could it be resisted?

None of the others in line seemed to react to this man’s probing glance. You, yourself feel no intrustion into your thoughts. What can that mean?

“Noted,” the man states neutrally, and raises a hand to point directly at Alcome’s poster on the board beside him. “You seek this man? Alcome the Summoner? Do you have any specific information leading you to believe he may have leftLunaBeach?”

In the distance, through the gate, the band of drunks sprawled around the large rock burst out into laughter at some sort of joke or comment made by what appears to be a mightily inebriated wizard with his pants around his knees and a comically outraged look on his face.

Player the First:

Marlin glances at the poster and then answers clearly, “I have no specific knowledge of his whereabouts at all. I also am not familiar with this town, having only recently arrived. Therefore, it would seem most likely profitable to look for him in places where others are not. The Watch inLunaBeachhas surely scoured all the nooks and crannies wherein he might likely hide, places I have no practical knowledge of at all. So, I will seek him outside these walls while I have the time to do so. If I find him and can claim the reward, so much the better, but find him or not, I will be sailing out three days hence.”

GM:

The man nods his head, gives you one last probing glance, and states, “Then all the best luck on your journey. Please remember, the gates will not open again until dawn.”

He turns his attention to Genrir, and states, “Are you pursuing company business?”

Genrir declines, “No.”

“Have you and your father considered our offer?” the man continues.

Genrir replies, “Talk to him.”

Sighing, the inspector waves the close-mouthed dwarf past him and returns his attention to his duties.

From above, the woman in scarlet adds, “Put in a good word for us, Genrir, and I’ll see to it personally that it is worth your while.”

The dwarf passes underneath the cupola in which she stands to join you. He does not reply to her. The bored looking guard opens the gate in the greater array of the entry gate, and mumbles something about having a good trip.

Outside the gate, a broad, but rain-pitted dirt road heads north across the marshy land which begins its slow rise toward drier land, and well-managed forests. To the west lies the coast, and to the east, more farmland.

The right side of the road is lined with carts and groups of travellers seeking to gain entrance to the city. Many near the end of the line will be lucky to do so before dark.