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Turn 175.0: Conundrums in Cahren

Posted: 4/11/02

As the group walks through the city and the conversation turns to Hannibal's relationship with Emma, Storm is strangely more silent than usual. He makes himself look busy at looking around the city, admiring the buildings and people, but really his attention is fully on the conversation. He says nothing, but is duly distressed at the topic...for despite his friendship with Hannibal and Emma and his good wishes for them both, he remembers very vividly an encounter under false pretenses between Emma and a certain son of a Baron General...he remembers hiding invisible in the same room, protecting Emma without her knowledge, and biting his tongue ever since.

Before he knows it, the group faces the dark stranger, and his attention is back on the real world. He keeps his muscles tense as he surveys the scene, always looking around the whole alley to spot any traps--he can see none.

Elloharin tenses immediately as the shady figure detaches itself from the walls and its shadowy concealment. He'd heard nothing! This was no man indeed! His hand slides to his sword hilt, and he scans the walls for more concealed men, but as best he can see, there are none.

This man, this thing was not good. Elloharin just knew it. Perhaps he was a half-elf? What was he? And why did he come to them? Of course, Elloharin apprehends the answer immediately. Storm and Hannibal were thieves. And looking at the condition of his own clothes, it is evident that he has seen his fair share of close scrapes as well. Perhaps he should get a new set of clothing.

Hannibal listened to the man, elf, whatever and his proposition. When he finished the thief smiled, having a hunch that this was something he wanted to partake of. "A moment sir as I consult with my companions."

Taking a few steps back Hannibal whispers to El and Storm. "I got a hunch this will pay off, but it may take a little dirty dealing to get into the circle." Looking at El: "El, the others will need to know about this too. You return and let them know I'm going. My guess is they are going to the same island we are, maybe for the ring, maybe not. Having a guy at their flank would be a great advantage for our side."

With some extra thought Hannibal turned to Storm. "You go with El, Storm. The group will need one of us around to keep em out of danger, I'll handle this end. If it turns out that this doesn't pay off and they seek something else I will meet you all back at the tavern when you return, maybe with an interesting story or two."

Elloharin pulls lightly on Hannibal's sleeve. Gently pointing his head toward the mouth of the alley. This was dangerous and should be stopped immediately. Gray elves did not associate with thieves. And yet, his interest was peaked. What was the heist? What was the treasure hunt? They were too close to the rings of Damacht for it to be anything else. But only three able bodies? Could they meet the others there? It would be risky, and yet it might drive off pursuit. No, he shakes his head dimly, and mutters to Hannibal softly in common. "It's too dangerous. Let's get out of here."

Elloharin's stomach clenches as Hannibal speaks. Hannibal had delusions of grandeur, and if he kept on this way he was going to get himself killed. "What about Emma?" El whispers fiercely in the thief's ear. "Resurrection isn't exactly the most efficient turn on."

Hannibal nods, his face taking on a momentary look of concern. "I'm not doing this to show off El, I'm doing it 'cause its what I'm good at. I have a nose for this after years of living in it." He hesitates, chewing on his lower lip while mulling over the idea. "I meant what I said earlier El, she means a lot to me. At the same time I cant turn my back on what it is we are trying to do...and there are risks involved with all of that. I would hope that Emma would understand at least that much."

"Very well, at least take Storm with you," El replies, "he knows more about this than I do. Between Canter, Skandor and myself we can protect the others. Besides, they might not accept your offer without some real muscle. No offense brother. Will you go Storm?"

Hannibal shrugs, "I thought it might be better to have a rogue in your company in case you came across any traps or such on the island, but if you think its best I will bow to your judgement." Hannibal is quiet for a moment, speaking up as El turns to leave.

"El," heading over to the elf, Hannibal offers an outstretched hand. "We are a lot alike you and I. Both have lost our past and up until joining the Six neither of us had a future. I'm glad we had this talk." Hannibal shakes the elf's hand and turns, heading back to the other men with or without Storm.

"Arr, no way, ye lanky human, ye ain't goin' by yeself," Storm says before Hannibal gets very far. "That be as bad an idea as...er....um, somethin' really bad. I's be goin' with ye. El, ye go back and be with Crayne, they's need yer magic more than this dwarf." He lets a chuckle, then turns back to Hannibal. "Eh...ye sure this be a good idea? I's thinkin' they's goin' to the island too, but if this ain't work out and the group leaves, we be stuck here. Ye sure ye thought about this? I's be as interested as ye, fer the treasure and especially ta protect the six...but I dunno..." He scratches his head and spits. "But what I's do know is ye ain't doin' nuthin' by yerself..."

Hannibal nodded to Storm, he too had had the same thoughts. "I can't tell you why Storm but I just have a hunch about these guys. It's pulling me, almost as if I were being guided on this one." The thief paused for a moment, staring off into the distance. "It's not even the treasure...it's the coincidence. These guys may well be searching for the same place we are. If not we get another boat and catch up with the others if we can but something tells me we wont have to."

Hannibal scratched his head for a moment, trying to come up with the vocabulary to explain how he felt. He wanted very much to be with the others, and did not relish going down the 'other road' again, but something in his gut was screaming that this was part of the puzzle. Or was it? All this time Hannibal had battled over his past, and then his future. He had been content to be a thief for the rest of his life, having no problems with the connotations that came with that title. And then he got to know Emma.

At first he resented her invasiveness, the way she always seemed to be counseling the thief. In the end Hannibal realized that it was her concern, and that he felt equally as concerned for her. He wanted to be something else suddenly, a proud warrior like Skandor or Canter that she would not be ashamed to speak of as her partner. Introducing your companion as a thief was no way for a Shield Maiden to gain prestige in the church. Lately though Hannibal had battled with his inner demons again, trying to decide what and who he truly was. He was too far down his chosen path to turn back, he'd learned too much and become too great an asset to the group...but didnt that hurt his chances with Emma? It seemed that every time Hannibal was forced with a decision such as this, whether it be for the better of the group or no, that he had to fight a moral issue with himself. Lately he had become his own worst enemy.

Finally Hannibal shrugged, his inner demons wreaking havoc on his confidence in what he was about to do. "Something tells me I have to do this. If your with me my stout friend, I'd be honored to have you along for the ride."

Storm looks at Hannibal. The human was obviously in some deeper thought, some thought that eluded Storm, yet the dwarf could tell some sort of conflict was striking the human. “Aye, hey, ye don’t be needin’ to worry about a thing. Thems others can take care of theyselves, and we can take care of each other, right? Eh—not that I’s be needin’ takin’ care of, not by the hair of the Great Blacksmith’s beard itself! Ha! But we’s be fine, right? El, ye can tell the others, right? We’s doin’ this to, er, how’d Emma be sayin’ this….’prevent a threat to Rinder and the group’ or some crap like that. Okay? Lets go do it…”

As El walks away, Storm can still see a look of worry on Hannibal’s face. Before approaching the stranger again, Storm stops Hannibal by the arm. “What be eatin’ ye?” After a pause, he just says “Hey ye lanky human, ye just remember a thief don't mean a evil thief. We be knowin’ what we’s doin’” He smiles, smacks the human on the arm, and turns back toward the stranger, unknowing of the exact impact his simple statement might have on the conflicted human. “And by the ways,” he adds, “I’s be takin’ any challenges they give us. I’d love to be deckin’ a tall fat human again. HehaHA!”

Returning to the alley, Hannibal speaks again to the half-elf: "My comrade has other business to attend to...but we're in. Besides, I'm as good as three men any day." Shadows of his former self were beginning to creep into the picture now and Hannibal forced himself to stay focused. 'Remember the cause Hannibal,' he thought to himself. 'And don't fall back on old habits!'

Meanwhile, at the docks, Crayne narrows his eyes at the response of the Captain and then responds, "We are sure Captain! As to your second question let us just say that our reason is a good one, but better kept to ourselves. What we need good Captain is passage to the Islands of Vile with no questions asked. We have the money; so what is it to be Captain Noran? Will you take us across to the Islands of Vile? And what will your price be for such a venture?"

Crayne was afraid of this type of response. He certainly didn't feel prepared to reveal any information about their mission. Also, he was fed up with lying. It was up to the Captain now. However, Crayne does believe it is necessary to find out a little more about these Islands of Vile before travelling out there. The Captain obviously showed great reservations about the place. His original idea of approaching the Temple of Cahrendhur to find out some information seemed wise. He would just have to make sure that he went about the task in a subtle manner.

Emma smiles as pleasantly as possible, playing the naive young traveler in the hopes that Captain Noran or his cousin the fishmonger might explain to them the dangers of venturing toward the Islands of Vile. "Is the trip very long?" she asks, "I only brought enough baggage to last me a couple of weeks at best. If you could speed our journey, we'd be most grateful..."

Skandor stands nearby, listening intently to the conversation, but his eyes are looking about, watching the people and activities going on around the group. He seems content to remain quiet as Emma and Crayne lead the questioning and securing of passage for their group. But ever alert, the paladin watches those nearby for signs of 'interest', or worse.

Captain Noran looks over Crayne and Emma, eyeing Canter and Skandor briefly. "Very well, then, no questions. Passage to the Islands of Vile will cost twenty gold pieces each. A high cost, yes, but reasonable considering the dangers involved."

"We will take it," Crayne says quickly, hoping to get this conversation overwith as fast as possible.

"Good," Noran replies, "then have your party meet me at the Great River on the dock on the morrow, at sunrise. We'll set sail straight away." With a nod, Noran turns, smiling to his first mate before walking back to the docks. As he departs, Elloharin arrives, out of break.

El is all nerves as he approaches the party, standing at the docks. The horses are going, their packs bulging with supplies. The sailors are unloading the ship, removing the last of the spices which were the Captain's last cargo. As he approaches, the paladin's keen and watchful eyes spot him.

"Elloharin, you've returned. What news?"

"Nothing good, I fear," murmurs the elf, "The three of us should never go out again. I'm afraid the shadier elements of our party were ... propositioned."

"Propositioned?!" Emma exclaims, immediately thinking of the seedier types of women known to make themselves available to lonely travelers. She briefly imagines Hannibal in the arms of such a girl and the idea doesn't sit well with her at all. She bites her tongue, however, blushing as Elloharin continues to explain what happened.

At Emma's exclamation of the word 'propositioned', Skandor turns his eyes onto her and notices the blush. 'She's smitten by him, more than I had realized,' he thinks to himself.

El goes on to explain the situation. He pays special attention to Emma, as her face grays slightly in the waning sun.

Emma's expression grows from one sort of confusion to another. First, she had imagined her budding relationship with Hannibal ending as soon as he found an accommodating southern girl on the docks of Caerloon's largest city. But now, she understands that Hannibal is choosing to separate himself and Storm from the group in order to gain the confidence of some local thieves...

"Why...why...why would he do that?" she stutters, searching for words as she tries to come to grips with this revelation, "What does he expect to accomplish? Shouldn't we all be staying together?" Inwardly, the Shield Maiden wants to believe Hannibal is simply watching out for the best interests of the group...but El's characterization of the moment leaves a niggling bit of doubt in her. She looks to Skandor for silent support, almost as if she expects him and Crayne to back her up.

El watches as Emma's lip twists and here eyes grow with doubt. Skandor looks as strong and stolid as ever, but now, even slightly more dangerous--if such a thing were possible. "He will be well lady," El speaks quickly to assuage her fear, "and perhaps he might find us new allies? Or new enemies that we had not known about. Hannibal is resourceful and clever, and he seeks nothing but the party's good."

El feels a slight twinge as he remembers Hannibal lightly pressing his arm in farewell. Would the thief be all right? He remembers the bolt of lightning cracking down on Hannibal within the caverns, his frame black against the blinding light. He remembers Crayne's icicle and the rock-like Skandor getting pulverized. So many close calls. They had only lived so far through the efforts of all. What would separation mean now? And now they were close, finally, to the second Ring of Damacht, the Ring of Fire Command. From ice, to lightning, to fire. Who would be burnt this time?

Skandor returns Emma's gaze with a concerned glance of his own. "I am sure Hannibal and Storm would not have separated themselves from us for some small reason. We must trust in their judgement now, and must hope that the Almighty watches over them as they travel. It would indeed seem wise for us to remain together, but perhaps Hannibal saw something, or has some better reason to pursue the course he has taken."

Skandor pauses, looking Emma in the eye. "Fear not, Shield Maiden. I am sure Hannibal would not dare desert his feelings for you and run off, never to be seen again. As for us, we should push ahead as scheduled. If Hannibal and Storm hope or plan to meet up with us again, t'would be best for us to stick with our latest plan so as to give them a better chance of crossing our path down the road."

El watches by the docks, marveling in the hustle and bustle, even as day wanes into night. Burly sailors dragging huge cargo onto loading docks, mercenaries and guards drinking from flagons as they sit from the outdoor taverns. Heavily made up prostitutes and oily-looking pimps patrolling for some early business. El wrinkles his nose in disgust, tasting the grime and pollution, and the saltiness of the ocean all at once. Humans. How disgusting. The dirt offends him and his lip curls. A dirty sailor with a purple scar crossing his face from forehead to jowl growls at him.

"What are you lookin' at elf?"

Elloharin smiles dangerously at him and strokes the hilt of his long sword. The man moves on, carrying his burden to the waiting carts by the road.

The conversation between Emma and Skandor ended, their group (Emma, Crayne, Skandor, Canter and El) leaves the waterfront. Crayne leads the way toward the city center, where he had seen a Temple of Cahrendhur. Emma raises an eyebrow at Crayne's interest in the church, but also praises him after he explains his purpose: to learn more about the Islands of Vile.

After climbing the lengthy stone steps up to the temple's entrance, they push their way through the large oak doors, each of which is easily twice the height of Skandor or Crayne. The temple has a cool, damp feel to it. There is a small pool of water in the center of the foyer, with a mosaic of a majestic ship at the bottom. The surface shimmers with each footstep on the stone floor.

"Can I help you?" a voice echoes off the stone. The voice's source stands on the other side of the pool, which is oval and roughly five feet across at the longest point. The cleric on the other side is slight, with a thin build and wrinkled face. His hair, peeking out from beneath a skullcap, is gray, and it is obvious that he has many years behind him.

"Indeed you can," Crayne responds, stepping around the pool to approach the cleric. "We are looking for some information."

"Information?" the old cleric replies. "What sort of information?" His lower jaw quivers between words.

Crayne glances at his comrades, then returns to the cleric. His words are quieter so they echo less in the cavernous sanctuary. "We want to learn about the Islands of Vile."

The cleric's eyes grow wide and he nearly stops breathing. "My good sir, you do not want to know about the Islands of Vile. Man has not set foot on those islands for centuries and with good reason."

"What reason?" Crayne asks, cutting in abruptly.

The cleric stops himself long enough to take in Crayne's interjection. "What?...reason...why, too terrible to discuss! To offend great Cahrendhur's noble ears!" Then, the cleric lowes his voice, speaking very seriously. "Travel to the Islands of Vile is forbidden, and has been forbidden for two hundred years."

"But ships travel there all the time..." Canter says, arriving behind Crayne and looking at the cleric over the mage's shoulder.

The cleric focuses his eyes on Canter, narrowing them. "And most never return!!" The word "never" continues to echo throughout the temple. "Cahrendhur's fleet stops most indolent captains who would set course for the islands, though admittedly some manage to get past. The fleet stops them...for their own protection!"

Arriving on the rooftop, Hannibal and Storm can see the brilliant stars overhead.

"Psst!" the half-elf says to Hannibal, getting the thief's attention once again. "Mouser! Focus! There! That's him!!" He points to the street, four stories below. Exiting the building across the square is a plump man, a human, probably in his mid-thirties. Hannibal and Storm can tell by the man's clothes that he is quite wealthy. The fine fabrics speak to the depth of his pockets.

"What do we do?" Hannibal whispers to the half-elf, whose name is Puls--or so he told Hannibal. If Hannibal could use a pseudonym, why couldn't Puls?

Puls replies, "His wife will meet him in the carriage in ten minutes. You have until then to get down there, do away with him and his driver, and bring me the box of jewels under the plump one's seat!"

Hannibal nods, looking back down again. Then he feels Storm's eyes boring into his temple. Crinkling his brow, Hannibal looks back to Puls. "Say that again? 'Do away with?'"

"That's right, take 'im out!" Puls replies, gesturing with his hand in a stabbing motion. "What? You don't know how? Never done it before?"

"Sure I done it!" Hannibal responds, feeling the need to defend himself and his thiefly honor. But his conscience--and Storm's silent stare at him, as if the dwarf were the impersonation of morality, hunched down beside him--kept nagging at him. He looks back to Puls again. "Why not just knock him out and take the chest? Why do we have to kill him?"

"What kind of a thief are you, Mouser?!" Puls reacts angrily. "Can you do this simple job and come with me and my men on this adventure? Or are you just wasting my time?!?!"

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