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Log started on Tuesday, 18 Apr 2000, 7:01 PM EST by "Greywolf2" at "Holodeck 2"
GM Note: Hero Point Totals so far -- Duffy: 16; Ice: 7; Jamie: 3; Jet: 6; Jimbo: 11; Taro: 8
In one of the lower tiers, shadowed from the sunlight of the Lunar day, a horse-drawn wagon clip-clips along a brick-paved street, the way illuminated by gas lights that line the road. The air is thick with low-hanging fog, likely the result of some faulty environmental-regulation machinery rather than any natural occurrence, since it was sunny and clear on the roads before reaching Quietside. Nestled amongst the Neo-Gothic architecture of the core buildings and supports are the wooden cottages and inns of the Lutherans. Off to one side, the road turns into a circle "drive" that surrounds a hole through which a tree from one of the lower tiers stubbornly rises, bathed in the glow of sunlight that breaks through gaps in the upper levels, resulting in a surreal effect, given the fog and the apparent night-time of the surrounding streets. The air smells musty and old, heavy with the scent of aging wood, horse droppings, oiled leather, fresh produce, and the dusty odor of the hanging fog. It is also strong with the smell coming from a mill nearby, where the tasteless glop is made that the Kinsmen rely upon for sustenance -- the produce brought in on wagons from terraced farmlands on the sides of the mountains to the west, where the Lutherans manage to grow crops despite the dry, rocky Lunar soil. But then, if they can grow crops on Dark Eden ... surely they can grow them anywhere. Also off of the circle is a church, made of darkened, aged wood, looking as if it may have been brought here from Dark Eden, plank by plank, and reassembled here. It's a gaunt, disturbing structure, looking like the sort of place where witch trials might be held, or where ghosts might lurk, rather than a place of holiness. It doesn't help that, like so much of Lutheran Triad design, countless memento mori are built into the decorations -- skeletal and bony visages in representation of human remains. Rumor has it that, back on Dark Eden, such decorations would be real, as the Kinsmen have strange ways of honoring their dead ... but as much leeway as the Brotherhood might give for the strange practices of the Tribes, its rules are very strict about the treatment of the dead -- All corpses are to be cremated as soon as possible, and only monuments -- memoritaphs -- are built for the dead, not graveyards. An old man -- perhaps in his fifties, which tends to make one "old" with the low life expectancy of this day and age -- sits on the front steps of the church. He is dressed in typical Lutheran Triad garb: shirt and trousers of coarse fabric, leather boots, an embroidered vest, a folded cloth "tie", and a kilt worn over his trousers with a tartan design dominated by burgundy with streaks of grey, black, gold and forest green. About his neck, he wears a wooden cross with Celtic knotwork on its surface, and a stylized skull in its center. At his side is a primitive-looking pistol with a wooden grip, in an ornately-scribed leather holster. He holds a long wooden staff, with a wooden piece that turns it into a cross, bound by rope to a ceramic representation of a horse's skull that hangs from the crux, and wrapped in three loops of rusty barbed wire. His head is bald and scarred, and there is no trace of nose or mouth -- only a smooth surface. His eyes have no visible pupils -- only a faintly bluish cast, though paler than that of the Gaians. His head is adorned by a crown of thorns that look to be wedged deeply into his scalp -- Lines of dried blood run down his temples. Evidently, this would be Marcus Payne, referred to as the Patriarch of this Lutheran Triad community -- for that is the title they give to their spiritual leaders -- and he is, as much as any Kinsman, an embodiment of the focus on suffering and trials that is indicative of these people. The coach, made of dark-stained wood, rolls up the circle drive toward the church. The horses are all pale white, a stark contrast to the coach itself, and the dark garb of the driver, who has the bearing about him of an undertaker, and the coach his hearse. 'Cheery' is not an adjective applied to the Lutheran Triad. A chill breeze pushes its way down the street, momentarily waging battle with the fog, sending its footsoldiers to the task in the form of dry autumn-colored leaves that clatter across the cobbles and bricks, and scrape against the wooden walls of the buildings as they make their way along, then hurl themselves over the edges of the elevated roads. The breeze subsides, the fog victorious again for now. What looks like an inn seems to present a contrast to the gloom of the rest of the street ... or, at least, a lesser degree of gloom ... as warmth radiates from it in the form of the soft glow of the firelight visible through the windows. For a brief moment, those with keener ears in the group pick up the faint sounds of a piano playing ... but that fades quickly as the carriage rolls on toward the church. Duffy rubs his chinfur. "Yeah. Sure hope Mr. Payne's the enlightened sort. Let's go. I'll introduce you first, so don't run off until he knows you aren't a bunch of thugs out casing the joint for valuables." At this admonition from Duffy, the coach rolls to a stop in front of the church, the hoofbeats slowing and then silencing, save for the occasional impatient scuff against the bricks by the hoof of one of the two strong horses. The Patriarch slowly stands as he sees the coach arrive, and leans against his staff -- which is half again as tall as he is. Jimbo nods, and leans back again, adjusting the holster at his belt, and making ready to debark after the detective. The coachman nearly leaps from his seat, then wrestles with a wooden set of steps, which he pulls down from the coach, then sets them down on the ground, in front of the coach door nearest the church. "And it so matched my fur, too," comments the kitsune quietly. He folds his arms and gazes out the window. The coachman opens the door, holding it wide for the passengers to disembark. The horses snort and snuffle at the cool misty air. The devilcat eases herself through the door of the carriage and takes a moment to stretch out her limbs. She's in full uniform today, although her clothing hangs on her, somewhat sloppily and unbalanced. She anxiously tugs at the gas mask around her neck and peers around at the bleak looking town. Her hand brushes lightly against a small sword hanging at her hip. Duffy chuckles and pushes the door open with his crutch, then gets out with a nod to the coachman, glancing at his hand to see if it's formed in the universal Luna City "tip-me" gesture. In uniform, he looks rather out of place in the township, like a Roadking in a line of bikes. "Mr. Payne?" the dog-man says to the Lutheran. "I'm Detective Duff, with Dawn Alert. I was hoping you could find the time to answer a few questions..." The Patriarch, at the sight of the devilcat, for a moment swings his staff on its base so that he holds it in front of him, and holds up a hand as if in warding ... but it seems as if he quickly recovers from the apparently reflexive gesture, his shoulders relaxing visibly. He nods to the dog-man. The coachman looks at the dog-man, then reaches into a pocket, for a set of cards. He shuffles through them, until he finds one that he shows to Duffy, which reads, "50 crowns". The script of the writing is fairly archaic looking, evidently hand-written. The "s" almost looks like a lower-case "f". Jim unfolds his lanky frame to follow after Duffy, and takes a deep breath of the crisp air. He trails casually after the detective, looking here and there at the architecture and scaping of the area before turning his attention to the Patriarch so as to remain polite. Taro moves last to depart the carriage. After climbing out, he moves to stand towards the rear of the group where he folds his hands in the small of his back. Duffy reaches into his pocket and counts out change to the coachman. "Here y'go. We'll be needing a ride back in a while, so don't go too far, eh?" He chuckles a bit and then makes the introductions. "Officers Ice, Watterson, and Hidaka. This is the Patriarch, Marcus Payne. Ah, I'm not sure how you prefer to be addressed-- Patriarch, or Mr. Payne?..." Duffy scratches behind one ear and looks a bit out of sorts. Ice nods to the Patriarch, mumbling something incomprehensible. Jimbo nods respectfully, and extends an open hand. "Pleasure to meet you, chief." The Patriarch responds to Duffy's question with a casual wave of his free right hand, nods in turn to Officer Watterson and Officer Ice and then turns it into a "come along" gesture. He turns about and slowly makes his way up the steps, leaning heavily on his oversized staff with each step. The coachman, meanwhile, taps his fingers to his cap and ducks his head slightly in thanks, then climbs back up to the seat of his carriage, looking as if to make himself comfortable for a while. Duffy glances over at Jay, seeing if Jimbo has any ideas, then follows the Patriarch. His reinforced aluminum crutch makes 'thok' noises on the steps, much lighter and more resonant than the wooden staff. The devilcat moves in close behind the dog-man, gently gripping one of his arms to help him up the steps. Jimbo exchanges glances with Duffy, then glances at his empty outstretched hand, closes it, and coughs, inspecting it as though he'd meant to stick it out to do just that. He clasps both hands behind his back to follow along with the entourage. The Patriarch comes to the heavy double doors leading into the church, and it looks for a moment as if he should not be strong enough to open them. However, despite the aged appearance of the surroundings, the doors are well balanced, and the hinges hardly protest at all as they are swung open wide by the Patriarch, revealing the sanctuary within. It's a tall and thin sanctuary, capable of holding several people, though, of course, it would be a joke to make comparisons between it and the Cathedral of Luna or that of any other planet or major city. The windows have stained glass patterns, illuminated from behind -- not by sunlight, for that never really reaches here in any great quantities, but by candles behind the windows. An organ dominates a large portion of the far wall, and an altar is high above the floor. There are no pews -- It is standing room only. The dog-man murmurs to Ice, "Don't worry yourself about me, I'll be fine." He clunks up behind the Patriarch, giving him space to move, and peers inside. Hmm. Pretty spare and unforgiving sort of place. Sort of like the way this town looks. It would seem, however, that this church also serves as a schoolhouse, for along the walls toward the near side of the sanctuary are several tables and shelves with books and slate tablets. There is also a chalkboard on one wall. The Patriarch walks up to it, picks up a rag, and wipes some scrawling off of it, then selects a piece of chalk. He doesn't write anything, but turns back toward the Detective and nods slowly. Ice steps back a little and looks around, leaving the detective to do the talking. Watterson ambles along, scanning the interior of the church thoughtfully, perhaps even appreciatively at some of the windows. With the elder's attention focused on Duffy, Jim decides he's not immediately needed, and wanders to the bookshelves to read a few of the spines. He keeps an ear out for the conversation, making a note to glance at the chalkboard whenever he hears clacking. The sanctuary is empty, save for the Patriarch and his four visitors ... and a lone woman seated at the organ at the far end. She has long, silky, beautiful raven-colored hair, and she is dressed in a plain and conservative dress, with a shawl about her shoulders. When she turns about, however, her beauty by human standards is, perhaps not surprisingly, abbreviated thanks to her lack of a nose, mouth, or visible pupils. She looks upon the group for a moment, then turns back to the keyboard, playing as if she had simply ceased in the middle of practicing a song, and was resuming it once more. The organ music is not terribly loud, as this sanctuary seems not built with acoustics in mind. The detective, having followed the Lutheran in, scratches behind an ear again as he glances over at the woman, then back to Mr. Payne. "Oh! Well, that's sensible. You have a very nice town here, Patriarch." He rubs his chin. "Ah, where to begin... Well, first of all, I found something that I think might belong to one of your tribe. I figured that it might be a good idea to return it to your people." He rummages about and takes the leather pouch out of one of his belt pouches, then leans forward to put it on the table. The images on the windows might at a glance seem like they might come from the windows of a smaller shrine in the service of the Brotherhood, but instead of Cardinals and Bishops and exalted members of the Brotherhood being depicted here, there are gaunt, faceless characters, some looking as if they are suffering great agonies and abuse from what must be enemies of the faith. Lacking facial features, they seem to take this all with the utmost of restraint of emotion. The kitsune accompanies Jay away from Duffy. Instead of reviewing book titles however, he finds a place to stand and inspects the stain glass windows in turn. To help in this, Taro reaches up and removes his glasses for the moment. On the walls hang crucifixes and other religious iconography. Thorns, barbed wire, and other sharp, painful-looking shapes seem to figure into the designs frequently, and many of the designs have a skeletal look about them. The only iconography that doesn't depict people without facial features would be the occasional "memento mori" -- reminders of death, images of skeletons -- which have normal, human skulls ... plus some statues of human figures toward the altar, including that of a stylized woman in robes, holding a child in her arms. The dog-man tries to keep his gaze from wandering about the numerous morbid signs of the Lutheran faith and on the Patriarch's eyes, to see if there's any sign of recognition in them. The Patriarch looks at the pouch a bit longer, then turns toward the chalkboard. In slow, deliberate movements, the chalk squeaks and shrieks across the slate, writing out, "A talisman, containing ashes of one's ancestors. For protection and guidance." Duffy rubs his chinfur. "Is it ever found in the possession of the non-Lutherans, Patriarch?" The Patriarch shakes his head in the negative. Ice walks up and taps the pouch. "Stolen?" The Patriarch lifts a hand in a "perhaps" gesture. "Reason?" The devilcat scratches her chin. "Why?" The Patriarch turns to the chalkboard again, wiping off the previous writing, and then, with several squeaky strokes, writes, "I can think of no good reason, save to spite the Kin." Jimbo runs an index finger along the spines of the books thoughtfully, tapping each title in turn, here a speculative look, there a curious look, going mostly over the schoolbooks. His hand seems to settle randomly on one tome, which he slides out a bit. "Well, this pouch turned up in a van used by a bunch of drug users. You might have heard about the incident in the news--" Duffy catches himself, realizing that television broadcasts might not be big out here in Quietside. "Then again, you might not. These people were driving around recklessly, engaged in a firefight with another car, and at least one of them was using some kind of blue-glowing drug that bulked up this one Gaian into a real monster. They claimed to be Armageddonists." Here, Duffy pauses and looks for a reaction, or perhaps answers. The Patriarch nods, then turns to the board. He slowly wipes the board again, then lifts his chalk once more. In smaller letters, he begins to write, though it seems like it might take him some time to finish his sentences... After briefly reviewing the room and its "charms", Officer Hidaka takes a few steps over towards the organ. Here he once again hides his golden eyes behind his glasses and dips his head slightly. By the way he cocks his ears, it would appear he's listening to the woman play. The Patriarch writes, "'Armageddonists' are some who seek to find revenge upon the corporations, to visit upon the children the sins of the blood of their ancestors. ..." Duffy rubs his chinfur, reading as the Patriarch writes. The Patriarch continues, "... They seek to use the Megabody to destroy Luna, and fulfil the curse of Earth's ..." He then scratches out "Earth's" and replaces this with "Dark Eden's". "... last four great leaders upon the rebels of Luna." Jimbo thumbs through a book marked "History of Earth", occasionally looking up as he skims. After a few pages, and a few skips, he takes slightly more interest in the slowly developing sentence, and seems to slow down his perusal of the tome. Duffy blinks! There's that number four again. "Skulls," Ice nods. She taps the Patriarch's writing on the word "leaders". "Who?" The Patriarch continues writing, "Some history is in order," and then nods to Ice, and walks over to the bookshelf. With a slightly startled look in his baggy eyes, Jimbo looks at the shelf, then the tome in his hands, and raises it up just in case he happens to be holding the book the Elder needs. Duffy whispers to Ice, "Careful, judging from the number of skull-faces around here, these people take them pretty seriously." The dog-man trails behind Marcus Payne, leaning on his crutch when he's close enough to read what is presented. The Patriarch nods at the book Officer Watterson is holding ... then reaches over to a book right next to the empty spot where Jimbo's book came off the shelf. The Patriarch pulls a book from the shelf, labeled, "History of the Last Days of Earth". He carefully rests his staff in the crook of his shoulder and left arm, and flips through the pages, then comes to one printed with a macabre image of four skulls on it, with what look like ... bar codes imprinted on their foreheads. Not that Duffy is likely to have seen bar codes in daily use. It's a Corporate thing. Jimbo lowers his hands again, then lowers his head to scan the pages again, giving the Patriarch another glance to be sure this is all right. After a few more pages, he looks satisfied, and returns the tome to its proper place, taking to leaning on a stable part of the bookcase to observe the Elder. The Patriarch sets the book down on a table, spreading out the pages, then steps aside, gesturing for Duffy to take a look. The kitsune shifts his head and looks back over his shoulder. Upon seeing that something of interest is happening he turns fully and begins walking over towards the opened book. Duffy blinks. "Hmm! These Armag--" He pauses, remembering his own admonition to Ice. "Ah, that is, are these the skulls of the four leaders of which you spoke?" His eyes drift over the page, looking for more information. The Patriarch nods in response to Duffy's question. The page, meanwhile, has a rather colorful accounting of the history of ancient Earth -- Dark Eden ... It tells of a time before the Fall, when many great advances were made in technology. The years referred to don't seem to fit on the Brotherhood's calendar -- rather than any mention of the reigns of Cardinals, or the Year of the Cardinal, there are references to years "A.D.", or "Anno Domini", and it would seem that by this reckoning, it was a time in the third millenium on this calendar when all this transpired. The world of mankind was once ruled by nations, with borders defined by what lands they held on the continents of the world once known as Earth, not by product lines or trademarks or brand names. However, companies and corporations gained in power, forming into megacorporations, the first of which was Capitol, followed by Bauhaus, Mishima and Imperial, and several lesser corporations. Jimbo gives a little push of his shoulder against the case to right himself, tipping his head from side to side, and rubbing his neck. He begins adjusting his gloves and goggles, and leans toward Duffy. "I'm gonna get some fresh air, Chief." he whispers, though it's clearly audible in the hush of the church. These megacorporations supplanted the authority of the nations, becoming governments unto themselves, and making many wondrous technological advances. They modified the code that defined human life, creating new forms of life, and thinking themselves to take the place of the Creator ... and they even went a step further, by adding an atmosphere and bodies of water to the moon -- Luna -- and then going to even greater extremes by terraforming other planets in the solar system, creating life where there was none before. Duffy looks up from the page startled. "Ah, right." He nods to Jay, then looks back to the page. This puts such a sinister take on the events that the Sunday Brotherhood Kids' programs just glossed right over. "I believe I will accompany him. I see no need to crowd you here," mentions Taro. His gaze lingers on the opened book for a moment longer before he turns off and moves towards the double doors. A great city was born on the moon, facing its birth-world, the Earth, known by many names -- a new Babylon, some claimed, though others called it "Luna". The people of Luna thrived, and made many advances, independent of any contribution from the people of Earth, who were too absorbed in their own troubles, their own wars, as the megacorporations raped the Earth for its resources in order to create new paradises on the other globes. James gives Taro a nod, then ambles unhurriedly towards the great main doors of the church, slouching as he goes. One hand is already reaching for the pack of cigarettes in a belt pouch. The great city of Luna was proud of its accomplishments, and eager to prove its independence of Earth. When the leaders of Earth made demands upon Luna for taxes, for resources, for access to the technology used to create paradises on other worlds, so they might somehow make Earth like it once was ... Luna responded by declaring its independence, and underscoring this by unleashing weapons upon the cities of Earth, wiping out countless numbers beyond imagining. They were proud in their accomplishment, and the inability of the nations of Earth to do anything to oppose them. Ice stays near the detective and reads over his shoulder. Of the old nations of Earth, there remained only four powerful leaders, ruling nations that were each birthplaces of the four great corporations. They saw that their power was crumbling, and that the new order of the megacorporations had no use for them or any of Earth. They sought to bring fear into the hearts of the megacorporations and of rebellious Luna. They made a terrible pact to create a weapon of great destruction -- the Megabody. Duffy whispers to Ice, "Seems like a lot of anger between Earth and Luna here. I always thought all the badness started when people went, y'know... Past the Limit." He peruses the pages, his brows furrowed. Through means of agents who still had dealings with Luna, they worked to secret away great stores of weapons hidden away on the moon, and arranged that these weapons -- in the forms of great and powerful machines -- could be caused to ignite upon a command originated from the Earth. These weapons were encoded with a special sequence of two thousand digits ... but the four leaders determined that no single one of them should have the ability to set off this weapon. The slow sway of Duffy's tail stops entirely upon this line. Each leader contributed five hundred digits of the secret code, and had these five hundred digits engraved into his or her skull. The engravers were silenced. Only when all four of these leaders should come together and meet, could they set in motion the chain of events that would set off these weapons buried under Luna's core. Luna would never again strike the nations of Earth with impunity. At the command of the four leaders, Luna would be destroyed. They called this plan, this weapon, the Megabody. But the Megabody was never used. The leaders' plans were flawed, for they did not count on the savagery that mankind had come to. For reasons lost to history, Luna perhaps became angry with the leaders of Earth, or perhaps learned of this plan, or perhaps they simply wished to wipe away any trace of their birth-place. In any case, they unleashed an even more devastating barrage on the cities of the Earth. The four leaders died. "Gone," Ice murmurs, rubbing her nose. Duffy shakes his head. "Maybe not." Those who followed the Megabody kept the skulls of their leaders nearby, as macabre trophies ... and in hopes of future revenge against Luna. The nations of Earth collapsed, as warlords struggled for power and fell into infighting over what few resources remained. Terrible storms swept the Earth, and the sky filled with death. The sun became seen less frequently, and the sky was no longer blue. Contact was lost between these nations, and the whereabouts of these relics of destruction were lost to history. But there are tales that surface from time to time, of the descendants of ancient caretakers who religiously follow their last instructions given to them by crumbling governments, awaiting the call to strike against the moon, to retaliate for the wrongs of centuries past. And thus ends the history lesson. The Patriarch looks up from the book, regarding Duffy's face, then Ice's. The devilcat scratches the back of her head and goes over to pick up the leather bag again. She opens it up and shakes its contents around a little, trying to determine if the bone fragments inside are from a skull. Duffy looks up from the book, horrified at the revelation of a whole history that he knew nothing about. Could these people actually have a right to be so upset-- no, he tells himself, whatever happened, those were the deeds of generations past. His duty is to protect the people on Luna now. "This book, Patriarch... It says these Armageddonists are waiting for some kind of signal. Well, it seems like they're just popping out of the ductwork now. What do you think is going on?" The fragments are so small that they're not far removed from powder. It is entirely within the realm of possibility that they might be from a skull, but there is far too little to even dream of trying to piece one together. The Patriarch wipes off the board again, then writes, "The Darkness comes in many forms. This is yet another." Ice closes the mouth of the pouch up again. "Blue." Duffy nods. "I think some people are stirring up these cultists, telling them what they want to hear, Patriarch. And I think these people are giving them drugs... Dark, maybe even giving them weapons; you don't get grenade launchers out of vending machines. I know you're a law-abiding man and you wouldn't tolerate craziness in your town..." He watches the Patriarch for reactions. The Patriarch nods, wipes off the board, then writes again, "None among my congregation seek vengeance against Luna. The Creator has tested us, and purified us through tribulation. Who are we to question the wrath of the Creator? We suffer for the sins of our fathers, but are stronger for it." The devilcat makes a rumbling sound in her throat, uneasy for some reason. "Yeah... Yeah, you live here, like the rest of us; this is as much your home as ours," Duffy says, unusually emotional in his words. "What I'm saying is, if you or any of yours hear anything that might help us stop these Armageddonists from unleashing this secret weapon, or from causing havoc in Luna City, I'm hoping you'll tell us about it. The Armageddonists we talked to, they mentioned these four skulls. Maybe they've put them all together, maybe they're missing one or two and trying to get them all, or maybe there're some other pieces in their plans they need. But we haven't all been blown up, so I figure there's something still missing." The Patriarch wipes off the board again, then writes, "If the skulls were gathered, surely some would have proclaimed it. Any Tribe with such power would gain much prestige for it. To be silent about it would be unthinkable." The dog-man scratches behind his ear. "Then maybe they're still working on it. But it's not just the Tribes; we know there're Corporate sources for the drugs they're getting. Maybe these Corporation types, they promised to help get these skulls together. We can't overlook any lead." "Searching?" Ice tilts her head to the side and rubs her chin again. "Trick. Maybe." The Patriarch wipes off the board, then writes, "But your searching led you here? Was it only the pouch that made you think to look to the Kinsmen?" "Yeah, it's dangerous to speculate too hard," Duffy agrees. "The more I think on it, the more I think it's something Dark at the core." He turns to the Patriarch. "Well, the way I see it, Patriarch, I think these Armageddonists, they might have attacked your people and taken the pouch as booty. I was wondering if you knew of any such attacks." The devilcat shakes her head again. "Them." She nudges Duffy and shows him the pouch. "Skull. Trick." She sets the pouch down on a table and does a quick pantomime as though she were standing guard over it and then ducks around to the other side of the table, acting as though she were hiding from something in the very spot she had been standing and pretending to guard the pouch. She exaggeratedly grabs it up and 'sneakily' stuffs it into her pocket. finally she drops the pouch on the table again. "Us. Trap." Duffy blinks and looks at Ice's pantomime. He scratches behind his ear. The Patriarch wipes the board off, then writes, "No good comes of deceit, no matter the intent." "In this trick, is this pouch the pouch, or the skulls?" the dog-man inquires after a bit of thought. The Patriarch looks at Duffy, then wipes the board off, and writes again, "I presume your friend meant to suggest setting up a trap by promises of a skull -- fake, that is." Ice nods at the patriarch and waves the pouch again. The Patriarch picks up the book of history, and walks over to the shelf, putting it back in its proper place. As he does so, another book falls of the shelf, landing on the floor, falling open on a page of what looks like a statue of the mother-and-child at the altar, only morbidly different -- the mother on this image is skeletal. The Patriarch gives a start upon seeing this image, puts his hand to his head as if in silent prayer ... then hastily stoops down to pick up the book, quickly closing it. "Well, it's not really Dawn Alert style to set up dramas like that, and besides, I don't think we know enough to convince anyone that we know what we're talking about," Duffy demurs. His eye narrows at the image, but he doesn't say anything, instead changing the subject. "So have there been any recent Lutheran deaths or muggings, Patriarch?" Ice's ears flatten at the image. She walks up to the statue and circles it, looking for any writings that might say who the image is supposed to depict. The statue at the altar looks like a woman holding a child of uncertain age. Both of them have halos on their heads. The child has one hand raised as if in a gesture of blessing. The statue is old and cracked, made of white porcelain that has been stained with age. There are no names or inscriptions, but it would seem to represent someone of importance to the faith, and conspicuous in the lack of Lutheran Triad features (or lack thereof) on the face. The halo of the child is slightly different in style than the plain halo of the mother (?), looking as if it has an image of a cross superimposed upon the disc. It seems like a similar pose to that of the image that was on the page, except that the skeletal figure in the image was not holding a child. (And, of course, the figure was skeletal, though still robed, and in a similar pose.) The Patriarch leaves the book lying on a shelf, not putting it away in its proper place just yet, and walks to the slate board, wiping it off again, and then writing, "There were a couple of accidents in the fields, but nothing that would account for the loss of a talisman such as this." Duffy rubs his chinfur and moves over to the chalkboard, leaving Ice a clear path to the shelves. "So talismans like these are pretty rare then? What if it came from Lutherans on Earth?" The Patriarch shakes his head, wipes the board, then writes, "They are quite common. But the loss of such a talisman would be a tragedy, and would be known of by others. The mortal remains of our ancestors are highly regarded." The Patriarch then adds, "Perhaps of Earth. There is no way to be certain one way or the other." Duffy nods, "Do you keep in contact with your..." He searches for a word. "Kinsmen?" The Patriarch walks over to a small cask set in a cabinet, and opens it up. He reveals what look like several pouches of similar make -- made from leather, and bound tight. Each one of them bears a different symbol engraved upon it ... three different symbols, it appears, with minor variations. The Patriarch shows the talismans briefly to Duffy and Ice, then places the coffer back in the cabinet and walks to the board, drawing the three symbols there, and writing names next to them... The devilcat quietly walks to the table and pulls the history book out again from the shelves. She places it next to the fallen book and then picks both of them up again. she turns her back to the detective and the Lutheran and begins scanning the cover of the book. Glancing over her shoulder, she cracks it open and starts to quietly leaf through the pages. Duffy nods at the talismans, then blinks realizing there's variation. That means there might be a way to identify this pouch, if the talismans are sufficiently distinctive. He waits patiently as the Patriarch writes. The Patriarch writes on the slate board, "The Three Kin of the Triad", and then, beside each symbol, three names, "Ash", "Kain" and "Wrought". Meanwhile, the devilcat's perusal of the book seems to escape the Patriarch's notice. It reads, "The Other Tribes of Europe", on the cover, and has sections devoted to the Sons of Rasputin, the Crescentia, and the Templars of Gaia, along with countless smaller tribes. "These Kin, are they heroes of your people?" inquires Duffy as he watches the Patriarch write. "Or are they tribes within the Lutherans as a whole?" The page with the image of the skeletal Mother figure appears in the section under the Templars of Gaia, under a section labeled, "The Legion". It describes the Templars of Gaia, and their mission to purge the rest of the world from the "impurities" of "lesser people"... The Patriarch writes, "The Lutheran Triad is three Kin. We are all from one Kin or another. This pouch has no sign of any Kin on it." Duffy blinks. "But it's Lutheran-make, I'm told..." The section that the devilcat reads continues, telling of the people captured by the Templars of Gaia, put into camps to work for them, or pressed into service as 'Legionnaires' in their armies. Those deemed unable to serve the Templars of Gaia are slain, and the rest are expected to die eventually -- living and dying in the service of the Templars of Gaia. The skeletal Mother figure is presented as an "abomination" -- a perversion of the "Holy Mother" invented by the Templars of Gaia, and foisted upon the descendants of the Kinsmen living as their slaves. Ice's nubby tail flits around curiously as she flips forward a few pages. In another section of the book, Ice happens upon a mention of the skulls... "The capitol of the land of the Gaians is Terra Nostra, a city built on the ruins of what was once known as 'Paris'. Their domain stretches through lands that were once part of the nations known as 'Spain', 'Switzerland' and much of what was the centrality of the continent of Europe. At the heart of their city, under the rubble of the Pere La Chaise Cemetery, a forbidden place of superstition amongst Templars, is believed to be a crashed starship, though others hold that one of the skulls of the Megabody resides in this place." The Patriarch, in response to Duffy's statement, seems to have nothing further to write for now. Duffy rubs his chin. "Can Lutherans be exiled from the Kin, then?" He furrows his brow. "No offense intended, Patriarch, but I've got to look at all the leads. Anything could be the thing that lets us figure out who did what and stop them from doing it again." The section Ice currently reads continues, "The society of the Gaians is governed by nine 'Ascended Templars', the descendants of the most powerful of the First Ones. They rule from a reconstructed Notre Dame cathedral, rebuilt completely by the Templars, and redesigned to enshrine their worship of the Earth Mother. The Ascended Templars appoint leaders at all levels of society, and grant them districts to govern. Though these leaders have no titles as such, they serve as governors in a way much like the Dukes of Rasputin society..." The chapter continues on into what seems to be an attempt to describe the intricacies of Templar government, though from the perspective of an outsider. Ice pauses in her reading as she hears the chalk writing stop, but resumes it again when she hears Duffy's voice. She flips ahead a few more pages. The Patriarch wipes the board, then writes, "There are outcasts. It is possible that this was one of those. But an outcast would be bold to still seek protection with the ashes of an ancestor." Scratching behind an ear, his habitual gesture of thoughtfulness, Duffy nods again. "Children of outcasts, then? This all happened a very long time ago, so it's not exactly out of reason. What I don't know is whether these Kinless Lutherans are exactly numerous, and how one could go about finding them and asking some questions." The Patriarch wipes the board, then writes, "As odd as it may seem, based on the history of other peoples, we know of no great splinter groups from our Kin. We are a very closely knit people, and those who are outcast from our number are criminals and ne'er-do-wells who usually bring about their own end, or eventually seek reconciliation and return to the clans." The devilcat glances over her shoulder and reads the board. "Wannabes?" she asks, moving as though she intends to put both books back on the shelves. "Huh. No, I guess that doesn't sound all that unlikely, really, you seem like a pretty law-abiding lot," Duffy admits. "So if there're Kinless Lutherans mixed up into this, they're pretty much on their own then. All right then, let me give you my address so you can send a message if you hear anything." The Patriarch nods. He doesn't seem to catch Ice's latest contribution, however. Duffy rummages about and comes up with a business card for Marcus Payne. The Patriarch takes the card, looking it over. "Ah, that has our address, so you can just hire a messenger and send anything you think helpful," the detective supplies. "We'll reimburse them for the cost." The Patriarch nods quietly in response. Duffy looks about to stick out his hand, but remembers Jimbo's experience, and nods to the Lutheran. "Thank you very much for your time, Patriarch. You've been very helpful. Don't hesitate to let Dawn Alert know if we can help in any way." He glances over to Ice to see if she's done with her business. The devilcat slips the books back into the shelves and wiggles her fingers. She turns and starts towards the door. The Patriarch wipes off the board, then raises his free hand as if in a farewell or gesture of benediction. Duffy looks about to add something, glancing over to the books, then decides it wouldn't be politic just yet. He starts walking to the door, his crutch thumping rhythmically. "Good day to you, Patriarch!" In a quieter tone of voice, he adds, "C'mon, Ice, let's find Jay and Taro and drop the news on them." Ice nods, putting a hand on Duffy's shoulder as she prepares to help him down the stairs. Outside, the coach is still waiting in front of the church. The street is otherwise empty and quiet, save for the occasional leaves sweeping past.
Meanwhile, "Jimbo" and Taro have been checking out the neighborhood...
A kitsune and a human make their way out through the heavy front doors of the church on the circle drive. The coach still waits in front of the church, the driver looking like he's in the middle of a nap.
"Was it just too stuffy for you? I found some interesting tidbits in one of their history books ... just background, really." Jimbo looks up and down the street as best he can with the fog obscuring the streets. "I think Duffy can handle the information retrieval, though. I figure our best bet is to cruise around a bit, patronize a shop or two and see if there's been any news or gossip floating around." It doesn't look like there are too many shops around. There's an inn down the way, from which the faintest sounds of piano music can be heard, but no sounds of laughter. (As if this is a surprise.) A sign in the front reads, "The End of the Road". Another store seems to be devoted to the selling of religious figurines, as those in the windows look like the sort seen inside the church. The store sign out front reads, "Brannagh's". Officer Hidaka glances down the street both ways before he shakes his head. "I found it rather depressing, actually." He lifts his hand and points towards the distant inn. "Perhaps an inn would be useful for rumors. They might be more inclined to speak with outsiders there," he suggests. Another store sells weapons, judging by the display in the barred window, and the sign that has a pistol crossed with a sword hanging out front. Watterson begins strolling in the direction of the inn, practically out of reflex, then pauses to glance at the weapons shop storefront. "Good call. Hmm ... if we get word on any problems that've been running around here, then I think that gunsmith there is the next place to ask around. if we have time. But the inn first, yeah." Jimbo continues walking, occasionally blowing smoke out his nostrils. "Of course. I am also curious just what sort of weapons they stock ...," comments the fox-man. He continues to walk along with the other officer, quiet as the mist when he isn't speaking. The two officers make their way up to the inn. A single wooden door provides entry into a considerably more well-lit area, thanks to a roaring fireplace and lamps on the walls and ceiling. It looks like a bar room out of some fantasy adventure, perhaps, with a bard sitting by the fireplace and strumming a lute-like instrument, except that he is accompanied by a player on the piano. Chairs and tables are made from sturdy wooden barrels, and a bartender stands behind the bar, polishing a mug. The bartender has steel-grey hair, a bit on the long side, and a beard that runs along his chinline, though he has no facial hair crossing the smooth front of his face where there should be a nose and mouth. He looks up to the newcomers, and nods -- quietly, of course. Jimbo smirks. "Nothin' we can afford, I'm sure. Well, maybe a nice knife or two. I'll tell you, though, my landlord's past the limit, and I'd rather have his rent than any weapon in the world to try to hold him off." Watterson nods politely in response, and bellies up to the bar, sidling onto a stool. "'Evenin', chum. We're still on duty yet, so you got any coffee?" The bartender nods, pointing to a sign. Looks like coffee is ten crowns for the first cup, another crown for each refill. The bartender, meanwhile, heads over to a cup rack, and pulls one down, then lifts a pot off of a cast-iron stove, and pours some strong-looking steaming liquid into the cup. A faint chuckle escapes Taro, and he nods. "Actually, it is more of an intellectual curiosity. Having gotten an idea of the people, I am curious to what they may find acceptable," mentions Taro. Upon entering the bar fully the kitsune inclines his head to the barkeep. "I do not suppose you have any tea, good sir?" Jimbo's sleepy eyes brighten slightly at the sight, and he begins digging around in his pockets for money pouch, sifting through it to get enough cash for a coffee and a refill or two. He nods at Taro. "Think we have time to make a 10-63 of this? Well, probably not. I guess we'll check it out on our way back, we shouldn't go far." The barkeep nods, and sets down the cup of coffee, then pours another cup of tea for Taro. There's no sign of any sugar for the tea, however. The patrons of the bar are a curious sight with their drinks. They don't have mugs or cups, but rather something remotely akin to steins, with long, tube-like necks on the tops. The tired-looking officer slides his crowns across the counter, and wraps his hands around the coffee mug, inhaling some of the steam from it with a satisfied sigh. Jimmy lifts it up for a sip, feeling a little self-conscious as the other patrons do.. whatever it is they do. He tries not to be too blatant in his curiosity by covering with some casual banter. "So, uh... how's business these days, chief?" After removing some coins from his pocket Taro offers them over to the barkeep once he nears him. "I agree. We have time for a drink, however." He gives the barkeep what amounts to a professional smile. It looks pleasant enough, but how genuine it may be is rather questionable. The bartender waves his hands around, making some sort of gestures that look as if they're supposed to mean something. "I don't suppose you brought your pocket guide to the Lutheran language?" asks Taro before he picks up his tea and sips it. Jimbo observes the gestures, and lowers his head a little sheepishly. "Sorry buddy, I don't quite follow. I don't suppose you're too busy to scratch it out with a couple tired joes.. I don't wanna bug you or anything." The bartender regards Jimbo's blank look, and Taro's comment, then nods, and walks off toward the wall, pulling down a slate board and a stubby piece of chalk. He sets it down on the table. He writes, "Good," then makes a thumbs-up sign. "How has life been treating you here? Fairly quiet down in these parts? I would hate to think any of the goings on lately have startled such decent people," asks Taro. Another sip is taken and he settles himself onto a barstool. Jimbo's haggard face brightens a little in relief, and he nods appreciatively. "Glad to hear it ... er, read it, mack. I heard there might've been some ruckus in the neighborhood." He glances at Taro, smirking at the "decent people" comment. The barkeep wipes the slate with his sleeve, then scribbles, "Fair. Yes. What sort?" "Eh, some hoods running around, nobody's really got a clear fix on 'em," replies Jimmy, taking another sip of coffee. He encircles his coffee cup with his fingers again, still warming them. "It looks like this is a pretty gentle part of Luna, so we weren't sure. Anybody weirder than us pass through here?" Another wipe of the slate, and then, "Not to recollection. What sort of weird?" Taro just turns that professional smile to Jimbo for a moment before he looks back to the barkeep. "Well, I would not want to worry you, but it would seem those hoods had an interest in your holy talismans. Namely ashes. I don't suppose any such ashes have turned up missing? Such sacred relics as those ... a shame they could be taken at all." One of the patrons at a nearby table takes a swig of his "stein" ... by lifting it up to what looks like some sort of box-like contraption affixed to his throat, and pouring the contents into a nozzle, using the neck of the stein as a funnel. Jimbo gives Taro an odd glance, then shrugs at the barkeep. "Well, anything out of the ordinary, really. Though my partner brings up a case we've had.. there was one of those talismans found in the hands of some gang members bashing around uptown from here." The barkeep wipes the tablet, then writes, "Many have ashes of ancestors." He quickly runs out of space, wipes the board again, then writes some more, "Why steal ashes of someone ancestor?" He then goes back and squeezes "else's" between "someone" and "ancestor". "That's what we're trying to figure out," admits Jimbo, spreading his hands to either side and shrugging again. "We got the talisman back, but for a while, we didn't even know what it was. We're still not exactly sure who it belongs to, either, so the department's trying to piece this all together." "I wouldn't know, really. I find it quite odd myself. I thought you may have heard someone was missing theirs," says the kitsune. The barkeep shakes his head, wipes the board then writes, "Kin close-knit. Would have heard." Jimbo rubs the stubble at his chin. "So nobody in this district had any sort of problem like that? Huh." Taro nods slightly again. He lowers his head to gaze at his cup for a moment before he peers over his glasses at the may beyond the counter. "I take it dealing with the criminal element isn't something good people such as yourself would condone?" The barkeep wipes the slate, then writes, "We respect the law." At this, Jimbo lightly raps Taro's shoulder plate with his knuckles. "Geez, man. We're guests, don't go insulting people." The barkeep seems to be deep in thought, then wipes the slate and writes, "Perhaps a Kinsman involved with gang? Shame the thought." Jimbo nods at the bartender. "Maybe, Chief, but I dunno. You fellas are pretty distinct, we probably would have spotted a Lutheran amongst them, and the guys we saw were pretty distinct themselves. Gaians, from the looks of them." He sips at his mug to let the Lutheran get a scrawl in, contemplating a thought. "I'm curious. Being such a tight-knit gro- ... " Taro pauses and glances over towards his fellow officer. He smiles a bit more, which might be reassuring if he actually looked cheery. Instead it's just a smile on a typically expressionless face. "I have no intention of insulting anyone. I am merely concerned for them." He returns his gaze to the barkeep. "I apologize if I have offended you any. But I wonder, are there those no longer affiliated with your group, that may have left to pursue such disreputable things such as gangs?" James nods. "That's a thought, Taro ... but even more, I wonder if someone could be blackmailed with their talisman. It'd stand to reason that if someone had it, they could get a guy to do what they want, and make him promise not to tell anyone what was going on, on pain of ... eh ... on pain of talisman sinkage, or something." The barkeep wipes the slate, then writes, "We have our outcasts." Again, Taro nods over to his partner. "I do have a reason for asking," he tells him before shifting his attention away again. "Has there ever been an outcast who associated with gang members? Or one who would have reason to use what relics they still possessed to discredit your people?" The barkeep just shrugs at this. Jimbo takes another gulp of his coffee, draining his mug, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "Ahhh ... good stuff. Well, you want to browse your shop, Taro? I doubt we have much break left." "Again, pardon me if I have been rude," mentions the kitsune. He places the cup on the table and removes himself from his chair. "Yes, let's go take a look. I would like to stretch my legs a bit before our break is over." The barkeep nods, and takes up the kitsune's discarded cup, and sets it over with some other small vessels awaiting a washing. Jimbo gets to his feet, and lays a few more crowns on the countertop as his tip, then touches his goggles with a couple fingers. "Thanks for the chat, buddy." The tip placed, Taro waits for the other officer to finish and then heads for the door. James pats himself reflexively to be sure he's got everything, then taps one enormous ash piece off of his cigarette into an ashtray, and stubs the smoke out, nodding at Taro as the pair make for the street. The two officers head across the street, over toward the weapons shop. Some bells jangle as they try the front door, and they are greeted by a large and muscular -- and faceless -- man who looks the sort who might forge these weapons himself. By the equipment seen in the back of the shop, and the smells, it would seem that he might very well have a forge in the back. Hanging on the walls are swords and knives and maces, though not all of them look entirely of medieval levels of technology. One item looks like some sort of scythe with strange equipment attached to the blade, with cables and cords running to a pack of tanks that look as if they're meant to be worn on the back. A sickle seems to be of similar design, though with a smaller pack to be worn, and less impressive machinery. Particularly grisly-looking is what looks like a large, oversized gauntlet that easily covers the hand and forearm, offering limited movement of the fingers, dominated by large sheathes over the back of the hand, from which extend sharp-looking blades, attached to yet more machinery. The human officer nods a greeting at the bulky (assumed to be) proprietor. "'Evening." He meanders through the shop, looking over the scythes curiously, and with a little trepidation. The rest of the weapons in the shop look a bit less technological, however ... simple pistols, revolvers, and shotguns. And, of course, it seems that everything is decorated with a strange mix of crosses, holy-looking symbols, and emblems of pain and suffering -- thorns, barbed wire, and skulls. The weaponsmith nods in greeting to his customers. "Hello good sir," greets Taro as he walks in after Jay. He then wanders off to examine some of the items hanging on the wall. In particular, he seems interested in the selection of revolvers. "Jimbo, I think we may want to try and stop by the religious icon store. They might have a comment on the bag." Jimmy taps his temple thoughtfully. "Good thinking. Hmm ... just a quick browse, then." The mechanical-looking melee weapons look pretty pricey -- hovering around the range of 8,000 crowns or more on average. The scythe is called the "Scythe of Maiming", the sickle is the "Sickle of Sorrows", and the gauntlet-like weapon is the "Fist of Judah". Other weapons of this sort have similar "happy" names along these lines.
The kitsune reaches over and lifts a revolver off the rack, balancing it in one hand. "You just don't see detail like this in the Corporation brands," he mentions as he inspects the item more closely. The replica Helmores look to be priced around 3,000 crowns. Comparable to "replica Clansman Claymores" sold by Gallagher Arms of Imperial, and not that far removed in general appearance, in some ways. "Sure don't," replies James, somewhat distractedly, as though he were comparing some figures in his head. Looking up from the racks, Jimbo regards the weaponsmith, and asks, "Say, chief, I don't suppose any Mishiman stuff's passed through here at all?" He doesn't look convinced that the question is worth bothering to ask. The weaponsmith just pretty much allows the two to look about, helping to get an item off a hard-to-reach mounting here, or out of a case for closer inspection there. At the question from Jimbo, however, the weaponsmith raises one eyebrow, then shakes his head in the negative. Taro puts the weapon back on the shelf before he moves down to where some of the less detailed melee weaponry hangs. He reaches over and picks a short sword off the rack and holds it in a hang, getting a feel for it. "Is there something on your mind, Jimbo?" he asks as he does so. Through the front window, the front doors of the church can be seen to open and then close again, allowing a dog-man and a devilcat to exit and head down the steps. "Nah, nothing important, Taro," replies the human officer. Glancing at the window, he spies the emerging figures. "Hey, it looks like they're done in there. We better hustle back." With a nod of thanks to the weaponsmith, he heads to the door. "If you're gonna buy anything, Taro, we'll meet you at the coach. I might be back here myself sometime, there's some interesting blades." "I'm afraid I have other purchases to consider before I look into weaponry," replies Taro. He sets the sword down and turns to head for the exit. "I think we discussed that before, actually." He grins a bit. "Let's go." Across the street, Duffy can be heard calling out, "Hey, Jay, where's Taro? I think we're about ready to head off!" Jimbo opens the door to the shop with a jingle, calling out, "Coming!" He gives Taro a wry smile, then departs back to the city's fog to rejoin his comrades.
"No need to fret, I told you," Duffy says with a touch of humor in his voice. "Hmmm, I hope Jay hasn't gotten held up somewhere." He peers about and then hobbles up to the coachman and asks him if he's seen where the others went. The front door to a weapons store across the street opens, with a jangle of bells. A human with a pair of green goggles on his head and a messed-up head of hair can be seen exiting the store. The coachman starts from where it seems he was taking a bit of a nap, then belatedly registers Duffy's question, and looks about. When he sees Watterson emerging from the weapons shop, he points that way. Duffy hehs. "Thanks. Hey, Jay, where's Taro? I think we're about ready to head off." Ice yawns and heads for the coach, setting her sights on a window seat before someone can claim it first. Across the street, Jimbo can be heard to shout out, "Coming!" "Drag him out of whatever crate he's got his head stuck into," Duffy continues. "I hate to say it, but this case could be pretty explosive... I mean, big time." He waves Jimbo over and heads up into the carriage, looking unusually somber as his gaze comes to rest on some of the skull-facaded architecture of Quietside.
*** GM Note: Hero Points Awarded -- Duffy: 2; Taro: 2; Jimbo: 2; Ice: 2
*** GM Note: Totals to date -- Duffy: 18; Ice: 9; Jamie: 3; Jet: 6; Jimbo: 13; Taro: 10
Log stopped on Tuesday, 18 Apr 2000, 10:19 PM EST by "Greywolf2" at "Holodeck 2"
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Jimbo leans forward in his seat towards Duffy, his elbows
propped on his knees, and his uniform's pads clacking
together. "... 'Kay, got it, Chief. I'll just hang around
long enough to be sure all's quiet, and if it looks like
you're gonna go for a while, I'll mosey around a bit."
A black and tan muzzle peers out of the coach as it
approaches the circle, tongue lolling a bit as the muzzle's
owner peers at the quaint-looking architecture. The muzzle
pulls back in, and Duffy comments to the others, "Almost
here. Right, Jay; remember, respect the locals; the
dossier on Payne says he's the local elder, so we don't
want to nark him off. Stay in radio contact, I'll keep
mine live, but remember that other people are probably
listening to us, wherever we are."
To Jimbo's right, Taro adjusts the holster of his Piranha
handgun. "I'll stick around Jimbo, and let him do
the talking. I have a feeling they'll be a bit more
inclined to speak with him than I," he says.
Ice's ears flick at the conversation, but her eyes are
focused on the window of the carriage as she studies the terrain outside.
