The thread which needs a title...

[OOC]Okay DarkUnderlord, here's a little summary:

Dead: Quethim (left the thread) and Maniac (stepped outside the bounds, so ThreeDogs killed him).

Alive: Everyone else. Sheriff Fatman and Vlad the Imposter are hanging out together. Not sure what is happening with JustAGeek and retard. Might want to ask them. ThreeDogs and I have just climbed out of a sewer near Flink (rich gnome guy) who is also near Fatman and Vlad. So pretty much everyone is still together.

Hope it helps.[/OOC]

 

[OOC]
I'm gonna asume that it was a silenced pistol, and make as if I didn't hear or see anything that happened over by the manhole. That way, You know I'm in town, and what I look like. But I don't know much about you guys.
I'm also not gonna notice the symbol on the back of Fatmans shirt. For the moment...
[/OOC]

"Well then, I guess we're going to have to find someone else who knows the way, old chap."

I muttered to Leopold, who obviusly wasn't listening. A butter-fly had landed on his shoulder, And it had all his attention for the moment.
I growled and grabbed my cane.

"Come on you imbecile! Move!"

I yelled, and hit the half-ogre on the shoulder, squashing the butter-fly and cracking the cane in the process.
Leopold growled, but he obeyed my orders, and we where on the move...

After traveling a few blocks, We came across one of Tarants law enforcers. I politley asked the way to the patent office, and he pointed towards a large building in the distance. I was told that this building was the Tarant library, and the patent office was a sub-department.
Without even thanking the law enforcer, We where on our way.
Within 5 minutes we where there. As we came to a stop in front of the massive building, I ordered Leopold to guard the carrage while I went inside, I wasn't expecting trouble. And I knew there where several guards inside the patent office. Still, one can't be too careful so I brought my small but deadly Derringer pistol, and also a few more exotic forms of defense. Like my *Hex Orb.
Stepping inside the library I was recogniced by several of the patrons.
I stepped closer to one of the guards. But before I could even open my mouth, he pointed towards a corridor to the left and said:

"Good morning Mr. Boothby. The patent office is down this way. Mr. Katzenberg is expecting you."

Thanking him for his help, I gave the guard a few silver coins and walked towards the corridor he had pointed at.

*Hex Orb:
About 10 years ago I had some business with one of Caladons greatest mages. As payment for my services, He offered me something special. Instead of gold he offred to make me a very unique form of personal defense. Indeed, I don't think anyone else in all of Arcanum has such a thing. He called it a Hex Orb, and this is how it works. The Hex Orb is a small ball, about 2 inches in diameter. Its nearly weightless and warm to the touch. Inside this orb rests the soul of a very powerful demon, A Red pit Lord to be more specific...
Should I ever be backed in to a corner and all my other ways of defending myself fail, I simply smash the orb and the demon will apear, bringing swift death to all who would stand against me. Pretty nifty? huh? :smile:

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Flink on 2002-03-02 12:53 ]</font>

 

[OOC] Just a quick note on where my character is. He was TRYING to get some sleep off in an alley, when he heard the manhole nearby open. Guess who popped out? so yeah, he is standing there, watching everything going on with Jar, ThreeDogs and crew. Not even really trying to hide his presence, either.

Dunno about retard, but, assuming my char lives through this ordeal, I'm gonna have something for him to be able to do, if he still wants to play.
[/OOC]

 

[OOC] I did not want to kill Maniac but he made me. He pops out of nowhere to throw a grenade through the shower window of a BATHHOUSE. Then his ability to come upon us after kiled Q.'s guy and we had been in the sewers. Then he disarms a Jar without a scrach. So that is why he had to go. Yes now that you mention it there was a silencer on my pistol :lol:[OOC]


Boothby is at the bottem of all this. I see him whip his beast and head out. Well I an not going to loose him now.
"Excuse me my good bum whould you mind turning around." After the abrupt death of the half-orc he does so willingly. my pistol comes down on the back of his head and he slups to the ground unconcious. I turn to Lendark, "Follow that gnome." We do so and eventually come to the patent office where we see Boothby disappear into the building. We sit down in the cafe next door for some coffee and to wait on Boothby.

 

As I quickly walked down the alley I noticed the half-ogre take an abrupt turn down one of the many side streets. I really wanted to talk to him so I turned around and started running towards him. I made no attempt to be quiet, hoping he would hear me. He didn't seem to notice me until I was almost on top of him. "Hold on there, buddy," I said as I came up next to him. I had to take two steps for his one. "Can we talk?"

He stopped, turning towards me menacingly "Look," I said apologetically, "I am sorry about saying that stuff back there, but I didn't want to draw attention to you or me. That was William Boothby, the most ruthless gnome in Arcanum. Had he discovered who I am we would probably both be feeding the rats right now."

He seemed to relax a little. "I would really like to talk to you about your former employer. But first, we have to find you some new clothes, you are no longer the property of anybody, also you probably need a weapon. Sorry, but I am a little short on those at the moment or I would give you one. Do you prefer magikal or technological? I might be able to pick one up while you are getting fitted. Also, we need to find a healer. My ribs are killing me." I realized that I was rambling. "Where are my manners? I am Jobriath La'thiem. My friends call me Joe," I said extending my hand.

 

I sat down with Orin.

"Unfortunately for this gnome, we're going to have to kill him. That half-ogre servant of his looks like a mighty tough fellow to kill though. I don't know about you, but in my present state, I don't think I'd be up to taking a half-ogre on. Dwarves may be renowned for their stamina, but humans are not, and even dwarves need to rest."

I caught the hand of the street urchin trying to probe my body for coins so that he could steal them.

"Now, son, I can either yell at you, and give you a real bad day, or you can go get someone for me. I'll pay you for it, when you get back, but not doing what I ask will turn out badly for you. Understand?"

I gave the young lad my most menacing look, which normally frightened adults, and so would most likely give this child nightmares. "Run along now, and this will be yours." I held up a silver piece I'd taken off the body of the orc, and whispered the address in the lad's ear.

 

Post retracted.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Just A Geek on 2002-03-03 17:07 ]</font>

 

I looked at the hand. This Jobriath seemed to be taking an awful lot on faith. He'd just fronted up an unknown half-ogre whose former employer was not exactly keen on Elves. In fact, a whole line of our combat training was about how to take one down quickly but without skimping on the pain.

If the stranger had approached one of my fellow guards like that, he'd have lost the hand and the arm it was extended from.

Well, maybe Jobriath had noticed something different about me. Maybe he had a reason to think I'd react differently. He was correct after all, which is a good justification for most reasoning.

Even so, I wasn't sure about his proposition. I had not decided my course of action yet. Abandoning my position would also mean abandoning my mother, unless I found an alternative that I'd yet to consider. I wanted to ditch the uniform and become a free man, but I couldn't leave my own mother to the miserable fate she'd have once the overseers on the Island realised her value as a hostage was spent.

I considered the alternatives quickly. I had no immediate leads, and no lodgings or disguise. Jobriath might provide those. If I didn't find an alternative plan soon, or he became a liability, I could leave him abnd turn myself in to the authorities, claiming to have fallen into confusion when Dugent was shot. They'd be only too willing to believe that of a half-ogre, I was sure.

Finally taking the proferred hand in my own, I shook it firmly, but briefly, saying, "We can talk. I don't want a weapon. Call me ... Blaggs."

 

Blaggs and I wound our way around the commercial district of Tarant, where we found a tailor. In no time at all we had him decked out in some non-descript clothing. From there we found a healer that did a fine job on my broken ribs. The next stop was a blacksmith, where I restocked my inventory of throwing knives. He also gave me a good deal on a bandolier in which the knives could be carried. This allowed them to be close at hand without hindering my ability to move.

During this time I had a chance to make small talk with Blaggs. I did most of the talking but he listened intently. When he did reply I noticed that he did so with very good grammar. I began to realize that he was much more intelligent than he let on.

We found a secluded tavern and went in. We moved to the back of the common room and sat down at a dimly lit table. After we had ordered our breakfasts I decided to get down to business.

"You are probably wondering what this is all about," I began. "I am an operative of the C.I.A, the Caladonian Investigative Agency. I was sent here to gather information on your former employer, and his connection with William Boothby, the gnome from the carriage. We believe that they, along with other high-level gnomes, some of whom sit on the Industrial Counsel, have been stealing patentable ideas/plans from independent scientists by using force, blackmail, or in some cases murder, and then establishing patents in their names, thereby reaping the profits. We also have information that leads us to believe that they are conducting illegal experiments on a remote island involving the breeding of a race of super-warriors."

While I was talking Blaggs' eyes had been wandering around the room, but suddenly they were fixed on me. I couldn't read the emotion in them, but I could tell that he knew something about what I had just said.

"I was chosen for this case for two reasons," I continued. "The first reason is that I am the best in the Agency at gathering information covertly and second, I have a personal interest in this case. My mother was kidnapped about twenty years ago, by agents working for Albreck Dugant. She was a human technologist who met my father while adventuring in the Glimmering Forest. They fell in love and married despite the outcry from my father's elders. They said that magik and technology could never mix. They settled in a secluded place just north of the Gray Mountains. I was born there. As I grew older I tried my hand at magik and at technology. I didn't have the patience for the first or the skill for the latter. But, I was very quick and good with a blade. I was sent to Quintarra to learn from the elven warriors. It was there that I learned how to use hand-to-hand and thrown weapons. I was the top of my class. From there I went south to Caladon University. It was there that I studied politics and on my free time learned a few of the less lawful pursuits. When I graduated from C.U. I joined the C.I.A. and became one of their top agents. That is where I met William Boothby."

"My mother had come down for a technology fair that Mr. Boothby was sponsoring. She was going to introduce her latest invention, a new design of electrical generator. The night before the event our room was broken into and she was taken. I was beaten badly, but I managed to fatally injure one of the attackers. Two days later, when my father arrived, he was able to conjure the spirit of the attacker and force him to admit that he was sent by Albreck Dugant." I paused as our breakfast arrived, but continued as soon as the waitress left. "Two weeks later Dugant patented my mother's invention and Boothby began to produce them. What you know as the B&D Generator was my mother's idea. When I went to Boothby's office to confront him, he just laughed at me. Three days later, an attempt was made on my life. At that time the Agency decided it would be better if I "disappeared", so with a little help from my father we staged my "death". My mother was found a year later. Her body washed up on a beach near Dernholm. She had horrible scars on her belly and her eyes had been plucked out. I have spent the last twenty years following the movements of Boothby, Dugant, and others that I have determined to be involved. I am very close to getting to the bottom of this whole affair." I paused to take a sip of tea and a bite of toast.

"I have reason to believe that Boothby put the contract out on Dugant. They have become rivals in the past couple of years and from what I know of Boothby, he is ruthless enough to have had him killed. What I need from you is cooperation. I need to get into Dugant's office uptown. I also need to know if he was planning to patent anything in the near future. If you do this for me, I will make sure that you never become the property of anyone else, EVER."


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Vlad the Imposter on 2002-03-03 08:08 ]</font>

 

As I came down the hall I was greeted by my contact. A human by the name of Charles Katzenberg.
Mr. Katzenberg was the man in charge of patent registration and was well respected in his field.
But, For the right amount of coin even the proudest men will fall...

"Ah, Mr. Boothby. Good to see you again. I trust everything is in order?"
Said the somewhat nervous Kaztenberg with a hissing voice.

"Yes, Mr. Dugant has been removed. And everything on my end has been taken care of."
I replied as I took off my glasses and polished them with my handkerchief.

"Ah, Good good. Right. Step this way Mr. Boothby"
Said Katzenberg, this time with a somewhat calmer voice.

As we came on to the patent office we where alone. Normally it would probably be full of people working. After all, Tarant is such a technoligiy obsessed city. But most people working there wouldn't arive for at least another hour.
Mr. Katzenberg had already prepared the documents and even placed a pen neatly next to them. All I had to do, was to sign.

"Yesssh, Here we are. Sign here, here, here and there and its all set. The patent for the Automobile will fall to Boothby Elecktrics. Only Boothby Elecktrics and licenced sub-contracters will be allowed to build, design and sell the patented automobile design."
Mr. Katzenberg stated as he dried the sweat from his forehead, he was obviously still very nervous.

"Calm down, old boy! I'll just sign this and be on my way. But you know our deal, should this ever be traced back to me thanks to you, You'll be dead before the sun goes down. Are we clear?"
I said, grabbing the pen and looking over the first document.

"Pe-pe-perfectly Mr. Boothby. Sir. I won't tell a soul."
Katzenberg quickly replied. That last comment had clearly made him about three times as nervous as he'd been before.

With four quick wrist-movements it was done. The patent for the automobile was now all mine.
I found it hard to keep my feelings of victory bottled up, After all. With this design I would probably become richer then ol' Gilbert Bates himself!
But where are my manners a gentleman always repays a debt.

"And here's what I promised to you Mr. Katzenberg, a little reward for you're help and for your discretion."

I opened my briefcase and pulled out a large sack of gold coins as well as a smaller case filled with valuable stocks and bonds.
I tossed both on to the table. I saw Katzenbergs eyes shine as he looked at his payment.

"T-t-t-thank you Mr. Boothby, you're secrets safe with me. I promise."
Katzenberg replied, with his head already half-way inside the sack of gold.

"Right then. Farewell until next time!"
I said as I grabbed my hat and coat. But Katzenberg was too busy counting his gold to reply.

As I stepped outside the library everything felt a little better, one less problem out of the way. Now all I had to do was to sever any connections I might have with the murder.
The first order of buisness now as to talk to the leader of my henchmen at the warehouse at 113 Iron Post Row. But that had to wait until nightfall, It would be too risky to do that now...

As I came down the stairs outside the library entrance Leopold opened the carrage door for me like a good boy. I might even give him an increase of wages now with my new wealth... On second thought... probably just my happyness overstepping its bounds.

 

[OOC]CIA, Vlad? How original :grin:. Also, a little stuff up in my previous post. I meant to send the lad to give someone a message. Just add that in when reading this post. I can't be bothered editing.[/OOC]

I saw Boothby leave the Patents Office. Quicker than I thought he would be. I motioned to Orin. "Now would be a good time to go. I suggest we get some sleep, and then follow Boothby tonight. He won't be doing anything today to arouse suspicion. Besides, I need to stock up and replenish my equipment. I was paid very handsomely for last night's work."

I stood, and went to find a decent tavern in town that I hadn't been to before. While I didn't need nearly as much sleep as most people, I still needed it.

 

A Caladonian Intelligence operative! Just what I needed. Caladon had so many intelligence organisations, including Farad's Bloody Inquisitors and the Nefarious Secret Association, that they tripped over themselves more often than not. I considered briefly the humour value of claiming to be a deep cover operative from one of them, just to see Jobriath's reaction.

It made me smile, but I dropped the idea, of course. This man represented a possible chance - although a small one - at a getting on and off Half-Ogre Island without having to spend any time floating face down in the harbour. I didn't even consider the possibilty of exposing the Gnomish plot to which Jobriath referred. It was too insidious and too far reaching for us to affect. Even if he didn't realise it, Jobriath probably reported to several poeple involved in the conspiracy.

He was obviously more interested in the patents scam - some of which I had witnessed from the fringes - anyway. Helping him out would almost certainly take us to the Island, as that was where Dugant had stored all his records. I had to put Jobriath straight about a couple of things, though, before I could be happy about joining him.

"I am a free man. Next time you imply otherwise, you are on your own. And Dugant's office isn't going to be easy for you to get into. They don't like Elves and it's probably buzzing like a wasps nest after his murder. Maybe you should just tell me what you want, and I'll go get it for you. I'm not that happy about going back there, but I'll do it."

I looked at him for a reaction, but couldn't guage it from his expression; I've never been good at stuff like that, and his alien features made it even harder.

 

We finished our breakfast as I told Blaggs what I was after. First, I needed something tangible to link Dugant with Boothby and if he couldn't find anything I needed something to prove that Dugant was stealing patents. Also, I needed any proof that this island laboratory existed, and if possible the location.

We decided that he would go in alone and I would wait a safe distance away. I would still be in sight of the building and if he ran into trouble, all he would have to do is break a window and I would come in to help. I wasn't keen on this idea, but it seemed like the best course of action.

I paid for our meal and we stepped out into the morning sun.

_________________
You know what? I'm glad I'm not a laboratory animal. Do you have any idea how many of those little bastards get cancer?


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Vlad the Imposter on 2002-03-10 14:15 ]</font>

 

[OOC] just a geek I didn't kill your guy or shoot him. I used the butt of my pistol to knock him out. you had said something about having a lot of info to sell to the captain of the guard. I really don't want to kill other peoples PCs right now we seem to have a good group of people. I needed to get away from you and I figured a cheery good bye was not in character. [OOC]

 

I follow Lendark to the tavern and get checked in. Once we have our room I turn to him "I got a quick errand and then I will be back to rest." I forstall his protest, " I know its hard but you will have to trust me on this one."

I leave the Inn and walk quickley back to the patent office. At the main desk I ask the receptionist, "Ma'am who should I talk to about registering a patent?"
She looks up at me with the innate hostile look of a civil servant, "Mr. Katzenberg basement level office 126 B." She returns to her purusal of a ladies fashon magazine. I easaly find the office and knock, "Come in." I enter and behold an overweight man with sweat stains under his arms. "Hello I would like to get some information regarding the proper process by which I may file a Patent."
"Of course you will need forms 1091, 3281C and E, 129Wr3, 777120 Lic. App., 0098ez, 234rfp10 and fill out charts 1200A and 3450N." I began to pick up the forms. "What type of invention are you planning on patenting he asks nerviously?"
"I am afraid I can't say at the moment, but thank you for your help." I leave the patent office and stop at the front desk on the way out, "How late are you open?"
"Five." she responds without looking up. I walk back to the inn. I go up to the room and sit down on a stool. "Lendark at five we need to stop by the patent office. I want to meet a new 'friend' after work ask him a few questions in private regarding what it was he talked to Mr. Boosby about this morning. Sound good to you? We can see what the reason behind our employment really was."

 

[ooc]i haven't rp'd in a couple years, so hopefully i don't step on any toes. so no one's confused, my char is actually twins, they just act as one[/ooc]

what a wake-up! stupid gnome in a stupid carriage. and then people boiling out of the ground like the underworld was on fire. one of them even hit Diggs! at least i got paid this morning. before i could even wake up L'terzi, this man grabbed me with a look that could melt souls. like it's my fault i'm poor and he has pockets. but he didn't want to skin me and eat my bones after all, just wanted me to deliver a message. lucky me. i pulled L'terzi to his feet before he stopped snoring, and hightailed before the Bane of Kree impersonified turned us to dust.

after i delivered the message, i went back to check on Diggs. out like a dead guy. i gave the coin to Lu to play with and started to poke Diggs with a stick. maybe he'd give me something shiny for telling him what the guy looked like that hit him. or maybe i'd know something useful, Diggs always seemed to know when i knew something, even when i didn't...

[ooc]by the by, jar, i'm gonna need to know that address, and the message[/ooc]
_________________
"just think of my lips as the fruit roll-ups of love. *beat* that was kind of gross, wasn't it?" -xander

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: rosenshyne on 2002-03-04 05:55 ]</font>

 

[OOC]rosenshyne, make up an address - that way you'll remember it :smile:. As for the message, just tell the guy "A certain person needs to meet you." Corny, I know, but it's the best I can come up with. It's basically a coded message to a friend of mine who can give me all the equipment I need[/OOC].

I let Orin go run his errand. I didn't have to meet my contact till later this afternoon, and I left a message with the tavern keeper to wake me several hours past lunch. Then I went upstairs to have the sleep that I really needed. Damn I was tired! I hadn't realised till now.

 

The streets, robbed of their gloom and mystery by the probing fingers of early morning light, seemed almost cheerful. I had just filed a homicide report and had been given the skinny on what my superiors were thinking.
They were certainly riled up about this particular crime. It had long been said that Albreck Dugant and his associates had certain members of high society in their pockets. Even down to Tarant's finest. I had wondered long and hard if my own superiors were involved in the many illegal rackets of Dugant's. "Alleged" illegal rackets, rather. It had never been proven. There were the usual rumors of fraud, ogre breeding, yes, but there were darker, more sinister whisperings. Genetic tamperings, mind altering drugs given to the offspring of ogre-raped human mothers.

I snapped myself out of my funk. Whatever Albreck's crimes, my job was not to find out why he was now about to crawl in a hole in the ground about 6 feet under, and pull the dirt in on top of him. This had been taken over by representatives of the Tarant Enforcement Agency (TEA) and I had heard rumors that the Caladonian Intelligence Agency (CIA) was getting involved. I had reported to my superiors and given them the small amount of facts I had gathered. I knew, in my heart, that this murder was probably bigger than even I would ever realize. However, my job was to just restore the peace on the streets, and keep Tarant's citizens safe from harm. But, I felt myself drawn towards the plight of the half-ogres. Allow me to explain.

My father, while considered the finest officer Tarant ever employed, came under heavy criticism for his sympathy to the half-ogre breed. He considered their treatment cruel and the use of human mothers for breeding purposes a calamity. The "breeders", as we called people in this twisted profession, usually found poor, homeless women with which to do their sick deeds. My father launched many raids on suspected ogre-breeders, about 80% of which were gnomes, this fact leading to his unsolved murder. I KNOW it was a gnomish organization that took him out. As I grew, I found I shared my father's passion for ending ogre breeding. However, the common, unspoken policy on "breeding" had become, 'Don't ask, don't tell'. I hadn't been as public as my father on my feelings on this dastardly abomination.
Yet.

As I entered my office for the first time since late last night, I gave a deep sigh. Upon sitting down, I opened my top desk drawer, and slid it all the way out. Reaching way back, fingers groping in the dark hole in my desk, I found my padded manila envelope that my father gave me before his untimely demise. It held all the notes, records, facts, clues, newspaper clippings, and names associated with his campaign against half-ogre breeding. Albreck Dugant's name, of course, being one of the most mentioned. I had always suspected Albreck as being the figure-head behind my father's murder, but alas, now I may never know. I also suspected some of his superiors responsible for silencing him. I did, however, feel some small comfort of peace on the issue now that Dugant was dead.

"Half-Ogre Island; Breeding Ground for Evil" read the thin, yellowed clipping. This particular clipping was from the 'Tarant Daily', dated 15 years ago. Back then, before money and politics over-ran all Tarant's media, the 'Daily' was more out-spoken. "It told the truth," my father liked to say. The 'Daily' now dared not to print such shocking news, however evil and threatening to the populace this evil might be for fear of repercussions. By the gnomes. Some might say I have a hatred, a racist view of gnomes. It wasn't true. Most gnomes were good people. Just trying to make a living like everybody else. It's a shame, in today's society, the few people of ANY race you hear about are the bad ones. Now, most gnomes I have had the "dis"pleasure of meeting seemed to be snobbish, and gave their attention only to their many "money-making" irons in the fire. Preoccupied with wealth.

I grabbed my hat, and headed out the door. I wanted to find that half-ogre that I had seen last night, standing beside the carriage of Albreck Dugant's. Something in his eye gave me the feeling that he was, well.....

Different.


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: retard on 2002-03-04 09:23 ]</font>