Darkness falls over the ruined spires of the House of the Moon, its alabaster marble now marred by fierce cracks grasping like hands from the tallest remaining tower down to the very foundations of the complex. Located towards the southern edge of the Sea Ward, this temple to the goddess Selune now houses the rallied forces of the Order of the Gauntlet, a meager portion of their former strength. Most are healers by trade, serving and providing for the survivors of the Spellplague in the area all the while receiving wave after wave of refugees from other parts of the city, starved and scared people bearing reports of monsters slinking from rifts in the walls of the world to devour, desecrate, and dominate any who remain. 

Though it should be midday, the sky is filled with an ambient blue glow, without any sign of the sun. Some of the silver-cloaked clerics of the Order whisper to each other in hushed tones as they go about their duties, casting worried glances upwards when they believe no one to be watching. There, in the courtyard, standing fearlessly beneath the eerie blue glow, a tall elf in a regal crimson cape stands at parade rest, eyes on the sky, searching for the sun. He wears thick plate armor, polished to a bright sheen, once enameled in purple, though now scratched and worn with use, with an emblem like that of a woman's face on his breastplate. Seeing nothing but a vast expanse of sky overhead, he lowers his gaze to the figure now entering the yard.

Lyric Cha'pun: 

 Cy Markonus: 

 Wolfgang Walden: 

A short, slight elven man stands in the shadows of one of the buildings.  His face is scrupulously nondescript, to the point where you’d have a hard time describing him even if you stared at him for 5 straight minutes.  He’s wearing the hood on his cloak up, and a few strands of longish blond hair are poking out.  The only defining characteristic you can make out is what appears to be an odd patch of skin under the shadow of his hood, although you can’t completely make it out.  He has a massive longbow on his back, and a sword strapped to his belt.  He wears the leathers of a simple woodsman.  He seems to be currently just watching the armored figure.

Wulf gives a soft grin as he dons his combat clothes, slotting his handaxes where they belong on loops of his belt, and carefully clutching onto his gnarled quarterstaff... He had insisted on bringing home the branch that would become this staff once during a training exercise, and carved it into his weapon, when his curse wasn't an issue.

"...The scent of the hunt is on the air. I wonder just how long this will take." He says quietly. He couldn't lie, he was excited. The experimental treatments might be over, if he can prove he is just as capable of 'good' as these priests... and that he was more useful to them as he is.

The Goliath stood, knowing very well his mission that he was assigned. The blue in the sky reflected off of his cloak, giving the tall man a glow, as he left his position at attention and began to make way to the halfblood cages. Lyric could tell that someone was watching them, but no effort was made to alarm that individual or to flee their sights. If they wished to look, so be it. He walked into the chambers of the temple, slowly walking down, as the power in his steps made a loud echo. It wasn’t long until he reached B1. “You. Lycan, you’re coming with me. Make yourself useful and gather your things.” Lyric grabbed the lever to the side of the cage and opened it, and immediately after he drew a Javelin and aimed it at Wulf. “No Sudden Movements” Was said mostly to himself, in a low voice. The time happened to be now, and he’ll be quite literally damned if he didn’t save that priest.

Lyric releases Wulf from his den, escorting him gruffly up to the main courtyard where the two of you quickly recognize the imposing figure of Kalemly, love-son of the goddess of Beauty. He grins broadly at you all, his features fair, and his voice carrying oddly far under the empty blue sky. He gestures to the nondescript bowman to join them in the open as reiterates the parameters of your assignment. 

"Lyric, brother in the faiths, I see you have already collected your charge. This is good - very good. I presume you two are well acquainted by now. By the reports I've seen, Wolfgang here is ready and eager to serve. Do well, both of you. Ah, and here is out guide, Cy Markonus. Heed his guidance, for he carries with him to collected wisdom of the Emerald Enclave itself, and may be your best chance to navigate the more dangerous paths of the city. It will be a perilous journey to the Hospice of St. Laupsenn, but we have sent multiple messenger birds, another gift from the Enclave, so they should be expecting you. From there, it will be up your investigative and tracking skills to locate a missing Saint. We wish we could send you better equipped, but sadly we are too few and poorly armed to help much. Still, Lyric, I bestow upon thee your charge this day, to return the missing Saint to us unharmed. To signify this charge, I grant you this shield, a gift from the goddess Sune herself. May you come to speak your love for this weapon as I have. Now, go! There is much else to do this day."

Kalemly presents you with an ornate shield emblazoned with a beautiful woman's face. It feels light and hard in your hands. As you all leave the shattered remains of the House of the Moon, you look back for a moment to see the stately figure of Kalemly standing, poised, in the midst of the courtyard, again looking up to empty, blue sky. With a barely perceptible sigh, he turns, and reenters another part of the House, seeing to other duties. Two armored acolytes close the reinforced gates of the House behind you, and you push your way through a crowd of robes celebrants, many holding candles, singing hymns and listening to two preachers give sermons about the value and authority of faith in troubled times. The people seem desperate, holding on to hope as a means of salvation, even as you begin to move off into other streets, eerily lit in the perpetual blue glow from above.

(Lyric, check your inventory.)

Quote from CodesterV8 >>

The Goliath stood, knowing very well his mission that he was assigned. The blue in the sky reflected off of his cloak, giving the tall man a glow, as he left his position at attention and began to make way to the halfblood cages. Lyric could tell that someone was watching them, but no effort was made to alarm that individual or to flee their sights. If they wished to look, so be it. He walked into the chambers of the temple, slowly walking down, as the power in his steps made a loud echo. It wasn’t long until he reached B1. “You. Lycan, you’re coming with me. Make yourself useful and gather your things.” Lyric grabbed the lever to the side of the cage and opened it, and immediately after he drew a Javelin and aimed it at Wulf. “No Sudden Movements” Was said mostly to himself, in a low voice. The time happened to be now, and he’ll be quite literally damned if he didn’t save that priest.

"The time has come for a hunt." The lithe man says with a feral grin. He seems already geared up as he simply walks out of the cell, almost disregarding Lyric's threatening javelin as he walks past... before leaning against his staff. "...Handlers first." 

Quote from MrTweedeh >>

Lyric releases Wulf from his den, escorting him gruffly up to the main courtyard where the two of you quickly recognize the imposing figure of Kalemly, love-son of the goddess of Beauty. He grins broadly at you all, his features fair, and his voice carrying oddly far under the empty blue sky. He gestures to the nondescript bowman to join them in the open as reiterates the parameters of your assignment. 

"Lyric, brother in the faiths, I see you have already collected your charge. This is good - very good. I presume you two are well acquainted by now. By the reports I've seen, Wolfgang here is ready and eager to serve. Do well, both of you. Ah, and here is out guide, Cy Markonus. Heed his guidance, for he carries with him to collected wisdom of the Emerald Enclave itself, and may be your best chance to navigate the more dangerous paths of the city. It will be a perilous journey to the Hospice of St. Laupsenn, but we have sent multiple messenger birds, another gift from the Enclave, so they should be expecting you. From there, it will be up your investigative and tracking skills to locate a missing Saint. We wish we could send you better equipped, but sadly we are too few and poorly armed to help much. Still, Lyric, I bestow upon thee your charge this day, to return the missing Saint to us unharmed. To signify this charge, I grant you this shield, a gift from the goddess Sune herself. May you come to speak your love for this weapon as I have. Now, go! There is much else to do this day."

Kalemly presents you with an ornate shield emblazoned with a beautiful woman's face. It feels light and hard in your hands. As you all leave the shattered remains of the House of the Moon, you look back for a moment to see the stately figure of Kalemly standing, poised, in the midst of the courtyard, again looking up to empty, blue sky. With a barely perceptible sigh, he turns, and reenters another part of the House, seeing to other duties. Two armored acolytes close the reinforced gates of the House behind you, and you push your way through a crowd of robes celebrants, many holding candles, singing hymns and listening to two preachers give sermons about the value and authority of faith in troubled times. The people seem desperate, holding on to hope as a means of salvation, even as you begin to move off into other streets, eerily lit in the perpetual blue glow from above.

(Lyric, check your inventory.)

Wulf gives a soft growl and nods gently, leaning against his staff as Kalemly presents their duty. Before they leave, however, he simply says: "...I will be of use." 

He then turns to Lyric with a soft grin. "...Tracking a Saint, hm? Good thing you have a dog with you." He chuckles gently, before shaking his head. "Though, I would like to point out, if she is missing, perhaps she deserves to be?" A pause. "...Mostly a joke, handler. Let us go."

The shaggy, bulked man looks over at their companion, Markonus. He takes in a sniff or two near the man and nods. "...This one is strong. You will do fine."

Cy raises his eyebrow slightly, then inclines his head faintly.

"Well met, hunter.  Priest.  Other priest."

He tilts his head.

"Where to?"

"A saint often has perfumes and other... distinctions, yes?" Wulf asks, looking to Lyric. "In which case, if I get a sample be it from here, or from there, I should be able to easily track her... or her attackers." The lycan gives a grin... apparently quite excited to begin the hunt, though he seems to know better than to pull his metaphorical leash.

(As our guide aptly asked, where to? Also, merry Christmas everybody.)

(Pinging again - where to?)

(oh oop. sorry. UHh... to the Hospice directly, I guess. don't see any excuses not to follow orders.)

(Do I know where the hospice is?)

(N73 on that map I posted of Waterdeep, a little ways East and South of the Market, off of Andamaar's Street and Undal's Lane. You would know this from background information pertaining to the mission assigned by Kalemly, or presumed from Lyric, though Codester has not been online for a few days.)

(Got it.  And where are we right now?)

($56, the House of the Moon, in the Sea Ward, centrally positioned on Diamond Street but not far from the corner of Diamond Street and the Street of the Singing Dolphin.)

Cy cocks his head as if looking at something only he can see, then nods curtly and starts off at a brisk pace.  He starts towards the Sutherlane, taking them to Julthoon Street (assuming he knows the layout of the city).

Reaching the Sutherlane from the North-West side, your ears begin to hear what sounds like dissonant whispering. Let's have out lookout roll perception at advantage!

Perception: 26

Cy’s ears start to pick up an odd whispering sound, and he freezes in his tracks.  He motions for the other two to stay low.

Thought the constant overhead light makes it difficult to tell what lies far ahead, you are just able to make out the reflection of a kind of grey light off of some nearby windows, as of yet unbroken by the constant turbulence throughout the city. As you focus your hearing, the dissonant whispering seems to resolve itself into a cacophony of voices, some bright and almost musical in tone, others deep and gravelly, speaking constantly over one another, interspersed with heavy grunts. 

The language, as you focus in further, is familiar to you, though at this distance and with all of the confusion, it is hard to decipher. It is a variant of undercommon, with similarities to a formal-sounding dialect of dwarf. There is at least one other language woven between these more familiar-sounding words with which you are not familiar.

(Can Cy understand the Undercommon well enough to hear what they’re saying?)