A new beginning, a new arrival

[Valz Malar]

Mol's footsteps echoed down the hall proceeding her arrival.

"Mol, apparently we are now three for rooting out this corruption, this is...." Valz began to introduce Mol to the man, before he realized that he had just made plans to, essentially, break the law with a man whoms name he did not even know.

His voice trailed off into silence, looking at the tall man in front of him and Mol, waiting for him to introduce himself to the both of them.

[Anonymous]

"I am Lachtna Spéir." He said with a slight smile on his lips and then bowed until the ends of his hair brushed the floor and all he could see was the shoes the other two were wearing.

Everything about him seemed a little too formal, as though whispering of some tradition or lifestyle that didn't match up to the plain tunic and breeches he wore, the scuffs on his boots.

"I hope that I will not be an intrusion." He said to them both. "The assistance I am able to give is at your disposal."

[Anonymous]

Valz was still essentially a stranger in Mol's book so it hardly mattered that they were adding another stranger. She wondered if she would see them again after today. No matter, she knew where they lived--a thought that amused her tremendously.

"Good to meet you Mr. Spear. You don't have to bow to old Mol. Formalities are downright creepy in my book. A simple handshake would do. We've got an appointment with a man near the scrapyard. I hope you are up for it." She had spent some of her time waiting wondering what exactly they were going to do or say when they met this man Sirah. The bottom line was that if the man turned out to be half the creep the boy said he was, there would be fists involved.

[Valz Malar]

"Well now, that is all well and good" Valz said as he watched Mol and Lachtna shake hands, Mol grinning and gripping, Lachtna looking slightly uneasy or unfamiliar with the practice.

"Shall we" he said as he led the way down the hallway, stopping to ask Ma Haskell if she knew of any scrapyards, and out the door into the sunny street. Valz waited for his companions and set off with a purposeful stride in the general direction that Ma Haskell had pointed them.

[Anonymous]

Lachtna thought quietly to himself as the threesome made their way down the street. What exactly had he gotten himself into? It had been something he'd done in the past, let his heart follow more quickly than his mind had time to catch up.

He wouldn't regret it, though a fear tugged at the back of his mind. What if someone was hurt? Would he be able to repress the urge to help them, or would he reveal himself for who he was?

[Anonymous]

They continued north down a small side street, then west down Main Street for much of the way. It was a busy day, people bustling every which way seeming to have more important things to do than worry about thin orphans and scum like Sirah.

Mol was working up her ire. She didn't need to work it up much but she wanted to be ready for anything when they got there.

They turned right near the Central Inn and headed north toward the Fighters Guild. The scrapyard was nearly visible, but Mol supposed the place they were looking for was on the road they were presently on since beyond the scrapyard were mostly industrial buildings like the warehouses.

"It should be on this road somewhere." She surmised out loud for the others' benefit.

[Valz Malar]

Valz walked with the others, striding down the wide paved main street of Marn. Passing by some rather large buildings and many smaller ones, Valz was constantly on alert. He felt in his element now, they walked in silence, Valz aware of the bustle around them, people wandering here and there, all around them. Valz didn't feel that they stood out too much, surely three people wouldn't attract unwanted attention. They turned off the main street passing wandering up some alleys.

Mol said that she thought the building should be around here somewhere just as the scrapyard came into view. Towering piles of junk, some of it garbage, where as some of it appeared still relatively useful. Random people crawled over the the heaps, pulling off items and throwing them into wagons. A few kids crawled over the heaps as well.

Valz figured that they would know the place when they saw it.

[Anonymous]

It was a dismal view as they walked along, at least to Lachtna. He was uncertain if he'd had a noble childhood, but he knew that the sight of the towering heaps of various material had a rather cold feel about it. Or perhaps it was just his imagination taking flight with the anxiety he felt in his heart for the task at hand.

And then, there it was. He could tell just as easily as the other two that stopped in their tracks with him that they had spotted their destination.

[Anonymous]

Indeed they seemed to have come upon a ramshackle building where a few very young children were out in the yard sorting through large sacks that appeared to contain mostly garbage.

The children had dirty faces and hands and their clothes looked like threadbare hand-me-downs.

Mol frowned wishing there was more she could do for them. Surely there had to be a better fate for little ones like them. If she thought she'd be a better role model and she had a bigger place of her own she'd consider taking them all home with her.

"Valz, that's it I think." She said. "No need to be asking around. Look at those little ones." Her face was so tight with emotion she seemed as if she might break.

[Valz Malar]

Valz stopped at the same time as the other two. Off to their right about halfway down the block sat a small two story building. Analytically he thought that it probably used to be a warehouse and was just in serious need of some love and repair. A small courtyard with what probably used to be a fountain fronted the building; the roof, from what little Valz could see, was in need of some patching. As Valz watched a boy, maybe seven or so lugged a burlap sack across the street from the scrapyard, upended it onto a pile and headed back towards the scrapyard. A group of even younger children sorted through the pile. Valz stared in silence, not even hearing Lachtna and Mol. As he continued watching, the younger kids sorted the piles into useful (sellable Valz thought), and garbage to be hauled back into the scrapyard.

At this point Valz snapped out of his shock; he had seen many things throughout his years as a bodyguard and as a traveler. He had seen children hurt before, even accidently killed as bystanders, but never just exploited like this. Before he saw this he had a fairly ambitious plan involving observation, further planning, and then exploitation. But watching these kids pick through garbage made him quiver with rage. It was just too much to take...Valz could feel his pulse racing, a vein throbbed in his head. Valz tried to hold it back...he paused, he tried to reign it in...and he lost control.

Without looking to his right or left, without seeing if the others were with him or not he began striding towards the children.

[Anonymous]

Lachtna had also been lost in the view that had been placed before them by whoever masterminded all this as well as their own footsteps. He watched as Valz began walking quickly and with purpose.

He hurried into action as well, his foots carrying him quick enough behind the other man that his hair flared out around him. He had a feeling there was no plan now, no formula for action. This was being led by the heart, something that the elf understood all too well.

His fingers instinctively went to the short sword at his side. He hoped he wouldn't need it, but in any case...he would use it if it came to that.

[Anonymous]

Without even consciously thinking about it or any verbal agreement, Mol had fallen into stride with Valz. She was furious enough that she would have given up her retirement savings to see these children were given a proper house to live in. She could understand giving children chores or little ways to make a wage, but picking through garbage and wading through the dangerous scrapyard where they could lose eyes or limbs, or fall and break their necks was inconscionable.

Her knuckles cracked with anticipation. She was halfway to wringing someone's neck, but she had to make sure it was the right someone.

[Valz Malar]

Valz only noticed the others were with him when the kids stopped sorting through piles and stared, as if he weren't imposing enough alone. Add a huge woman and another tall, wild-haired man, throw in some rage-reddened faces and you had a downright scary trio. Valz was squatting down to get at eye-level with one of the kids when he heard a voice yelling through the building...

"I don't hear little hands sorting little piles out there. If you don't get that cleaned up before supper there wont be any food for any of you."

Valz assumed that the voice inside belonged to Sirah, the man they were looking for. Standing, he forced his hands away from his weapons. Death wasn't walking today, just the promise of pain.

[Anonymous]

Lachtna knelt down before the child. The children were where his first interest laid. The child was dirty with smudged cheeks and hands, tattered clothing on a starved frame, but he wasn't sick. He just needed a large, hot meal and a soft bed. It would make him good as new.

It enraged him that children were being treated like this, and for a moment he wondered if there would be any way to solve this without violence - even in his own nonconfrontational mind.

It was a new feeling, the desire to cause pain to someone who rightly deserved it. But, for the moment he forced himself to swallow his feelings as he straightened again, though he had a sneaky suspicion the anger glittered in his pale eyes.

[Anonymous]

Mol hammered on the door to the place with a round fist. Let the bastard answer the door. Though he'd probably send his kids to do that. The door creaked with the force of her knocking even though she wasn't hitting it very hard.

"Valz, do you want to do the talking, or should I?" She remarked under her breath upon noticing that Lachtna had dropped back to see to one of the kids. Right now, talking was most definitely not what she wanted to do but she would at least feign an effort at civility before pounding Sirah's face in.