Thar Shaddin

Valz and Mol walked into the main entry hall of the orphanage and stopped in the middle of the room. Valz saw a set of eyes peering at the two of them from around another doorway.

“Hello, we just want to talk to you, we’re going to make things better here.”

Valz waited for a second and the head of a small boy poked around the corner, “Where is Sirah?”

Valz thought for a moment about the best way to answer and finally decided that the truth would be the best option, “he is tied up, back there.” Valz said, his head cocking back to where Sirah was tied up, broken arm and all.

“Oh” and then the boy stepped out into the room. He was about waist high, Valz couldn’t estimate his age, he just wasn’t good at things like that.

From that point on it was a blur, the boy, Sam, slowly opened up to Mol and Valz telling them things about Sirah that made their blood boil all over again. Sam gathered up some of the other kids and introduced them. He said a few were still out and about on errands. When Mol told them that they were going to be taking care of them for awhile most of them just stared with blank faces. Valz realized how difficult it would be to comprehend if his own world were suddenly turned upside down in a heartbeat. Mol helped get the children organized into groups of three or four to help keep track of them all, neither one could get a real count of exactly how many kids lived at the orphanage.

After Mol left to her worksite Valz got Sam and two of the others to start making dinner for the kids and then he went to look in on Sirah. The man was still tied up on the floor (where else was he going to be Valz thought wryly), so Valz loosened his feet, and “helped” him to his feet. Earlier he had found a large walk-in closet upstairs and cleared it out, making room for Sirah.

“You will lay down, you will not make a sound, and I will get you help in the morning for your arm,” Valz loomed over Sirah, who was in obvious pain, “If you do not do this I will kill you without a second thought.” With that, Valz shoved Sirah into the closet, closed the door and pushed a heavy wall dresser into its path: tied up, with a shattered arm, Sirah was going nowhere.

Valz set about exploring the building in its entirety. The orphanage was run down and haphazard, but serviceable; two stories sat square with the street, a courtyard fronted the building and an attic sat perched precariously on top of it all. The attic was crammed full of boxes, the back door into the alley was warped shut into the doorframe. The kitchen fireplace and cooking areas were dirty but stocked. The pantry was just about empty and the entire second floor was a warren of rooms built off of one hallway, interlacing like a honeycomb, each room contained a few sleeping mats or crude beds. Downstairs, in the back was an army-sized bathroom with two cracked wash basins. A few windows on each floor provided light for the building. Looking around him, Valz realized that there was almost no possible way to defend this building with two people against an unknown number of goons. He was going to have to think…fast.

Mol left feeling as if she had left a huge amount of unfinished business at her back. It was not a good feeling. She could barely focus on her work after she'd finished delivering the supplies she'd picked up.

She barely knew Valz and now they were stuck in this bigger situation with no easy out. It was worse than an emotional commitment.

At the same time she could see no other option than the one they were taking. They were going to have to deal with this Malgoza guy and they were going to have to see that the children were being properly taken care of before it was even remotely done. She did not consider herself to be an adequate caregiver, but she knew she was worlds better than Sirah for those children. She already had visions in her mind of a fixed up orphanage with smiling playing children outside.

It was much later in the day when she finally returned to the orphanage. upon returning she'd brought with her her quarterstaff and a few trinkets from her apartment. They weren't special or expensive but might serve as amusements for the little ones. She also had deep dread in her heart. What if Malgoza did come for payback tonight?

Valz had started to learn a little about the kids of the orphanage while Mol was out. They came from all over, some from farms who were dropped off in the city because they were one mouth too many to feed. A few had parents who had died and then they became wards of the city, which then pawned them off on orphanages. Sadly, a two of the kids didn't even know where they came from, their whole life was just the orphanage. Valz was not a sentimental person, but that was a little much even for him.

Valz relayed all this to Mol upon her return. Appraising her with a practiced eye Valz was reminded that she was a formidable women. She came clomping in the door with a heavy quarterstaff that looked as if it had dealt with a few ruffians in its day. Offering her some food that the older children had prepared, Valz motioned for her to follow him for a more private conversation.

"I'm going to be blunt. I don't think the two of us will be able to stop these guys if they come at us with more than three men. The numbers just wont be with us." Valz was worried that she would be discouraged but knew that something could still be done.

(OOC: This will be the last post in this topic...I'm trying to get this put down so I can get started on a new post with Valz. I'm not even sure how this will turn out and probably will not be my "best" work. Matt)

Valz slowly opened his eyes, taking in the dingy room around him. Staring at the ceiling he saw cracks running across the beams. Valz sat up and saw one of the kids from the orphanage staring back at him. As Valz swung his legs down to the floor, the kid ran out of the room. Standing Valz's head spun and his legs buckled out from under him. Dumping him back onto his butt. As Valz's hands ran across a large bandage over his head Mol walked into the room. Looking up at her Valz asked, "what happened?"

Mol paused, "Well, you said you could handle whatever they could throw at you if you met them on your terms." Mol looked down at him, "I volunteered to stay here and watch the kids in case anything happened, and you left."

Mol continued, "A couple of hours after you left Joey, one of the little boys, ran into the room and told me that you were outside. I found you on the stoop, passed out, covered in blood. We carried you up here and hid you when the watch came asking about three bodies in the junk yard."

Valz stared hard at Mol, "I don't remember anything, let alone any bodies in the junk yard."

Mol looked long and hard at him, "Valz I don't know how to say this, but you can't stay here, the Watch will be back, one of the kids is bound to mention the big guy with the sword. It just isn't safe, I'll watch the kids. I'm sorry, but you do need to go...now."

"I see"

Valz swung his legs under him again, looked down at his torn, bloody, tunic and filthy pants. Walking unsteadily Valz grabbed his sword, Animus, and made his way to the washroom where he cleaned the blood from his face. Hoping the darkness would cover the blood stains on his clothes he stepped out into the street. Valz had no regrets.