"Alright, here you go, devil and knight, up out o' sight."
Several things happen.
For some of you. Those of you on the ground feel a slight rumble underneath you. Those with an eye on the kennel see a small squat creature made of dust and earth pop out of the ground and place a jangling bag inside the kennel before returning into the dust. Anyone close enough to hear the creature is unable to pick it out as anything special, particularly as rain is pouring down onto the ground.
Of all of you, Mellany is the only one to notice the sight- hovering high above the ground, nearly camouflaged against the grey clouds, a small independent gust with a discernible body.
Blast also climbs up the rope to the rooftop, and sits back from his crouched position after the sudden appearance and disappearance of the creature. "Sorry, sorry--too fast to blow it up." The tiefling shrugs with a small, sheepish grin. "On the upside, we can now take a look at what it left."
Well that's it then. Taurven had been hoping for a more mundane courier. The earth creature is probably going to be impossible to track. Taurven waits a few minutes to make sure the squat creature has left, then he saunters casually over to the kennel.
Mellany notices the air elemental spot a few of you. It then turns and quickly speeds off north.
"Just our luck," Mellany giggles nervously. "We didn't see the person who made the drop, but I'm sure their little flying servant will tell them all about us."
Once she thinks the thing has flown off, Mellany crawls out from her crate and snags the bag of coins from the kennel. "They'll be sending the Gulls after us when the 'Takers ask why their payment's missing."
The bag of coins is heavy and full with the correct amount. Ka-ching.
"Something in the air watching?" Taurven has a worried look. "That's not good. Lucky we're in disguise. Let's head back, via the crooked path. I'm tired of being drizzled on."
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Meanwhile, at the Eight-Cave, Mirrender has been scribbling. On the wall in chalk are four phrases with lines under them: "who's in charge:", "who's actually in charge:", "Overt power: ", and "Covert Power:". Underneath the "overt power" line are the words "Knights/Guards".
Mirrender stares for a long while before moving to another wall and scribbling a couple more phrases: "our overt resources" and "our covert resources". Overt is blank -- no one knows about them publicly yet, so they have no overt resources. Under covert he puts "Bob", "Mel's auntie", "hidden lair", "criminal underground", and "Naboo".
He steps back and looks between the two walls.
"We have a long way to go" he mutters to himself, "I'm Drow so spending a century or two to build up our power is no big deal to me ... but I don't think the rest of the team has so long. We only have a decade or two at the most ... that's not a lot of time."
"We definitely need more information. And lots of it."
The Fog of War is very thick ...
Trudging through the rain, you all make your way through Cheliax back to the safehouse and meet up with the rest of the group.
After some time, Naboo arrives.
"I was able to get passage into the Harlot for you. Here..." he tosses you a silver coin embossed with the image of a priestess bowed in prayer. "I was unable to learn the particulars of how this will work, but it was clear that if you show this to the receptionist at the Harlot, you and up to nine other guests will be permitted to enter. These coins are given to regular clients to pass around discreetly, I believe you will not seem unusual if you appear unsure about how the Harlot works. I am sorry I could not do more, the inner workings of this place seem to be quite a secret."
"Refresh my memory. What do we know of the crimes of these, we're thinkin' of movin' against? And bear in mind, we might be welcome, but not armed as we'd prefer. We'll need a proper plan, even if the doors are open for us."
"Of course we don't start bashing heads in on our first visit," Mellany says and promptly starts giggling. "Not even you, Jelani. We send a team in to scope the place out. See if we can find this Gull we're seeking. Ideally, we'd even lure him out of the Harlot before we start fighting."
"I've only heard rumors of pleasure houses with this kind of security," Mellany says seriously. "The powers beyond the 'Takers and Gulls won't take kindly to street fights breaking out in their favorite brothel."
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Mirrender appears to still be concerned.
"Hold on a second" he finally says, "I think we need some more information."
"Naboo" he adds, pointing to his mostly blank chart on the wall "Can you tell us anything else about the political structure of this place? Who has the obvious power? Who has the not-so-obvious power?"
"It's quite likely" he adds to the others, "that the Takers are being supported by -- if not outright controlled by -- one of the noble houses. It's a great cover for either gaining or maintaining power."
"If we continue to move rashly, then there is a strong likelihood that we will wind up in quite serious trouble."
Of course, to a Drow anything less than months or years of planning is "rashly" ...
"These 'Gulls', do seem to love their stone-bound strongholds." Taurven sighs. Maybe someday, they could have an enemy that lived in a nice pavilion in a pleasant meadow.
"Just a dark and mysterious Gull, seems to be all we know about them. I think we're hoping another step on the road to Kore's doorstep." Taurven answers Gunser.
Then absently,more like he is thinking out loud:
"We've been fighting these Tail-Takers, mainly to get them off our backs. Maybe we should just let them be for now, and head straight to Absalom. We're going to have to go at some point. I don't know why later would be better."
Naboo thinks for a moment and speaks- "Political power stems from many sources. The noble houses, the church, the bureaucracy, the military. House Thrune rules, and the other noble houses seek to rule. All the houses have relatives and agents burrowed into the bureaucracy, the mayoral executive, the military and so on. Who has the obvious power- Aspexia Rugatonn, head of the Church of Asmodeus. Duxotar Ratarion, commmander of the city guard. Lord Mayer Alazario, Thrune-appointed leader of Egorian. Paralictor Elliendo, senior Hellknight officer of the order of the Scourge. Who has the not-so obvious power- it is anyone's guess. Whoever has today won the most influence and control in the byzantine war of influence and politics and blood between the houses and the people and the church."
Casey looks curiously at the bard. "Absalom? What in tarnation do we need to mosey over there for?"
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Mirrender's smile is hard, not at all like that he displayed in the halls of the orphanage.
"What we need to know is about the spies and assassins that work for those 'in charge' ... and who actually works for whom. These ... 'Thrune' and 'Hellknights" ... those I can ask the other Eight about, yes?"
"Do not think that I do not know what I ask of you" he adds, his smile growing sad, "I know it will take time; however, without that knowledge we will suffer the fate of the previous Eight. We need[/e] to know who our real enemies are -- the Spies and Assassins -- or we [i]will die."
"Do not worry, m'Lady" he says, turning to Mel, "we will protect you with our lives. But part of that is knowing who we are protecting you from."
He is aware that this sort of thing makes Mel uncomfortable, however he cannot fathom why. Not yet, at any rate. Finally he turns to Taurven.
"Is this your specialty? If so, I apologize ..."
"The only thing Devils hate more than Paladins and Adventurers are Demons, at least if the words of my Mistress were accurate. They cannot know that I am with you -- if they find that out, they will suspect me to be a 'typical' Drow, and that means that they will suspect Demons rather than Adventurers and ... well, that will be bad."
"You don't have the half of it," Blast remarks with a wry smile at Mirrender's last statement. "Most people don't realize tieflings can be descended from any number of fiends, and we're often separated by generations. They just see a tail and horns and start shouting, 'Demon.'" Of course, in my case they're only a couple generations off.
"Don't worry about it." Taurven tells Mirrender. "my speciality is song, and dance." He shrugs. "People usaully like to talk to me, so if I collect some rumors and gosip, it's just a natural effect."
Taurven grins at Casey. "The Starstone lies in Absalom. We seek to take command of one of the Great nations. But the people have no reason to follow us. If we can ascend, it would give the Chelish something, other than Daibolism to believe in. A little ambitious, I know, but so is starting a revolution from the ground up."
"Has there ever been a god descended from a demon who favors alchemy?" Blast chuckles. "Something tells me it would take a while to gain any followers."
"The Starstone of all things? Are you serious? I want people to be able to live in this town without fear. I don't want to become some freaky avenging angel to do it."
Gunser chuckled. "Aye, our Mel thinks she'd be all of 'LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!', like some elf-queen out of myth. But it's none of that, that I'd fear. We're sworn. It's that I'd fear. Fear it's breakin' aye. But MORE, I'd fear it's not breakin', were we all, or even the one or two that survived the trying, suddenly as gods. For as men (or a lady...) when we've done enough, we can know it. And 'Enough', judged by a man, is going to be a fair sight kinder than 'Enough', judged by a god."
Gunser let the words weigh a bit, then continued, "Not that it's not grand to think on, the power to get it done, and swiftly, the cuttin' and the burnin' that's needed. But a body cut and burned needs to heal, and I'd reckon it's the same with a nation. We'd not want to go too swiftly."
"You'll think I'm arguin' against. I'm not. We've seen how little we know of what we're against. From the depths to the heights of this city, or this nation, the rot runs, and we'll need all we can bring, to the job of clearin' it. We'd be asleep at our posts if we thought we might claim such power, or even a fraction of it, and not seriously think on it."
"The Starstone isn't so much guarded as its test is nigh impossible," Blast says to the drow. "For one thing, to reach the building where it's housed, I hear you have to cross a great pit. Unless one of us can fly and hasn't told the others, it seems to me we're stuck without deific power for now."
Casey ponders all that's been mentioned. "Heck, I wouldn't mind bein' some kinda avenger. As long as I can keep my gun, or maybe carry me a bigger one, that'd be alright." He states as a matter of fact.
"The current government gives stability. We may find that Cheliax loves it's chains. For that to change, Cheliax will need something new to believe in. We would not be doing it for the raw power, but for the power to inspire.
Taurven smiles slightly. "Blast is right of course, we are not ready to test ourselves at this time. Maybe we never will be. So, then, shall we visit the harlots?"
The tiefling grins. "My, what a fine couple of choices. Visit the Starstone, or the local brothel?"
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Jelani just laughs. "Why should we succeed where so many greats before us have failed? That might be a more realistic goal for much later in our careers, but right now we're having trouble taking down a street gang and you think the multiverse is going to promote eight, or even one, of us to godhood? Nah. Ya'll be clownin'. Lets focus on the task at hand, epic daydreams for later please."
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"Later, yes" Mirrender replied somberly. "Remember that the powers of the Eight are not limited to just the ones that we know. We should get some more information on what these tests are so that we can prepare for them. But since we have already been chosen, and Luck is with the Chosen -- provided they Serve -- we shall pass the test. In due time."
"Now this place of harlots. Is it possible for me to fit in there? I suspect that, once again, a Drow would stick out ... but, then again, perhaps we could use that to our advantage in some way. A safer way of -- how did that saying go? -- 'poking a Hornet's Nest'?"
"Surely someone will start asking about me ... and that will allow Taurven to find out who's doing the asking."
"If nothing else ..."
"I can help with Taurven," Blast says, offering to make more extracts as he had today.
"Well, Mirry me lad, if our neighbors upstairs knew a tenth of the truth of us, we'd have trouble, or we'd bring trouble for them. But if you keep that in mind, a short trip out through the sewers, to knock on their door, perhaps in the company of our gunman, would serve you well. And you might be honest: not from around here, never heard of such a place, needs it all explained... And the gunman busy with his own... transactions, and not available to help."
"That'd be the course I'd chart for you."
"If you're worried about appearances, I can brew another extract to disguise you," the tiefling offers.
"It's not their face that's the problem," Mellany volunteers. "If this is the pleasuredom of the elite, anyone we send there needs to dress the part. Maybe we should use some of the 'Takers' blood money for new threads."
"Clothes make the man. So it is said. As far as etiquette is concerned, they probably have seen everything already. I imagine that a haughty demeanor is all it will take to fit right in."
"Hmm. I suppose if we're to be pretendin', we might all could use such a suit. Mel, might your auntie know a place you could trust? Or Mister Naboo, he might know someplace either to trust or to not care. And I've seen some tailors; we might just each go to another tailor, once the first is dressed proper, they might escort the next. It'd give us practice at our primpin', and our patrician patronage..."
Naboo pipes up "Keep in mind that the wealthy and powerful come, and they are allowed to give these invitations to whoever. I would imagine they are used to all sorts by now, and simply would not give a damn what you look like as long as they can get their hands in your wallet and start feeling around in there. But a disguise may still be useful."
"I can't be sure on the clothing," Blast says at Naboo's comement, "but it seems to me a 'normal' man would be less memorable than someone like Mirrender or myself."
Later the next day, everyone who wishes to come arrives wearing everything they wish to wear outside the Silver Harlot. You would not know to look at it. The building is an immense manor house, one story but tall, with thick stone walls and the occasional plank of wood boarding up where glass windows must have sat. The building seems extremely old, judging from the architecture and the age of the building materials. The front door-once a portentous slab of finely carved oak- has also been boarded up and nailed shut. Naboo's instructions point you towards a side alley, where if you go look you see a small alcove in the manor building's side with a plain wooden door.
Taurven stands outside with Jelani and thinks about what he should say. He had decided that bringing a longbow might raise some eyebrows, so that stays home along with his backpack.
The half-elf does have a smokestick stuck up a sleeve of his luxurious, dark green, silverthread embroidered green jacket. Taurven wears his masterwork longsword from a bejeweled yellow baldric. The masterwork of his sword is in the blade, it's hilt is rather plane, but it is sheathed in a gold-leafed scabbard.
Taurven's belt is loaded with items; his two belt pouches, as well as a tanglefoot bag, from his backpack and a flask of alchemical fire.
Taurven's grey pinstriped trousers are of the finest broadcloth and tucked into the tops of his black boots that are polished to mirror brightness, and adorned with silver spurs.
The hilts of four daggers jut from the tops of his boots. Taurven carries another dagger up his sleeve and one in a neck scabbard, hanging down his back.
Orwen limps a little oddly without being covered in steel, he is wearing a brown finely crafted outfit. His side is adorn with his finally crafted masterwork Silver Handaxe with a dagger on the opposite. With brass knuckles in his front pants pocket.
With just two pouches, one filled with coin the other and the other has a 2 alchemist kindness, thunderstone, and an anti toxin.
He looks towards Taurven, "Well Mr. Wess do I look okay?"
"Looks fine to me." Taurven frowns a fiercely. "The guards inside may want to take our weapons. Should we give over, or go violent?"