Toilday, Gozran 15th, 4701
It's a rather dreary afternoon, doing little to help the mood of the city. The initial shocks of the recent weeks' revelations have lifted, but things have not returned to normal, and there linger a multitude of moods throughout the city, none of them good. The phantom threats that hold the city ransom may not strike during the day, but fear is not a rational creature.
In The Heights, the half-elf councilman Valiel Domine sits beside the beleagured human captain of the East Shore watch, Alandre Burton. Valiel is a well-fed man, whose elven blood is not able to fully curb the physical repurcussions of his love of food. He's let his black hair out a little longer than he should, but its unkemptness is unable to detract from the image of a lavishly dressed politcian reveling in his fortune. By contrast, Alandre is a very simply-presented man with a heavy tan, his guard uniform covering up his bulky build, and his hat in his lap showed his very closely-shaved head of brown hair.
A week ago, their letters went out, asking the strangest group ever summoned to Valiel's home to meet on that day, just a hair past midday, which rapidly approched. The tea tray sits on the table where the two men sit patiently and wait, facing the six empty chairs before them. They worry that none of the people requested would arrive, or so few of them as to render the entire exercise pointless, despite the entire fate of the city resting upon the help they asked for.
Beside the tea tray sits a stack of papers, all of them files for unsolved cases in the captain's district alone. Their guests will not need proof of anything, they're sure, but perhaps the scale of the matter could appeal to them. If not, the contracts beside the stack hopefully will.
As each person arrives, they will fill the cup of tea and offer it to them, patiently assuring them that they will begin either when the meeting time officially begins, or when all of them have arrived.
I spat out my stew and looked around my "office". It was originally a stonemason's shop - when the old man retired I hired the place off him. Nice, stone building, no worries about fire, seemed perfect. I hadn't realised how the stone dust and chips seem to hang around. Get into everything. Shouldn't be possible to break a tooth on stew, but it seemed like I had a close call that time.I tried not to think how much - or more accurately how little - of my savings I had left. Stew was cheap, and filling, and if there were a few bits of gravel, well, they were probably good for the digestion.
I decided to go next door to ask my neighbour, young Mrs Tuton, if I could borrow her sieve again. I had a spell I was pretty sure would get the rocks out of the stew, but the last time I used it I ended up with water.
Young Mrs Tuton told me a post boy had been by a few days ago with a letter for me. Carefully not yelling or towering over my gnomish neighbour I carefully asked if I might have it.
"It used to be that saying you saw a vampire would have you laughed at. That's the speak of superstitous, inbred folk of Ustalav; the kind who burn down their neighbor's house in the middle of the night screaming about cultists. Korvosa has changed though, and you'll no longer find people laughing at the villagers who, for their zeal, are at least active in defending themselves.
"We're too big to work like Lepistadt, and too corrupt to be trusted with that sort of self-policing. So much of our town guard is not prepared to handle these threats, and that is where we've need for you. You haven't lived in doubt like others have, and you've armed yourselves against these threats well before they made themselves known. You know what we're up against, and are the best people for the job of defeating them. This city needs you to protect it, and if you can't, then it will surely fall."
Went on to give a time, noon, and a day, today.
Twenty minutes? For what might be a job? I thanked Mrs Tuton, turned around and ran, quarterstaff in hand.
Just before noon a tall, tanned man in a thick coat and a broad hat knocks on the open door and walks in. Tight lines around his eyes relax a little as he walks out of the noon sun, and he seems to be hiding an effort to take deep breaths.
"Hello." he nods to the two men as he speaks "I'm Laznist. Understand you might have something for me?"
Heavy parts of the gear at home, as is the longspear.
Does Alaznist know who these people are?
"It used to be that saying you saw a vampire would have you laughed at. That's the speak of superstitous, inbred folk of Ustalav; the kind who burn down their neighbor's house in the middle of the night screaming about cultists. Korvosa has changed though, and you'll no longer find people laughing at the villagers who, for their zeal, are at least active in defending themselves.
"We're too big to work like Lepistadt, and too corrupt to be trusted with that sort of self-policing. So much of our town guard is not prepared to handle these threats, and that is where we've need for you. You haven't lived in doubt like others have, and you've armed yourselves against these threats well before they made themselves known. You know what we're up against, and are the best people for the job of defeating them. This city needs you to protect it, and if you can't, then it will surely fall."
Inbred indeed. Those villagers may not know exactly what creatures lurk in the darkness, but they're more likely to survive when one comes knocking than most of the "more civilized" people here.
I suppose I can take a break from my writing today to see if these men are serious about protecting the citizens of Korvosa. It'd be nice if they are. Zeno's a decent lad, but he's not equipped to do much more than keep his head down. Besides, if they're willing to patronize my work, I'll be able to spend more time on my memoirs, and less on keeping the wolf at bay.
Walther cleans himself up, trying (and failing) to remove the ink smudges from his fingers. Taking up his staff, and stuffing a couple of books and his magnifying glass into various pockets, Walther begins walking across town toward the Heights.
Before entering the upscale district, he uses his magical sleeves to change his outfit to that of a respectable elder statesman, without any of the foofaraw of whatever the latest fad in high fashion might might be.
Upon arriving at Valiel's house, Walther raps on the door with his staff once, and, after presenting himself to the doorman, quietly follows him to the sitting room.
Gentlemen, my name is Walther; recently of Korvosa. I understand you wish to speak with me? Walther takes a seat, politely taking the proffered tea.
Laznist turns to the man - Walther - who just entered. With a skill practiced in the guards he looks the man over and sizes him up.
given the campaign premise would we have heard of each other?
[dice=knowledge:local]1d20+8[/deice] if necessary...
[ooc]If you want to have heard of other party members, then sure, I'll allow that without Knowledge rolls.
As each of the men come in, the two already seated welcome them, offer them tea, and insist that any explanations wait until all parties are present, for the sake of only having to explain it once.
The wagon ride into the city had been long and arduous. Dara had been sitting in the back reading and re-reading the letter her and Targ had received, just to be sure there was no subtext they might have missed. After all, it was only within the past year they had started lending the skills to help local Watches break up cultists. She moved a lock of her fiery red hair out of her face as she read it once more. "Seems legit." the Dwarf mumbled as she pocketed the letter.
Once she was in the city, the Rogue got directions to the location specified and she headed inside, right behind an elderly gentleman whom was entering as well. Like a shadow, Dara slipped in undetected and leaned up against the wall in the corner, with her arms crossed, and waited a few moments. "No tea for me thanks." she said suddenly, startling one of the servants. First impressions are always important. Best let them see how good I am. She thought with a smirk.
This letter ... promises a carte blanche to search every dark corner and crevice in this city - A perceptive person could literally see the wheels turning in her mind. Well, assuming he could see thru her copper shell that is. - and that is just what I desire. I know he is there somewhere ... he must be! Determined to make the most of the opportunity Ophelia shouldered her backpack and made her way towards the Heights.
//
Ophelia arrives sixth to the scene. She can see four people already seated, two whom she recognises as Valiel Domine and Alandre Burton - no doubt her hosts. The other two she have never seen before. The one with scars fits the descriptions of the man whom burned down a warehouse some time ago. She had heard that he also saved a little girl that day - and all but the warehouse owner called him a hero. There was also a red haired woman standing - but Ophelia couldn't place her either. Maybe when they were introduced their names could give her some clue.
The newcomer, a woman in a long sleeved dress, spends a moment observing the occupants of the room before entering and taking a seat. She emits a curious wirring sound - almost as a cat purring. Those of keen hearing realizes she also appears to tick like a clock. Those native to the city might recognize her as the clockwork creation of the now late master artisan Polonius Hale but to others she simply appears as an odd woman in a porcelain mask. When offered tea her glassy eyes blink - the only time during the meeting. Her lips curl upwards as if she recalled a fond memory.
"Thanks but no thanks"
Her voice is one of soft chimes - not nearly human enough.
It surprises them a little that all of their requested guests arrive, given their wide variety in lifestyle. Once everyone is settled in and greeted, Alandre leans back slightly in his chair and Valiel stands, offering his hand to shake each of theirs in turn. Then, he clears his throat and begins to speak.
"No doubt, you're all aware of what has occured these past few weeks. You've seen things that go back much, much further, but let's dwell on the present. Two months ago, news broke that a nest of vampires had set themselves up in The Shingles, attacking the poor and draining them of enough blood to leave them alive, but deeply shaken.What everybody believed to be the bizarre work of a deranged street ganged was in fact something more sinister. Three days later, the Acadame suffered a break-in, and several lycanthropes escaped. They'd been held without anyone's knowing, allegedly to research an easily distributable, non-divine cure for lycanthropy. Since then, attacks have happened regularly, and several townsfolk have been quarantined with contracted lycanthropy themselves.
"These two acts have shaken Korvosa, but by themselves they could be dealt with. The problem is, other forces that everyone has denied exist have grown emboldened amidst the chaos. Creatures of darkness strike without fear of being caught because the guard is too thinly stretched to investigate even half of what is put in front of them. What few successes we've had are met with a great deal more failures, and the careful balance of civilization is at risk. If allowed to continue, we shall surely find chaos.
"The City Guard cannot do anything to help. They try, and many of them are good at their jobs, but they aren't trained for this. Some parts of this city could hardly be called orderly before this, and now there's little chance. We need something better than the guard, and we've decided on an initiative of calling in experts to form small, close-knit teams to investigate and deal with these newly admitted threats. You've all skills that few possess, specialized in your fields, and capable of bringing to an end things that threaten all of us.
"We understand this is unconventional, and that some of you come from backgrounds that may not even find working for the city to be conscienable, but we beg you to please consider doing some good. This is not revolution, and this has no sympathetic origin. These are monsters, and if allowed to thrive, they will surely threaten this city, and all who live in it that you hold dear.
"We are prepared to give you salaries for your work, and they will hopefully be adequate; the equivalent of a vetern guardsman of 20 years. You will be called upon when needed, and when a case is done you can return to whatever you wish to, until such time comes that we need you again. I cannot promise there will be many breaks for you, but if you do well and this city returns to normal, you may find the job more liesurely than you would think.
"Are there any questions?"
Anastasia had just finished reading another volume from the professor's library; how much information was hidden within each one, she wondered? She would have more than enough time to find out. Anastasia made her way to her desk, she started looking through her letters; Anastasia never got anything interesting anymore. As she was flipping through to find something of actual importance; she came upon a nicely sealed envelope it seemed official compared to what she usually received. Anastasia decided to open it up, inside it read,
Anastasia smiled to herself. This was her chance, the chance to avenge the professor. Anastasia would soon be destroying these creatures again.
Anastasia woke up excitedly. She put on her black plants and a white blouse. Anastasia grabbed her belt with pouches and tied it on her waist. She then grabbed her stake and two shortswords, "You can never be too safe." she muttered to herself. Anastasia was too anxious to grab a meal before she left, so she made her way to where she was supposed to meet those who gave her the letter.
When she got to the door she stopped and straightened out her blouse and fixed up her hair a bit. Anastasia then knocked, she was greeted by a servant. He welcomed her in and offered her some tea; Anastasia was thirsty so she graciously accepted. The servant then motioned her toward a group of people and some empty chairs. Anastasia came near and introduced herself,
"Hello I am Anastasia Botnick, and you all are?"
"No doubt, you're all aware of what has occured these past few weeks. You've seen things that go back much, much further, but let's dwell on the present. Two months ago, news broke that a nest of vampires had set themselves up in The Shingles, attacking the poor and draining them of enough blood to leave them alive, but deeply shaken.What everybody believed to be the bizarre work of a deranged street ganged was in fact something more sinister. Three days later, the Acadame suffered a break-in, and several lycanthropes escaped. They'd been held without anyone's knowing, allegedly to research an easily distributable, non-divine cure for lycanthropy. Since then, attacks have happened regularly, and several townsfolk have been quarantined with contracted lycanthropy themselves.
"These two acts have shaken Korvosa, but by themselves they could be dealt with. The problem is, other forces that everyone has denied exist have grown emboldened amidst the chaos. Creatures of darkness strike without fear of being caught because the guard is too thinly stretched to investigate even half of what is put in front of them. What few successes we've had are met with a great deal more failures, and the careful balance of civilization is at risk. If allowed to continue, we shall surely find chaos.
"The City Guard cannot do anything to help. They try, and many of them are good at their jobs, but they aren't trained for this. Some parts of this city could hardly be called orderly before this, and now there's little chance. We need something better than the guard, and we've decided on an initiative of calling in experts to form small, close-knit teams to investigate and deal with these newly admitted threats. You've all skills that few possess, specialized in your fields, and capable of bringing to an end things that threaten all of us.
"We understand this is unconventional, and that some of you come from backgrounds that may not even find working for the city to be conscienable, but we beg you to please consider doing some good. This is not revolution, and this has no sympathetic origin. These are monsters, and if allowed to thrive, they will surely threaten this city, and all who live in it that you hold dear.
"We are prepared to give you salaries for your work, and they will hopefully be adequate; the equivalent of a vetern guardsman of 20 years. You will be called upon when needed, and when a case is done you can return to whatever you wish to, until such time comes that we need you again. I cannot promise there will be many breaks for you, but if you do well and this city returns to normal, you may find the job more liesurely than you would think.
"Are there any questions?"
Anastasia was surprised by the offer, "I can not speak for the others, but as for me I would be honored to help. These plagues need to be dealt with. They are threats to everyone and should be destroyed. I don't have many questions, only one."
Anastsaisa grinned, "When do we start?
Staying leaned up against the wall while the man spoke, Dara kept a stern look on her face, so that no one could figure out what she was thinking. Once the speech was finished, she asked, "Yeah, I got one. What do we do with any 'trinkets' found in the course of the investigation?"
"Anastasias one question is also my only inquiry"
I don't often spend time in the heights, let alone in company like this. Seems the mysterious letter's authors were the half-elf councilman Valiel Domine and captain Alandre Burton of the East Shore watch.
I'd heard of Valiel's reputation, and when he talked of putting together a specialised, elite paramilitary force my first thought was revolution. The fact they explicitly claimed it wasn't revolution wasn't comforting - they must have realized what it looked like. But I'd also heard of captain Burton's reputation, and he at least seemed to think this was legit.
The story they told us was compelling. I've tried investigating things before and know how precious the guard gets when someone starts making them look bad. Official sanction was a better prize than a decent salary - and a decent salary was tempting enough.
I started to put together the pieces as I looked at my companions in that room, and realized I was in esteemed company.
Walther of Korvosa was an older man, seemed like he's seen hard use. Inkstains of his fingers, and the way he reacted when some of the events were recounted makes me think he might be the same Walther whose handwritten advice list I'd found. IU found that folded up as a bookmark in a book on Vampires in the Academae library, and frankly it was more useful than the book I found it in.
Dara - there aren't many sneaky Dwarves. Given the company it was possible she was another independent contractor. My guardsmen contacts had told me of some contractors cracking cult towers out in the country. Reputed to be quite capable, and if they're hiring one contractor makes sense they would hire another.
Orphelia - Wouldn't be much of an investigator if I didn't know about the crazy clockwork girl Pollonius made. When he vanished she becmae s hit in, never left the shop. Recently she suddenly started helping people - for free. I should worry about a competitor, but frankly I'm just glad to see someone else taking on the job.
Anastasia Botnick - Gregory Botnick's kid sister? I had a few shifts with him back when I was in the guard, and he used to talk about her like she was a kid. She's all grown up now, and armed to the teeth. Real keen to start killing too, from the sound of it. Wooden stake in her belt? That's prepared... Actually I think I might have heard something about her and vampires. Must have been hunting those bloodsuckers up in the shingles.
Laznist looks around, taking in the enthusiasm in the room. Against his will a smile creeps at the corner of his mouth.
"Are you suggesting stealing from Korvosan Citizens? Because I can tell you now that's not going to work. Of course, I doubt many of the monsters we're looking for are going to be citizens. Things don't own property, so we're looking at stolen goods, lost property and evidence. If the things we find aren't claimed and the owners can't be identified then I think members of the Guard might be allowed to use them in the pursuit of their duties, or buy them at auction. Some equipment used in such a way might help reduce the operating expenses of the squad."
Laznist doesn't look at the captain as he speaks.
Go on, it's close enough to legal to give you cover, and a guardsman salary isn't going to cover much in the way of silver weapons and holy water.
"That said, I'm in. This city's sliding into the Abyss. Organizing a number of squads like this might actually manage to stop it."
Laznist seems surprised at how vehemently he speaks. How many girls died before those parents called him in?
The remark about their quarries being citizens makes bothmen uneasy as they share share a glance. "That is a rather hopeful assumption to make, and unfortunately it is not a very good one. There are many secrets to this city, and I can't promise that you won't discover things about even your neighbors that you wished not to know. That said, you are not in any tems members of the Guard. It's more like Guard adjacency. You will answer to myself, primarily, until such a time as I can free up funds for more clerical staff than currently in place. As a result, we don't have the resources for you to check in and claim items, and may do with them as you wish, though I would implore you to consider turning in destructive or cursed items to us, for safety reasons."
Shang had been running around his shop in haste. Close the drawers, keep the last customer satisfied, accept the package of dried scorpions, and finally he was free to make his way through the labyrinth of Korvosan alleyways to arrive at the address indicated. Worried about his tardiness, he simply accepted his fate and entered.
Shang scampered into the chamber, brandishing his note, and found a place to sit. He looked for all the world like a scrawny, wiry man from far away. But that was before it became clear that his skin color was a sky blue, and his eyes were white throughout. His thinning hair was white, as was his long, limp, scraggly mustache.
He stayed quiet, starting with, "I am Shang, apothecary. Do continue," before settling in to drink tea, spending extra time sniffing and tasting it carefully in appreciation.
The remark about their quarries being citizens makes both men uneasy as they share share a glance. "That is a rather hopeful assumption to make, and unfortunately it is not a very good one. There are many secrets to this city, and I can't promise that you won't discover things about even your neighbors that you wished not to know. That said, you are not in any terms members of the Guard. It's more like Guard adjacency. You will answer to myself, primarily, until such a time as I can free up funds for more clerical staff than currently in place. As a result, we don't have the resources for you to check in and claim items, and may do with them as you wish, though I would implore you to consider turning in destructive or cursed items to us, for safety reasons."
Anastasia nodded in agreement, she understood the perils of cursed items. "Such things are better left alone." she added. The professor obviously hadn't thought the same way, for his library had an array of these items lying about. Anastasia sometimes considered getting rid of the cursed items, but she mostly kept the study how it had been left.
Taking in the councilman's answer, Dara simply responded, "Fair enough."
Alandre clears his throat once that issue settles. "I feel the need to stress that you are not members of the Guard. While this does include the obvious, such as not being required to answer any calls during disasters--though such help would be appreciated--there is also no guarantee you will be afforded the same protections or considerations in higher courts. This initiative is a rather controversial one among the council and even in the guard; I make no promises than any guardsmen you have dealings with will be particularly warm to you. A great many of them resent the initiative, and feel that you're stepping on their toes, that the city believes them unable to do their jobs." He sighed, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of tea.
Once he was done, Valiel pulled a small stack of papers from the table. "If there are no other concerns, all that remains is for you to sign these, and then you will be sent off on your first assignment." He hands each of you a contract, two pages long, outlining the job, mostly summarizing in legalese what Valiel has already explained.
As soon as she is handed the contract Ophelia starts looking thru it. Her porcelain face is still except for her eyes darting quickly across the paper and her lips moving slightly to vocalize the words. The last part was a habit she picked up since she realized that a completely still face unnerved others. After a brief moment she looks up and addresses her hosts again.
"This is agreeable. I accept."
She motions for a pen and signs the contract as soon as she gets one. Ophelia Hale. Servant of Korvosa - investigator of extraordinary events. She could not help but smile a little.
After reading and re-reading the document several times over, Dara looked up and said, "Is there any chance I can still work with this team and not sign this?" Looking at the councilman's expression, she then said, "Guess not." Begrudgingly, she signs.
Laznist signs with a flourish
"Hopefully we can convince them otherwise. Till then I'll try to tone down the collateral damage."
Anastasia was eager to sign. She took the paper and quickly skimmed it. Nothing odd she concluded. Anastasia signed the document and returned it to Valiel, "Here you go."
Having finished his tea, Walther begins reading through the contract. While he's reading through the document, he begins speaking without looking up.
"The only question that I have at this point gentlemen, is do we believe that the Acadamae's research was as benign as they claim? Lycanthropes, while almost always becoming malevolent monsters, often start out as innocent victims. It certainly doesn't sound as though they were willing participants. Perhaps I am just a cynical old man, but I can't help but be suspicious of the motives of the researchers. Curing lycanthropy would be a great benefit to the world, but gaining control over existing lycanthrops would be a great benefit to a powerful man with a use for dangerous minions.
Walther reaches the end of his speech at the same time as he reaches the end of the contract, which he signs and returns to Valiel.
Shang gives the document a once-over, seeming to give the tea far more attention than matters at hand. He thinks for a moment, but then something flashes across his face. At once, he hastily grabs for a quill and signs his name to the contract.
"Most readily. Here. Please, take my signature with all due respect," Shang replies, his voice at once clearly Korvosan and clearly somehow foreign.
Turning back to the tea, he sniffs at it one more time before adding, "This tea, where is it from? Would you know the field it grew in? You have excellent taste."
Shang Old blue Shang, huh. Distinctive sort of guy. I always wondered what was up with that - tatoo? Some sort of poison? Bloodline? Half-Drow? Whatever it was the man knew his potions and his poisons, and handled a pruning knife like he was born with it. Didn't know the old man was doing much outside his shop, but he's in good condition for someone that old.
"So that's everyone in this group signed? Going to tell us what's got you worried now?"
Walters suspicion about the virtues of the Acadamae causes dark clouds to pass over her expression. The thought of the school of magic holding unwilling subjects there against their wishes has crossed her mind multiple times before. When she speaks the chiming has a sadder tone with a hint of anger:
"The motives of the mages of the Acadamae is as murky as the deepest bog on a lightless night. But the point is moot - their grounds is heavily warded and outsiders are not welcome, no matter their needs or suspicions"
The last part contains almost only bitterness. But she adds in a more hopeful tone
"But perhaps they would let those sanctioned by the city counsel enter?"
"Look Walter, you know it, I know it, Ophelia knows it, everyone knows it. The Academae isn't exactly known for its good works. Its known for two things; magical power and arrogance. We investigate them, they either zap us or bit... complain to the council."
"This is a polite fiction. Ophelia, we go in there and accuse them of malfeasance and we'll be out on our... in a minute."
"Unfortunately, we can't tell. The Acadamae is subject to almost no oversight, and we so must take them at their word that every subject was a willing volunteer. There is certainly a concern of that, however." Ophelia's plan makes him tenser. "I would greatly prefer if that waited. I doubt such an exchange would go well, and you lack evidence. Perhaps if any of the escapees surface in custody, we could reconsider, but for now the Acadamae and their experiments are the least of our problems, worrisome as it is."
Valiel takes the contracts back from each of you, giving a quick check to the signatures to ensure everything is in place. He then sets them down, and regards Shang's question curiously. "I'm not sure, sadly. My assistant is the one who purchases the teas, I simply drink them."
"Everything has us worried, Mister Ornelos, as you shall soon discover."
Alandre motions toward the stack of files in front of him. "All of these are cases and reports from the last month that have been attributed to things beyond their abilities, or are unsolved and hold details that don't click for the Guard's investigators. Abductions, attacks, murders, and even bizarre sightings that left witnesses with nightmares for days, but no actual harm done. All of these reports... and you will be tackling none of them, because we can't maintain this kind of pace. All of these cases are going to go unsolved, victims and families never given answers, because we have to send you on current cases. This is the gravity of the situation, and how deep this city's troubles are.
"Tonight, you will be sent down to The Shingles. There have been regular sightings and attacks by a strange, knife-wielding creature that leaps between roofs. The Watch has been thus far unable to catch it, and it has been growing bolder every night as a result. If you need to go to your homes and get whatever you need, do so, and arrange a meeting spot for dusk. If that is all, I will leave you to your business while I have these contracts processed." He bows his head to you, and along with Alandre stands up to offer a final round of handshakes on your way out."[/b]
Ophelia blinks once both Laznist and Valiel seems to misinterpretation her words as a wish to storm the gates, so to speak. She adopts an monotone voice:
"You must have misunderstood - I am not willing to level any accusations at the Academae - I too wish to see the sunrise again. I was merely speaking from experience stating that they seldom let outsiders in. And it seems like city representatives get the same treatment as anyone else. Regrettably."
But I would not say no to a chance to investigate the Academae. I wonder what else they got locked up in there ...
She listens to the rest of what Valiel has to say quietly without interrupting. If the stack of unsolved cases provokes any thoughts is impossible to say - her face is unmovable and unblinking until Valiel finishes.
"Attacks? Have they been ..." she pauses for a brief moment considering her choice of words "fatal? Or is there live witnesses that we could speak to?"
"Well I have all that I need. But I could use a place for the night. It's been a long trip, and the road was bumpy. Any recommendations for a good Inn?"
"I see. Well, that is correct. There is little chance you will be seeing the inside of that building any time soon, likely even if we find the lycans." Reaching for a notepad and pen at the table by his side, Valiel writes the address of a decent inn nearby. "This should tide you over, but I suggest looking into a more permanent lodging. It looks like you'll be living here now."
Taking a moment, Alandre recalls the exact details in his head "Yes, they have almost all been fatal. Whatever this creature is, it can do damage with a single knife that doesn't seem possible. If eyewitnesses didn't swear it was a dagger, we'd have thought massive, gnarled claws. The only survivor is hanging on by a thread, and not currently in decent shape to talk to anybody. There have been plenty of eyewitnesses, however, so perhaps you could ask around while you search for it, assuming any are willing to wander at night."[/b]
Ophelia nods as Alandre describes what they know about the encounters with the creature. She makes a mental note to try and get a hold of Lafnyr the Imp. He is usually up to date on what is happening in the Shingles - and he might even be willing to help. Not that he cares much for mortal life and well being, but the creature might scare away enough people to cut into his pickpocketing and scamming profits.
"Then I have no further questions."
She turns to her new companions and hoists her backpack.
"I have my equipment - But I still like to obtain some small trinkets from the city market before we depart. Anyone knows a good meetingspot in the Shingles? If we want to meet somewhere else first and go in force we could meet in Polonius' workshop. It is in the Midlands, so it is far from our destination for the night."
Dara smiled and mumbles, "I do my best work at night."
Spoiler:knife wielding orangutan
If we're to go monster hunting tonight, I should retrieve my crossbow from my office first.
Councilman, have their been any commonalities to either the attacks or the victims? Preventing more attacks will be much simpler if we can either place ourselves in the most likely location of the next one, or can present ourselves as the creature's preferred sort of victim. Being able to do both would be ideal.
"I have my equipment - But I still like to obtain some small trinkets from the city market before we depart. Anyone knows a good meeting spot in the Shingles? If we want to meet somewhere else first and go in force we could meet in Polonius' workshop. It is in the Midlands, so it is far from our destination for the night."
Anastasia responds to the offer, "I need to run by my place and get my armor. Maybe even do a quick search and see if I can find anything that vaguely sounds like what we'll be hunting tonight. But as for the meeting point I have no problem meeting up at your workshop."
"No, and that's the problem. Whatever is doing this is a chaotic and inconsistent creature. It strikes at random in the Shingles, usually in front of groups of no more than ten at a time, and stays visible only long enough to be seen, so that it can spread more terror. I realize this is asking a rather tall task of you, but perhaps you can find something we've missed if you ask around."
Anastasia's response seems to please Ophelia, but she waits for the others to speak up before commenting on the topic further. Walter query and her hosts response to it makes her think -
"Intriguing that it prefers to strike groups and not singular persons. Might it be that it gets more out of the terror of the victims companions then the act of slaying in itself?"
"That is an interesting idea, Ophelia."
"I'm inclined to say we get our stuff, meet up in an hour at the shop, and canvass the area in pairs before it gets dark. Keep an eye out from times and places. Try to get a few distinguishing features. We had this sort of randomness in muggings back when I started in the guard and it turned out to be a number of women who happened to be wearing identical leather armour."
Damnit. I hate daylight in the Shingles.
"Knife wielding creature... Leaps between roofs... I may be able to prepare a few things beforehand. If it has this kind of mobility, it may need weighing down."
He looks around to everyone. "Polonius' place is good, but you are also all welcome to come to my shop. I need to make sure that a, um, medicinal poultice is fermenting properly."
Gah, wrong profile on that.
"Yes - either meeting spot could work. Where is your shop located Shang? The one closest to the Shingles would be the logical choice."
She pauses briefly to allow Shang to reply before continuing
"No matter - the hour Laznist suggested is enough for my needs. Can make it to the rendezvous in that time or do anyone need longer?"
Meeting at Polonius's shop sounds fine to me. Once there we'll have to decide where to begin our search. As I understand it, the Shingles exist to some degree above many parts of the city. In any case, I must make a brief stop at my office on my way to Polonius's place.
When Walther gets home, he locks his belt pouch in a drawer, leans his staff against the wall in a corner, and retrieves his crossbow and ammunition before continuing on to the meeting point.
"See you all tonight." Dara said as she soundlessly exited the room and headed to the inn listed on the paper. Upon entering the establishment, she asked the proprietor, "What do you have in cheap rooms?"
When they are ready to depart Ophelia lingers behind a few minutes to make sure everyone has the directions. When she is sure everyone knows the way she bids farewell to those still there and leaves.
She heads towards home but takes a detour to the market. She is looking for something to trade for information with Lafnyr the Imp. Lafnyr usually keeps tabs on what's up in the Shingles and is usually willing to share. After numerous encounters with the imp Ophelia has a pretty good idea of what he likes. Gold and silver work - he appreciates them for the wealth they represents. But not many merchants are willing to barter with a devil and as such he has problems converting his monetary wealth into things. Especially things usually sold down on the main market square where an imp would risk his life if he were to show.
There She stopped in front of a boutique offering hats in various shapes and sizes. One of them on display is a tricorn out of black cotton, sized for a child. Not a masterpiece, true, but miles ahead of anything that could be bought in the Shingles. She quickly and silently makes the transaction and walks out with the hat in a small parcel underneath her arm.
Usually, she found it easier to just disguise her true nature while in public. Heavy and long clothes and scarves usually took care of the (lack of) skin problem. Speaking was another telltale sign she tried to avoid. To that end she had long ago mastered the correct gestures and amount of silver to present a vendor to avoid haggling without paying through the nose.
As by chance she also passed by a merchant peddling tea on her way away from the market. She recalled Shang's fondness of the herbal brew - and the fact that almost everyone seemed to appreciate the gesture. Playing the role of hostess wasn't something she was accustomed to so she stole some inspiration from the politician she just visited. He is a politician - he should know how to please people. And he serves tea to visitors. Ergo - visitors is pleased by tea. Logical
Satisfied by this new insight in the world of the fleshclad (and drinking) disregarded her earlier caution and spent the better of an quarter of an hour inquiring the merchant about his different brands and types. Luckily - her newfound interest for tea triggered the elderly salesmans own passion for the brew and he was more then happy to help her - chiming bells or not. She walks away from the market square with both a bribe to Lafnyr and a halfpound of tea 'from the furtherest reaches of Tien' - as the salesman said.
//
The exterior of Polo's workshop could be of any old shop on a long street of old shops. There are few marks of identification except its number and an polished sign of wrought iron - proclaming that it is indeed this shop, and noone of the others, that is the home of 'Polonius, Master Clocksmith and Artisan'. On the door there is a notice on a now weathered parchment. "Closed until further notice - commissions only!"
Inside the door there is a small room full of display pieces. There is mostly complete clocks but also gearboxes and other small pieces of highly polished machinery. Most of it is currently unwound and thus not running, but there are sufficient ticking machines to fill the entire house with a soft ambient whirring sound. Behind the counter there is a door leading into the workshop proper.
The workshop itself is meticulously arranged and clean - the exception being a pile of tools, gears and other pieces littering one of the workbenches. The room is illuminated by a large set of polished steel mirrors bringing as much natural light as possible towards the workbench from windows on the roof. There is also a large number of lamps and lanterns - as one would expect in a workshop dedicated to fiddly crafts. There is also a pair of doors leading further in but they appears closed at the moment.
In the middle of the workshop Ophelia stands next to a hastily erected table, polishing teacups. There are six chairs arranged around the table and on its centre there is a hot teapot. As the guests start to arrive Ophelia offers them a newly cleaned teacup while they wait for the others to arrive.
"I'm sorry, the cups were a bit dusty. I don't use them as often nowadays"
When all has arrived and she have given everyone a cup of tea she takes a seat herself, still polishing the last cup.
"I like Laznist idea to pair of and scout the Shingles before sundown. We might find a witness - and I have someone I would like to talk to aswell"
When Dara arrives at the inn, she finds a surprisingly weary man for his young age tending to the desk. Like a bored speech, he tells her, "Cheap rooms are two gold pieces. A bit of blanket and floor space by the hearth is two silver pieces."
Since there will be some time between leaving my office and Ophelia being ready to greet us, Walther's going to take some time to visit some of his contacts.
//
The bell above the door jangled briefly as Walther walked into Ingnio's curio shop. When the shifty merchant glanced up, first at Walther, then at the large weapon the old man was carrying and immediately gave his least favorite customer his full attention.
"Calm down Ingnio, the crossbow's not for you. I just want you to do me a favor - get word to Milo that I want to see him sometime this afternoon."
"But as long as I'm here, why don't you tell me what you've heard about the recent killings in the Shingles?
//
"Fine Gusto, fine. No tab for a weak old man. At least let me have some water would you? It's heavy work hauling this crossbow around."
Walther begins drinking the tepid water, and looks around the mostly-empty taproom.
"I really just wanted to know if you or your girls have seen Milo or Zeno today - I was hoping to ask them some questions."
"Yes, the questions do have to do with why I'm carrying my crossbow around in the middle of the day Syira. Just let them know I was looking for them if they happen to stop by this afternoon please."
After finishing his water, Walther moves on, hoping to run into the guardsman or the young housebreaker before heading to the group's meeting.
//
"I'm sorry, the cups were a bit dusty. I don't use them as often nowadays"
Not at all my dear girl. The tea is excellent, and I'm quite content with any cup that will hold liquid.