"Yes yes explosives are always useful for intimidation, though I would prefer their use against the Dark or for blasting stone rather than elen," Byron says as his contact prepares to leave. "Next time let us meet somewhere less prone to violence yes? Then perhaps we might actually be able to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement that will allow me to continue my very important research."
Osric staunches Fierenzo's bleeding head wound, and steadies the lad. He wobbles a bit, but he does not seem to have a concussion.
A mere moment after the obese ifrit that was meeting with Byron exits the Vulture, a tall, haughty ifrit walks in. A red-golden mane of hair frames a well-formed face, marred only by arrogance. The symbol of the Temple Guard--a pyramid vertically pierced by a flaming sword--stands out prominently on the man's breastplate. Another five Temple Guards follow him in.
He claps loudly, the sound echoing strangely in the empty, silent tavern. "Bravo! Surely this battle will be studied at the Academy for years to come." He rich baritone is cloyed with ham-fisted sarcasm. "Amuse me with the tale, and then I'll decide who is going to sleep in a cell tonight for interrupting my evening." He smiles at all of you.
"Cadet v'Manco." Odebie acknowledges, standing up from Ahtuno's side. "This one," he gestures towards the brutbreve player, "drunk and belligerent, deliberately broke that one's fingers without being provoked and knowing that there was a member of the Watch present. This started a more general brawl but it was stopped without any serious injuries."
His gaze shifts to the other guards, and his eyes narrow. "May I ask what the Temple Guard are doing in our lowly Dims?"
Osric starts to say something about the gasper and Fiordelise' brother, but thinks better now that there has been an official report given.
He attempts to pocket the Lorenzo's vial without anyone noticing.
Fiordelise will keep her head down for the moment, see how this plays out between v'Manco and Odebie... She'll bind the players wounds, but won't waste a cure on him.
For once, Byron has the sense to keep his mouth shut and let a Watch member do the talking.
"Well..." v'Manco pauses for a moment to look at your rank, "Corporal, I'm so glad you asked." He casually saunters around the room, arms behind his back. "You see, I was accompanying the lovely Isabelle Tareasca and several of her...acquaintances to your charming brutbreve arena just a few streets away."
He smiles again, bright teeth gleaming. "The ladies seemed quite taken with their private tour, a prelude to the game I'll be escorting them to tomorrow night." Like a pinched candle, his smile vanishes, replaced by a petulant frown, ugly and somewhat disturbing on such a large man. "Imagine my displeasure when a group of concerned citizens told me that my favorite player might be caught up in a fight at a nearby pisciare-foro ."
v'Manco stops walking. He is standing next to the unconscious brutbreve player. The five other guards have not moved from the entrance. "Tell me Corporal, who caused this man's grievous injuries?"
Fiordelise stands up as v'Manco approach's her position near the Brutbreve player, unwilling to stay on her knees near v'Manco.
"Relax, there is no lasting harm done, a couple of hours and he'll be perfectly fine." she pauses a moment, waiting to see if he recognises her at all.
"How is Isabelle, I've not spoken to her in about a week now.". Fiordelise adopts her most flattering/flighty voice, in hopes of distracting him from making any trouble.
Mentally thanking Fiordelise for stepping in before he said something stupid, Odebie picked up the unconscious player in both hands.
v'Manco's gaze swivels toward Fiordelise, his features briefly contorting in reflexive rage at the interruption. After a crude up-and-down stare, he quirks an eyebrow and says, "Corporal, thank your little tree gods that this bella is here to remind me of the important things in life. Patch up Corde there, and I'll forgive you your negligence. This time."
Ignoring her question, he takes a few slow, almost predatory steps toward Fiordelise. The smell of cologne is strong, even from several feet away. There is no look of recognition in his eyes. "As for you, mio caro , I have decided that you will be part of my entourage tomorrow night. I'm sure you'll be able to find something to wear that better suits you," he drawls, gesturing toward your armor.
Without awaiting a response, he strolls toward the door. He waves toward one of the other guards, "Find out where she lives and such. I must get back to the girls."
Osric watches the Temple Guards leave with a look of disgust on his face. Officious oaf! He doesn't care about the laws at all. Just in it for the glory. Bah!
He moves over to Lazzaro pulling out the used vial of Gasp. "So, scum, can you tell me where your friend got this?"
Byron cautiously approaches Osric as the guards leave, but hangs back when he sees him in the midst of questioning someone.
Udoti.
After the Temple Guard have left, Odebie throws the now-named brutbreve player over one shoulder, careless of whatever fluids dribble out of him. He's about to walk out, but pauses and turns when Osric starts questioning the remaining Ifrit.
In response to Osric's question, Lazzaro spits on the floor. "Maybe from your mother, eh cazzo?"
Osric leans in, "I'm certain that Corporal Odebie of the Dims Watch would be very interested to hear how you threatened the nice young eleness with the date tomorrow with Cadet v'Manco."
He looks thoughtful for a moment, "For that matter, maybe Cadet v'Manco would be interested, I'm sure we can call him back. I don't think it'd sour his mood to have to come back here again tonight."
Fiordelise's pleasant smile turns to a scowl as soon as v'Manco & the temple guard leave.
"Tell the good sir what he wants to know or I swear on my name you will never bear children - I am out of patience." Fiordelise's hand tenses up on the hilt of her dagger (which is sheathed) to emphasize her point.
Probably not the best of ideas to physically threaten a man in front of a member of the guard, but Fi is feeling grumpy.
Lazzaro looks to Odebie, but whatever he sees there--dispassion, anger, or calculation--does not reassure him. "No need to be brash, eh signorina? The guy who gave that to my brother, he's nothing! I give you a name, I keep my cogliones, si? We all walk away happy?"
Frowning internally, Odebie nods. "That sounds like a good deal. Please, speak quickly."
"We all walk away happy"
Osric smiles condescendingly. "See, wasn't that simple. One of these days it'd be nice if you scum would just cooperate without it needing to come to threats."
Once Lazzaro has given up the name of the elen involved, Osric will turn to Byron. Casually waving off any further interest in the large ifrit.
"Now that that mess is dealt with, you look like you want to talk."
"I wasn't paying attention what happened?" Byron asks, glad to finally be able to satisfy his curiosity. "I don't know why they wanted to meet in a place like this I could have guessed something would happen but why are you here?"
Lazzaro nods his head up and down, as if this will ensure everyone is speaking the truth. "Guy's name is Lungs, okay? Deals outta the Steam Slums, just south of Garden Street. Whole east side of the Steamies is his. Lorenzo was always the one to see him, I don't know nothing about him, but that's where he is."
He looks around at all of you, attempting an oily charm. "Now we all happy, si?"
Fiordelise glances over to Osric - she's not really got the power to do anything.
"I'm done with him, Odebie can take him if he wants."
To Byron he responds, "I think these two thugs chose this place as neutral ground to shake down the ifrit over there." Osric waves toward Fiorenzo. "Lucky for him, his sister showed up."
"As for me, I heard that this place was a waypoint for Gasp trafficking. So when I heard the little guy's wheeze, I thought I had it. But now I've probably shot my chances here. I'll just have to run my stakeout some other way." He frowns.
"Did your business go ok through that mess?"
Byron freezes a moment when Osric mentions Gasp. "Gasp?" he repeats, his slow, deliberate tones at odds with his former breathless speech. "Osric, would you like assistance with your investigation? You know I have many talents. Maybe they could be useful?"
Odebie looks down at Lazzaro for a moment, thinking.
"Leave."
He turns and helps Ahtuno stand up. "Kuwumbono omuhle ukukhohlwa kulobubusuku; ezinye unogada wayeza ezenza ukuphila kube nzima ngawe. Ngizobuya ukubhekana nalo. Ucabanga ungenza ekhaya?"
Once he's seen Ahtuno off, he turns back to the others. "A gasp ring in the Steams? Hm. If you need some guard presence I'm more than happy to help - but now I should get this one behind bars for the night." He begins to carry Corde off.
Osric laughs, "Hunh! I guess I got a lead outta this after all." He thinks for a moment. "If you guys are really up for helping, I guess we could meet up in the morning. I've got an office a little north of here. Byron, you know where it is." He gives more precise directions for Odebie.
He turns to Fiordelise, "Ma'am, if you'd like to find out what your brother was mixed up in, you're welcome to join us."
Fiordelise looks at her brother and sighs, "I need to get this one cleaned up first... and I suppose I'd better not antagonise v'Manco further by failing to appear for his date tomorrow." Fiordelise rolls her eyes.
"But yes, I'll meet with you tomorrow - Gasp is an abomination anyway - so I'd assist you even if my brother wasn't involved."
Lazzaro looks surprised, then suspicious, that he's being let go. When no one tries to stop him from leaving, he gives a merda-eating grin to Fiordelise, then he slinks out of the bar.
Ahtuno's stony face reveals little when Odebie tells him to forget about what happened tonight. Only the watchman, who knows him personally, sees the brief twitch of anger in his brow, quickly suppressed. His only response is to nod. On his way out, he pauses, looks at Fiordelise, and simply says, "Ngiyabonga." He walks out into the cold night.
Fierenzo is standing near the door, looking at the floor. He looks like a dejected puppy, but reeks of alcohol and sweat.
Byron nods. "Yes, the morning. That will be better, yes? Time to think."
"Thank you. I guess we'll reconvene in the morning."
With that Osric checks the latch on his cane, straightens his waistcoat, retrieves his hat from a jagged outcropping, and calmly steps out the door.
The walk home is uneventful. He starts to climb the stairs to his apartment when a voice emanates from the darkness in the hallway. "So, how did things go? You get anywhere with your investigation?"
Osric turns to find Pilgar leaning against a doorframe. He responds, " I'm not sure. I didn't find what I'd expected. Didn't spot any transactions, but one of the patrons got in a fight and have me a lead on something down in the Steams. I've got some folk coming over in the morning to discuss it. Thanks for asking."
The big Oread smiles. "No problem Os, you have a good night."
Osric turns and heads back up the stairs. "You too, Pil. You too."
Fiordelise grabs Fierenzo. "Come on, lets get you home and you can tell me how much of a mess you're in - and we need to get you cleaned up and ready for tomorrow."
Fiordelise suddenly remembers the entire reason for coming the Vulture... which leaves her double booked for the morning...
The narrow ifrit slums greet you with a smell as unpleasant as it is familiar. You reach your laboratory, snuggled warmly between a whorehouse and a madhouse. Neither establishment tends to complain about the noise of explosions.
Byron did a quick check over his experiments before bed, as usual--nothing particularly interesting going on, but he hadn't wanted any excitement while he was away. That done, he went to bed.
Fiordelise sighs, "chi se ne frega, Fierenzo. Fiordelise walks home. dragging Fierenzo with her.
In addition to being a social call, Viscount v'Accardo hinted that he might be willing to consider a trade agreement with your family. You have access to from an undine trader clan that your grandparents partnered with decades ago. Finally, a step in the right direction for your family.
...Or, at least, it could have been. Fierenzo, with his usual impeccable timing, bent over and spewed last night's beer all over the boots of the v'Accardo doorman. With a haughty sniff, the doorman informed you that perhaps a different day would suit the Incarnas better. The door was shut with curt bang.
On the bright side, your morning is no longer double-booked.
Osric blinks groggily as Volcano's light brightens the world. In his head he plays over the events if the previous night. Sky! I've got guests coming. Gotta get myself together.
He gets up and makes a pot of coffee, gets himself together and heads down to the sitting room. Preparing another pot of coffee he waits.
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The sights and sounds of the streets were muffled when Odebie closed and bolted the door with a soft *clack*. He stopped, and listened for a moment. The tenement was quiet, save for a baby fussing in the back. He smiled to himself; most of the other tenants were families, taking advantage of the protection a guard offered. Moving quietly, he walked back to his room and quickly fell asleep.
The rapid-fire thumps of people running up and down stairs, undercut by the musty smells of breakfast, woke him right before dawn. Shrugging on a shirt, he moved out and joined the rest of the building at the massive earthen table, immediately grabbing and passing truncheons of plentiful, if plain, pumice and fired-clay biscuits - well, what he could wrestle away from the little ones at least, climbing and running and eating everything in sight as they were. Later, after the ogogo had chased them all off and he had washed up in the water trough out back, he pulled on his armor and hammer and headed out. Right before he left, though, he collared one of the scampering ones and gave him a copper to deliver a message to his Lieutenant - simply where he would be and who with.
Fiordelise strongly considers kicking her brother across the street.
"Fierenzo - are you trying to destroy what little we have left? Go home, before I am forced to do something I'll regret."
Fiordelise turns and walks away from her brother. She should probably go back the house, change into something more suitable for an investigation, or at least put her armor on... but she can't quite stomach the idea of going back there just yet.
She turns off and heads towards Osric's office.
Byron arose at his usual time in the morning, and checked on his usual experiments--little change, though there was a bit of interesting precipitate at the bottom of one solution, he'd have to analyze it when enough formed for a sample...
By the time he remembered he had a meeting that morning, he'd missed breakfast. Hurriedly he gathered his gear, slipped on his armor (sloppily), and rushed out into the street.
He managed not to get distracted on the way over to Osric's office, and so arrives only *somewhat* late, though rather out of breath.
By the time Odebie arrives, Osric is pacing. A small desk in the corner shows signs of being used recently, but the papers are in such disarray it is hard to discern what that use was. The dustbin next to the small fireplace has a small pile of coffee grounds and a fresh pot is sitting on the hearth. "Welcome to my humble office. Have a seat. Would you like a cup?" He asks. "We probably have a few minutes, Byron isn't often on time. He has a tendency to get distracted."
Yesterday's harsh wind is gone, replaced by gentle flurries of snow; each flake is lightly peppered with ash from Volcano. As the peaklight shifts from cherry red to tangerine, the snow begins to fall more heavily.
Fiordelise arrives at Osric's, having regained her composure during her walk over, her ash-grey traveling cloak specifically designed to blend with the ashfall common to the area.
She nods at the others, "Osric, Corporal, I'm here as I said I would be." with a slight blush she discards her cloak, the elegant, though slightly archaic dusky pink gown beneath seeming impressively at odds with the Investigator's office.
Once everyone was comfortable Osric began, "So, last night we found evidence of Gasp being sold out of the Steams. We're looking for a guy going by the name "Lungs", who works south of Garden Street. But that's about all we know."
Still pacing, he pours himself another cup of coffee. "Odebie, what can you tell us about that area?"
Osric stops pacing as a look of wonder crosses his face. "Actually Odebie, nevermind, you guards don't get down there much. Too hard to patrol I guess." He goes over to the desk and starts sifting through papers. "It's in here somewhere...Aha!" He pulls out a wrinkled sheet.
"Leoni, Franco Leoni. An elen I met a few years ago on a case. He lived near Garden Street at the time. Might still for all I know. He's a Mister by trade, has a talent for seeing through the steam." He looks up from his reverie. "Sorry, got distracted."
"So, it's hot down there, really hot. River is practically boiling that close to Volcano, throws off a lot of steam. (How the place gets its name actually.) In addition to being hot, the visibility is lousy. Which is why crime is such an issue there." He frowns distastefully and takes a swing of his coffee.
"Misters get paid, and paid well, to guide folk through the steam. As well as keep an eye out for unscrupulous types who might be after an elen's wealth at the expense of his health." With a glance towards Byron he continues, "Byron, you're probably familiar with some of the products of Garden Street and the area around it. Lots of exotic herbs, flowers, drugs, that sort of thing."
"Anyway, we should see if we can get Leoni to help us find Lungs. That is, if we can find him." He looks around the room at everyone else and realizes how much he's been talking. "Ok, lecture over. What do you elen got."
"Nothing that you didn't bring up. 'Never had cause to walk into the Steams before now. This will be educational."
"Well, it's hardly my area of expertise, but I can provide another blade and another pair of eyes." Fiordelise glances around with uncharacteristic nervousness. "Do you, um, mind if I borrow some more appropriate attire. I had to dash from a prior engagement."