The guard's attention moved to Sammark, so he was surprised when the dead Elvavian suddenly lunged forward, shoving a blade into his side. The humavian gurgled, and fell over the side, taking the short sword with him as Selvan falls back in the boat, unconscious. At least he leaves his mace behind as it rattles in the bottom of the skiff's hull.
Fortunately for Selvan, his body resists the shock of landing on the boat. Unfortunately for both Selvan and Sammark, they are floating 500 ft above the ground, on a drifting boat, with no-one capable of flight to push or pull it, or raise or lower it.
Sammark can, however, see the bull-rushed guard flying back toward the skiff.
"Uh!" Connor grunted from the backslap. "Yeah, sure. As long as it's 'the job' we're looking for." he replied, his voice lower than before. Now that they had a lead, he didn't want to be overheard as easily. Connor finished the watered-down thin ale in his mug.
Wishing one of his companions was telepathic, and thus immune to being eavesdropped on, Connor continued using homonymic code and shared metaphor. "We're good for a week, I think, before we run out of coin. But we need a 'job' before we 'scrape the bottom of the barrel' . And I'd love to 'write back to my Clan' that I had a 'management position' this soon."
Connor pushed back the plate on the table. "So do you think we should go to this dive tonight 'dressed' ?" he asked, looking down at his wine-stained sleeve. "Because if I have to 'interview' in a bar, I'd rather it not turn out like last time."
"Alrighty, then. We should definitely be able to get this job. And what kind of person are you, that would think of not coming to an interview dressed? I may not have the best of manners, but that's jus' common sense."
Sam sighs, and stoops to pick up the mace before the other guard returned to the skiff. Free to exercise his full mental might, he points a finger at the guard in the sky and the air shrieks as concentrated sonic energy cuts through the sky.
McIntyre Plot
"Sounds good to me. I'd rather not have a repeat of my last job."
The guard grunts in pain as he is hit by the sonic attack, but he doesn't stop, he wings in toward Sammark and brings the standard issue light mace around in an arc.
The mace bounces off Sammark's psionic shield, making the guard curse.
The emergency storage room seems a good enough and safe enough place to leave her equipment. Alys leaves her bag in the corner of the 10ft x 10ft room, next to the other two bags of equipment.
The capital is enormous, mountains as far as the eye can see, and buildings scattered over all those mountains. The building her office is in is on the eastern side of a mountain, facing out over the inner sea and the eastern ledge. Far below where the mountain face turns into a 85 degree slope, Alys can see the faint docks outlines of Adamantia Port. The port is ten miles long, roughly, nestled up against the base of the mountain ranges where they meet the inland sea.
With no experience at finding out things on her own, Alys spends an hour or so just wandering around, trying to get people to give her directions before she finally finds someone not too busy to point her in the general direction of the mercantile district.
Once in the mercantile district, it's fairly easy for her to find a tailor shop or two. Prices are slightly elevated, this being the big city
Flying down to the docks, Alys finds the docks area huge, with giant storehouses carved out of the mountain, over a thousand docks along the 10 mile stretch, with hundreds of ships docked at any given time. There's always, all the time, someone loading or unloading a ship. The port runs on 3 shifts she finds out after pestering some people. First Shift runs dawn to late afternoon. Second Shift runs late afternoon to midnight. Third Shift runs midnight to dawn.
Looking around, it's a daunting task. There are literally thousands of crates moved around here every hour. Finding one illegal crate amongst all those moving around would be about like finding a single gray pebble on a beach full of black and white pebbles.
Sam steps back from the guard and takes a moment to focus again.
The guard takes another swing at Sammark.
The guard is hit by a gust of wind, and the mace slams into the deck of the boat instead, leaving the guard off balance.
Unfortunately for Sammark, the guard quickly recovers from being off balance, and brings the mace around again.
The mace catches Sammark under the arm, despite his defensive barrier, and ribs crack and shatter as the cruel mace hit's unprotected flesh.
Sam dances to the dice, cussing viciously and clutching his side. Suddenly, the air around him cools suddenly as he concentrates the ambient heat into a point and throws it at the guard.
The guard grunts in pain as his side is body is burned by the heat.
As amusing as playing tag across the ship was, Sam decided to end the fight with brute force. Namely, by stepping in and clubbing the man with his pilfered mace.
Sammark brings the pilfered mace up from his bent over position of pain, and the mace smashes into the guard's hip, bones crunch, and the guard's eyes roll back as the pain sends him unconscious. The guard begins spiraling down, his wing muscles locking to keep him from plummeting.
Sammark see's him slowly spiral toward the ground so far below.
Not ever having been on her own in a city this large and crowded, even keeping the overview of one dock turns out to be an overwhelming task for Alys. What was I thinking? Maybe go down to the docks and ask aroung? "Hey, can you get me some illegal magic items?", Alys pinches the bridge of her nose, I guess I got a nice stroll around town at least. I should wait and see if these other two are a little more adept at this part of the job. If anything, smuggling wares probably pass through here at night anyway.
She turns around and flies back to the HQ.
"Well that was fun," Sam said to no one, and takes stock of his situation. First order of business is to check on the unconscious Elfavian he has been unfortunately partnered with as he needs someone to pull the skiff. Satisfied with Selvan's condition, Sammark searches the ship for useful items.
There are, on the skiff, the following :
2 Oars (clamped onto the external sides)
1 brown leather case under the forward guard seat (contains a lunch and some flasks with ale)
1 black leather case under the rear guard seat (contains a first aid kit and two dorjes).
1 mace (in Sammark's hand)
2 50ft lengths of rope (tied to the towing rings on the front)
Sammark helps himself to a flask of ale and examines the dorjes.
Given his lack of training in psionics , Sammark is not sure what they are. He's fairly sure he knows how to activate them, but not sure what they do.
Sam points one of the dorjes over the edge of the skiff and activates it.
Frustrated by the lack of response from this droje, Sam picks up the other and tries it instead.
The glow flares and energy flows up Sammarks arm.
The crystal's glow dims and it loses it's luster.
Ok,
So, getting some rolls out of the way up front.
Reaghar
Impressing Date : +0 (spending cash), +2 Dreamy Red Eyes, -4 Not asking anything about her all night, only about job
Connor
Gathering Information : +0 (spending cash)
Alistair
Gathering Information : +0 (spending cash)
Daumer's Dump belies it's name. It's a block sized restaurant, dance club, bar combination on the edge of the Southern Quadrant of the Enclave, close enough to the Western Quadrant that the richer debutants go 'slumming' in the club. Four floors, two for the restaurant, one for the bar, and the fourth for dancing.
Reaghar has a pretty good time with the girl, who meets him there. He goes through all his gold, and she ends up spending about 10 gold of her own on the alcohol and food and dancing. They don't end leave until the wee hours of the morning.
She does end up taking you back to her place, which is close to the Dump. It's a nice apartment, multiple rooms, with a private kitchen and bath. Reaghar finds out several things.
Job : About the job, she agrees to get him a job with Clan Reville as a stooge. He'll have to work his way up. Reville does some sneaking of things into the main dock, as it's easier to distribute. Really illegal stuff goes through their own docks, since it's not illegal there. But some stuff it's cheaper to sneak it past Mintakan Security than divert ships to their island (plus that's pretty blatant).
Her : Her name is Teelie Sharpfang. Despite her youthful looks, she's older than Reaghar. Significantly older. She's a gnome tiefling, and while she doesn't give her exact age, from the way she talks, it's probably older than Reaghar's parents. Another thing he figures out is that with age comes experience, and by the end of the night, he's worn out and exhausted. He also ends up with a few dozen 'love nips'. Those teeth are sharp.
Job : About the job, she agrees to get Reaghar a job with Clan Reville as a stooge. He'll have to work his way up. Reville does some sneaking of things into the main dock, as it's easier to distribute. Really illegal stuff goes through their own docks, since it's not illegal there. But some stuff it's cheaper to sneak it past Mintakan Security than divert ships to their island (plus that's pretty blatant).
Her : Her name is Teelie Sharpfang. Despite her youthful looks, she's older than Reaghar. Significantly older. She's a gnome tiefling, and while she doesn't give her exact age, from the way she talks, it's probably older than your parents. Unfortunately for you, once things turn romantic, Hero insists on giving you a gleeful, lurid, and enthusiastic blow by blow description. She apparently is extremely experienced, and from the description of Reaghar Hero gives, he's out of his depth and utterly exhausted by morning. She's also into things Connor's never heard of, much less thought about doing.
Connor and Alistair head down to the square. Talking with people there, and mulling around, they find out a few things.
There aren't any job listings, they don't post them on boards. There are some head hunter shops that find people jobs. However, those are open during the day, not the after sunset. The city is lit by psionic crystals that sense the ambient light and brighten as it darkens. The square is brightly lit as day even at midnight. The main streets are also brightly lit. The side streets are dimmer. Also, each building has a glowing crystal on it, so that fliers don't have to worry about flying into a wall at night.
They do pass a large building that is just off the square that's open, even at night. The banner reads 'Teranafiel Sal'van'Tieltha - Bibliophile'. The building is a modest 3 story building, but is one of the few in the Southern Quadrant to have both a ground and roof entrance. Glancing inside, the duo sees shelf after shelf after shelf of books, crammed to overflowing.
Reaghar comes stumbling in about an hour after dawn, looking haggard with even redder eyes than normal and an extra thick stubble on his face. He's got small bite marks that look a little painful scattered on his visible body.
"Eh, i got a crappy job. Probably manual labor, but hopefully it'll pay well enough to keep me fed. I'll ask about getting you all hired on. Gonna get a few hours of sleep first though. Don't wanna show up looking haggard."
Wishing he had not let Hero go with Reaghar after all, Connor spent most of the evening fervently wishing for a mind-shielding power. Several times looks of embarrassment bordering on disgust flickered on his face.
Seeking solace inside the Teranafiel Sal'van'Tieltha, Connor told Alistair, "Hang on, I've been looking for a bookstore."
-----------------------
The next morning Connor met Reaghar at the door. "First," he demanded, "I'll take back my garnet." Holding the silver chain by a single fingertip, Connor added "And now for the soap and hot water..." After hearing Reaghar, Connor held up a hand, palm out. "No, no details. Really." he insisted.
"Heh, not my idea."
Selvan bleeds a little.
Selvan bleeds a little.
"Bah! Never much saw the point in books. Never really put much thought into 'em. Now that I think about it..." Alister puts his hand on his chin, then shrugs. "I was never really taught how to read. My clan's a little backwater, so we didn't do much with books. We were s'posed to learn, but I never cared too much fer it."
Alister nevertheless joins Connor in the bookstore, looking around but, oddly enough, not finding anything to his liking.
_______________________________
"Aye, haggard isn't a way to show up, first day on the job, eh? She must've really tuckered you out, then."
"Yeah, she was even crazier than I imagined. Not exactly what I'm used to, being from such a dour clan."
Feeling healthier, Sam shrugs and breaks out the first aid kit to see if there is anything he can do to improve Selvan's condition. Finishing the last of his ale he opens the kit and tries to find something that would bring his less than healthy companion back to consciousness.
*gurgle*
"Woah, you are like so pathetic..." The mocking female voice comes from thin air, about 50 feet away. As Sammark looks around, a portion of the horizon seems to distort and take on the shape of a winged Elvavian. The first thing Sammark see's is a shark like grin that slowly expands into lips, then a nose and chin, then finally dark hair as a head appears where before there was only horizon.
The distortion slowly fades away, and a dark haired, pale skinned woman with dark eyes and shark like teeth is floating there, her wings out, but not flapping. She simply floats. Nearly skin tight black leather armor adorns her body and matches her jet black wings. Her wings adjust, and she zooms closer to the ship, her arms crossed under her breasts.
"First that one pushing winged people off a ship, then you not able to heal him with either a dorje or a first aid kit." She dimples, eyes dancing merrily. The woman yawns. "Most boring escape I've ever watched." She floats slowly closer, until she's by the skiff. "So hand over the dorje already, I'm not supposed to interfere, but I'm also tired of watching. And I already killed the guy who was tugging this thing around, so it's not like they'll miss you for another couple of hours."
She holds the dorje against Selvan's forehead, and the elf's jaw jerks and pops back into place, the bloodied splits in the skin sealing over as he regains 3 hp.
"Like the man always says, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey." She says in a singsong to the Elvavian.
"My apologies, kitten. My talents lie in breaking things and I'm out of practice at even that," Sam says, flipping her the dorje and fishing the other flask of ale off the floor of the skiff. Flask in hand he reclined upon a bench as though he were on a leisurely sail as opposed to being spirited away to a clandestine mission.
"I suppose you're here to make sure we don't fall to pieces?"
"No, actually I was just supposed to watch and make sure you got free and let your contacts know where to find you. But honestly, I don't have 3 days to muck around following you both. I have places to go and people to kill." She answers the half-elf. Unlike most people, she seems not to care that he has no wings. Then again, she is not like most people. There's an air of heavily restrained madness about her.
"I figure if I get you where you're going, I can get back to my job." Then she pauses, and looks thoughtful. "Then again, if I just kill you both now, then I won't have to follow you or lead you anywhere, which is even faster..."
She looks thoughtful for a good minute, then shrugs. "No, Daddy would probably just make me go kill another strix and chop it up and put it in someone else's apartment to frame them and make me follow them as they escape again. I've spent way too much time on this as it is. I mean, it was fun chopping the bastard up, the nerve of him, spying on Daddy. But there's only so much fun you can have repeating yourself over and over again." She says aloud, sounding as if she's made up her mind. "So, are you recovered enough to tow the skiff yet?" She asks Selvan directly.
Still delirious from the savage blow to his head Selvan rolls onto his back before sitting up to take in his surroundings. The half elf reclining happily in the back of the boat, his status as still among the living, and the crazed mad woman floating around them did nothing to improve his mood. A vague recollection of his blade slicing bone and heart struck him. He honestly wish he hadn't. But no time for that now. He needed to time to think. To plan. To calculate. In the middle of nowhere suffering a concussion was hardly the time for that. Ignoring the debasement of being reduced to a mule Selvan did not answer and merely started to jerkily pull the boat. In hindsight it would have been better for him to simply grab the half elf and fly off. At least he'd have the convenience of dropping the bastard if he irritated him too much.
"It occurs to me that you could give the fella a hand. I would offer my assistance but my handicap prevents me from doing so," Sam said, still reclined and gesturing idly with the pilfered ale. The threats of violence and death this newcomer so casually tossed around went entirely ignored. So it seemed his handler had a pet nutter for special occasions and she was the one who did the heavy lifting to get him beaten and arrested. Interesting facts to be filed away for later were cropping up left and right around here.
Connor and Alistair stop into the book store, and brows around. Connor is a bit shocked by how expensive some of the books (especially the ones he wants are).
A young halvavian lad helps Connor look around for the books he wants, and points out a couple that are good for what he wants, even if they are more expensive than Connor had expected. No doubt Connor never thought to ask what the clan library's value was when he was using them.
The halvavian looks disconcerted at the question about magic, and says he'll have to ask the owner. A few minutes later, a dusky skinned wingless elf comes up to Connor and Alistair.
The dusky skinned wingless elf is the elf that Reaghar asked about in the tavern, whom everyone seemed nervous around and the waitress refused to answer questions about.
"I am Teranafiel Sal'van'Tieltha. I own this store. Yes, we do occasionally find a magically active book or scroll in shipments from the surface. Like any business, we turn them over to the Magical Disposal Bureau. From there, I assume they are taken to Ash and destroyed." The elf's voice is droll and dry, and his accent strange indeed. Too many rolling r's and soft t's. "If you wish some theoretical books on magic, I have some. They are legal, in that they only teach theory, not actual spell casting. I also have some rather well done treatise by Atalantian Arcana experts, detailing how dangerous wild magic can be, and how to minimize the chances of a spontaneous detonation when handling arcane refuse."
Connor and Alistair spend the morning trying to get registered with an employment agency. They do manage to get registered with a couple, although none of the jobs they are told about are very good ones. Mostly manual labor. They are told they'll be contacted when a job is available. They'll have to pay 25% of their pay for the job. After 3 months, if the job becomes permanent, then the payments stop.
The square itself is alive with people hawking food, cheap wares, and day labor. Most of the day labor has to do with loading or unloading ships at the dock, and only strong looking people get those jobs.
The next afternoon, after Reaghar get's some rest, he heads down to a tavern in the docks. Entering it, he looks around and figures this is the right place. There are brightly colored clansmen of various races in the tavern, all carrying blades and guns. A man in the corner looks up, and nods at someone. A dark haired and skinned humavian with batlike wings steps toward Reaghar. "Heya, you must be the guy Teelie said was droppin by." She looks Reaghar up and down like a piece of meat, a grin on her face. "She said you had dreamy red eyes, and needed to have some manners beaten into your head." The woman laughs, and leads Reaghar over to the corner table. "Yo, Manta, this is Teelie's latest boytoy."
The humavian man at the corner table is middle aged, with gray streaked red hair and blood red wings. He looks up, and his weathered face breaks into a grin. "Thanks Mina." He also looks Reaghar up and down like a piece of meat, and waves a hand at the chair across from him. "So, you're Teelie's latest huh? She asked us to find you a job. What can you do, and what will you do?"
Alys spends the the next few days getting oriented within the Council Enclave, and to a lesser extent with the Docks and the Transient's Quadrant (also known as the Southern Quadrant).
She doesn't make much headway on the magical smuggling, but she does get her wings unfurled and stable in her new life.
The dark haired and winged woman leads Selvan down to the ground, and shows them a place to hide the skiff. She then shows them where they can steal a new skiff from a small village. Fortunately, no-one interrupts, so the dark haired elvavian doesn't kill any innocent bystanders. Once they are with their new and improved (and not with orange stripes on the side indicating criminals on board) skiff, she gives them an address in Council Enclave.
It takes another day to get there, thanks to both being battered and injured.
The next day they get to the Council Enclave and abandon the stolen skiff. Making their way through the city, the arrive at the address given to them by 'Deathnote' as she called herself.
A female Elvavian opens the door when they knock.
The night before...
"Pardon, Master Sal'van'Tieltha." Connor replied, bowing. "I recently finished my journeyman's test for gemology, and am at a loss as how to start my own business. I had thought to sign on with one of the clans that trade with the Surface, but I find that employment with them is rather...restricted." With a humanly sheepish grin, Connor added "I know a single power of the mind to handle an object at a distance, so I had thought to see if Customs was hiring such people. The highest pay would be, of course, in handing forbidden magic items - you see my line of thought. My ignorance is blatant there, even in looking for a book on magical restrictions, and Atalantia's history on such matters."
------------------
"I see. Well, I have no knowledge of the Magical Disposal Bureau other than the names of the agents who come by to get the artifacts when we find them, and that they report directly to the Council, and no specific clan or subordinate political structure. However, I do have a good primer on Magical Threats." He leads the duo over to a shelf in the back corner of the third floor. Pulling a volume off the shelf, he holds it out to Connor. "Edinbach is the putative expert, however, having come from a heavily magical society, I find that Selinarch has the better grasp of arcana. It also has the advantage that Selinarch's books, not being considered by scholars to be the penultimate source, are significantly cheaper. This volume sells for 8 gold pieces. I have other treatise of course, but this is her synopsis primer, which I find people can more easily understand."