"You got this for now?" Hal asks Nelly, then shakes his head. He sighs, uses his staff to push himself to his feet, and starts moving.
He ducks under an Archon, around a barrel and then past another Archon. He vaguely waves his staff in the rough direction of the burning fire behind the man, and a massive blast of water weaves its way along the ground through the crowd, gathering mass as it moves. Finally reaching a wave a few feet tall it throws itself into the burning fire.
For his part, Kazador began to check the downed enemies to see who was alive, and watched to see if the fire would be put out. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving those still alive to burn alive in the fire. It was a nasty way to go. He understood the idea of giving of a quick death to a wounded foe. In many cases that was just doing one's duty. But unnecessary cruelty made his stomach churn.
Hal thoroughly extinguishes the fire and wets all of the papers involved. The reaper agent frantically begins trying to tear the wet papers apart but you subdue him in short order.
Hal turns back to the mage, and swears. He cuts off a moment later with a guilty look at Mel.
"This guy." he toes at the space where the mage is, speaking quietly "This guy's a problem. The f...man is all but an archmage - he's bloody got 'Mind Blank' ready ta go. We can't afford for 'im to wake up - but if he dies - well, there are legends of people usin' dark magic ta come back from the dead and this guy is the sort of... person who probably has that sh...tuff all queued up. No way someone aint Seerin' 'im, or callin' up 'is ghost. I don't want 'im to die knowin' who we are. So someone might need ta stabilise 'im."
"We need to gag 'im, strip 'im - carefully. Then tie 'im up. Then find some way to hide 'im from seers. Then..."
He looks up hopefully "'Less there's a plan?"
"Better alive than dead," Mel says. "I'll make sure he's stable."
"Well ... I see you've taken away his supplies already," she goes on. "That plus a gag and securing his hands should go a long way towards securing him." She takes out some rope from her pack, uses some as a gag, and some to tie his wrists together. For good measure, she wraps his hands in gauze from her healer's kit, loose enough to allow for blood flow but tightly enough that he can't really move his fingers. "As for knowing who we are, well ... he likely only saw us for a handful of seconds. We can hope he won't remember us very well. But as long as I've got this out ..." she takes the gauze and wraps it around the caster's head, making a makeshift blindfold.
"In the longer term, well ... maybe the Viscount will have someplace to hold him. This surely won't be the first time Iustia has had to deal with a particularly dangerous mage. They likely have facilities for holding such a person."
"Let's secure those documents before the water damages them -- get them laid out to dry."
"Before we make plans, there's more rooms here, and I am all but certain we surprised them in a way that did not give the guys upstairs a chance to arm themselves and make it here - yet. We earned a breather right now, but we should make use of our momentum and secure the area completely."
Saying that, he moves next to Nelly and the downed mage, indicating a door - "Fennith, if you could?"
Making use of her invisibility, she opens the door, while the summoned Archons are ready to spring into action at a moments notice.
Checking the other rooms downstairs finds no more combatants but several crates of illegal drugs and poisons.
Hal whistles at the crates. "That'll pay for a fair bit of work on the ship..."
Hal immediately saves the papers. A brief glance indicates that their contents will take some study to make sense of.
"We got everything we need from here?" Kazador asked. "And did any of these fookers escape?" As he said this he scanned the room for any sign of enemy reinforcements coming.
Hal takes a quick look through the crate "Hard ta tell for certain... but could be... maybe ten thousand gold worth of stuff here? You'd haf'ta know the right people." he rubs his hand through his beard "But I reckon I know some people who might know the right people."
You stow the important papers and head upstairs, surprising the staff of the sailmaker's. The sailmaker tries to bolt for the door but Kazador and Fyrtor soon have him in hand. The apprentices claim to have no idea what is going on and call for the guards. Turick's men show up almost immediately, as planned.
You are able to discern the real fear and surprise of some of the apprentices from the consternation of professional criminals in the eyes of others.
You split into two groups, employ disguises, and watch carefully for tails before reconvening at your accommodations (who's?) to look over the papers. At first glance, they seem like boring gibberish. At second glance, it becomes clear that accounts and instructions are contained within these papers. At third glance, it seems like a large amount of highly illegal drugs were purchased by a high-ranking noble. At fourth glance, you try to narrow this down.
Step 1
As they secure the rooms, Mel keeps turning suddenly, looking intently at seemingly empty space, tense and ready for action. Each time, it becomes clear there is nothing there. Each time, she takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly; but the tension in her stance is obvious.
She has the presence of mind to retrieve her bow; but she pays little heed to Turick's forces.
Step 2
Away from the den of criminals, Mel relaxes. By the time they reconvene at Mel's place, she seems back to her normal self -- or at least, back to Melia's normal self. She studies the papers with interest, lending a scholar's eye to the investigation.
Step 1:
As they move upstairs and secure the room, an invisible ally follows Túrion. Knowing his people skills are lacking when it comes to judging others intent and nature, Túrion just stares at the employees, speaking in Sylvan <Sylvan>"Fennith, you are good at this. If you see guilt in one of them, clip a lock of his hair."</Sylvan>
Step 2:
Back at Mel's place, after making reasonably certain no one followed, Túrion does what he can to help the investigation. Some leads were easy enough to follow, burrowed in text and accounts. Others depended on knowledge of things he knew far less about that others.
The red string they had to unravel seemed connected to the purchase of a large quantity of some drug by a noble. While neither nobles nor criminals were an area of expertise he knew much about, he was reasonably certain that following the trail to the origin would also help other puzzle pieces fall into place.
All kinds of drugs needed natural ingredients, and those who had to be ordered via organized crime tended to depend on ingredients not locally available. Using his extensive knowledge about both Nature and geography, the elven mage did his best to attempt to pinpoint both the most likely source of the drugs as well as the mode and route of transport involved, then cross-checking that with cargo manifests and timings. His work included analysis of some of the drugs they had found, as well, to better determine likely origin - his goal was to say, with a certain degree of certainty, where the drugs likely originated, and by which means they had come into the city. Ideally also when...he hoped someone with better understanding of the local structures would be able to deduce where they would have gone next.
Step 3:
Nelly is just glad to get out of the murky basement again. The city was getting to her - she longed to run free in Wilderness. To hunt. Not to impress someone. To eat. There were too many smells here. Alas, she had a duty, and she would proudly fulfill it - it was very clear her Master depended on her, after what happened. Again.
He was so powerful yet so vulnerable. If only he could use his reality-bending powers to take a stronger form permanently. Like that of a Wolf.
So he could truly be part of the pack.
Alas, for now, Nelly was perfectly content resting and dreaming about the woods of her homeland.
As the shops workers are lined up and Túrion speaks his word, Fennith moves from worker to worker, looking at their expressions, at their eyes, their body language and signs of fear or stress. Then, swiftly, she clips some locks of hair, indicating those she considers guilty.
Then a small voice comes from a corner of the room:<Sylvan>"You best keep your promise. My time here is almost over, I already feel drawn home. Don't make me wait too long - and remember to make some tea..."<Sylvan>
Not being completely clueless, Hal could sense some uncertainty amongst his new companions.
"Let's take the crates, talk about it later. Someone help me load 'em up. If we give 'em ta the guards half of it'll be missing in a week. Anyone else got a way to carry 'em? Worst case I guess we could just actually carry 'em out."
"If we're lettin' someone take this guy, I want ta take a sample or somethin' for when he breaks out." Harold looks thoughtful "Guess we could feed 'im one of the long term poisons..." he looks up quickly "which we can get an antidote for..."
"First though, let's get a good look at this guy, now he's visible again. I used ta know a lot of these blokes... but that was a long, long time ago. Maybe if I trim the beard..."
Harold grunts, and gives the captured sailmaker a kick. "You bastard".
He calls the others over, away from the boys, and speaks quietly. "We've got a problem. The kids over there are clueless - ya can't train a kid that age ta act that well. Bastard here has implicated 'em in murder and bloody treason. They're gunna get told it's spill or swing. If they talk, Bastard here's boss will probably kill 'em out of principle."
"We could let 'em run. We could scoop 'em up, send 'em a thousand miles away. We could maybe get this guy to tell 'em to talk and try 'n' blame him. Or - and I'm against this one - we can use 'em as bait."
"If any of ya have the ability to get us a really secure place, I'd appreciate it..." Hal requests. "My hidey hole is barely big enough for me. I'm not goin' into a mirror though!"
Hal cheers up as the papers are carefully retrieved. 'I might not know the first thing about fighting - but puzzles and crime... now we're in my world.'
Hal takes the time to put on the kettle and grab a snack while the sheets are being carefully retrieved. Once they are on the table he carefully looks at each sheet, or fragment of sheet, drinking his way through seven cups of tea in quick succession.
After that, he goes to the outhouse.
When he comes back he proceeds to pull a good fifty yards of coloured twine and ribbon from his pack.
"So - the first thing we need ta do is sort 'em. I think the author's pretty obvious given the various handwritings, and the shape of some of the nibs. They also made the mistake of buyin' paper as they need it, rather than wholesale. The different chip fragment composition'll help us work out the batches. We've tried to keep things together, so hopefully that'll help us deduce a rough chronological order."
He breathes in, closes his eyes for a moment, and starts placing papers in stacks around the room. Individual sheets get pinned to the walls. Ripped pages are reassembled like jigsaws.
While comprehensive, the truly strange fact is the speed. Hal never seems to stop to think, he merely places one page after another, grinning like a loon.
Hal looks around for a chair unencumbered by sheets, finally moving a stack, and leans back with a groan. "That's all I can get with what we've got. It's a good start though. If we're goin' to go any further, I'm gunna have to bring some of the others in."
He looks over to Turion. "Speakin' of. Your, uh, friend? She... she's part of the squad? Don't mean to pry, but it was a bit of a.... surprise. She's one of the Folk, right?
Step 2
As they finish poring over the documents, Melia sighs and sets them down.
She glances sidelong at Janus. "So, uh, question," she says. "Part way through that fight there was, well, that, um, young woman with the pink hair. Suddenly. I guess I'll go ahead and ask: What? Who? Why? With a side order of Whence, Whither and Wherefore?"
She glances sidelong at Janus. "So, uh, question," she says. "Part way through that fight there was, well, that, um, young woman with the pink hair. Suddenly. I guess I'll go ahead and ask: What? Who? Why? With a side order of Whence, Whither and Wherefore?"
Hal looks to Mel "Wait. You didn't know who she was either? I figured I just hadn't been let in on it."
"Nope. No idea."
While Janus and Hal have figured out who is relatively innocent or completely guilty, the guards are of a mind to round everyone up.
Kazador attempts to help distinguish if any of the handwritings are similar.
Step 1
As the group ascends on the sailmakers Fyrtor adds his bloodied blade and an act of cool difference to Kazador's already intimidating demeanor. It seems effective though he is unable to fully commit to the act when he realizes how scared the apprentices genuinely are.
At Harold's suggestion Fyrtor adds his agreement. "These boys had no idea what was going on here. There's more than enough evidence to condemn the guilty, so I think best thing is to let these boys run."
Step 2
Fyrtor sat trying to make sense it the bits and pieces frequently muttering a quiet prayer for guidance. His time working and selling herbal concoctions was useful. He pointed out to the others those that he recognized, as well as those that could be combined to have additional effects. Many of the plants that he used for cures to various ills could be abused. He'd seen too much of that while working as a missionary. The poorer class were often more willing to hear him and some turned to such things to cope with their struggles. His time among them helped his notice some of the street names for the drugs.
"She's an anhana isn't she? I'd heard if them while living with the druids if my home, but I've never seen one. You know her somehow? I don't know how you could summon the same one though. It never works that way for me, or anyone else I've known."
You are able to determine that the noble in question is a member of the council. Further, the drugs are being held at the Bannerhold residence for at least two more days. Further, you determine that the Reapers are confident they can trust this noble as they have a deadman's switch set up to reveal a treasonous secret of this noble's from five years ago, ensuring his cooperation. Lastly, you determine that the drugs are being stored in a hidden closet in the basement.
Turick inherited the Viscount title of his father three years ago when he attained his majority. This makes it less likely that he would have a treasonous secret from five years ago.
Fyrtor appeals to the guards' sense of mercy and reason.
"Please let these boys go, it's obvious that they are innocent. Would they have called for you if they're known what they'd be implicated in? As the monk said if they are forced to testify they'll be killed for sure by the Reapers. And if they lie to protect themselves from the Reapers the law will put them in prison. Just let the poor lads go."
"So one of the nobles on the council recently received a shipment of drugs," Mel muses while Janus composes his thoughts. "I sure hope it's not Turick himself. I've never met the man. Does he seem like the sort who would play his right hand against his left hand?"
The guards look concerned but nod slowly. "Alright, if you say so. The viscount said you were in charge. We'll take all their information and let the viscount know." They proceed to do so but keep the guilty Reaper agents in custody.
"Aye, what he said. That plus we probably saved your hides by going in and dealing with this situation, so the least you could do is trust our judgement.", Túrion added, somewhat tired of having to explain to the guards that not everybody was guilty. He began to suspect they had some sort of quote for arrests they tried to fill, no matter what.
"Took longer than I thought before the questions came...but you are right, of course - I owe you some answers. But where to begin..." Túrion takes a moment to think as he stands up and walks to the kettle, starting to cook some water. "Do any of you, by chance, know how new Fey come into existance? It's a...interesting process - basically, they form from residual soul energy passing through the "First World", as it's called, on the way to our plane, here. The lingering energy of the passing is kind of like a miasma, not every soul means a new Fey is born, but when enough residual energy is in one place, a new soul passing can spark the birth of a Fey. While fascinating on it's own, it is hardly a noteworthy occurance. Except, my soul is already...aligned with the place. I carry Fey Blood as well. Courtesy of a Great-Grandfather with exotic taste. Doesn't end there...he made a pact with the folk, offering his first-born son...then used powerful magic to ensure he would sire only girls. Turns out I was the first male in the lineage. And my great-grandmother hadn't forgotten that pact."
He looks at the Kettle, notices that the water was bubbling, and removes it from the heat. Then he proceeds to retrieve some leaves from a pouch.
"I was whisked away, and spent the first 2 dozen years of my life in the first world. Most of it is hazy. But one thing was not...that I had a playmate there. Fennith. As it turns out, the passage of my soul sparked her creation, and when I was in the first world, she was drawn to me. We are two parts of one soul, so to say - back then, I knew nothing about all that, so she was simply my twin sister. After two decades, my own parents had managed to work out an arrangement with my great-grandmother, who at that time had also tired of me - Fey see the world differently, and child-raising is not an enjoyable chore to them. I returned, and my memories grew dim. I believed I had only dreamt up this strange and vibrant world - and Fennith - as small kids sometimes do. I only learned the truth of it much later, and still was not sure if Fennith was real."
Smelling the fragrance from the Kettle, Túrion removes the leaves again, then brings the Kettle and a set of cups to the table.
"As my magic grew stronger, I learned that there is a veil between the worlds that is not entirely stable. At times, I could share thoughts with her. I also learned that intensely stressful situations push me to unlock my potential - as it happened in the Dwarven Hold with the Tentacles I called when the situation was dire. I was not SURE if I could do it...only when we were done there, in that moment, I was certain I COULD breach the veil. And called her. Now that it is done, I believe it should be much easier to bring her here again. She is Anhana, yet she is so much more. But I would like to let her introduce herself. I did promise to call her again for some tea, and there is much I would like to talk with her."
With that, he pours the Tea into cups, one for everybody wanting one, and one extra at the end of the table, next to his own place.
If nobody interrupts him, he then proceeds to call upon Fennith once more.
Stepping through the Portal again, the small Fey looks around, obviously satisfied there does not seem to be an ongoing battle. Upon noticing the tea, she squeals with delight:"My favorite. You remember!", only then noticing people around the table looking - or in some cases staring - at her.
"Oh, where are my manners. Fennith, pleased to meet all of you. You are my brothers companions?" She does a perfect little curtsy, but does not offer her hand in greeting.
”A friend of his is a friend of mine.” Kazador said. At this point he had heard and seen crazier things than a friendly Fey. That, and Turion was opening himself up. To do anything but show support would have been horribly rude.
"Ah, yes," Melia says. "Pleased to meet you, Fennith. We've, hmmm, been careful with names lately, but you may call me Melia."
Harold smiles too-white teeth through his beard.
"Pleased ta meet ya Fennith. Got ta say, ya had me a bit worried when ya appeared with your hair done up like that and the shears. Worried they were scissors for a bit, and that you were a Norn!"
He hurriedly looks around "Not that there's anythin' wrong with Norns. Wonderful people. Salt o' the earth. But one suddenly appearin' suggests the situation is more in-ter-est-ing than it appears."
He pauses again, and takes a sip of his tea. "Though that situation was plenty interestin' as it was."
He nods.
"So, nice ta meet ya. How'd ya like the place?"
"Hello, Melia who is careful-with-names! And Dwarf who is a friend. And hello, Norn-respecting nameless man! But Norns are much bigger than my kind.", she smiles, clearly amused at the comparison. "You got that right, though, if THEY decide to get involved, then things certainly are interesting."
She takes a sip from the tea cup and beams at Túrion before turning back to Hal:"This place is decent. Civilized, of sorts. Not that I'm a big fan of being trapped in piled up stones with some holes, but much better than being called into whatever hot mess was going on previously. I mean, is that a way to treat family? You guys should scold Túi for pulling a reckless stunt like that."
She takes another sip from the Tea, enjoying the subtle fruity flavors.
"So, about all that introduction stuff...I sure hope to get some time to talk with him later, so he can tell me about you guys, or you can do so yourself if you prefer. As for me, I suppose brother already explained a bit? What else...I like woodworking, arranging flowers, song, music and dance. I'm also usually good with people. My instinct normally guides me well. But I admit I have a hard time reading you right now."
As the topic of possible involvement comes up, Túrion seems thoughtful for a moment: "Say, Mel, when did Turick become Viscount again?"
"Yes, we most certainly will talk, I can bring you here twice more before I need rest. Still way too little time, but I will take what I can."
Túrion visibly winces when Fennith calls him Túi, but does not comment on it.
"It was about five years ago, wasn't it? I think Count Aral mentioned something to that effect."
Mel glances over at Janus. "Yeah, Túi," she says. "What ever were you thinking, summoning your sister into the middle of a fight without so much as a by-your-leave? Tsk!"
Hal concludes, on a hunch, that Turick and his Father come from a long line of salt traders
but Hypercognition is limited by the max result of a 20
"So one of the nobles on the council recently received a shipment of drugs," Mel muses while Janus composes his thoughts. "I sure hope it's not Turick himself. I've never met the man. Does he seem like the sort who would play his right hand against his left hand?"
Hal looks thoughtful "Hard ta say - the family cornered the market on salt f'r a while back in the day. All hidden behind shells'n'masks to get around the monopoly laws on staples. T'was his grandpa that set that up, but they've cunnin' enough to keep it goin'."
"Hello, Melia who is careful-with-names! And Dwarf who is a friend. And hello, Norn-respecting nameless man! But Norns are much bigger than my kind.", she smiles, clearly amused at the comparison. "You got that right, though, if THEY decide to get involved, then things certainly are interesting."
..."What else...I like woodworking, arranging flowers, song, music and dance. I'm also usually good with people. My instinct normally guides me well. But I admit I have a hard time reading you right now."
"I'm a woodworker meself!" Hal pipes up "Carvin', rather than carpentry. I can't sing ta save me life, but I can tell a decent story. I used ta be quite the dancer in me youth, if you fancy a turn, but I'm afraid "old age 'as robbed me of my grace"..." he quotes, then looks around "Though odds are I'm the youngest one here." he mutters, perhaps a bit resentfully.
Hal shrugs "As for the Norns, I've heard tell of 'em turnin' up as different sizes. Usually bigger, I hafta admit." He scratches at his beard, pauses, and withdraws some tiny insect that he carefully places on the ground."As for readin' me? Well, I'm a simple man. I go by Harold - though I'd ask ya ta keep that name ta y'rself. I had a misspent youth where I fell in with bad company. Tried ta get out, but my 'friends' locked me in a mirror for... an..." he trails off.
"Anyway, Miss Mel here - leadin' the others I think - found me in there and got me out. Then she arrested me and turned me over ta the guard. Then she put in a good word f'r me. Now I'm helpin' 'em to take down the bad company from me youth. That was the 'hot mess' ya got pulled into."
He nods "I've never killed a man on purpose. I'm " here his words turn careful "happy that ya made it so we weren't buryin' a bunch of folk. There's not much left ta me 'onor, but avoidin' killin' is one I'm happy ta still have. I'm sad ya had ta see it, but I can't regret the result."
"Hang on..."
Hal roots around in his pack, and pulls up a small stone idol - about the size and shape of a large chess piece. He offers it to Túrion. "Picked this up in trade decades ago. If ya cast a spell through it just right, the... well, I dunno the fancy term for it, but the spell sorta hums in it? Like when you pluck a string on a harp. Might give ya longer to catch up with y'r sister, but keep the power down, hey? Don't want ta break it."
"Was it that long, indeed? I had a shorter time in mind. But I'm not certain - maybe we should check with Count Aral? Because it would be very machiavellian indeed if he got involved in plots years before taking power."
Túrion touches the rod, but pushes it back towards Hal:"I appreciate the gesture, but it takes all of my power to break the veil for her - I believe the resonance would be a bit too strong. We haven't seen in person for...almost a century. Even half an hour a day will be wonderful - I would welcome the chance for more time, but not at any cost."
He smiles warmly, first at Hal, then at Fennith.
When Mel addresses him, using his child nickname, there's a defeated look on his face:"It's not like SHE was in any danger. And she kind of knew I would try it first in some dangerous situation. I had not expected that heavy resistance - I hate to admit it, but that mage outclassed me significantly - but I had to try."
"Hm. The silent one looks younger.", Fennith points at Fyrtor. "Except for him, aye, you're probably the second-youngest. And thanks for shining some light on what exactly was going on there - I would have wanted to know anyway. As for saving them - Túi asked me to do it. For some lady-friend of his. Glad you liked it, too -"
Túrion briefly blushes, avoiding looking at Mel.
"Either way, I'd gladly sing and dance with you someday soon - but I'm a bit...sensitive about touching. Or rather being touched. It's a thing with my kind. So it's gotta be one of those non-touchy dances, ok? And maybe somewhere outdoors? Oh, and I'll definitely want to see something you carved then.", Fennith is genuinely excited to learn about Hal.
Fyrtor seems dumbfounded for a bit, but when addressed snaps out if his reverie. He addresses Fennith in Sylvan, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be 4ude, I was just, surprised. You are very pretty." After a moment he seems to realize what he just said and blushes a little before hurrying on. "Anyways my name is Fyrtor, I'm a druid priest of the Dawnmother. I've very lucky to call your brother my friend, though we haven't truly know each other long. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Regarding Count Aral Fyrtor offers his opinion based on his impression of the man. "I think the Count is a true patriot. I doubt he'd involve himself with the Reapers. We still have to be careful though. Our goals and Count Aral's don't necessarily align. We want to prevent a war between Iustia and the Concordance, and I think the Count would welcome such a war, provided he knew Iustia could win."
"Likewise, Fennith; it's nice to meet you."
"Well, as long as we're reasonably certain he's not the one behind it, I have no objection to turning all this over to him," Melia says.
She spooks slightly and stares intently at a corner with nothing in it.
You are able to determine that the noble in question is a member of the council. Further, the drugs are being held at the Bannerhold residence for at least two more days. Further, you determine that the Reapers are confident they can trust this noble as they have a deadman's switch set up to reveal a treasonous secret of this noble's from five years ago, ensuring his cooperation. Lastly, you determine that the drugs are being stored in a hidden closet in the basement.
"So. I been thinkin'. We make a list of all the nobles on the council, and all their residences. We can throw all the ones that don't have a place here with a basement - should get rid of the ones with the fancy beachhouses. Not goin' t help much."
"Big draw seems to be this treasonous secret from five years ago. There has ta be evidence, and it has ta be big. Obviously I'm a bit out of the loop on gossip from five years ago, but seems like we might be able to use that to narrow down the list?""I'm happy ta turn what we got over, but I reckon it's worth some foretellin' first. I'd be keen ta set up some divinations and confront people, see if we cn find someone who knows about the drugs? Might even be y'r friend has gotten some info from the prisoners? Plus, o' course, the Reaps'll be out to rescue or silence any potential witnesses, so we - er, he - can set a trap!"