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Terms: The Tenants agree to pay, by the fifth of each month, 300 Wroats of gold or its equivalent. The first months’ payment has been paid for. Payments will be made month to month in exchange for continued use of the premises.
Payments: Payments are to be made at the Wandering Eye Tavern, directly to the Landlord, and under no circumstances to his daughter.
Security Deposit: A one-time security deposit of 500 Wroats has been made, and will be returned provided no unnecessary cleaning or repairs must be paid for when Tenants move out. The Landlord will require a walkthrough and inspection form both before occupation and before move-out to assess potential damages.
Pets: Pets will be permitted.
Inventories: The premises contains the following items the Tenants may use: armchairs (2), desks (2), desk chairs (2), beds (5), fireplace (1). Additionally, a number of lamps, books, and papers were left by previous tenant, which may be disposed of or used as Tenants see fit.
Keys: Tenant acknowledges receipt of six sets of keys for the premises, which may not be duplicated.
Signature:
Jynn signs away on the dotted line multiple times in multiple stylings.
Selmy Sharnborn The name is barely legible on the page, and it looks more like scratch marks than anything else. Selmy looks at his penmanship and huffs.
"Good enough."
He pats Bean on the head and watches the rest of his cosigners, waiting patiently for them all to be done before speaking.
Quill.
The name is scribbled in, then scratched out, and signed again with a loop and a flourish. No last name is added. The girl nods, smiling to herself.
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In the week since moving into the little rental, the rhythm of Underlook has become familiar; hundreds of people traveling through the district, with few actually staying for long. Strangers pass each other in front of old abandoned restaurants and inns-turned-tenements, most of them in Sharn for business elsewhere. It’s the same in the tavern; only a few regulars too set in their ways to leave (and too friendly with the barkeep to want to) and a lot of two-or-three nighters.
The sounds of thousands of tiny hooves clatter across the Wandering Eye Inquisitive Agency’s tin rooftop, or at least the part of it jutting from the tower over the maw of space below. Jesaeli’s been hard at work, cleaning room by room, but so far all she’s managed is to get some bedding into the living quarters and organize the old books on the shelves. Today, she’s cleaning the floor of the waiting room, scrubbing hard and trying not to look at the garishly-colored armchairs.
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”Hello!? Hello-oh!?”
Jesaeli looks up from her cleaning, elbow-deep in soapsuds, as a blonde-haired girl of perhaps twelve clumps up the narrow, rickety stairs and bangs open the door. Before she can get a word out, the girl continues. ”Hello! She told me to give you this and gave me a Wroat. I never get a Wroat for papers, doesn’t matter how hard I work, so I ran off quick-like.” Sure enough, the girl’s outfit includes a canvas bag that’s almost too big for her to carry, stuffed full of copies of the Sharn Inquisitive. She holds out an envelope impatiently. ”Hurry and take it. Ir’Clarn doesn’t like it when we leave our posts for too long.” Her note delivered, she grins cheekily. ”I’m Ennie, newsgirl extraordinaire, and other jobs on request. That’s what I think my card says, anyways!” She looks like she’s about to say more but Jesaeli bustles her out of the door.
The half-elf secretary opens the unsealed envelope, sighing as a handful of shiny slips or paper fall to the floor. Instead of picking them up, she unfolds the remainder of its contents, reading briskly.
To whom it may concern,
Thank you in advance for accepting this offer, which I think you’ll find generous. My name is Koiessa, and as one of The Atrium’s better dancers, I have five tickets to each of our performances. Tickets for tonight’s performance of The Feast of Fort Tansend are attached. Please arrive two hours prior to showtime tonight, as most of our troubles have happened during that time. You will, of course, be compensated for your work. I wish I could explain more, but it’s simply not possible via letter.
I hope you can help,
Koiessa Vala
Selmy had been out for a walk with his dog Bean, taking in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood, when he finally decided, against his better judgment, to turn back and maybe help Jesaeli with some cleaning.
As he enters the building he is nearly bowled over by a little girl rushing from the office. Selmy shakes his head and frowns as she rushes out, grumbling something about rude children before heading upstairs. When he opens the door to see Jesaeli standing in the middle of the room reading a letter he tilts his head, curious.
Bean, however, moves swiftly to the shiny slips of paper on the floor, forcing Selmy to collect them before they ended up in the husky's mouth, or worse. He groans as he realizes what they are, then turns to the half-elven woman.
"Five. Not a romantic gesture then." He looks over the tickets in his hand again and practically growls as he reads off the name of the show. "The Feast of Fort Tansend? Sounds boring. Please tell me this is a job and not some social event I'm going to be coerced in to."
Inhaling deeply before signing his name, the intrepid reporter inscribes Tavick Tarker on the parchment sheaf in a neat, quick secretary hand.
All in, he assures himself.
*
Tavick watched the events unfold as he sat in one of the corner armchairs, eating a cold bowl of porridge his mother sent him home with the night before. The residents of Overlook always talk about how subtle their cooking is. In Sharn, they call it "bland".
Setting his food down on the floor, he walks over to Bojd's side to inspect the missive himself.
Quill's sitting in one of the garishly-coloured armchairs reading one of the dusty old books when the urchin delivers her missive. "The Feast of Fort Tansend? A performance?" she asks, head snapping up from the pages, pale brown eyes fixed on the letter in Jesaeli's hand. "Well, someone read it out!"
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"Well, I agree that this looks like a job. It's about noon now, so if you want to arrive at The Atrium in time to meet this Koiessa, you'll have a few hours about town." Jesaeli passes the letter around the room, collecting the shiny tickets from the floor. "These say showtime is at six o'clock. Maybe this will be our first break. It’s a terrible day for investigating, with that rain out there, but the rent’s going to be up soon, not to mention my pay, and upgrades are long past needed for this building.” She adjusts her reading-glasses, looking once again at the fog. ”A privy all our own, for starters...those stairs are treacherous, and I’m not sure I can keep sharing the filthy one downstairs with those drunks…” She shudders in horror before looking up suddenly, face flushing a bright crimson. ”I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-I mean-oh, never mind! The Atrium, that's in Menthis. I've never been to that part of Sharn; tell me what it's like!” She goes back to her cleaning, scrubbing the floor furiously and checking every so often to see if the party's still there.
As Jesaeli bends down and starts looking at the floor, Selmy holds up the tickets that he'd already picked up. "Looking for these?" He grunts as he hands her one to read. When he's done reading the letter he hands the rest of the tickets out and takes his back from the mumbling half-elf with a frown.
"This better be worth it." Is all he says as the pours Bean some food in a bowl. "Our fist real case and we don't even know the details." He shakes his head and considers what he knows about Menthis and the Atrium.
Menthis Plateau is the home of Morgrave University, as well as myriad nightclubs, theaters, and bordellos. There's also plenty of shopping to be had, including the city's only "magic district" in Everbright, where a huge concentration of magic-sellers offers unique and powerful skills. The Atrium is in Middle Menthis in the Smokey Towers district, and though it's a step below the theaters of the University District or Khavish Theater in Den'iyas, it enjoys a reputation for mechanically-sound ballet and opera.
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"Four hours to ourselves?" Quill sighs, bookmarking her page and stretching in the chair. "Well, what do we need for a performance? Nice clothes, for one; might need to brush up on our show etiquette; figure out what we're doing with Bean..."
"Jesaeli can look after him. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
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Selmy frowns at his comrades.
"Obviously we'll leave Bean here." He grunts, shaking his head. He walks over to the dog and rubs his head a few times. "I wouldn't subject you to that, would I Bean?"
He laughs and Bean joins in with a bark or two, then Selmy turns to Quill. "I'll dig out my dress uniform. I'm sure I packed it up somewhere."
As he looks through his things he shares what information he has about the Menthis and the Atrium.
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Jynn speaks up after a while, having adjusted his figure to match that of Quill's. "A party, oh heavens. It's always such a delight to go to a performance and enjoy a good show. Though I suppose if we are to enjoy a good show...then we have to fix a situation." she said smiling and picking up one of the tickets.
She looked back to Jesaeli "You know, if you wanted I'm sure you could go. All we would have to do is have me look like you, go inside with the group, come back out looking like you hand you the ticket and I'll simply look like someone else that's already inside. Maybe someone who had already caused a scene so I don't have to worry about them not realizing the ruse. They'll simply want to be rid of me and so off I'll go back inside." she said, changing back to his own voice partway through.
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"Of course you can leave Bean here, it's your place." Jesaeli looks up from her cleaning and points Bojd toward the reception desk. "I'm only being a maid until this place is respectable. We're lucky that this diva sent in a newspaper girl and didn't come herself; she'd have gone to Information Acquisitions for certain-sure." There, a stack of newspapers lies haphazardly across the desk, including a copy of the Sharn Inquisitive from last week. Tucked away somewhere in the back of the paper is an article, provocatively titled...
The Feast of Fort Tansend opened at The Atrium for the third time in the last four weeks last night, and once again one of the dancers disappeared before the third act. The ballet's namesake is, of course, the famously haunted fortress on the border of Zilargo and Breland, but the Atrium's manager, Po Romphizzle, is quoted as saying the disappearances of their dancers are just part of the show. "Sharn's nightlife is highly competitive, and every other theater is trying new gimmicks; why can't we?" All well and good, but this reporter asks one simple question; if it's a gimmick, where did the dancers go, and why aren't they back on stage the next night?
The show itself is technically sound, with a compelling musical accompaniment and well-choreographed dancers, but since the first opening, there's been a decided downswing in the dancers' passion for their roles. It details the story of the siege of Fort Tansend during the Last War, culminating at the end of Act Two with the sacking of the fort by Cyran forces.
The Feast of Fort Tansend runs at The Atrium in Smokey Towers through next week.
Ren Duphain
Jesaeli smiles, a wistful look on her face, at Jynn's offer. "I'd love to! There's a bookstore in Seventh Towers I'd been meaning to visit, and the show's supposed to be very intriguing." She packs her satchel and goes to change into something nice.
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Outside, the rain continues to fall on Sharn as the party makes its way through the winding streets of Dura and across the long, spindly bridge into Menthis Plateau. There, the general demeanor of the people passing by shifts from out-of-towners looking around in awe and a few grizzled Duran natives keeping their heads down to avoid the gangs' turf wars to bubbly people on their way to shops, taverns, or the ward's various theaters. In the district above, Seventh Tower, many of the latest fashions can be found, and the talk of the ward is on its nightlife, whether from Firelight in the lower districts or the University District's fine theaters and recital halls. Jesaeli disappears as the party approaches Smokey Towers. "I'll meet you in front of the theater before the show!"
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Selmy is stiff in the dress coat he unpacked, he finds it far more restricting than clothes have a right to be but it did allow him to wear his armor underneath without looking out of place, unlike most other 'fashionable' clothes.
He nods his farewell to Jeaeli but watches for a moment or two as she leaves to make sure she isn't followed. Then he turns to the rest of his companions and grunts.
"If you intend to shop, I'll just roam for a bit, keep my ear to the ground, maybe I'll get a clue about what's going on with the show." He doesn't ask for company, but he doesn't say he wants to be alone either. He stalks off to ask the locals a few questions, but it seems even in a dress coat no one wants to talk to a grumpy shifter.
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Her enchanted sleeves may have proved at their most useful during the War, allowing her to change between uniforms and clothes at the drop of a hat, but Quill finds herself still thankful for them. "This is weatherproof, not to mention warm," she protests when questioned about the trenchcoat she's chosen to conjure. "I'll change into something better when we're closer; I promise."
She watches as Selmy attempts to question a few locals, trying to hide her amusement before nudging Jynn. "What's say we see what we can turn up?" she asks. "If we can do some canvasing in Seventh Tower, maybe we can window-shop at the same time."
Without much in the way of shopping to do, the party reconvenes in front of The Atrium, a wide, sprawling front on the side of Kashik Tower that opens into what seems, from the front, to be a wide open space with plenty of seating and even room for milling around before or during a performance. From the party's view, however, the stage is conspicuously out of view.
A short, pouty-looking gnome woman stands near the entrance, taking ticket stubs from people coming in. She looks at the party, calls out "Next!" in a bored voice, and then looks down at the growing box of ticket-stubs strung around her neck. At the same time, a petite woman, dressed in the most modern of fashions, appears inside, glances at the party, does a double take, and then waves, a huge grin on her face.
Selmy follows along behind Bojd, not saying anything, but looking over the woman who called to them, using his keen senses to asses her emotional state.
Jynn saw Jesaeli's earlier outfit and redressed accordingly. He chuckled and did his best to look like her in all manners.
When it came time for her to present her ticket, she gladly offered it and smiled politely at the man. "I hope that you've had a pleasant day? No one has been a bully to you have they?" she said
"I'd hate to accidentally gain their ire as well on accident, what did they look like?" she would ask if he offered up such a target.
Before approaching the atrium, Squill ducks into a side-alley to change. Her trench coat vanishes, replaced by a formal black opera coat, skirt, and blouse. She smooths her hair back, prodding it into a bun with a few hand movements. When she emerges, the overall look is formal and slightly on the severe side, though her smile is genuine and warm.
She follows Bojd, shaking the woman's hand. "So, I believe you mentioned a few... troubles?"
Jynn's inquiries get the gnome's attention, and she waves a hand in the air rapidly, flailing the bard's ticket about as she speaks. "All sorts, of course! This show is attracting all the wrong kinds of people, and I'll never raise the place's reputation if this is my clientele. I had a hobgoblin show up with a ticket. A hobgoblin, can you believe it!? Thing wouldn't take no for an answer, demanded to see the manager. Of course my mother would let something like that in, and reprimand me besides!" She finishes tearing off the stub and tosses it into the box.
Meanwhile, inside the theater itself, a few other early birds sit in the front-most seats, chatting away. The building itself smells vaguely of lavender and the lime they burn for the spotlights, and the walls are a mixture of cedar wood panels and gaudy gaudy brass fixtures. The woman gestures the party-members over to a door near the back of the theater, and from there into the building's back rooms. Eventually, she opens a door into a spacious green room As she shuts the door, her smile fades, and she collapses into an armchair. "First, not a word to Romphizle, or I'll be fired. Second..."
She fixes a cigarette onto her long holder and lights it, filling the air with the scent of tobacco and cloves. "...I wasn't entirely truthful with you in my note, and I'm sorry about that. I'm not the best dancer here; at least, not until quite recently. That's why I asked you here. Romphizle's been shooting me dirty looks, like she thinks I'm responsible, but I'm not. She's got me dancing lead just in case, hoping it'll be enough to get through a full show. I need your help, or I'm gone, just like those other girls!"
Her hand flicks to her hair, moving a strand out of the way nervously. "So, here's the plotline for the dance. Act One is a budding romance between Anndra, the castellan's daughter, and Roven, one of the soldiers on duty. During Act Two, the siege begins, and by the end, the Cyrans are inside the fort. Act Three is the really sappy stuff, of course; Roven finds Anndra's body and there's much crying, etc. Now, Act Two is the strange part. There's been problems with the light effects, the last three times, usually starting a minute or two before the Feast begins. The Cyrans come in during the middle of the feast, and that's when Anndra disappears. That part's not scripted, and it's the part that gives me the jeebies." Her hand quivers and the cigarette shakes, flicking ashes across the table she's chosen to sit at.
Jynn nods politely and heads inside. This should be fun, a hobgoblin of all things should be easy to find. She watches with a bit of curiosity as she is ushered towards the green room.
Recognizing that the woman who escorted them here is frightened, Selmy relaxes a bit in his chair. An honest client with a real fear for her life is something he can handle.
"Where are the lights controlled from, and who works them? Are they complicated." He looks at Quill, and Jynn if she's arrived yet then turns back to the dancer. "We have a couple of disguise experts. Put one with the lights and one among the dancers on stage between act one and two."
His nostrils flare as he smells the cigarette smoke and he sighs, wishing he'd brought his own. "The rest of us could watch from various points in the theater, anywhere you think we wouldn't run into your boss but still see the stage from."
He raises an eyebrow at his companions to wordlessly ask what they think of his plan.
"So what's been happening with the lights?" Quill asks. "Flickering, strange colours, or do they just shut off? What happens before and after Anndra disappears?"
For the longest time, the hobgoblin is nowhere to be found. Then, just before it's time to head into the greenroom, a service door slams open, revealing the hobgoblin and a pair of tough-looking gentlemen. There follows a protracted argument of which the party only has time to hear a few words before the back room door shuts, muffling out the details.
"Oh, I'm not worried about Miss Romphizle finding out you're here. She only watched the first performance, but now she just holes up in her offices." Koiessa taps her cigarette holder on the table, struggles to stop herself, and then shrugs and continues. "It's a lot of flickering, right up until Anndra vanishes. When she does, the stage goes dark for about five seconds, maybe more.
"Honestly, I'm not sure who operates the lighting. There are a couple of people who do it, like Miss Romphizle's daughter or Jeven, but the dancers never pay much attention to the stage crew's schedules as a rule. Hold on! You're not thinking of having someone dance with us? You've never practiced at all!" She looks at the party, scandalized.
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Tavick shifts uncomfortably in the green room as he mulls over the situation.
"Maybe one of us could be a supernumerary or watch from the wings disguised as stagehands in that case. We understand your predicament, ma'am, but you we need some room to our jobs. We'll be no good to you if we're stuck in the orchestra seats."
"So maybe hiding one of us among the dancers may not work, but Tavick is right, we can't just be seated waiting for something to happen, especially if this is being spun as part of the show. It will just cause panic when we rush from our seats."
Selmy frowns, they don't have much information, and it sounds like he'll have to sit through at least one entire act of the play before anythign exciting happens.
"Can you at least show me where the lights are operated from? I can stand guard or hide nearby. Is there anyone you suspect of taking these women?"
Jynn scratched her head for a bit and sighed, he did enjoy a good spotlight. He looked at her "I've been known to do a bit of dancing from time to time but I dare say I haven't seen the choreography...but that is solely up to you. I would say it would be best to have someone behind the curtains and out front to watch and find out what this is."
"Good idea," Quill nods to Bojd and Tavik. "Stagehands will blend in by their very nature, and we don't run the risk of blowing our cover as easily. We could wait at both sides, watch everything, especally with someone above with the lights..."
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"Well..." For a few seconds, Koiessa pauses, then grabs a little bell sitting on the table and gives it a ring. She sets the bell down and continues talking. "I think the stagehand idea is a good one. We usually use a lot of hands, and with the right look it should be easy enough to impersonate someone. The only concern is that a lot of the sets are really fragile, so don't break them."
She stops as a man in an usher's hat and jacket walks up. "Yes, Miss Vala?"
"These ladies and gentlemen are my, ah, special guests from Wroat. I have to get prepped for the show, but I would appreciate you giving them the whole tour. Lighting, crew spaces, and so on." She stands quickly and gracefully, looking the party over one last time. "I have to go now, I'm sorry."
The usher nods at her departing back and speaks up quietly. "The lighting first, then?" He makes his way out the door and up a rickety spiral staircase, ending on a catwalk high above the stage. There, a small burner and a bellows aims at a translucent tube, with an array of mirrors facing toward the stage. "It's a simple reaction, really. The flame hits the tube, which starts glowing. Mirrors bounce the light onto the stage. It'd be easier to just magic up some light, but this is how it's been done in the big theaters since, well, forever."
Jynn looked for half a minute or three with the others before excusing herself and walking outside with the ticket stub. Partway outside, she covered her face and did a bit of subtle shifting so as not to alarm anyone of seeing twins. She looked for Jesaeli and palmed her the ticket stub before dipping out to go find some clothes to match what the female Hobgoblin was wearing.
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"Good thinking Bojd!" Selmy says, before considering that he is supposed to be a guest and not an investigator. "I-uh, have always wanted to see what goes on beneath the stage."
He rolls his eyes at himself while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He changes the subject back to the mechanics of lighting the stage.
"Does anyone need to change the lights throughout the show, or is that done remotely with magic? I've always wondered if there was some poor sap that had to sit up her and watch the show every night."
"Uh, you know, because they'd probably rather be performing."
Just shut your mouth Selmy. He thinks to himself while waiting for the answer.
"Not everyone in theater or dance longs for the limelight, you know. And yes, we have an operator. You'll have to check your programs to find out which is working tonight. For your sakes, I hope it's Jeven. He's a professional, and nothing bad ever happens when he's up there."
The usher rolls his eyes at Selmy as he leads the party down the stairs and toward the stage before opening a carefully-hidden door below it. A quick tour of the area reveals a labyrinth of elevators, trapdoors, and small rooms that open directly onto the stage, most of which are crammed with sets for the upcoming show. "They don't move without an operator. Nothing does. It'd be too easy for rival theaters to sabotage a show if it was all magic."
A small hatch exits the under-stage into the orchestra pit, a dark hole half-under the stage with a few of the larger instruments already in position for play. From there, it's a quick walk to backstage. A long hallway runs the length of the theater on the side opposite the green room, with a dozen or more private dressing rooms and a flight of stairs. From above the stairs, two women can be heard, one screaming hysterically and the other raising her voice to compensate. Only the last bit is hearable; the second voice practically shouts, making the proceedings as public as possible.
"Look, Jaela, I didn't make this decision. You did, when you hired thugs to spy on us. Now I want your room cleaned out before the show's over tonight. Your understudy will—" She's cut off by a loud *BANG* as the door slams shut. A few seconds pass, then a young woman trips her way down the stairs to sprawl at the bottom, shoulders heaving from her sobs.
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20+12=30
Selmy studies the young woman as Bojd attempts to get to the root of the problem. Having trouble trusting anything that goes on in the background of a theatre he's unsure if he should be taken in by the sorry display.
If and when she stops crying, Selmy tries to choose the best time to approach the subject of the argument.
"What did they mean about you hiring thugs to spy on them?"
Outside the theatre, Jynn quickly heads off to find an outfit similar to that of the hobgoblin. She heads in the direction of Seventh Tower, but remains stymied until she spots another hob milling around the theater. After a moment, that hob drops a package outside, near an alleyway that leads through Kashik Tower, behind the theater, then continues on down the alley.
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The woman stays on the ground, but eventually pulls herself together enough to shoot Selmy a glare. "They weren't thugs. They were licensed inquisitives with marks and everything!" She struggles to her feet with Bjod's help, then pushes him away lightly but firmly. ”My business with Romphizle is my own. If she can’t protect her employees, I’m better off without her anyways." She turns, as if to make her way to one of the dressing rooms, and then slips again.
Jynn stopped and looks around curiously to make sure no one was watching her before sneaking on up and grabbed the package and ducked down an alley to take a look.
"Well I'm not the one who called them thugs, don't get mad at me." Selmy huffs shaking his head. "Should we leave her back here drunk? Seems like she may cause trouble, or damage to herself."
Realizing they have a second contact and potential source of information right in front of them Selmy is hesitant to dismiss the girl. "You go on ahead, I'll catch up when I see this one in a chair or something."
He waves his colleagues on and approaches the girl again, attempting to help her up awkwardly, unsure exactly how to do that.
"Look, you're drunk, but that doesn't mean you can't help me. Why don't you tell me if those inquisitives found anything interesting before they were run off? If you don't I'll just have you escorted off as a drunkard."
The package, Jynn finds, seems to contain an assortment of food, two sets of manacles, and a wand made of black cherry and topped with a round bit of onyx. Also enclosed is a uniform not unlike that the hobgoblins were wearing
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Under Selmy's "intense" interrogation, the woman bursts into fresh tears. "I don't know! They went down one of the lifts two days ago, and I haven't s-s-seen them since!" She struggles to her feet and begins making her way toward the private dressing rooms, one hand on a wall to be safe.
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The remainder of the tour through the theater doesn't turn up much of interest, and before long, every light in the building flicks off and then on, then off and on again. Neither the dancers nor the staff backstage seem to find this unusual, and the various members of the audience begin slowly drifting toward their seats.