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Jace winces internally; 'Am I insulting her, I just want to know her better.' "I thought they were suitable." he blushes slightly himself.
Working at his hands with an unused bar of soap; "So, your home-land it must be beautiful. To produce such a beautiful blossom. Where upon the Tian lands do you come from?" he asks boldly.
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He follows Mai out of the room barely noting the sway of her hips as she walks 'This could either be good or very bad.....and 'please' means this is very bad. She is a private person and I...' He tries to keep his optimism, but his walk shows hints of the condemned man making the way to the gallows.
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Jace walks back up the stairs to the ward with the children and Passio. His face looking drained of emotion, he moves to the little girls bed, sits down and checks of her. Seemingly he needs to lose his thoughts, the young girl shivers and looks at him with big eyes. "Shall I tell you a story?" Jace is a soft voice, tells the girl of a story about 'a young princess walking through a bandit filled forest and tricking them out of all their treasures. And when she left she used them to help the poor.'
Jace drinks from the glass of water he had brought up the stairs. He looks to Passio with a nod of his head.
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Mai tidies up the first floor and exits the front door, there to sit on the front steps and wait for any orphans returning from work, or for her fellows - and to keep an eye out in case any cranky halflings or six-fingered sorceresses are about. She sits with her arms about her knees, looking much like one of the older children who call the place home, watching and waiting patiently.
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Auntie Baltwin follows silently, accepting Faeron's help to mount Turin and clutching her cats. She makes soothing noises to herself, and she tries as hard as she can to ignore the stares of Miltivus and the tall, pale footman, who are both now watching curiously from the street just outside the market and the manse.Faeron Snapped his heels and graced her with a militaristic bow before catching Turin's reigns and clicking him forward softly. Leading them away, allowing the others to follow if they wished,She turns to Mai, Jace and Passio, raising a hand in hesitant farewell. She then runs a few steps after Faeron and Turin in silence, crossing her arms over her body and hooking her hands around the straps of her backpack once she's caught up.
Corbyn keeps pace with those who have decided to return Auntie Baltwin to justice. He allows Faeron to lead and keeps pace while tugging at Plod's rope to keep out of the way for anybody passing by.
Plod carries on, slow and silent. The water was refreshing. The pace kept here is a welcome change to the the sorts of places that Corbyn has tried to drag him through in the past.
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Jace seems a little out of sorts, but chooses to address the issue by telling a story to the youngsters. Seeing their faces light up with a little laughter even in sickness is enough to bring another smile to Passio's face. Passio doesn't interrupt his friend and wonders if the time alone with Mai had served to allow them a chance to learn more about one another.
Wooing was always about learning more of the one pursued. Or so Passio assumed after watching so many plays. Passio looks down and away as Jace tells yet another anecdote about the princess. A shadow of regret passes over his face.
Mai:
For the Justice Group:
As you re-trace your steps, Baltwin seems to have resigned herself to her fate; she rides along quietly, petting both anxious cats and barely looking around.
As you approach the Temple, Ollysta Zadrian emerges and gawks at the spectacle of Baltwin and the cats on the horse.
"What...did...you...DO?!" she asks the party, her entire demeanor showing her shock.
Jace and Passio:
The children, much relieved by Jace's stories, the children begin to chatter quietly among themselves and with you, telling stories of Baltwin saving her magic for the older kids who could work. They all liked the cats, though.
Ollysta listens to the story, her face hardening as the group enlightens her on Auntie Baltwin's various activities; the old woman herself, having gotten down from Turin, buries her face in the fur of her cat familiar as the litany continues. Four of Ollysta's sycophants have quietly drifted over to hear the story; as the group concludes, Ollysta, anger snapping in her eyes, turns to her subordinates.
"You two," she says, indicating the pair to her right, "Take Madame Baltwin into custody. She shall not be returning to the Orphanage."
She motions to the pair on her left.
"You two shall accompany these Pathfinders back to the Orphanage and take charge of the orphans there until we can find a thoroughly vetted and trustworthy caretaker for the children. Fail not this charge,a t your peril."
She then turns to the party.
"While you may have gone beyond the letter of your instructions, your empathy and willingness to see that the right thing is done does you all credit. Here is your reward. Now, I assume you have other tasks to be accomplished?"
She hands over a purse filled with gold and brusquely returns to the temple.
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"...and then you point your finger like this!" Passio helps the girl reach out to touch Jace. The burst of static electricity causes a quiet snap!, and Jace yelps from where he was folding a sheet. The girl giggles and begins shuffling her feet on the simple carpet. Her new thick woolen socks were probably building up a good charge.
Passio had just returned from the Market where he had purchased a bunch of socks, a couple of rugs to protect cold feet on their way to the privy, and some thick blankets. The children already seemed to be doing better after being given some soup by Mai and the medicine Jace had provided. While obviously still sick, most of their fevers had broken. Even through their congestion, the children's beaming trust and thirst for life was evident. There was still quite a bit of coughing and sniffling, but they would be fine.
Jace gave Passio a wry look. He just grinned at the cleric and winked. And when the girl zapped Jace again, Passio burst out into laughter. Rich and warm, the children were soon infected as well, and a rush to scuffle feet on the rugs ensued. The children loved their "magic". Deep in his heart, Passio knew the magic was their smiles.
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Mai sat cross-legged in the sun on the front stoop 'meditating' until Passio's trip to the Market woke her. She helped carry the new goods to the orphanage and up the stairs, then scurried back down to the first floor.
Bored, she wandered into the kitchen to clean up from making soup. When she opened the cabinets to put away the washed dishes, she was confronted with utter horror! Pots and pans were scattered in with bowls and bins, utensils of different sizes were stacked without being properly nested, and the entire place was completely disorganized!
Humming happily, she emptied the cabinets, sorted the items by type, then by size, and began putting them away properly, smiling at hearing laughter from upstairs. By the time the rest of the party returned, the kitchen was properly cleaned and organized with items stored nearest the workstation where they would be used and Mai was dusting her hands with a satisfied little smile.
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Samara's hands lower down from her face as Ollysta walks away, her eyes shifting this way and that as she makes sure that she's really gone. She starts to fidget with all her tools, putting them in their proper places, before she follows the sycophants.
She comments to Plod, softly, "There was less yelling than what I had thought the amount of yelling would be."
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Jace laughed despite the shocking behaviour of the children; at least they were happier now. Even if the kitties weren't around at the moments the laughter of children made him forget the earlier conversations.
The soup was seasoned to perfection, and the loaf of bread enjoyed by all. Jace tried to work out where they would travel to next; "So to Dremdhet Salhar in the Wise Quarter? Get a look in his vault of treasures?"
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Corbyn accepts the purse with a smile.
"I do love being rewarded."
She comments to Plod, softly, "There was less yelling than what I had thought the amount of yelling would be."
"I shall divide this among the party once we rendezvous."
Corbyn grabs Plod's rope and waits for the guards and Samara to return to the Orphanage.
Ambrus Valsin sits in his office brooding as the latest reports come in. Putting the quill heavilly back into the pot; a drop of ink jumps over the side slowly rolling down until it reaches the dark stained mahogany of his desk. "Interesting, they take much upon themselves. Going above the call of duty." his low words are not a criticism, just a thoughtful musing. From the corner of the room there's a cough, the Chamberlain stood there reminds the Venture-Captain of his presence.
Rubbing his dark hand-bar moustache, Ambrus nods to his underling; "Yes, you have brought those other recruits? I think we might have need of them."
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Leaning heavilly upon the door frame, Jace looks into the kitchen. Unobserved a smile tinged with melancholy slides across his face; as someone notices him it turns into a jovial mask. "Hey, I was thinking..." he jokes "I know a shock for sure!"
"But the orphans need some help, as a Pathfinder it's my duty." he puts the emphasis upon the last word, looking at Mai enigmatically. "You have to do the other missions. Complete the rest of our tasks." he ruefully rubs his neck.
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Passio chuckles goodnaturedly at Mai's directive regarding tidiness even as he hungrily tears into the bowl of surprisingly well-flavored broth
"Jace...that is awfully decent of you," Passio says softly. "And don't worry I will make sure your actions today get you the credit you deserve."
Passio flashes a winning smile at the man making the decision to forego their Pathfinder Society assigned duties for a higher calling at this time. Passio offers Jace a bowl of the Tian spiced broth.
"Come let us share this last meal before we leave you to your good works." Passio looks at the cleric with affection.
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With a glint in his eye Jace looks to his friend, the gratitude is obvious to Passio as is the tension that's held in his body; especially at the kitchens' other occupant.
The noble man takes the bowl, seating himself at the bench opposite his friend. However though thick lashed eyes he glances at Mai, taking in her form - though his gaze is not obvious or lacivious, just that of regret. The tension in the room slowly rises as the Cleric consumes his food.
With a soft snort and smile, he simply says "Thank you."
The scent of aged wood with just a hint of smoke drifts across the lounge. Rich mahogany contrasts with the deep green hues, none of this gaudy burgundy that some newer lodge houses might have. Truely this is the Grand Lodge of Absalom - the centre of the work.
After a morning's hard training, the 4 inductee's had been summoned to Ventrue-Captain Valsin's office. The request seemed urgent, some might wonder if it's for reward or punishment.
In the corner of the plush anti-chamber a grand-father clock slowly ticks, against the silence it reverberates loudly.
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Itra strides purposefully through the hallway leading up to the Venture-Captain's office. Arriving at the antechamber early, she nods an acknowledgement to the Chamberlain before moving inside and taking a guardsman's position next to the entrance. Her right hand supports a spear-like shaft which rests against her shoulder, its sword-bladed end sharpened and polished meticulously.
As she stands motionless just inside the entrance, her green eyes scan her surroundings with the fluidity and attentiveness of long experience. Her gaze rests for a few seconds longer on the open space in the middle of the room, its rug triggering memories and longings within her. For the briefest of moments, her lip quirks upward in what threatens to be a wry smile. No... not now. There is ample open space in the training grounds for practice of forms, and it would certainly not be proper to utilize the Venture-Captain's antechamber... and yet...
After a few more minutes of maintaining her guardsman's position, she sighs and moves fluidly toward the center of the rug, simultaneously unsheathing her sword's lower blade and tossing the sheath to the side. Swinging the two-bladed sword around her slowly, she makes sure there's ample room, then twists her wrist and stands for a moment at attention with the weapon held behind her. She bows, keeping her eyes up and losing all awareness of the world around her.
Flowing in time with some internal rhythm, she rehearses the well-known forms, her feet moving into various fighting stances even as her blades slice or stab at the air to match. She and her blades are one; they are all that exist. She transitions smoothly from one form to another, her boots and uniform and upcoming appointment forgotten. The only distraction is that rug...
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The summon had come, a real mission, fearing that she might be late for the meeting with the Venture captain she must have rechecked the time a hundred times on her way over, which of course did nothing to calm her nerves she felt herself getting more excited and more terrified with every step.
Passing quickly down the hall the young elven woman quietly enters the antechamber. After long years of training, this would be her first real mission she was ready to meet the Venture-Captain. She moved over to lean against the wall not announcing her presence, she takes the most nonchalant posture she can manage hoping not to give away how anxious she is, and to hide her inexperience.
She turned her attention towards the woman who moves into the center of the room, and unsheathes her sword haphazardly tossing the sheath aside. The woman then started practicing fighting forms, of some kind. They were clearly different than the forms Eddie was taught when she was young, she decided this must be due to the differences between the human and elven styles. She wasn't entirely sure if this was proper behaviour for the Venture-Captain's antechamber, but this was her first time and the other woman seemed confident flowing through her stances, perhaps it was common place for her, then again maybe it was her way to work out the nervousness.
There was a certain calming aspect to watching to other woman's fluid movements, and she provided something to focus on other than simply waiting. Eddie found herself picturing an unseen enemy letting her imagination run freely for a bit, dreaming up an intense battle with this human woman at the center. A sneaky goblin attempted to stab her in the back, at least in Eddie's mind, the girl turn quickly smoothly knocking the creature's weapon aside with one end of her weapon, and with the other end she caught it in the collarbone with a downward slash dropping it.
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With a warm glance to the Tian woman, he quickly gazes away. 'That was almost a compliment, maybe she's warming to me... I can only hope absence makes the heart grow fonder.'
He turns to Passio with a reassuring smile; "I'm sure I'll see you around, Absalom's a big city after all." his optimism returns.
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The venture-captain's summons reaches Galfon as he is in the middle unstringing his bow, having just completed his archery training for the day. The barrel-chested halfling flexes the cheap wooden bow with minimal effort, but is given pause by the seeming urgency of the message. After a moment he nods, restringing the bow and slinging it over his shoulder. Galfon Tellow leaves for the antechamber, driven by both a sense of duty and curiosity.
Not to be deterred by his small size, Galfon makes his way there with a long, confident stride, perhaps too long for a halfling. It was abundantly clear that the Lodge was made for bigger folk, but covering distance never seemed to be an issue for him. Driven by force of habit, the rugged halfling enters the venture-captain's antechamber with a small hop to his steps, stopping only upon noticing that two others have already made it there. While inwardly chiding himself for not making it there first, he simply smiles and nods at the two women. Making sure to stay clear of Itra's forms, Galfon finds his own place on the wall to lean on, crossing his arms over his chest. He finds himself watching the fighter as well, though his mind seems to drift elsewhere.
With the certainty of having made it on time, the paladin contemplates their reason for being there. He was all but certain that he had not been scheduled for a mission quite yet - he had been planning to work a little more on his precision before that time came. Now frowning, Galfon stops to consider the possibility that they were all going to be reprimanded somehow. Is it because of all those arrows I shot at the wall last week? No, that can't be it. Those things are a copper a dozen. Certainly the Society has a bigger budget than that...
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As she finishes rehearsing another form, Itra's eyes take in the new arrivals at a glance. With only the slightest pause, she continues her movements, using some of the simpler forms to give her time to think.
Nervous, both of them... the little one is so unsure, while the elf... peace is there, taunting her, teasing her with its calming. And she seeks it... but will she find it here, among the Pathfinders?
Rubbing his whiskers Ambrus mentally prepares himself having to deal with more of these green-horns. 'They always make things difficult, although their enthusiasm is exemplary."
"Call them in and wait outside." he tells his chamberlain. The prim secretary moves to the thick oak panelled door, pushing it smoothly open.
Running a finger across his slick-backed hair, pushing the greased tress behind an ear. "The Venture-Captain will see you now." his eyes skip across the group.
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"You two clean up after yourselves," she directs the two men sternly as she exits, heading for the great outdoors with an apple in case Plod returned.
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Itra starts slightly at the announcement, pausing momentarily upon completing a movement. Barely a moment later she flows softly back into an attention stance and bows, her eyes fixed on some invisible point on the wall. As soon as her bow is completed, she turns on her heel and jogs over toward the wall to retrieve her sheath. Replacing her sword's bottom blade within it, she hurries into the office.
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With regards to the city quip; optimistically he adds to the departing figure; "Love finds a way." his words drift on the air, lost forever....
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"Hoi, featherfingers!" the young man's voice sinks into Rooks' mind as he practices forms atop the narrow wall separating two training yards. "Leyn! Come spar with me!" the black-feathered monk calls down to his copper-skinned friend, not interrupting the end of the kata to wait for a response.
"You hain't got time for that," Leyn replies, "VC Ambush wants to see ya at noon sharp." The human grins up at him, "What'd you bet it's about the roofing tiles?" Rook bows to the air containing his imaginary opponent then simply steps off the wall, landing on the cobblestones as neatly as if he'd descended a staircase. He gives a beaky grin in return, "I won't take that bet. I'll tell you about it over dinner - if I'm not the main course."
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Noon. Too close to properly brush the dust off himself, but if Ambush cared, he'd surely have given more time between summons and appointment. Stop that. Don't want to call him that to his face, do you? He shakes his head, hurrying through the halls of Skyreach towards the Venture Captain's office. When did Leyn get me doing that, anyway? It was an infectious habit.
Rook arrives outside the correct antechamber door just as someone else is leaving the VC's office. A quick glance at the clock in the corner shows that he has most of a minute to spare, but that's cutting it closer than he likes. At least there are other people. That means it can't be about something I've done - can it? Even after these few months living outside the Tengu ghetto he called home, human custom could still be opaque at times.
The departing human spoke: "The Venture-Captain will see you now."
Just in time.
Stood behind his heavy dark desk, the tall man surveys the new-comers. His penetrating gaze slides over the group, analysing and assessing; however there is just a hint of kinder emotions to his judgement.
He clears his throat, then starts in a deep resonant voice; "Listen up, I see the enthusiasm in your eyes Pathfinders. Now, I have a mission for you..." he pauses; "something straight-forward that shouldn't kill you. There's a few essential tasks for you about the city. I've chosen you because of your familiarity of the city and your special abilities." he nods slightly to Itra and Rook.
"I need to emphasize that you represent the Pathfinders, we are the most influential and important organisation in the world. Having many enemies, who think we squander our resources or hoard our knowledge." he says seriously; "Remember today you'll meet some people important to the Society, Venture Captains and people of import to the society. Follow their orders as you would mine"
He pauses, picking an envelope from a desk draw. "You are to proceed to Aunty Baltwin's orphanage, there to rendezvous with a trio of other Pathfinders. As a , you will proceed to complete these tasks before nightfall. Returning here with such items as are acquired and report to me." he pushes a thick cream envelope across the desk towards the group. "Questions?"
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Itra reaches out to accept the envelope, simultaneously nodding her acknowledgement of the instructions. Her brows furrow slightly. Seven people for a day of tasks? What's he not telling us?
Clearing her throat slightly as she opens the envelope, she asks, "What are you not telling us about these tasks?"
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The tengu in the rust-hued robe tilts his head to one side and makes a soft 'hnrrr' noise, in a lower key but not entirely unlike the coo of a pigeon. Guidework and message-running? Any fledgeling could do that. But what of these 'special abilities' the task will need? Something was up, here. Had to be.
He asks, in turn, "Why does the other group of Pathfinders need additional support? Have they met unexpected resistance?" It only 'shouldn't' kill us, after all...
"Firstly, the other group...." he takes a large cleansing breath, the light from the window behind him flickers brightly. "They decided that the proprietor of the orphanage, Aunty Baltwin, was not fit to care for the children thus arrested her." there is a touch of tension in his voice. "So a few of them have volunteered to remain behind to look after the sick."
His sharp gaze looks to Itra; "As for what I am not telling you, well I see some promise in you group. Thus you are going to see the various VIP's, try not to disappoint me. Too many recruits are lickspittles with no backbone." Picking up a sheet of paper, he consults it. "Plus the Paracountess' item, can hopefully be used to heal the rift with the Blackros family." he adds.
the Pickled Imp. Go to him and fill his request as a favor to the
Society. I believe it has something to do with a set of rare books.
to deliver a parcel of medicine and curatives to a needy orphanage
and verify the character of the recipient.
Quarter. The Pathfinder Society needs to obtain permission to
delve the Salhar ancestral vaults beneath Sothis. He has made a
verbal agreement, and your visit makes it official. You will receive an
official charter and detailed maps. Do not embarrass the Society in
this matter.
from the Vaults. Meet with her in her estate in the Ivy District and
retrieve the item in her possession.
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Galfon suppresses a sigh of relief when Itra hands the document to the considerably shorter Rook. Much to his dismay however, the tengu still practically towers over him. Frowning slightly, the paladin stands his ground, maintaining the impression that he knows exactly what is going on. It didn't particularly matter what their assignment was anyway - it was his duty to get it done regardless of the details.
"We won't let you down sir," the halfling says confidently, his voice loud and deep.
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Rook inclines his head to the VC in a gesture that's not quite a bow, but somewhat more formal than a nod. Younglings couldn't be left to themselves, that much was certain.
He accepts the page and holds it low enough for the halfling to read as well. Quick eyes flick over the words. Armed messengers, then. The Docks was a rough neighborhood and people with dreams of glory would kill for such maps, let alone the charter. And then there was the last one... "The Society is currently on good terms with the Paracountess, yes?"
He glances among his new companions to gauge their mood.
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The halfling briefly nods towards Rook appreciatively, before looking over the sheet. His expression becomes rigid when he reads of the woman that the tengu spoke of. Chelaxian. Go figure. He quickly dismisses the thought, mentally berating himself. There were some things that just had to be let go.
"Her task sounds easy enough," he comments, hardly believing his own words.
"Good, nice to see confident recruits." VC Ambrus Valsin's immaculately manicured facial hair moves up in a determined smile. "Whilst still asking pertinent questions, too?" The gruff leader seems quite pleased with the group.
"We have along-standing arrangement with the Paracountess;" there is a hint of tension to his words; "She will be expecting you."
The mule snickers at Mai's approah, there is a knowing an reproachful glint to his eyes. The dark orbs seem to hold a sentient intelligence, though at the sight of the apple he moves forward quickly.
The reins that hitch him seem to slip away, freely he walks to the Tian woman.
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Mai holds out the apple to the ambling equine, then snaps her wrist to toss it to her far hand when Plod stretches out to retrieve it. She keeps her body between Plod and the apple, forcing him to circle her to try to catch up with it, to the amusement of the little faces peering out the upstairs window, even smiling slightly at the annoyed animal.