"Let's find my uncle before more anti-chaos crusaders show."
Bazzle isn't entirely sure if his quick talk about keeping folk safe had much of an effect, but it did give the officer pause for thought.
The group high-tail it off of Bleakbridge. On their way to Jarvis End, they notice twelve Dottari, all armed with muskets and bayonets. They're marching towards Bleakbridge. The Ravens easily dip into an alleyway to avoid the soldiers, before weaving their way through Temple District into Jarvis End. Along a narrow road, they pass the ruins of the Silver Star, one of the places hit by the Night of Ashes, and the idol opera singer Shensen has been missing ever since.
Now into Jarvis End proper, Bazzle leads the group to a tavern known as the Three-Legged Devil. The old two-story building is part bar, part dance hall. No tables can be found apart from the bar, where an old Chelaxian man serves drinks to a couple of patrons in this early afternoon. A young tavern bard strums chords upon a lute as he plays around with different lyrics to fit the tune. At the bar are three patrons: A bored-looking Dwarf woman with long, braided brown hair, wearing leather armour and a longsword on her back., A Varisian man in his 30's, with deep green eyes and curly black hair, playing around with a deck of cards. The final patron is uncle Faeblin, an older Gnome with short blue hair and an enormous beard, both of which are showing grey roots. Faeblin has an almost empty bottle of wine next to him, and an open journal in front of him. He's deep in thought as he takes another sip of wine, and doesn't notice the group enter the establishment.
Bazzle sidles up to the bar next to Faeblin, "Can you believe who they will let in this place?" He smiles. He orders a glass himself. "How have you been?"
"That man did not like you one bit, did he? Did you date his sister?" she teases slightly as she waves away some of his wounds.
Vandomir nods in appreciation of Aster's healing.
"I think, rather that he dated mine."
"The dating pool in this city sucks," grumbles Rexandi in response to Vandomir and Aster's commentary.
Faeblin's ears perk up as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice. In a gravelly voice, the older Gnome exclaims "Blast-Hazard! Well I'll be!" He practically leaps to hug his nephew. "I missed you, you darn pest. The workshop is so quiet without you around." He looks up at the strangers standing around. "Oh, did you bring some friends, Blast?"
Bazzle smiles and pats the gnome on the back. He runs the circle making introductions. "Great friends for sure. Well the sent me to you to keep things quiet at home. . . The current troubles keep me away at the moment. I have been doing some busking. Have you heard of the Downright Dubious Dandies of the Peacock Dragon's Hoard. That's me and a little dragon friend and some lads. Good street performers that's for sure."
"Please to meet you all!" Faeblin says as he bows low enough for his blue beard to drape the floor. "I don't know what you're up to exactly, Blast, but you are an adult. I've been worried, cuz I did promise your dad I'd look after you, and I know living in the big city is a first for you. There was someone asking about you, some lady I think worked for the guard. I didn't know if you were doing okay, or if you had got yourself into some trouble. Sounds a bit like you, you know lad."
He sits back down at the bar and takes another swig out of the bottle. "Have you all met Mr. Henge?" He gestures to the bartender. "Good man, he is. He walks me back home after the bar closes up shop, which is far too early nowadays."
"It is a stunning show, uncle of Bazzle's. We are all big fans." Aster says with a smile, looking at the bar to see if they have a menu, hoping for something food-related, maybe deep fried.
Bartender Henge has quite a multicultural team of cooks, though their food is very Chelish.
- Buttered and steamed crab, shrimp, and scallops with Taldan white wine
- Roasted duck in orange sauce, served with fresh-baked wheat bun, choice of wine or mead
- Assortment of local cheeses, breads, and fruit with Chelish wine samplings
- Lemon thyme bass fried in olive oil, served with fried potatoes and Taldan white wine
Vandomir selects the duck and wine. He will also cast purify food and drink on all of the food that comes our way.
Vandomir unintentionally purifies his white wine into clear grape juice.
Which is fine, better that than poisoned!
"It is a stunning show, uncle of Bazzle's. We are all big fans." Aster says with a smile, looking at the bar to see if they have a menu, hoping for something food-related, maybe deep fried.
Aster goes with the assortment of cheeses, and NOT because of her mousey heritage, but cause cheese is simply lovely. "A pleasure to meet you, Fabin. Who has the change in atmosphere, that our dear city has undergone recent, been to you?"
Uncle Faeblin bows from his seat. "Well that'd be damned Thrune, of course!" Mr. Henge reacts quickly, and goes to close the door. "Pardon me," says the older man. "Talk about politics is fine here, but not loud enough for the outside to notice."
The Dwarf woman stirs from her nursed drink to listen in on the conversation, while the Varisian man shuffles his cards. Faeblin continues on saying "Not only does he have the nerve to close taverns by ten, he took over the beloved opera house. D'you know how many other places he could've set up? But nooo, he has to take the shining jewel of Kintargo all to himself."
Bazzle listens, he takes time to look through the other guests, the quiet shuffler, the dwarf and any others. Trying to sort out how 'safe' it actually is.
"The fat lady has not sang. The minor chord has yet to resolve."
Bazzle gets the impression that no one in the room is a staunch Thrune supporter, but secrets could definitely leak if shared. The bard is a young and likely impressionable man, and the Dwarf is a bored mercenary. The Varisian man is harder to read, especially since there's the common stereotype that Varisians are thieves and brigands. Bazzle knows how Faeblin can talk himself up to a passionate rage. The bartender seems a bit wary, but it's aimed at the door.
Faeblin replies "Sure, but for how long do we need to wait for something that puts Thrune in his place?"
Bazzle nods "That would be something."
Three knocks at the door are heard.
Mr. Henge goes over to answer it, revealing a middle-aged Chelish man dressed nearly as well as a noble. "Good afternoon, sir." The man says with a long, drawn-out voice. "My lady, the illustrious Dominique Vatia, shall have this dance hall booked in an hour from now until sunset." He produces a letter to the bartender.
Aster, who is relatively new in town, leans over to her companions and whispers
"Who is Dominique Vatia?"
Rexandi freezes, then whispers, "Mom?"
The bartended opens the letter and peruses it. "The seal of House Thrune. Yes. Hmmm. I understand."
The smartly-dressed man bows with a grin on his face and departs. Mr. Henge closes the door. "It's a letter from the lord-mayor." He says "it says I'll be compensated, but they don't say how much, or when."
Rexandi seizes Aster's arm and says, "We have to go. Right now. That's my mom. She's... she's a priestess of Asmodeus. She's a monster. If she spots me... it'll be bad."
"I was up for leaving when I saw the letter. Can we get you home Uncle. I don't think the company is going to improve."
Uncle Faeblin empties his bottle and answers "No! Someone's gotta stand against this nonsense. That bastard can't be just giving my evening to some whore. I've only had one bottle, and we haven't had any dancing or songs yet! We gotta put Thrune in his place. Aren't you with me, Blast?"
The Dwarf moves to exit the tavern, as does the Varisian. Mr. Henge says to the bard "Alexandru, would you please get your sister? I think we're about to be very busy." Stress is already showing as the older man clenches his jaw.
Aster's eyes go wide at the revelation and distress. She is not one to discount the horrors of family "Yes, we'll leave now." she doesn't love the idea of leaving Bazzle's uncle in the wake of danger, especially when there is the possibility Bazzle would stay to face it with him "Mr. Faeblin, you wouldn't by any chance help your dear nephew escort two women out of this establishment and too another. The streets are not exactly safe."
Faeblin doesn't seem to like that suggestion.
"Uncle. Pull it together. Dying for a night of drinking and dancing doesn't stop a tyrant. You taught me smarter than that. I want you around when things are made right. Trust me it will be made right I can show you. Now. This isn't the end of the second act and loosing you isn't going to be the plot down beat. Walk with us or over the big one's shoulder." He makes a wave of his hand like Vandomir should be ready to carry the gnome out. "Don't make me ask them for a potato sack!"
Faeblin is shocked. "Blast. I - I. Perhaps this isn't the stand to make. I'll follow, but I want to buy another bottle before I leave. Mr. Henge?" He says to the bartender. "One more red, please. For the road." He fishes for the coins to pay.
Mr. Henge nods and passes a bottle of red wine. "Safe travels, Mr. Gnackle, and to all of you as well." He says to the group.
Outside, the sun is still fairly high in the sky. Jarvis End is bustling with activity as businesses normally designed for the nightlife try to garner the interest of daytime customers. Two casinos are boarded up after going under from the curfew. A squad of Dottari patrol down the street, but Faeblin asks to go in a different direction. "My home is just north of the plaza here. Mind if we stop at the Farmer's Market?"
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Vandomir puffs out his chest, and adds, ”Bazzle is right, we shall carry you out if we must.”
While Faeblin and the group browse through the farmer's market, they notice several Dottari escorting a nobleman. This nobleman is dressed in a scarlet doublet, embroidered with gold, and is wearing a black cape clasped with the symbol of house Thrune. The man's hair is extremely short, and shows a clear widow's peak. He walks with elegance, and his hazel eyes pierce everything they witness, but his face is stuck in an eternal frown. This man is Paracount Barzillai Thrune, lord-mayor of Kintargo, cousin to Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail the Second. They seems to be cutting through the farmer's market, with Barzillai only occasionally looking at the food in the market.
Bazzle picks up a tomato and holds it to his nose, "Something smells rotten." His eyes dart to his companions, leading them to look over at the tyrant they have wished to over throw.
One of the Dottari begins speaking to Barzillai. "My Lord, would you wish for me to send a squad to Villegre to deal with the vigilantes?" But Barzillai quickly replies "There is no need, lieutenant."
Barzillai picks up a handful of grapes, eyes them for flaws, then gingerly peels the skins off.
"Keep your guard available for if anything gets out of hand, but I very much doubt it. There are more important things to consider. The sewers, for instance. I will not allow vermin to infest our city from below."
The lieutenant says "Yes, my Lord. Shall I send troops into the sewers?" Barzillai eats the grapes, but looks like he's getting frustrated. "No. I will see to it."
By this time, Barzillai has moved through the marketplace and crosses into Temple district.
His escort are four Dottari, which Barzillai referred to one of them as lieutenant. They wear breastplate, and wield longswords, saps, and light crossbows. Barzillai himself is wearing nobles clothes with a long red cloak, but he does have a heavy mace that glows red strapped to his side, and an ornate dagger on his other side.
Aster keeps her gawking to a minimum, thinking it would be best to not draw attention at this point.