Nissim opens his eyes and looks up at the young woman when he hears her cough. He wasn't asleep, just trying to manage the pain in his head.
My apologies Miss. Good day to you. I need to clear a vicious and persistent headache. Could I get a strong spirit from you? Brandy if you have it. Another liqueur will do if you don't. But please, nothing sweet. Sugar will only fuel the headache. Oh, and nothing dwarven.
Sunset nods,
"Aye Sir." even as she moves to fulfill his order as well as continuing to serve the room's jostling occupants.
Phineas approaches the door of the tavern, hesitating briefly with his hand on the door. Disguised in padded, too large travelers garb, a false beard and a wide brimmed hat, he cut a significantly different figure than his usual slender frame and closely cropped hair.
This is it. Alright Phineas, its just like court...lead them towards the information you need, and don't incriminate yourself. You'll be fine, your disguise is perfect and it is likely no on here will even know you. Its time to see if I can find any resistance to this Thrune madness.
Suppressing the urge for a final scratch at his false beard, Phineas draws himself up and pushes open the door, stepping out of the rain.
The patrons see a portly man with a thick black beard, a wide brimmed hat and piercing blue eyes step in from the rain and stomp his feet to knock off the mud.
"Foul weather for a worse day. Hail, barkeep, a strong drink and warm meal, if you please."
As Phineas scans the crowd, taking in the group one by one and turning them over in him mind.
A halfling, a tiefling, a man with a truly ludicrous hat smoking a pipe...and Leonardo Vashnarstill?! What in the nine hells is he doing here? Dare I hope he's here for the same reason I am?
Phineas sidles up to the table where Leonardo is talking to the halfling.
"Greetings friends, may I join you? My name is Davis, a merchant of little reknown in these parts. I was hoping I might have the benefit of your company to help brighten my day."
Phineas will pause to pull out a chair and sit.
"I wish house Thrune well in their struggle against the reclamation, but I can't believe these taxes they are imposing. My business will be ruined by the bleakbridge tax alone, much less the cost for leaving the city. The shipyard can bring in merchandise for now, but if they're willing to restrict gate access so severely, how long before they're restricting merchant vessels and taxing shipping in the name of keeping us safe?"
Seeing the crowd in the tavern grow and diversify, Darian finally received his drink from Insome. He turns slightly to take in exactly who has made their way into the tavern, noting some rain soaked stragglers trying to remove the precipitation from themselves when he notes Leonardo Vashnarstill not ten feet away becoming ever more surrounded by people seeking his company. He smirks as a prank forms in his mind, and quietly utters the words of incantation to manifest some minor prestidigitations.
When an opportunity presents itself to do so without being noticed, he points a finger towards the fellow young nobleman's drink, changing its flavor to that of spoiled goat milk.
__________
When Varian awakened, he knew something was different. The night before strange things had happened: three building were burnt down in the heart of the night. The Night of Ashes, he thought to himself as he shaved with a shaving kit, gazing at his image mirrored in a pool of water.
Today was one of the rare days in which Varian was sent outside the Silver Dragon’s hideout to find new recruits for their ambitious group of rebels. He was good, very good at convincing others to do what he thought would be the best thing: but today something was different. He felt something weighing down on him. It was a strange impression, impossible to explain. He was tense, and nervous. What had happened the night before couldn’t be ignored. Upon finishing to shave, Varian wore his scholar’s outfit. I’ll never get used to these…, he thought as he wore the weathered gray robe. But this is a small price to pay to set out city free…A price I’m willing to pay.
He looked at Celissa, his bride-to-be. She was still sleeping, rolled up in the blankets of their bed. I will do this for you, for us, for our children, he thought, feeling proud. With a swift move, he turned to the small altar he had personally built in his room and bowed before it.
“O’ Milani, please give my words your strength so I can share your wisdom with those who are still blinded”, he mumbled. His birthmark itched. Varian smiled. To him, that was the sign of his goddess’ approval.
---
When he left the Silver Dragons’ hideout, he instantly smelled the reek of sulfur and brimstone. A smell he was used to. But not here. My city is supposed to smell of brine and seaweed. He had sensed that smell for a very long time during his education in the Asmodean Church: every morning he woke up to that reek. A smell of devils, infernal contracts and evil. Varian closed his eyes for a moment, as his memory took him back to things he didn’t like to recall. Shaking his head, he warded off those memories.
---
As he was walking around the town in order to reach the destination where he was supposed to gather at least a few fresh proselytes, Varian stopped to hear what the town crier had to say. The large Dottari deployment didn’t bode well. The crier was standing on the top of the Opera House’s steps and next to a red-robed figure. Varian shivered. He feared what he was going to hear. He would have rather turned away and ignored everything the crier had to say, but this was his city, and this was his task. He had to listen. And so he did.
Learning about the previous Lord-Mayor sudden disappearance was like a blade cutting right through him. Jilia Bainilus had been a good Lord-Mayor. Now she was replace by a man bearing an ominous surname. Thrune…, Varian thought with a grin. A surge of rage filled his mind as he tried to pierce together all the information the crier had proclaimed. Martial law? This is absurd! I need to inform the others….
---
When the crowd dispersed, Varian was conflicted: he wanted to go back to the Silver Dragons’ hideout and inform his fellow rebels of what he had just heard. But that would have cost him to fail in carrying out his duty. He was Cheliaxian at heart, and even though he didn’t share with his compatriots many of their current beliefs, he was still a man who lived for honor, and couldn’t tolerate to fail in carrying out his orders. The Silver Dragons had tasked him with that important mission, and he had to complete it before returning to the hideout. He began walking much faster than normal. His heart was pounding at an increased rate. Do they think they can treat us like slaves?, he thought as he made his way to his first intended destination: Kintargo’s oldest tavern, The Tooth and Nail.
---
Varian steps in with a nervous expression painted on his face. He nods at Setrona and shake hands with Insome Filas. He was a regular here, at least from the time when he returned to his home city. Wearing a scholar’s outfit, Varian looks like a scholar of some kind, but his manly featured and his muscular build make him a rather strange scholar indeed. He clears his throat and takes a sit near to the largest group in the tavern, hoping to find out what locals think about the news coming from the Opera House.
“Well met”, he begins. His voice sounded too authoritative and imperious to be likely for a scholar. “Have you heard the news? We have a new Lord-Mayor, or this is what I’ve heard at least. Anyone is willing to explain to this humble scholar why things are getting so tense of late?”
______________________________________
So many people wondering what to do, how to do it, who to trust...and not to trust. Will it be the time soon? Wonder who will say it first.. Who thinks he can lead the people into a coup?
Eusebios looks at the various newcomers with a growing interest, calculating odds
What a motley crew. If they want to be followed by the crowd, they have to be as diverse as possible, that said.
Wiping away the last of her stage make up and gathering her courage, Aleanya approaches the table were most of the patrons of the tavern seems to have gathered. A few of the faces seemed vaguely familiar, and some of them seemed well enough dressed to be nobility--
"Excuse me," she says, to no one in particular, "would any of you be attached to one of the noble houses? With the opera house shut down, I'm looking for employment--I've, uhh, worked, in noble households before," she continues, her words trailing off as she listens to the rather charged political talk occurring at the table.
"Greetings friends, may I join you? My name is Davis, a merchant of little reknown in these parts. I was hoping I might have the benefit of your company to help brighten my day."
Phineas will pause to pull out a chair and sit.
"I wish house Thrune well in their struggle against the reclamation, but I can't believe these taxes they are imposing. My business will be ruined by the bleakbridge tax alone, much less the cost for leaving the city. The shipyard can bring in merchandise for now, but if they're willing to restrict gate access so severely, how long before they're restricting merchant vessels and taxing shipping in the name of keeping us safe?"...
Leo will turn his attention for a moment and nod at the man, offering him the chair. "Well met sir. I can offer you the seat, but I make no promise to the brightening of your day. With the loss of House Victocora, and the whole family. My day is far from bright."
Sunset continues to move about through the jostling crowd serving patron's needs.
As she passes nearby him, Eusebios adresses the barmaid in a quick whisper
Sunset slows as Eusebois whispers into her ear as she leans down to place his order before him.
Straightening she looks directly at the teifling and for a brief moment her returned gaze is cold and flat (Does one hand reach for something hidden at the small of her back?). Then she laughs, instantly brightening, as she straightens.
"Ye'll have to work harder on your word play, mate. Such talk won't oft get you the encounter yer seeking, ye catch my drift?" She arches an eyebrow even as she turns on her heels and goes back to serving.
Leo will turn his attention for a moment and nod at the man, offering him the chair. "Well met sir. I can offer you the seat, but I make no promise to the brightening of your day. With the loss of House Victocora, and the whole family. My day is far from bright."
Of course...he would have known the Victocora's well. They were good people; another act for Thrune to answer for.
Phineas lets out a deep sigh.
"Aye, that was a sad business. I only knew them in passing myself, but the Victocoras always struck me as good folk, and we are all the lesser for the loss of their house. Is it true the whole family was lost? I had heard the rumors, but surely some would have escaped a fire or been out of their home at the time?"
Leo will turn his attention for a moment and nod at the man, offering him the chair. "Well met sir. I can offer you the seat, but I make no promise to the brightening of your day. With the loss of House Victocora, and the whole family. My day is far from bright."
Of course...he would have known the Victocora's well. They were good people; another act for Thrune to answer for.
Phineas lets out a deep sigh.
"Aye, that was a sad business. I only knew them in passing myself, but the Victocoras always struck me as good folk, and we are all the lesser for the loss of their house. Is it true the whole family was lost? I had heard the rumors, but surely some would have escaped a fire or been out of their home at the time?"
"I can not say." Leonardo speaks with a bit of repressed sorrow in his voice. "It's too early to tell. If the rumors of arson are true, any survivors are likely in hiding until they can prove who committed the atrocity."
Eusebios is first surprised by Sunset's reaction, then laughs openly
Either you totally misunderstood me, or you're even more clever than I tought. I have no interest in your body.
He salutes her with his glass before she turns on her heels, still amused
"Really the whole family?"
"Did they find out what caused the fire? Or if all the of the Victocoras are accounted for?"
"So Miss Isabel," she said after taking a bite out of the food provided. Calming her stomach down, "How have you been these days? I like knowing the happenings of my old students."
She takes another look at the half-elven girl whom served her.
Aada felt something wasn't exactly as it appeared to be.
|
"I am well thank you, Madame Aada. I graduated around the time you retired and by Shelyn's grace I have been able to establish myself as a dance tutor to the higher nobility." She glances over to the larger and noisier table in the centre of the bar. "I've actually tutored a couple of those gentlemen over there - I don't recall any of them being much good though so perhaps that's why they don't recognise me."
"Excuse me," she says, to no one in particular, "would any of you be attached to one of the noble houses? With the opera house shut down, I'm looking for employment--I've, uhh, worked, in noble households before," she continues, her words trailing off as she listens to the rather charged political talk occurring at the table.
Isabel catches a snippet of the conversation and turns around to see the black haired young woman hanging on the edge of the conversation. She rises and swiftly crosses the room to intercept her. "Please my lady, come and join us. It's a much quieter table. I think you and I should discuss your request, we may be able to help each other."
Isabel guides Aleanya back to their table before sitting down in her previous seat. "You said you wanted to work in a noble family?" Her smile is warm and genuine as she tries to set the younger woman at ease.
Aada frowned, "O really, is that what they told you? Damn."
She raises her hand to signal for the waitress again. She needed something to dull out some frustration. Aada also nods her head to the invitation Isabel gave to the woman.
Being ignored comes as a rarity to Varian, used to be always in the spotlight. This means I’m playing my role well, he tries to cheer himself up. Inside, he knows what has caused the people to just ignore him: Cheliax aspires to be master of everything its eye can gaze upon, but is a slave to fashion. And in his current state Varian was hardly fashionable. Cheliaxians have always been prone to fascinating and charismatic individuals, and Varian had been basking in that appreciation for several years himself. But his disguise was explicitly aimed to avoid excessive attention on himself. He had to accept that, even though his innate pride made it all much more difficult.
---
Unable to lure anyone to speak with him, Varian begins scanning the tavern, trying to catalogue the bystanders as they speak to restrict his mental list of potential recruits.
That woman over there. She’s interested in working for the noble houses. Poor choice, at least now. When the power shifts, the noble houses are the first to rise and fall. The balance of power in Kintargo is fragile like never before now that we have a new Lord-Mayor. But I see some potential: she has been working for noble houses before, as she has said, but seems like that is not her main choice. From her words, I can guess she was working in the Opera House. And I bet that the new Lord-Mayor closing it has not left her happy…
---
His eyes turned to a man, dressed in a fashionable way, offering his sit to a newcomer.
House Victocora has been destroyed? Maybe he’s one of them, and he’s here trying to drown his sorrows. No, no, he wouldn’t be here if that was the case…He seems like a noble of some sort, but I can’t quite recognize him…
---
Unsatisfied for not being able to find out more about the man, Varian moves his attention to a rather embarrassing scene involving an half-elven lass and a tiefling.
That was fun. I would have laughed, if I could afford it. He has mistaken that maid for a prostitute. Not relevant for the purposes of my task.
---
With a bad-concealed smile upon his face, Varian looked around himself, seeking something that could arise his attention. He gets attracted by the two men discussing Victocora family’s disappearance again.
Well, I must admit that they seem to know a lot of things about the recent events. And also they seem like they’re not very pleased about them. Maybe I should go and talk with’em, later…
Suddenly, an halfling joins the conversation between the two men.
She does not appears to be a house servant like many of her kind…Wait, what? A fire?
Varian finds himself uncontrollably carried away by the current topic being discussed. He stands up and with a rather impetuous tone he addresses to those discussing the Victocora family’s vanishing. His robe gives way enough, as he stands up, to reveal his strange birthmark the form of a bleeding rose on his neck: “Excuse me! I’ve found myself overhearing your conversation and…are you saying someone has burnt down Victocora’s estate?”. Varian’s voice is clearly altered by an impetus of rage as he learns about yet another injustice. Damn!
"The house has burned. That is all I can attest to with my own eyes. I've not heard from anyone in the family, and they would likely have turned to us first. As far as arson is concerned, that is only rumor. Three buildings burning in one night is suspect though."
Varian listens to the fashionable man's account with an angry expression written all over his face. He can hardly conceal his rage for what has happened. Realizing his robe has given way, he fixes it quickly trying to not give his gesture too much importance.
Then, he feels a fit of anger flowing through his veins. "Three buildings? I heard about the Trashing Badger but...There's a third building that was burnt down? I fear this is much more than suspect, -". In that very moment he realizes he doesn't know his interlocutor's name: "Ehm, I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. These news has caused me to lose all my renowned scholar's aplomb. I'm Julius Vindex, nice to meet you, Sir..." Darn it, I've definitely lost all of my fake aplomb now...
The door to the tavern opens again, and a Varisian man walks in, dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt. Scrolling tattoos adorn his upper chest and arms, visible below rolled up sleeves and through undone laces. His hair is long and dark; and plastered to his face, for the growing rain has had its way with him. He carries a rolled up rug over one shoulder, which he gently places behind the door before shutting it and coming into the alehouse, proper.
The man walks to the bar, excusing himself through the crowd with a few well-placed hellos, and arrives at the barkeep shortly. Smiling, he slides a few coppers across, and collects a frothy brew before making his way back through the crowd, his mug held high.
Spotting an empty seat adjacent to Leonardo, Varian and Phineas, the man sits himself down. "G'd'afternoon," he says, raising his drink in cheers to his new benchmates before taking a long, deep pull. Setting his decanter on the table with an audible thud and wiping the foam from his upper lip, he smiles winningly. "The name's Matty. What're we talking about? The fires I'd guess, same as everywhere else? Or the new Lord-Mayor?"
Phineas mentally takes a note of Aleanya's request and her being led off by Isabel.
I doubt that one is happy about recent events, but she seems unlikely to already be involved in a rebel group. She's probably out of work from the Opera house, poor girl. These proclamations are going to bring on hard times for many in this city...
Then, he feels a fit of anger flowing through his veins. "Three buildings? I heard about the Trashing Badger but...There's a third building that was burnt down? I fear this is much more than suspect, -". In that very moment he realizes he doesn't know his interlocutor's name: "Ehm, I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. These news has caused me to lose all my renowned scholar's aplomb. I'm Julius Vindex, nice to meet you, Sir..." Darn it, I've definitely lost all of my fake aplomb now...
This one, on the other hand, isn't despondent; he's angry. He seems much more likely to be a member of the Silver Ravens than the others...or he's worse at hiding it. Let us see what else he might say.
"Aye, Julius, the Silver Star burned in the night as well. Three, as you say, seems like it is most unlikely to be coincidence. The only question remains, who would engage in such criminal behavior?"
Varian readily greets the newcomer as he joins their conversation. A Varisian, uhm? We have several of them in our ranks...They're somehow prone to rebellion, as though they felt the call of freedom in a much more intensive way than others do. Still, they're rarely bound to one place only, and they rarely wish to risk their lives for a single city... "Well met. I'm Julius Vindex, renowned scholar specialized in the field of the ethical implications of summoning magic", he lies blatantly, "we were discussing the fires indeed. We counted three buildings set on fire the last night. Maybe you can add a fourth?" Varian jaws clenched at the thought of yet another building being burnt down.
"No indeed, Julius," answered Matty, blowing past the other's references to summoning theorem, and the ethics thereof. It might have been a lie, or perhaps the man thought he was more influential than he was. He might not look like it, but Matty knew the essentials, and Vindex wasn't one of them. Unless it was something new, which was possible. The Varisian's little library of scrounged books was woefully out of date, after all -- if not in fact downright mouldering in the damp of Yolubilis Harbour.
Or maybe the man was bluffing. Can't blame him if so, Matty thought to himself, and tactfully didn't pursue the topic.
"Definitely suspicious, though. 'Criminal behaviour' almost surely," he said instead, nodding towards Phineas. "Three blazes in one night. You think the Dottari will investigate...?" The question seemed to be asked innocently, but was that just the slightest inflection of sarcasm? A barely raised eyebrow? Regardless, the tattooed man silenced himself by taking another sip from his beer.
Continues to scoot about between the tables and the patrons. Though perhaps giving a wider berth of a certain letcherous teifling.
Varian listens to Phineas attentively. This is a wise one...Let's see if he also has the nerves. Varian looks into Phineas' eyes intensively, his ice-like eyes almost piercing through those of the man before him. "Yeah...Who would?", he asks with a grin.
He leaves the question floating around for a few seconds, before helping the man out of the dangerous situation Varian has put him into. His grin disappears as quickly as it came. "The former Lord-Mayor, most likely. Maybe that's the reason why they removed her from her charge...". Varian cannot avoid grinning again, as his eyes are still fixed on his interlocutor. Then he smiles and gives the man a diversion: "Miss!", he calls out to the half elven lass scooting about between the tables. "We're thirsty over here! Get us something refreshing please", he says pulling a gold sail out of his belt pouch. "May I offer this round to you, good folk?".
I hope it will help me to cool off my anger...
At the call of a full gold piece Sunset heads straight to the Laird's table.
"Ales, rum or schnapps?" She asks/offers suggestions... taking mental notes of who's asking for what before pocketting the coin and heading to the bar.
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"Definitely suspicious, though. 'Criminal behaviour' almost surely," he said instead, nodding towards Phineas. "Three blazes in one night. You think the Dottari will investigate...?" The question seemed to be asked innocently, but was that just the slightest inflection of sarcasm? A barely raised eyebrow? Regardless, the tattooed man silenced himself by taking another sip from his beer.
Varian listens to Phineas attentively. This is a wise one...Let's see if he also has the nerves. Varian looks into Phineas' eyes intensively, his ice-like eyes almost piercing through those of the man before him. "Yeah...Who would?", he asks with a grin.
He leaves the question floating around for a few seconds, before helping the man out of the dangerous situation Varian has put him into. His grin disappears as quickly as it came. "The former Lord-Mayor, most likely. Maybe that's the reason why they removed her from her charge...". Varian cannot avoid grinning again, as his eyes are still fixed on his interlocutor.
Phineas takes in Varian's expression and meets his piercing gaze, face carefully held neutral, revealing none of his inner excitement.
"Oh, aye, I do not doubt it. I am certain the Dottari will investigate. I suspect they will determine that agents of the Glorious Reclamation were responsible, although you may be right that they'll find the Lord Mayor was involved in some way. Were not those terrorists the reason for the declaration of martial law?"
That smile, the questions...this is about as close as I can get to being sure in this setting without risking us both. I will have to arrange a meeting for another time, a safer place.
"I thank you for your offer of a round, good sir."
Phineas turns to Sunset and nods respectfully at her.
"I will have the Schnapps, as they would serve most well to shake of the damp and the chill. I would like a hearty bowl of soup or stew for myself as well, if there is any on the fire."
He will slide three silver towards Sunset to cover the meal.
Avrora listens intently to the news of the fires, nodding solemnly with each passing name.
How many souls were sent to the Boneyard? How many remain to mourn their passing? Her throat tightens at the thought.
When the Dottari are mentioned, however, all sympathies wash away, and she pounds the table with her fist, turning to Metsipano.
"The Dottari," she spits, "will investigate nothing! They are only paid thugs, enforcing the will of the highest bidder, bowing to the desires of whichever official holds sway today, or tomorrow."
She pauses, realizing that she has come to her feet. Embarrassed, she slowly reclaims her seat.
"Gentlemen," she continues, softer. "If what you say is true, place no trust in the Dottari, for they are mere instruments of Barzillai Thrune. And whatever corruption taints his office has surely permeated theirs."
She glances around nervously, searching for tell-tale signs of espionage.
Aada looks to Isabel while she listened around the tavern, "Amazing. Soo much defiance there appears to be for Thrune, and open as well," she says, still holding her hand up to signal the waitress.Suddenly, Aada's right hand had a ping of pain as she spoke. She massaged her hand under the table for a moment before speaking again.
"What are your thoughts miss Isabel, and do you see the waitress anywhere?"
Varian smiles at Phineas as he nods in a fake agreement. "Terrorists...Yes, they are. Because when one comes to the point of burning down his own city, he's a terrorist in the full sense of the word".
---
Varian smiles at Sunset as well as the lass approaches their table: "I wouldn't mind s...", contain yourself Varian, you're supposed to be a scholar, "some water, thanks". His smile is as fake as a rahadoumi zealot.
---
As he listens to Avrora, Varian gestures calmly, inviting the girl to calm herself down. But he's grinning. What a passion!, he exults inwardly. "Woah, woah, slow it down Ma'am", he says feigning calm. "I'm sure you didn't mean what you've just said, right? The Dottari are the glue holding together our Glorious country".
Varian glances around nervously as well. "Oh, but I see! You were just joking! Ahahah!", says Varian as he breaks into a forced laughter. A slave's smile is more genuine than this laughter...Come on, Varian, you can do better than this! "Nice one, milady. What could be more amusing than to play rebels?". Varian smiled. Nervously. I hope there's no spy around, or we're in trouble now....
Trying to divert the attention from the girl, Varian resumes the conversation with a much more calm behavior: "Those terrorists will pay, I'm sure about it. I just hope that the citizens won't prove fool enough to organize a public protest...That would be...Shameful". He grins again. This girl has fire flowing through her veins. A fire that burns even more intensely than hellfire. But I need to protect her from burning herself down with her passion. "Would you share a drink with us, Ma'am?", asks Varian. He's smiling at Avrora.
Matty laughed along with Julius, brushing the zealotry of the fire-blooded woman under the rug as quickly as possible. "Come now, friends... I think we're allowing our humours to run away with our sense of decency! I'm sure the new Lord-Mayor will get to the bottom of these fires just as quick as can be. Best of luck to him!" The Varisian then raised his glass again, finished it off, and handed the empty to Sunset before requesting another.
"Another ale, lass, if y'please? On this one's coin, and I'll get the next!" he said, smiling and winking at Julius before sliding down the bench towards Avrora.
"Talk like that's best kept to darkened alleys, miss..." warned the olive-skinned man in a quiet tone, such that only those nearby could overhear. "Cheliax is no place to speak in such a manner, leastwise if y'want to keep your tongue." Matty knew that first hand.
"What did you say your name was?" The direct question might be a little unnerving, but perhaps the crowd needed to be a little more unnerved.
Foolish girl.
What was she thinking, jump to her fight like that?
You weren't. To draw such attention here, in a crowded pub. You're off to a fine start, then.
"I'm sure you didn't mean what you've just said, right? The Dottari are the glue holding together our Glorious country".
"Oh, but I see! You were just joking! Ahahah!" . . . "Nice one, milady. What could be more amusing than to play rebels?"
Her first urge is to spit at the man, though of course she immediately resists it as antithetical to her purpose. But something in his tone suggests histrionics. His words are strained, shallow, as though his heart rebels against them as they alight from his lips; as though he is deflecting attention. Pursing her own, she regards the man.
Blue eyes.
She pauses, then gives a nervous laugh, her eyes darting around the room. "Of, of course, a joke! Only good fun! Our heavy hearts are in need of a little humor. And a drink, perhaps."
In truth, she is in no mood for drink, yet the man's comments remind her that appearances are important. The eyes of the government are everywhere, and false mirth must hide her defiant philosophies, at least for the moment.
She hates herself for the words, but still less than being arrested.
"Talk like that's best kept to darkened alleys, miss... Cheliax is no place to speak in such manner, leastwise if y'want to keep your tongue."
Metsipano's movement toward her is unnerving. "Of course, it was my error." Though she smiles, she quickly repositions herself to face Julius.
"Well met, good sir," she whispers to him as she adjusts herself closer, "My name...is Avrora."
Edgar is glad to fall into the backdrop of the commotion, letting the others speak so he can absorb their moods. A surprising number of people here tonight hold no loyalty to the house of Thrune. He listens to them speak of House Victocora and feels sympathy for his brother, but also fear for their own family's safety.
Avora's outburst brings a quickly quelled grin to his face. Could any of them be with the Ravens? Or perhaps they are just discontented citizens. Or perhaps... this could be the start of something bigger?
He pipes up from the sidelines, attempting to conceal the direction and voice from which his next comment comes. "What about the Ravens? Surely they won't stand for this!"
As Sunset bustles about with the trays of drinks and such she snorts,
"Hah! Them fancy silvers in't been seen since.. since.. forever..." She places drinks and such infront of their respective patrons before clearing away empties and bare plates.
Aada took a swig of her drink, "Most likely taken in the night as we slept, whom knows," she says aloud answering Edgar,"Unbridled speculation of things done in the dark."
Phineas feels his heart skip a beat as someone mentions the silver ravens.
Who was that...the Varisian? The man in the hat? Someone here is trying to make contact the same way I am. But are they looking for the Ravens to join them....or uncover them for the new Lord Mayor?
Phineas will thank Sunset for his food and drink, and carefully observe the surrounding patrons to see if any react to the talk of the Silver Ravens.
”Again again! Do it again Zephyrus!”
The round-faced girl of ten with the braided brown hair claps excitedly and motions with her purple-stained hands for another “plum” to appear, as does her younger brother of toddling age and several other children besides. Standing under the sagging wooden eaves of the Sweet Tooth by its front entranceway, the five or so families gather in a loose huddled mass, doing their best to stay out of the cold and the drizzling rain, even as passersby walk with a hushed hurry just outside of Tuce Alley on the winding mud-stained streets of Old Kintargo. “Zephyrus the Storyteller” stands just outside the eaves in the alleyway, his stark white hair dripping wet and trying his best to ignore the cold that permeates through his paneled azure cloak and thick woolen scarf, also currently a shade of sky blue. He has just finished up a fair tale-telling of Plum the Plum-Colored Faerie Dragon and the Succulent Plums to the families coming and going to the Sweet Tooth, using an old sack in his hand as the “dragon” that he has enhanced with his magic throughout the story, adding on marble eyes and a twine tail and even a set of stubby wings for Plum – but the hit of the tale is when Plum eats the “plums” he has conjured with his middling magic, each exploding in a puff of purple powder that causes the younger children to screech and cackle with delight. Typically the children each get a turn grabbing conjured powdery plums which fall apart in their then-dyed hands, though the stains never lasts more than a half-candlespan, to the relief of the parents.
”Certainly, dear lady!” Zephyrus the Storyteller gestures boldly as he calls out the conjuration with a thickly-accented Varisian voice. ”Annnnnnnd…appearazzaenza!” A new purple plum appears on a rickety box before her, which she and her little brother eagerly smash between both their hands in a powdery shower which smells faintly like spring blossoms, a pleasant change from the usual smells of salt and fish in this part of Old Kintargo. He smiles and bows to a smattering of applause even as he brushes back his magically dyed white hair; instinctively the entertainer known truly as Galen reads the crowd to see if he should tell Riddle and Port on the Flying Corsair as his best closing story, but decides against it. Hmm…already two families gone and the parents of the other five are distracted and looking ready to leave…not surprising given the affairs of the day today…best to call it then.
”Until next time, lords and ladies!” Zephyrus grandly bows and rings a small bell several times in emphasis, setting aside the prop-sack and putting out a tin tankard on the wooden entrance porch that rattles with a few copper pinches. A few coins clink in the tankard as the crowd disperses, though the children seem eager to wait for his final trick – the bestowment of his performance token to the one who was the most interested or best behaved. This he bestows to the girl with the brother and the brown braid, doing so with an easy grin and a rather standard-fare “behind the ear” trick as if he found it there. The “coins” of Zephyrus are wooden markers with a crudely-etched symbol of a cloud on the front and a stylized ‘Z’ on the back, though still the mark of a performer after all…even if it pales in comparison to the silver coins such as the brilliant and beautiful Shensen once tossed to him in a crowd. The girl accepts it eagerly and curtsies, which he returns with an elegant practiced bow.
”Awwwww!” exclaims another boy of cropped black hair with his hand out, not agreeing with the choice apparently.
”Well young master, I shall keep an extra eye out for you upon my next weaving of lore and legend!” With an eye up to look at the perturbed mother tugging at the boy to be going, he adds with a knowing look, ”In the meantime I want you to listen to your mum now, and do all of your chores as you should. Will you now? That’s a good young master.” The boy seems less than eager but says goodbye anyway, as do the other final few as folks leave Tuce Alley for destinations nearby.
Galen moves to pick up his tankard and makeshift props as the rain increases, watching as a couple of strangers to Old Kintargo rush by to make their way to the Tooth and Nail farther down the alley. A quick look at his cup shows only a dozen or so well-worn pinches and but a single shield in the mix. All in all, a disappointing day to be a street performer. Yet not unexpected given the weather…and the murkier gloom of last night’s terrible fires and news of a new lord-mayor taking up residence in the city. Earlier in the day Aria Park was particularly devoid of its usual lively hustle-and-bustle after the declaration of Barzillai Thrune across the way – taking up residence in the Opera House no less! – so no crowds at all were to be had there. Veritas Plaza was only slightly less devoid of Kintargans by midday, though market stalls were still open and he had enough interest for a few acts before the rains intensified and drove all ebbing interest from the markets. Galen thought about changing clothes and heading across the Bleakbridge to find his friends from the Alabaster, most likely at the Long Roads or another of the taverns that were friendly to students of Villegre, but with the logjam of people held up at the bridge forced to pay a two-pinch tax, he decided otherwise. Even in the haze of the rains he was able to see the trailing smoke of the burnt-out Thrashing Badger across the river – not his kind of place certainly – but a discomforting occurrence when compared to a similar trail of smoke in the far walled-off distance of The Greens, and a much closer sign of destruction in the docks of Jarvis End. Only when he was heading back to Old Kintargo did he hear reliable gossip that the third fire was The Silver Star, the music shoppe of his most beloved and famed opera diva of Kintargo – dear lovely Shensen!
That news truly made his head hurt; why only on Crystalhue during the winter solstice revels did his own lady love Dany promise she’d buy him one of Shensen’s crafted wind flutes from the Star if he worked hard to master the instrument. Now he’d never have the chance. Apparently not for operas either, at least for the time being at the Opera House of the Silver City. The relentless bells of the Infernal Prince’s Temple seemed to relish in the sad state of affairs, making his head hurt all the more. So he returned back to Old Kintargo, stopping for an impromptu act at the Sweet Tooth to brighten both his mood and those of a few children that were still outside, before retiring to his small room in the boarding house two streets distant. Now with the act done with, he doesn’t want to go home quite yet, as if defying the infernal bells and the depressing rains that are trying to force him homeward.
The coins clink once again in his cup. Galen plucks out the lone silver shield and deftly deposits it in his kapenia scarf, the copper pinches going to his meager money pouch. Too much time to go and change…well Mistress Sabinus knows me both ways well enough…and maybe Insome would like a story if it’s quiet. Sighing, he dumps out the rain water from the tankard and plods on over to the sign of the Tooth and Nail, a tavern he knows and frequents well. Looking around briefly before using his magic to retouch his cloud-white hair, sky blue scarf and alter his mostly-soaked state to that of merely moderately-wet, Galen shakes off the excess rain from his reversible cloak and steps inside the tavern.
Quickly Galen realizes Insome Filas is not going to be getting a tall tale from Zephyrus the Storyteller; the Tooth and Nail is positively filled with customers both local and foreign. He stomps his boots lightly to shake off more water and steps forward hesitantly into the now-packed common room. Stale smells of old beer, damp clothes and unbathed people all crammed in proximity together add to the tavern's rather less than desirable ambiance. Galen doesn’t see any open tables as his eyes adjust to the darker room, so he puts on his best boyish smile and pushes on in to get to the bar counter. Conversations are loud and animated as they blur together in the common area. Faces, however, are anything but merry. Only a few men does he recognize as locals who nod and acknowledge him as “Zeph” or “Zephyrus” when he squeezes by the crowded tables, though at least one calls him “Galen” as he gives greeting in return. He spies out a young serving lass that he’s seen a time or two before when Setrona Sabinus has good crowds on festival nights, fetching enough in her own way he supposes, though he doesn’t leer as many do. Still, he’s grateful when he pushes up to the bar and sees Insome Filas preoccupied with filling mugs of cheap ale or slightly less cheap common wine. After all, Insome isn’t the sharpest wit in Kintargo, and Galen would be sad to discover one day that he blundered so badly that Setrona dismissed and replaced him entirely.
”Hullo Zeph!” Insome Filas smiles and waves animatedly to Galen in his alter-ego, though stops short as he nearly knocks over a wooden pitcher of wine that was about to go out to one of the larger tables. ”Sorry Zeph…uhh…I’ll getcha soon as I finish these up – no worries!”
”Take your time Insome!” Galen smiles back even as he pulls out his worn deck of gaming cards from his damp leather satchel, idly inspecting the top card to see how worn it truly is. Someday I need to work out how to do that mending trick Gleesas showed me he can do… Adding then a bit louder than he prefers so that Insome hears him, ”I’ll dry off a bit more and decide what smells good that Mistress Sabinus has a’going while you do that.” By the smell it all smells fairly bad…I’ll wager Setrona’s going to be in a fit and fret with this crowd anyway…maybe she won’t notice me squatting here for a bit. The storyteller continues to smile to himself as he moves over a bit and lays out a few cards on the corner edge of the bar counter in feigned interest, mentally shifting his focus to pick up the conversations being had all about the tavern…
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Aada looks to Isabel while she listened around the tavern, "Amazing. Soo much defiance there appears to be for Thrune, and open as well," she says, still holding her hand up to signal the waitress.Suddenly, Aada's right hand had a ping of pain as she spoke. She massaged her hand under the table for a moment before speaking again.
"What are your thoughts miss Isabel, and do you see the waitress anywhere?"
"So often the way with men in their cups, tongues become loose and people speak without thought of the consequences. Such unbridled speculation serves no-one. Loyalty and discretion can be such underrated talents." Isabel cranes her neck around in response to Aada's question.
"I will send her over momentarily madame. Are you quite alright, not a stomach pain I hope? I didn't think the food looked entirely..." Isabel deems it better not to finish that sentence and heads deeper into the bar to try and intercept the barmaid.
"Excuse me miss, is there somewhere I could go to clean myself up? The rain you understand..."
People are already talking about a revolution...and the Silver Ravens.
Eusebios looked at the barmaid, who was carefully avoiding him, with an amused smile.
Then he watches the crowd, listening to the loyalists and revolutionnaries.
The fires, accidental or not, are a tragedy. Too bad the rain couldn't put theses down.
Disappointed that his good-natured prank has yet to see itself to fruition, Darian takes a sip of his own glass of cider.
I suppose if one high-born is present, it would be less out of sorts to be seen here as well.
Darian flips back the hood of of his cloak and picks up his tankard, making his way over to the gathering. He raises his drink and says, "Indeed they are, sir. Especially when they are so close to home. Leonardo, pleasure to see you."
He gestures to the table and asks, "May I?"
"Oh, thank you," says Aleanya, smiling at the half-elven woman leading her towards her table.
"Yes, I'm afraid that I'm out of a job for the time being now that Thrune has occupied the opera house. I have some--experience with nobility and was hoping to find employment with a house, as a tutor or a handmaiden perhaps," says Aleanya as she sits down next to the half-elf. "Are you associated with a house, perhaps?
"The ravens... Little more than a story from a bygone day, them," says Matty, in response to the topic shift. His voice trailed off, as if in thought. "Protectors from another time..."
"Welcome to the Tooth and Nail, friend," the Varisian said, kicking the chair opposite him out with the heel of his boot, so that Darian could take a seat. "You can call me Matty. Come to hide from the rain, and maybe catch an earful of gossip?"
Stands and heads deeper into the bar to try and intercept the barmaid.
"Excuse me miss, is there somewhere I could go to clean myself up? The rain you understand..."
At the other woman's hail Sunset nods and promptly gives directions to the 'Jacks'...
" Erm, 'Jills' I mean, Ma'am." She amends her colloquial comment and directs Miss Rhelian to where she can freshen up.
Varian smiles at Avrora and fixes her intensely. Sorry to have poured water on your pure flame girl. But I’m sure that flame will come in handy, sooner or later, he thinks to himself as the girl takes a sit. “I’m Julius Vindex, scholar of some renown...It's nice to meet you, milady”, he says, trying to be as polite as possible.
As the conversation in the tavern ensues, and the Silver Ravens are mentioned, Varian looks at Avrora and smiles: “You see, milady? Many of us like joking, there’s nothing wrong with it”. In that very moment, as Varian turns his head to look at the man talking about the Silver Ravens, his robe gives way again, revealing for the second time the rose-like birthmark on his neck. Realizing that Avrora may have seen the birthmark, Varian smiles and fixes his robe again. Damn, I’ll never get used to these inelegant clothes…
Aada massages her temple as a growing headache arose. She wanted the old "Down with Thrune" angle as much some of the others, but to say it in the most unveiled manner was just, strange to her. She hid her distaste of the Church of Asmodeus for years now, and finally, people were speaking their minds.
"Another drink," she raised her hand.
Aada raises her hand only to find another patron has monopolized the waitress' time.
Darian hears the young, disheveled woman's desire to work for a nobleman, as well as the rebellious talk of others at the table. Hoping to not draw attention to himself as such rambunctious discussions were being had, he lightly places a hand on the shoulder of Aleanya before stating with a grin, "I might know someone from the Greens in need of an experienced individual. Do you happen to have a resume on hand?"
Noting her distressed look, Darian makes an attempt to lighten her mood. He bows his head towards her, offering her his hand, a white rose manifesting within it as he extends it towards her. "Darian Aulamaxa, at your service," he says before the rose dissipates into a flutter of floating lights that vanish one by one as they float towards the ceiling.
As he stands behind most of those gathered at the table, Darian's eyes catch sight of...something...on the back of someone's neck.
Well...that looked odd. What was it he said his name was...Julius? He looks almost as uncomfortable here as I do.