Evander nods in agreement with Gregor. "Let's start with the Victocora estate. I can work up disguises for everyone, if that will help. We can start today, or delay until tomorrow. Either way, I think we should consider avoiding pushing the curfew for now. I'm sure the time will come we need to, but until then, perhaps we should avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves."
Evander listens to Didiana's rundown of...well, pure pessimism. It made their entire cause seem hopeless, and such defeatist rhetoric was not particularly helpful. Still, he had to remember that she was a Hellknight armiger, used to holding to a certain viewpoint.
"Those are good points, but we can take steps to mitigate. First of all, we need to make it clear we are rebelling against Barzillai personally, not the entire House of Thrune or the rule of Cheliax. Second, gaining the support of the nobility as well as other factions outside of the city and within the Archduchy will help, as it will show that we are capable of governing the province. Third, the support of the Order of the Torrent," here Evander looks straight at Didiana, "will help as well, hopefully enough to keep the other Hellknight Orders from getting involved." Sighing Evander sits down and says, "The truth is, I hope that we can find Lord-Mayor Bainilus alive and simply re-instate her as Lord-Mayor. That would likely go a long way to keeping the main Chelaxian government mollified, as we haven't set up our own government in place of the one previously, but merely removed Barzillai's mad proclamations and restored the rightful Lord-Mayor to her place. In short, there is a great deal we will need to do in order to safely overthrow Barzillai. Once we do, it all comes down to diplomacy and trying to mitigate retribution for Kintargo. The nation didn't have a problem with how we operated for the past seventy-five years, and I doubt they will again once Barzillai's gone."
Didiana considered Evander's words.
"A war of personality then..."
The poet's suggestion meant exposing Barzillai for the mad dog he was whilst painting the Silver Ravens, themselves, as a unfortunate but necessary reaction. It actually held some promise.
"That might help. If we can emphasize Barzillai Thrune's actions as those of a lone psychopath, one wholly unfit to rule at that, it might mitigate any retaliation from the crown. Separating him from the rest of the royal house, perhaps even making him an embarrassment to the family... The Thrunes may have to accept the loss simply to save face."
She looked at Lia and Evander. "If that's how we save Kintargo, then you two will have to work overtime," the armiger smiled just a bit grimly.
Within her own quiet mind, however, Didiana still had some doubts. Even if the group found a way to avoid any major repercussions for Kintargo, she very much doubted that the state, nor the church, could let the murder of paracount and high-inquisitor of royal blood lie. The odds of the group coming out of this unscathed were low and, really, perhaps that was the best possible outcome. The redhead was still convinced that the state would demand someone burn for all of this. If that someone wasn't going to be Kintargo itself, then maybe they would have to accept that it would be the Silver Ravens.
Admittedly, Lia wasn't paying much attention during the briefing, and subsequent conversation. Her own doubts plagued her, and her distant look was obvious to anyone looking her way. Hundreds of questions bounced about in her head, but the most pertinent one was...
...why haven't Mom and Dad stepped in to stop me yet?
"Oh?" She blinks when she realizes Didiana is addressing her and Evander. "Um... sure."
Laria and Rexus both listened silently as the party discussed what came after Barzillai was gone.
Once the group stops speaking for a moment, Rexus says, “Queen Abrogail’s wrath will indeed be fierce if she’s allowed to use it to its full extent. She may not care much for Barzillai, but he’s still a Thrune and she would be obligated to avenge him.
“There are steps we can take to mitigate her wrath, though, as Evander suggested. Finding Lord-Mayor Bainilus alive would indeed be one of the greatest boons to our endeavor. Another would be sealing off Barzillai’s paths for reinforcements. There aren’t many land-based routes into Ravounel from the Chelish heartland. Perhaps, if our rebellion grows large enough, we can cut off enough of Cheliax’s forces to make their response ineffectual.”
Rexus pauses for a moment and an expression passes over his face that indicates he isn’t satisfied with his own proposed solution. “Ah, but we’ll have to address that matter another day. This day, you have ruins to search.”
Didiana determines that the whip is a +1 whip.
From the coffeehouse, the group travels to the ruins of the Victocora Estate. It doesn’t appear that much is left of the noble family’s house. When the party arrives, no dottari are nearby.
After an hour of searching the ruins of the Victocora Estate, Gregor, Lia, and Matiscio are confident that there's nothing to find in the ruins. Surprisingly, Evander's disguise skills prove unnecessary at the Estate as no one bothers the group during their search. Perhaps there was more than a little truth to Rexus's words about visiting the place being taboo.
With nothing to see at the Estate, the group travels to the ruins of the Silver Star.
As the group arrives, the ruins appear on the verge of collapsing in a few places. A specialized knowledge of how structures are supported and how to properly distribute weight might have helped the group during the search, but none of the party possessed such a skill.
The group takes another hour to search through the Silver Star ruins. Halfway though the search, a lone tiefling man wanders up to the ruins and stares at the group for a moment, seeming to size them up. The tiefling runs off a few moments after arriving without saying a word.
Near the end of the hour, Gilda and Lia both spy a small iron coffer half-buried in the ashes of the ruins.
Before the group can examine it, the rubble of the ruins shifts and Didiana begins to plunge toward the remains of the Silver Star's basement through a newly opened hole between two broken pieces of wood. Below, the sorcerer can see jagged rocks and splintered wood waiting to greet her.
*CRACK*
Didiana felt her center of gravity swing wildly as her foot suddenly went through some deceptively crispy floorboards. Matters were not helped when her other foot did the same and the redhead, like most terrestrials without ground to stand on, fell.
Or rather, she would have if her hand hadn't reflexively snapped out and grabbed onto the nearest steady purchase, in this case Matiscio's strong arm. The brawler was fortunately steady indeed, and the sorcerer's feet were planted on (hopefully) solid ground again in seconds, looking just a bit shaken.
"Apologies. I'll... try to avoid that in the future."
x 10 = 10 minutes
(-5 if changing her hair color doesn't count as minor details)
x 10 = 10 minutes
x 10 = 10 minutes
x 10 = 20 minutes
x 10 = 10 minutes
x 10 = 30 minutes
Evander takes an involuntary step towards Didiana as she begins to fall before she grabs Matiscio's arm and pulls herself onto steadier footing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he says, "Retrieving that coffer may be difficult. Perhaps whoever among us is quick with reflexes and can walk on their feat lightly should be the one to retrieve it."
The man was unaware he had extended an arm for Didiana to grab and hold onto. It was now that he has the time and opportunity to peer down into the hole that he realizes what could've happened to Didiana. "Even the city itself seems intent on killing us.."
He steadies his breath by exhaling deeply and takes a step away from the pit, making sure Didiana does the same. "I suppose I could, but I'd rather slip out of my chainshirt before I do so .. is it perhaps an option to sink down into the basement first and find out whether there's anything there to discover?"
Gilda rubbed her eyes and shifted her heavy clothes.
"Are you sure I look like that fisherman's wife in these? And just what our we supposed to be disguised as groupwise here? I mean sure, we all look a bit different, but what's our story? A buncha Desnans travellin' around lookin' for bread and wine?"
Gilda steps on her tiptoes and looks at the drop that Didiana almost suffered.
"Good thing Matty's Muscle was in arm's reach, eh? eh?"
Gilda winks at Didiana knowingly but continues to voice some of her concerns at Rexus and Laria's overly complex planning of their futures.
"So now that the noble and halfling are outta earshot.. just what didya all make about that whole takin' over and runnin' this city stuff? They thinkin' we're a bunch of teenagers needed a buncha crazy ideas just to keep us motivated to topple Boarbadger? Or you think they're like.."
Gilda shrugs exaggeratedly and seems to impersonate a conversation between Laria and Rexus, taking a few steps as if she asked a question of herself and then
".. 'sure why not?' - this handful'll do as our new leaders?"
Gilda sighs.
"Good thing it wasn't Shivers Pete nor Three-fingered Sally headin' down that street and running to Rebel Rex's call for help. They'd both've made a terrible mayor, treasurer, constable or whatever else'd been planned for 'em."
Gilda snaps her fingers.
"Hey! You guys thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
She quickly eyes Didiana, trying to read the armiger's thoughts.
The basement is reachable, but there are very apparent hazards in reaching it. To do so, one would need steady hands or nimble feet.
The coffer appears to be relatively small, no more than a foot in width or length. It’s hard to say how much it weighs without picking it up, but it appears to be made of metal.
"Okay, if you don't mind holding this .." and Matiscio undoes the straps and buckles that ensure the chainshirt is glued to his torso and then slips out of it. With that unwelcome weight gone, Matiscio focuses his mind and takes a few deep breaths before attempting to get across and to the box. Hopefully whatever is inside the box is worth the risk.
Matiscio makes quick work of retrieving the box, which turns out to be an iron coffer. It doesn’t weigh much.
Surprisingly, the coffer isn’t locked, but it does take a bit of prying to get it open after the damage it sustained from the fire. Inside the coffer lie four intact scrolls and seven different intact potions. Three of the potions look similar. The other four potions also look similar to each other.
With Didiana's expanded arcane powers, she's able to identify each of the scrolls. They are a scroll of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of daylight, a scroll of remove blindness/deafness, and a scroll of remove disease.
"Let's determine what these potions are later. We should get to the Thrashing Badger before curfew hits." Evander motions them to stow the coffer and head out.
Gilda spares the potions a quick glance as she stows Sprinkles Too upon Matiscio's return, having deciding he was the better resource to employ in coffer retrieval efforts.
She smiles and nods to Didiana, who appears to have lingered in her hold on the Chel's chainshirt for several moments beyond his successful return.
"Uh, Muscles might want his shirt back."
"Good thing Matty's Muscle was in arm's reach, eh? eh?"
Gilda winks at Didiana knowingly but continues to voice some of her concerns at Rexus and Laria's overly complex planning of their futures.
Didiana looked like she was forcing a polite smile through a mouthful of lemon juice. When the armiger had sworn off all earthly gratification in an attempt to assuage the infernal evil she considered her birthright, this very much included whatever Gilda was insinuating. It was not a topic she was best comfortable with.
"Yes. Yes, it surely was. I would not have inconvenienced him had there been any other... solid object within reach, but regrettably there was not. Thank you for your concern."
To the older woman's second subject, Didiana had nothing to add beyond reiterating that the repercussions to their revolution was of higher importance than whatever potential future lay beyond it.
"Hey! You guys thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
She quickly eyes Didiana, trying to read the armiger's thoughts.
I'm sure I'm not capable, was the first response leaping to her mind, but being the level-headed individual she was Didiana instead just responded, "No, Ms Grapabble. What are you thinking?"
She grabbed Matiscio's chainshirt and was quickly absorbed with decoding the magical scrolls the brawler returned with, wondering aloud whether this was some hidden stash of the supposed Sarenite cult.
"Uh, Muscles might want his shirt back."
The sorcerer's cheeks were every bit as red as her hair used to be, after Evander's masking touch, as she handed the man his protective coat. Her embarrassed state came partly from being caught too engrossed with magic to notice Matiscio's state, partly from Grabapple's insinuation, and partly from the fact that she had actually let the woman get to her. Didiana's eyes held the smoldering irritation of someone quite ready to accept the heat death of the universe.
"Eh, I'm more than just muscles, Gilda." Unsure as to why his physicality was to be the main indicator for his personality, Matiscio frowned and contemplated the nick name while slipping back into the protective layer of ringmail. Knowing all of this was getting to Didiana, he left it at that and made sure there was some room between them.
Gregor and Lia are confident that nothing was missed in the ruins of the Silver Star. It seems as though Thrune’s agent did a fairly thorough job of eradicating the Silver Star and what it once contained. Notably, no humanoid remains lie within the ruins.
The bodies of those who perished in the fires were likely recovered and given proper (although Asmodean) cremations. Thrune likely saw this as necessary to mollify outraged citizens.
With nothing else to see at the ruins of the Silver Star, the party heads to the site of the final fire that occurred on the Night of Ashes. The ruins of the Thrashing Badger are almost entirely gone. The building appears to have burned through the boardwalk and collapsed into the waters of the Yolubilis River below.
No one disturbs the group as they search the ruins for the better part of an hour. Evander and Gregor are particularly thorough in their search of the ruins above water. They don't find anything of note.
Gilda is able to identify three of the potions as potions of lesser restoration. She recognizes the other four as potions of cure light wounds.
Evander knows that Thrune would have removed the bodies from the Silver Star and had them cremated, so he doesn't worry about trying to find any of them. The potions and scrolls would likely be useful, but he rather doubted that there was much else.
The condition of the Thrashing Badger likely made recovery of anything impossible, but he took his time and made sure he was very thorough. With nothing to be found he shook his head.
"It looks like there's nothing here. Anything that fell into the water is probably ruined after being submerged for several days. Plus, swimming about the ruins looking for anything will get us caught more likely than not - unless whoever does it is very sneaky, and even then I don't think it would work very well."
Gregor accepts the disguise for what it is, but isn't exactly happy about it. He takes great care of his appearance, and is rankled by the very notion of disrupting it to look like he belongs to a group of scavengers digging through rubble. Ever the pragmatist, though, he understands the reasoning behind it, so he doesn't speak out. It is almost obvious, however, that he looks like he is uncomfortable in his own skin just maintaining the disrupted appearance of a disguise. He kept the strip of cloth given to him by Didiana, and wears it now as face mask one would wear to keep the smoke or ash of the ruins from his mouth and nose. It works double to help hide his features.
He goes through the rubble with the others in a state of silence, not understanding why Gilda must fill the joyous quiet with what seems like constant prattle. It's almost as if the woman can't let the presence of quiet contemplation remain unmolested. He stands ready to aid Matiscio in his climb to retrieve the coffer, but the man handles the situation quite deftly, and Gregor finds himself giving the man a soldier's nod of respect for a job well done.
Gregor nods with Evander's assessment, as it appears there is little beyond what was retrieved from the coffer to show for their efforts in the ruins today. He does offer, "Well, we have recovered very little of worth to our cause. I do wonder, however, if we should try to track down that 'devil-blood' that spotted us at the Silver Star. It could have just been a looter, but it would be well to know if he was a spy of sorts, or even worse reporting us for being at the site."
Gilda glances down at the murky water.
"Eh, Hairy-Legs used ta' always jump in for a bath once a month. Drew a lotta attention for the first year or two, but then folks started not carin'. We was just glad she was bathin'."
Gilda winks.
"Hey, I wouldn't call this very little either. Had I know that simply pokin' my nose around as a rebel would find all this stuff, I'dda rebelled years ago when Lenny passed away."
Gilda makes several religious motions before looking to the sky first then spitting off into the dark water.
Gilda leans close to the water and waves her hand around while squinting for several moments.
Gilda is able to detect magic all the way to where the underwater ruins of the Thrashing Badger lie. They appear to be about 40 feet below the water. She doesn’t detect any magic. There are plenty of rocks available from the crumbling remains of the Thrashing Badger’s walls. Should someone toss a lighted rock into the water, the only thing noteworthy would be the silvery sheen of the Yolubilis’s waters. Gilda’s expert eyes notice nothing mundane.
"Think we should at least report in to Laria first?" Lia asks. "She might be interested in learning what we've found here."
Gregor looks at the young woman askance, "What we found? I will admit, it is noteworthy that we found no signs of any of the former groups, but the longer we tally from following the Devil-blood, the colder the trail gets. Laria and Rexus are acting as patrons, of a sort, and are helping us in this, but they are not our superiors that we need report to before making our own decisions." It seems odd to hear Gregor sound so dismissive of what one could consider an authority figure, but it is clear from his expression that he does not consider either of the two of them in charge of him. Oddly, this degree of being in charge of himself seems to have emboldened him.
"No, they're equals. And they should be kept apprised of these sorts of developments as well." Lia folds her arms. "And if we're going to have a chance of getting this little rebellion of ours off the ground in earnest, we need to establish good lines of communication between each other."
Gregor nods in earnest, "On that, we agree, communication is important. However, my point is that this information is just as effective delivered now or in three to four hours, whereas the whereabouts and actions of the befouled tiefling are much more time sensitive." He does not seem to be getting riled up, as much as presenting the two options in comparison.
"I don't know that the Tiefling is worth pursuing. What he saw was a group of looters, and he wouldn't be able to identify any of us. I can change up our disguises the next time we need them, and I doubt any of us know him. The advantage of disguises is that if he reports us, he'll give descriptions of people who, technically, don't exist, so he won't be able to identify any of us. Besides, we saw him over an hour ago, and unless you remember his exact features, I doubt we'll find him - especially if he's off in Redroof or the Devil's Nursery. Instead, perhaps we should return to the flower shop, and then hatch a plan to scout the ocean front."
The flower what? What are you oooh, right.
Although blessedly relieved that the conversation had moved away from Gilda ribbing on her, Didiana found the current discussion somewhat superfluous.
"Let's think it over; assuming that the hellspawn was some sort of informant, what has he gained? He's seen six people who don't exist poking about a ruin? That information is worthless. He's either an inept spy who has run off to sell information that's not a threat to us or..." and she took a dramatic pause here, "he's a good spy and is still watching us."
The armiger looked around the docks quickly, scanning for a tielfing she didn't particularly believe was here.
"The third option, of course, it that it was just a random filthy hornhead. Whichever the case, the only way he's a threat is if he's still following us, the solution to which is the same as the one to the Lady and the senior recruit's debate: we split up. One group goes to the Sal... excuse me, the 'ocean front' whilst keeping their eyes open for stray tieflings, while the other goes to the 'flower shop' doing the same. We'd be splitting up soon enough regardless; a scouting party of six wouldn't be much use."
"I would join you at the waterfront, but I think it best I head back. We have some...
She stalled for a second, looking for some euphemism for the time consuming task ahead but gave up as she recognized that she wasn't as clever as Evander.
"... some bone-meal to make."
The sooner the group cleared out the Wasp Nest, the better. Being that she was the only one able to use the newly procured scrolls from Crissali, she saw it as her duty to finish the final, distasteful, part of the clean-up. Ugh, smashing apart two entire skeletons; she was going to feel that in her mace arm in the morning. Maybe she could use some of Laria's heavier barrels to grind the bone splinters a bit...
Everyone knows full well what Evander is referring to and he does so with a degree of subtly that would make the true meaning of his words practically impossible to discern for people outside of the group.
Didiana doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary when she looks around.
Gregor doesn't like leaving the loose end to the unknown, but there were fair points made. "I don't normally agree with splitting forces, but two to three small groups would do well to prevent being followed. I also recommend circuitous routes. If we are to scout the 'Ocean?' first, which would be wise, it should be the three, at most, who are the best at staying hidden. Disguise or not, someone snooping where they shouldn't would give any Dottari a reason to arrest them. In custody, it will be a lot harder to hide behind a false appearance. If 'The Reverend'" He looks around in case anyone is watching, avoids using real names, "is particularly more adept, then it would make more sense that the cloak that aids the ability go to someone less so, to provide equal skill."
Gilda waves her hand at the idea of reporting to Laria and Rexus already, clearly unsure about having a "boss" after not having one in... ever.
"Awww, they can both wait until we've got something tasty for 'em."
Gilda eyes the area about them, having a bit of a paranoid side.
"And maybe we shouldn't be plannin' all this out in the open? Let's go get somethin' to eat..."
Like Didiana, Gilda doesn’t notice anyone paying attention to the group. There are a few people walking up and down the street, but they all seem to be minding their own business.
The nearest tavern is Clenchjaw’s, so the group makes its way down the street and into the establishment.
It is nearly 5 o’clock when the group arrives and a large number of patrons are already inside. There are enough seats open at the bar and there’s also a single table open near the back of the main dining area.
Matiscio understands that caution is not just adviced, but a necessity, yet feels that spiraling into downright paranoia might not be the best thing to do if everyone wants to keep their sanity in the hard days to come.
"Nowadays gawkers are a dime a dozen in Kintargo. I .. think it best if we do not fall victim to unwarranted suspicion, because let's be honest, we are still relative nobodies in the grand scheme of things. He gawked and moved on. If we do spot him again however.."
".. as for Clenchjaw's establishment, I've heard it has turned into something of a magnet for trouble ever since the Thrashing Badger burned down. Clenchjaw himself doesn't like his visitors to talk of politics,
but nowadays if you want to meet some rabble-rousers, Clenchjaw's might be just the place for you. Let's keep a low-profile for now?"
It's +9 without the cloak, +14 with. The idea behind raising the highest person's ability instead of trying to raise up the mid-level people to be equal to the highest level is probably from old dungeon-crawling habits - you want your scout to have the best Stealth so they can scout and warn the party about what's ahead of you. Thus, you give it to the person with the highest Stealth so they can fill their party role. The cloak of elvenkind also takes up the shoulders slot, and most players prefer having a cloak of resistance there, so they consider the increased saves a fair trade for the lack of a bonus to Stealth, especially if their job isn't to scout ahead. For instance, the plate mail-wearing fighter isn't a good choice of scout, so the cloak wouldn't be as useful for him. The rogue with 18 Dex is, so most parties give them the cloak. This, however, is not a dungeon crawl, so I think we can spread the Stealth around.
Once the group is in Clenchjaw's, Evander motions to the table near the back. "Bit easier to talk around a table than at a bar. And I agree with Matiscio - let's keep a low profile."
Once they are settled around the table, Evander quietly says, "Once we finish up, two or maybe three of us should check out the ocean front. We don't want to all go traipsing down there just yet, but we definitely need to get the lay of the land. I've got some experience skulking around areas, so I could probably do a decent job if we go. Anyone else want to go?"
Gilda orders and hungrily slurps up the interior of a dozen oysters with the voracious appetite of an ogre pit-fighter.
As she begins sharing her thoughts, bits of oyster launch back onto the plate of empty shells before her.
"Good idea, 'Rev."
She winks.
"We'll wait here and see if we can learn anything from some of these folks..."
Gilda holds up a finger indicating she's ready for another plate to the serving wench as the last pair of shells disappear somewhere into her oversized smock amidst a rustling from within.
Skulking? Matiscio had never considered himself to be a skulker, but come to think of it, he realizes that he is indeed quite talented at moving like a cat. "I suppose I fit that bill, but my eyes aren't worth much at night so perhaps that counts me out."
Didiana just looked a bit sullen sitting at the table. This felt like a waste of valuable daytime. Oh, evading potential spooks was all well and good of course, but she didn't particularly believe that they were being watched in this instance. And she wasn't hungry. And even if she was, the group had a halfling matron willing to feed them. And said matron was at the location Didiana had already said she'd was heading!
The armiger's grey eyes gave the tavern a somewhat lazy once-over. The place seemed fairly normal, if a bit rowdy. It was only when she looked out a window, in an attempt to avoid watching Gilda's amazing oyster disappearance act, that she gave a bit of a start. Didiana had caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass and, for just a second, she hadn't been able to recognize herself. Whatever Evander's experience at the theatre's costume department, it had clearly left the man with a gift for camouflage, but it wasn't the subtle touches to her face that had left the sorcerer shocked: it was the hair. Gone were the strands of outrageous bright red, and in their place were dark, very Chelaxian, locks. She looked... perfectly normal. Pretty, even.
Sorcerers were a diverse lot, to be sure, but they were all in part defined by their gift. They were not wizards; magic was not a vocation for them. Magic was part of their very being, as surely as the ten fingers with which they manipulated it. Which was also why being a sorcerer could sometimes feel like being born with an extra limb or two. It was difficult not feeling like a freak at times. At least, that had been the case for Didiana when she first became aware of her power. It hadn't been easy for young 'Di' as she'd been known, barely a teenager, to come to terms with the source of her infernal magic. It'd been harder still for a fourteen year old, at the time a boisterous extrovert, to adopt something resembling stoicism. It'd been plain hard to turn away everything familiar and upend her life because of this thing that she'd never wished for. And at the centre of it all was the hair. The stupid, ridiculous hair.
In her own mind, it had become symbolic of... everything, really. Her conditions. It represented the taint she knew she carried on her soul. It represented the eternity she would spend in Hell if she could not subdue it. It represented the discipline with which she fought that corruption. It represented everything she denied herself as part of that discipline. It represented her status as an outsider from 'normal' human beings.
And now, still looking at her reflection, after just a few minutes with an ex-stage hand, it was just gone. Left behind was this dark haired young woman Didiana didn't know; the Didiana Drost that could have been, she supposed.
She didn't like this. The armiger didn't like this one bit. It couldn't just be... erased like this. It meant too much to her, much as she hated it. It defined the life she knew and she didn't like thinking about what she was, could be, without her rules, her stipulations, her principles. She wasn't in the habit of baseless speculation or wondering what her life could have been. She certainly wasn't one to feel sorry for herself. Her life was not pitiable, she told herself. No, it just was, and it wasn't hellknight practice to indulge in selfish flights of fancy. No, "the venoms of the mind poison the body". Discipline would not only save her eternal soul, but give her wretched life some meaning in serving her fellow man. Yes, that was it; ignore the woman in the window and whatever potential life she represented. She didn't matter. Didiana Drost didn't matter.
She felt herself clutching at the recently bought helmet in her backpack, and thought back to her similar, Order provided helm; the one she hadn't worn for a few days now as she shirked her Torrent duties to play at being a rebel. The one that so conveniently covered her red hair. If she was honest with herself, simply being on patrol, head and face hidden behind metal, was one of her greatest pleasures in life. She knew peace then. What did that say about her? It was the only time she could well and truly lose herself, and all accompanying worries. When in her hellknight uniform, she felt like a cog in some grand machinery; a part of something greater. She felt like an agent of order. When her convictions were at their best, she even felt like an extension of the very metaphysical concept of Law itself; a principal unifying force of the universe. Nay, the multiverse. She didn't feel like Didiana Drost.
Anyone else want to go?"
"Hmm?"
Didiana looked away from the window. She had only barely followed the conversation.
"N-no, not me. As I said, my attention is needed back at base. In fact, I think I will go there. No sense in wasting time."
The sorcerer rose from the table.
"I look forward to hearing your report. Take care."
Gregor's need to busy himself with work saw him once more uncomfortable just sitting to have a discussion. He had no need for some high-priced tavern fare, and especially not for a drink. He considered himself on the job, and needed to keep his every sense about him. As talk turned to examining the 'Ocean front' he was eager to add his willingness to offer tactical surveillance, as well as be once more able to work. "I have keen senses honed from years pulling watch, as well as a developed understanding of the people of Kintargo. If someone will take a little of my equipment, say my waterskin and the morningstar, I can perform admirably as a scout."
The group takes a seat near the back of the dining area. Between slurps, Gilda overhears a pair of patrons talking back and forth at a nearby table.
One says, “Seems like I see ol' Clenchjaw nod off every other night nowadays. It’s no wonder brawls breakout so much now!”
The other says, “It ain’t just Clenchjaw. I swear I saw a pair of me old rivals last night. And I saw a weird butterfly in the rafters a few nights ago. It tain’t natural!”
At another nearby table, the party overhears someone say, “Looks like Thrune’s bringing back public excruciations to Kintargo. I can’t imagine that’ll increase his popularity around these parts, even if the criminals he punishes deserve it. This ‘doghousing’ thing sounds particularly frightening!”
The serving wench crinkles her nose as Gilda requests another plate of oysters, but leaves to retrieve another one.
The group’s conversation continues for a couple minutes and Didiana is just about to make her exit out the back door when the serving wench returns with a tray of oysters on her shoulder.
A moment before the server goes to place the plate before Gilda, something shimmers around the bottom of the plate and it slips from the server’s hand, falling off her shoulder. The plate and the oysters it contained now reside in Gilda’s hair and lap, coating her in oyster meat and shells.
The serving wench gapes at the sight and is momentarily frozen in place, unsure what to do.
Suffice to say, Lia is too distracted by the dropped plate of oysters to notice anything else.
"...oh, dear."
Evander isn't particularly concerned about Gilda being covered in oysters - after all, it's not the worst substance he's seen her covered in. However, the fact that the waitress dropped the tray after something shimmery appeared on the bottom causes him to think she may have had help with it. Looking about the room, Evander glances up at the rafters and immediately notices the faerie dragon. A type of fey with a habit of pulling pranks, the were usually encountered in forest glades - not cities filled with people. What could have brought one of them here?
Looking at the creature, Evander raises an eyebrow and waits to see how it reacts.
His guards' instincts kick in, and Gregor recognizes the spell cast as soon as it happens, instantly looking for signs of the perpetrator. He is surprised to see that there is some creature up in the rafters. So, they decided to visit an establishment that has some kind of magical vermin problem. He wrestles with the decision of going after the thing, but decides it would just make a bigger scene and bring more attention to themselves. It is something that the proprietor needs to take care of, or hire someone to do just that.
All the same, he looks at the thing and holds it long enough to let it know that he sees it. With a scowl, he shakes his head slowly 'no', letting it know that it should not try any more tricks.
As Gilda's dress-smock receives a fresh coating of oyster and oyster juice (not its first such coating since it was purchased), Sprinkles Too immediately darts out and helping himself (herself?) to the assorted array of edible seafood.
"Hey! Just what's the idea??"
Gilda glares up at the waitress and begins to make a big show of the accident.
"My grandmother made this dress from wool she spun with her own two hands! It's a priceless family heirloom!"
Her words ring hollow as she reaches down and picks up one of the oysters and slurps its contents as she continues her "tirade".
"Ain't no way I'm paying for this meal now! Where's the owner? Wake Clenchjaw up if he's dozing! I demand reparations!"
As Gilda programmatically completes her latest "get this meal for free" bit of theater, she glances about wondering how she was so fortunate this time. She didn't even need to use her own magic to make the tray slip today.
Glancing about, she sees nothing suspicious and begins flinging bits of oyster debris at the table while salvaging what she can of any of the larger chunks.
The faerie dragon flaps its wings and hops into the air in surprise as Evander and Gregor notice it. The creature almost seems to grin when Gregor shakes his head. A moment later, the dragon vanishes.
The server quickly recovers and crinkles her nose at Gilda before frowning, putting her hands on her hips, and slowly shaking her head. After a few moments, the server says, “I’ll have to get Clenchjaw to come over and see if he can do anything to provide reparations for your ‘priceless’ heirloom.”
Still shaking her head, the server walks off, leaving the group alone. Except, quite a few eyes at other tables have turned to look at the sight of Gilda and her companions. A couple seem particularly appalled upon seeing Sprinkles Too. Even in a rough-and-tumble place like Clenchjaw’s, having a rat companion was looked down on.
Suddenly, a plate of oysters appeared before Gilda on the table. Steam rose from the plate, but there wasn’t any obvious heat.
Gilda, maintaining a pose with her arms crossed, continues to play the part of wronged customer as the waitress storms off.
She winks at Evander and tucks a handful of oysters into her dress, guiding her furry companion out of sight for now.
*POP*
Arching an eyebrow, she looks around as the fresh plate appears in front of her.
"Heeeeey! Just what's the deal here, huh?"
She glances about for the waitress, somehow identifying the further shenanigans as her doing.
Matiscio has no clue what's going. The mood at the table seems to have turned foul and it remains altogether unclear to him whether or not Gilda is muttering to herself or the universe as a whole. He eyes Didianna and Lia with a puzzled look, feeling a sudden urge to wrap both his hands around a tankard of ale.
Gregor eyes the area warily, before noticing the new plate of food. "I think we will get no more planning done here. We should settle up," He widens a pointed eye at Gilda, "and finish up our discussion outside. I am both eager and willing to go with 'The Reverend' to the 'ocean front'. Who wants to go with us?" He points to Lia, indicating who his choice would be, considering Matiscio already said he didn't intend on going.
Lia shrugs. "I've no real objections to a little trip to the beach."
She winks.
Evander notes the faerie dragon's disappearance, and looks about even as he suspects he won't find it. When the plate of oysters appears, he looks at it, then seems somewhat confused as to how that happened. He nods affirmatively at Gregor's suggestion to leave. "Indeed, the sooner, the better. If you need it, Lia, you can wear my cloak. Let's settle up. We'll meet up at the flower shop later." And hope it doesn't follow us.
The server returns with a man bearing a closely trimmed head and face. It is quickly apparent that this man is Clenchjaw by the man’s downward tilting head. He hadn’t been awake for long.
“Sorry for the mess, ma’am,” Clenchjaw says, then looks down in surprise to see a fresh plate of oysters placed in front of Gilda. “We’ve been having lots of little mishaps lately, so I can’t say I’m surprised. The meal’s on the house, including that new plate.”
The man nods at Gilda and the rest of the group, before rubbing a hand over his eyes and wandering away. The server scratches her head at the new plate of oysters, then at Gilda. Shaking her head, the woman follows Clenchjaw away from the table.
At Gregor and Evander’s suggestions, the group exits the tavern a few moments later, likely using the back exit Didiana was going to use. A block away from the tavern, the party prepares to split into two when a high-pitched voice calls from a nearby alley.
Hey! Hey, over here! I want to talk to you!”
Near the entrance of the alley, a barrel rests. On top of that barrel stands a four-legged creature that Evander and Gregor spotted before and which Evander recognizes as a faerie dragon. The blue-bodied, white-bellied, and red-winged creature dances around on the barrel and flicks its tail back and forth, doing its best to get the group’s attention. Despite its high-pitched voice, it has a distinctively masculine sound indicating the creature is a he.
“What are you waiting for! Come over here!” The dragon continues to shout.