"I am reluctant to say it, but I have nowhere to go while the city is in this state. Perhaps it would be best to head back into the warehouse and wait out the night there. Surely it would be safer than being out on the streets."
The chemicals as well as the late hour had started to produce a sharp headache in Evelyn. She rubs her temple in an effort to relieve the tension building in her skull. At the same time she was absorbed with the sight of fire and smoke on the horizon. Never had she seen such a horrifying yet strangely alluring landscape. She also ignores the addict that approaches the group. Juliet appeared to be handling that situation, which was just fine with Evelyn.
"There is a better alternative to a warehouse," Vaenathis speaks up, his eyes having moved from Juliet's brother to the fires burning in Old Korvosa. His gaze lingers for a moment before turning back to these new companions of his.
"My mother keeps a tavern in North Point and it is bound to have empty rooms, that much I am certain of. And although Harbourview Boulevard is hardly safe at the moment, there are more than a few alleyways running parallel to it. They should be..." He pauses and raises a silvery white eyebrow, his lips forming a half-smile of sorts. "Well, relatively safer, I suppose."
Lorick nods. The absolute chaos, and particularly the sight of the dead Griffon Rider untended by his or her fellows, has unnerved him terribly. Fine. We get there together. Wait this out.
Anticipating a rough road to safety Lorick swigs one of the healing potions they'd found from the alchemist shop.
Juliet grabs her brother under the arms and lifts. Not naturally strong, the singer has to twist herself under Ty for the leverage to get the elf on his feet. "Cmon, Ty, work with me here. Thanks for the pad, Vaen."
What a day.
Gehenna nods in the affirmative to Vaen's suggestion and steels herself for the trip through the chaotic streets.
Ty still looks wretched, but is able - with assistance - to stand up. he retrieves his daggers, wiping the blood off on his leggings before stowing them away.
Vaenathis is right: Harbourview Boulevard is a mass of running battles, flaming barricades and chaos - impassable. But by negotiating the alleyways alongside it, the group of you is able to make your way out of Midland and toward North Point. This district too is awash with violence: looters smash shopfronts yelling "Death to the whore-queen!" while being chased by Hellknights from the Order of the Nail and the Korvosan Guard (all of whom are badly outnumbered). Again, keeping to the back streets, Vaenathis leads you around these troubles - although the final alleyway you need to go down is blocked by a mob of six men wielding shovels, chair-legs, and lengths of iron pipe. They are surrounding a beardless young nobleman and his robed, hooded companion. One of the laborers, a fat bald man with greasy muttonchops framing his rotund face, jeers and addresses the young man in a booming voice: “Bet’cha never worked an honest day’s wage in your life, eh, Queen’s Man? M’brother had his arm crushed by a barrel on the docks when he was younger than you. Never raised a mug of ale with that wrist again. Wanna know what it feels like?"
Another, smaller and weasel-faced, pushes him "Yeah, an' oo's yer friend?" The nobleman staggers back, bumping into his companion, whose hood falls away revealing a startlingly attractive half-elf woman, with sensuous long black hair and sultry eyes - her good looks are blatantly obvious even with a split lip and one bloodied ear where an earring has been torn off. Weasel-face grins. "Very nice, 'ow the other 'alf lives, eh lads?"
An appreciative murmur runs through the mob. They haven't yet noticed you.
The usually friendly and easy-going expression is almost instantly gone from Vaen's face at the sight of the half-elven woman's face and especially the marks of violence on it. Violet eyes narrowed and curved sword in hand, he steps forward, his voice even and seemingly calm enough, but with a distinct coldness coloring his words.
"Leave them be, 'lads'," he addresses the men, "or we may need to have words. And I assure you, that... chat of ours? It will not be to your liking."
Turning momentarily to the woman, he asks, his tone turning from threatening to one marked with concern, "Key? Are you alright?"
In the interests of speed Lorick has been helping drag the junkie along with Juliet though he obviously finds it distateful. As they come across the mob scene he lets Ty go and stands up to his full height and moves behind Vaenathis.
I get the best crits!
Should I even try an Intimidate check? -1 CHA and no skill ranks makes Lorick a very poor social character
Juliet was planning on walking right by the group. It had been a long enough day and the singer already had too much blood on her hands. But then the cloak slides from the woman's face, and whoa - she's a looker, for sure, and then Vaen steps up, and he apparently knows the Looks, so...
Nodding to Lorick and sliding her brother to the ground, Juliet steps forward, pulling her makeshift mask down around her eyes. "Just so you know, this guy with the wicked large sword here? He had a hand in the murder of seven heavily armed drug dealers this evening. As did I, the Jaw here, Hair, the Kid, and the Knight. And yes, you lot are that observant - the Knight has no head. Doesn't seem to have stopped him though, huh?"
"You look like nice enough folk - honest folk, hardworking folk. But you're no killers. We're just trying to get home, but the Sword here isn't leaving without your mice. It has been a s+!# day, and I'm in no mood to argue with my friend. Beat feet, flunkies, and live. Or..."
Juliet's hand brushes aside her cloak and goes to the hilt of Spite, the meaning of the unsaid part of her speech obvious.
Lorick runs a thumb across his still bleeding lips, and, with hands stained with drying blood, cracks his knuckles.
Evelyn seeths as the others speak. She particularly hated men like these ruffians. Weak as kittens but they get a certain jig in their step when they're running in packs. Her rough life often had her running into dirtbags like these, so seeing them picking on someone else really riled her up. She almost wishes they'll try and do something.
Readying an action to summon a skeleton should things go south.
Someone remind me to de-summon Sir deGrey at some point. I really shouldn't have him running around, what with his condition and all.
Tybalt takes the opportunity of being lowered to the ground to empty his guts some more, before curling up into a ball and shivering. He mumbles incoherently to himself.
Your presence and actions are enough to frighten off the group; the mutton-chopped leader scowls, but clearly isn't about to pit his chair leg against Vaenathis' blade. Weasel-face spits, and turns tail, but not before giving the nobleman another push, sending him sprawling into the mud of the street. The little gang marches off without another word.
Getting to his feet, the young dandy thanks you profusely "Much obliged, to all of you; here -" he tosses Vaenathis a 5-platinum piece. "I can see you know this lady, so I'll, er, I'll leave her in your care - I can get home safely from here; thanks again." Drawing the tattered remains of his cloak (and his dignity) about him, he too takes his leave, carefully going the opposite way from the gang of ruffians you just dispersed.
The beautiful half-elf woman sighs gently, and tucks a stray lock of her lustrous black hair behind one ear. "So hard to find a good man..." her tone is dry, lightly amused, despite her predicament. "Hello, Vaen. Are you my knight in shining armour for this evening? I should warn you, I'm not much good at being a damsel." Her eyes - which are the colour of a rainbow, and the most obvious indication of her elven heritage - twinkle in amusement, before she looks at the rest of you, holding your gaze for a moment in appreciation of your help. "Thank you. I am Kieyanna - Vaen calls me Key, but he hasn't told me what lock he thinks I open."
Kieyanna puts a hand to her lip, and then to her bloodied ear, and frowns slightly, in the manner of one whose favourite restaurant had lost her reservation. "You have the advantage of me, both in seeing me like this, and in not knowing your names. The second is easily remedied, however. Are you friends of Vaen? And have you really been murdering drug dealers? That seems a little... out of character for you, Vaenathis."
"But you can tell me as we travel - if I might ask for your company back to my lodging house? Assuming it is still standing, of course."
Tossing the noble's platinum into the pouch where they keep the rest of the coin found so far, Vaenathis sheathes his sword as his easy-going demeanor returns once again. "And my leathers do not have much of a shine, so...," the rogue retorts with a shrug of mock nonchalance.
"Quite possibly more than my tools," he mutters softly once Kieyanna refers to the nickname he has given her, the tone teasing and the smile accompanying the words a mischievous one.
"Well, murdering is probably not all that accurate, but it is effective when trying to scare off people who are up to no good," Vaen replies casually, conversationally. "And I am sure a slight detour is hardly too much trouble, right? Friends?"
Discomforted by the well spoken member of the gentry, well non slumming gentry, Lorick hauls Ty up and says Best if we get to a safe place quickly and hunker down till this passes. Check on homes later
Oh, Vaen's sweet on her! And he's apparently 'out of character' using that sword, so Lamm may have him in a spot much like he's got me. That could be good to know. Perhaps the others too. It would make sense that everyone has been wronged by that man, given the Voice's interest in us all. Keep them all close - they may be your ticket out, girl.
Juliet gives the woman - Kieyyana - a curtsy. "M'Lady, it was simply a bluff - I didn't want to give those men the thought they had any chance of winning a fight. And with respect, I do have to agree with Lorick here - you'd be much safer with Vaen than at your home until this blows over."
Juliet pauses, her mind wandering for a bit. What is exactly going on, that has to blow over? Not exactly a riot. Seems much too big. A revolt? This could be bad. Really, really bad.
Snapping back to reality, Juliet clears her throat. "Of course, if you have to go home, I'll help you and Vaen get there. But I'd strongly suggest you spend your time with us until things calm down. M'Lady."
Grabbing Ty's other arm, Juliet wriggles under him and gets ready to move in whatever direction the group is headed.
The half-elf woman raises a shapely eyebrow at Juliet's obvious lie, but says nothing other than "perhaps you are right - I have no further clients tonight, and there is safety in numbers." She sighs, slightly theatrically. "I suppose I should look at my best for your mother, Vaen." Drawing a slim potion bottle from a pocket inside her robe, Kieyanna drinks its contents. Her split lip and damaged ear both heal immediately. Her rainbow-coloured eyes slide across to Juliet and Lorick, both of whom are still carrying obvious wounds. "I'm afraid I only carry one of these with me."
She brushes ineffectually at the dirt on her cloak, before giving up with a wry smile. "Well, if nothing else, it will confirm your mother's ideas about me..." she murmurs.
Following Vaenathis, you walk for another 10 minutes or so into North Point. Here, things are somewhat quieter, although the sound of unrest nearby can clearly be heard. The tavern you arrive at has a slightly dilapidated look: the roof is in good shape, but the paint is peeling from the front and the sign is barely legible. The front door does not look as though it sees much use. Once inside, you are welcomed by Vaenathis' mother, who introduces herself as Alina; although in her 50s, she still bears clear evidence of her younger looks. She welcomes you all, although she is clearly more comfortable with her native Varisian than with the Common tongue, and says little, leaving Vaenathis to do most of the talking. Her look as she welcomes Kieyanna is polite, but cool: evidently there is something there. Nevertheless, she shows each of you to a room which is comfortable, if a little sparsely furnished.
Sleep comes with ease after the rigours of the day, despite the noise from the city in flames outside.
Clients? The realization comes slowly to Juliet, and she can't help but smirk a bit. Ooohhhhhhh...
--------------
14 Gozran
Morning, awake. Stiff, sore, but alive, Juliet sits up from her spot on the floor, next to the bed Ty is in. Sighing, the singer stands and stretches. Despite the conditions - the hard, cold stone floor, her cloak as a pillow, and the bad crick in her neck, Juliet's in a good mood. She's still breathing after all, the four brushes with death yesterday a distant memory. Putting on her clothes - her smelly, bloody, ruined clothes - Juliet grabs Spite and waves the blade a bit in a couple of quick imaginary parries. The sword had performed well last night, and the fights were good practice - Juliet feels quicker, stronger. And she's alive, unlike Mustache and the cook. A twinge of guilt finds its way into Juliet's thoughts, which she quickly pushes aside. Its their fault, not mine. Don't open shop without kissing the proper rings. Suckers.
Humming Jeggare's You Can't Always Get What You Want, Juliet checks on her brother and then heads down to the common room for some coffee and breakfast, if the inn does indeed have anything on offer...
But not before looking out the window, to make sure the city didn't burn down in the night.
Gehenna's first act upon reaching the safe haven of Alina's inn had been to quietly, but insistently request a wash tub be prepared so that she could wash away the dried blood and dirt from her body... and hair. Vaen's mother had kindly acquiesced and Gehenna had labored perhaps too long in the sudsy water, persistent in her attempts to wash out the memories of what she had been compelled to do for Gaedren Lamm's sake. Yet again she had though grimly.
Upon waking the following morning, Gehenna sets straight away to communing with her curious hanger on, the gourmand, in order to prepare her spells for the day. She drinks liberally from the wine canteen that Takis had gifted her previously as she does so. Gehenna had intended to partake of the wine before going to bed as well, but exhaustion had caught up with her before she'd had the chance. Now she was making up for lost time. It was perhaps unwise, with the city in a state of disarray, but necessary if she was to face her fellow killers this morning. She takes care not to overindulge. Just enough to pleasantly dull her sensations and emotions, but not enough to truly impair her judgment. Hopefully the others would not notice but if they did... what of it? Lamm was their master, and none of them had much say in the company they kept.
After finishing her ritual with the gorumand, and centering herself with several minutes of meditation, Gehenna heads down to the common area. She had considered sequestering herself in her room until the group was ready to leave, subsisting off of the rations Takis had given her, but quickly discarded the notion. She was curious about what the "morning after" looked like for her companions. Plus, the rations might come in handy later; the military-grade provisions ensuring longevity... if nothing else.
Evelyn had spent most of the night enjoying the relative luxury of her new housing. A bath, a warm bed, fresh linens, ample food, and roof that hardly leaked. Why, what more could anyone really ask for?
She is the first up in the morning. She sits alone at the table partaking in a pleasant breakfast, Sir deGrey having been dismissed the evening prior. Unlike her companions she had suffered narry a scratch on their little outing. In fact, her clothes looked cleaner than they had before.
"Good Morning." she says cheerfully to whomever it is that comes downstairs. "Best eat while you can, we have a busy day ahead. There is still the matter of the jewel that needs to be settled."
Shortly after the three women -Juliet, Gehenna and Evelyn- have sat down for breakfast, Vaenathis joins them, helping himself to something to eat as well as a cup of coffee. The rogue seems not only rested, but also in a good enough mood; the cool demeanor his mother assumes each time she has to interact with Key on those rare occasions the half-elven "lady of the night" finds herself at the tavern never ceases to amuse him. Noting her absence from the table, he is hardly surprised by it. Considering the previous night, he is willing to bet that she is still sleeping and resting. After all, even a healing potion can only do so much.
"And a fine morning to you, Ladies," Vaen greets them with a smile, and one can almost hear the capital "L" in that last word, making it sound both courteous and teasing at the same time. "Such a hurry you are in," he adds then between sips of coffee, the remark directed mostly towards Evelyn, noting also the distinct absence of a certain headless knight, not that he minds that last bit.
Hungry. Hungry hungry. Hhhhuuuuuuuuuunngggry. Juliet shovels a scone into her mouth, taking a long sip of coffee to wash it down, winking at Evelyn as she does so. "I'd like to get some new clothes, either back at my apartment or at shop nearby. If one's open, I suppose." The realization that she may be stuck in these clothes dampens Juliet's mood a bit. Sliding a couple of gold sails onto the table, for the room and breakfast, the singer looks around for Vaen's mother. "How much for laundry service?"
Turning to Vaen, Juliet nods. "Indeed. Our meeting with the Voice isn't until three. I'm going to go up to 3 Lancet Street a little ahead of time, get the shinny. But before then..."
Another glum thought. Sighing, Juliet looks to the table. "Unless we need to check in with Lamm. Did he say we need to check in with him?"
Lorick accepts Vaen's mother's hospitality with a heartfelt Thank you ma'am. It was by far the nicest place he had ever stayed in and the opportunity to take a bath was a luxury that he rarely indulged in. Unwilling to dirty or muddy the well kept guest house in any way Lorick moves carefully, not letting any water drip over the side of the tub as he washes the blood of of himself and, as well as he can, off his clothes, working away at the spots late into the night.
Afterwards he makes his way to the room given to him and spreads his clothes out to dry. Even as he thinks on how much nicer, and even larger it is, than his tiny hole in Old Korsova he feels a pang of surprising sorrow at the though of it burning to ash. Trying to put thoughts of Sia out of his head he moves a blanket off of the bed and spreads it on the floor to sit on,cross legged, and meditate.
The events of the day had been fraught and... instructive. The alchemist from Absalom had been an idiot. He'd thumbed his nose at the local criminal hierarchy, wasted money on the notoriously unreliable Bonekraks, and filled the rest of his guards out with a poorly equipped and supported gang of thugs but still Lorick had almost died in assaulting them. Miyoto had always sniffed at Lorick's training, remarking that terrorizing downtrodden folk mired in poverty was not only disgusting morally but also a poor challenge that would never allow Lorick to grow and evolve his skills. He'd been proven right. Lorick had barely manged to get through the armored fighters and had been completely useless outside of the fights where Juliet and Vaenathis had used words to get them out of trouble while Gehenna and Evelyn had wielded magic. Lorick needed to be better.
Mind now calm, Lorick lies down on the blanket (he wasn't about to get used to sleeping on a fancy mattress) and sleeps, letting his inner mind sort through what he had experienced one of Miyoto's sayings running through his head Your mind is a chattering money, only one of ten things it says is any use. When it is quiet, in meditation, in sleep, this is when you truly understand. Sleep all night and maybe you will be less a fool next day. Maybe.
Waking up, refreshed the next morning Lorick goes through his habitual stretches, and kata exercises. His movements felt more purposeful, precise, and confident than they had been the day before. Maybe there really was something deeper to Miyoto's training than just fancy foot and fist work and maybe Lorick was finally learning how to tap into it.
Feeling heartened, Lorick dresses and heads downstairs.
Seeing everyone else tucking in Lorick sits down as well and takes a simple slice of bread along with a significant portion of whatever protein there may be. Patting his pocket to make sure the jewel is there he says Depends on what the hell is going on in the city. Not sure we can get get to Eel's end OR Lancet safely. Usually I'd say Lamm would know the alchemist was done almost as soon as we'd taken care of him but, everything is a mess. First time I see a griffon up close and it's a wet splat on a statue and I'm covered in its gore. Things ain't sane right now.
"The chaos out in the city...," Gehenna says methodically, speaking the words almost as they come to her. "Is the best possible excuse we could hope for, I should think. If we plan to follow up on the cards, we should do so before seeing Lamm again."
She absentmindedly nibbles away at the corner of a scone, but her appetite is lacking despite the the physical need for nourishment.
"With the unrest, Lamm might detain us or re-purpose us for his own ends. Who knows when we might have a chance to hear out the card's sender if that happens?"
Juliet stops eating, putting her scone onto the table and looking long at the wizard. She's a bright one, for sure.
"Good point! I'm probably as free from Lamm as I've been since I met the man." Reaching across the table, Juliet grabs some country sausage and drops it onto her plate, suddenly ravenous. Ripping the scone in half, the singer folds the sausage between the two parts of the scone, and then stuffs the entire makeshift sandwich into her mouth in three wolfish bites. Mumbling through a full mouth, she smiles and runs the back of her hand across her mouth. "Taking that into consideration, I'm going to enjoy today!"
The noise and violence of last night have abated, although a thin pall of smoke hangs over Korvosa. As if in reaction, things are now unnaturally quiet: where you should have been woken by the clamour of shopfronts opening for business and the low rumble of delivery carts, instead there was... nothing. Nothing but rumour and hearsay is being traded right now.
Making your way downstairs, you find that the elf Tybalt woke earlier than any of you and is being dosed with various herbal teas by a sympathetic Alina. When she sees you, she nods and smiles and returns to the kitchen, where she brings out coffee and a selection of Varisian pastries, freshly-baked; together with the more traditional bacon and blood sausage. When Vaenathis appears, she scolds him gently into helping her out.
Slowly, others arrive: the quality of breakfasts Alina serves (and the prices) are enough to overcome whatever stain of notoriety attaches to her; it's simply that none want to linger - much less stay overnight. Sitting down to a communal breakfast in the Varisian fashion, you hear much - some of which might even be true. It is said for example that Queen Ileosa negotiated long into the night with the Hellknights of the Order of the Nail, pleading for reinforcements to aid a clearly overmatched Korvosan Guard; eventually, she swallowed her pride and consented to their (overwhelming) demands. Exactly what the demands were varies depending on who is telling, but it evidently included a huge quantity of gold and a guarantee of autonomy. In effect, the Hellknights now in Korvosa answer to no one but their own commander. A grim thought indeed.
Still, it appears to have helped restore some semblance of order: faced with a legion of implacable, halberd-wielding knights in black full plate, even the most ardent of rioters is likely to remember that they have a pressing appointment somewhere else.
And so - for now - some sort of peace prevails. But for how long?
At the appointed time - or somewhat before - you make your way to Lancet Street. The city is still; the streets are largely empty and safe to walk, but the air is thick with tension - those few who travel do so in groups, keeping a wide berth from other such groups. Korvosa is quiet - nobody is doing business. Even the Bank of Abadar has closed its gilded gates and a contingent of the Coin's Faithful stand guard outside with halberd and crossbow at the ready - or at least, that's what rumour has said.
The address you have been given looks like many of the houses on this street: run-down, in need of repair - or failing that, demolition. An awning hangs limply outside, and a collection of ribbons and beads is wound through the doorknocker, advertising the place (for those in the know) as that of a Varisian fortune-teller. Most such take residence in the more glamorous parts of Korvosa, for trade with the rich and the curious and those with too much time; for someone to set up here, so far off the beaten track is unusual.
Unusual is not good right now; but then, since 'usual' involves rather more of Gaedran Lamm in your life than you strictly require, what do you have to lose? A number of dark possibilities arise in your mind unbidden at that question, but you do your best to ignore them.
At the appointed time, you approach the front door and knock. It swings open, silently. The cozy chamber within is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs.
There is a note on the table, weighted down with a stone paperweight. It reads: Thank you for coming. I shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket under the table contains food and drink for you.
Indeed, there is a wicker basket covered with a blue cloth. Inside are five terracotta drinking cups and a flagon of wine, together with some spiced ships' biscuits.
Lorick enters first and looks around suspiciously but the smoke from the incense and the disorienting tableaus on the wall keeps him from noticing much. Not seeing anything dangerous he doesn't stop the rest of the group from coming in after him.
Feels like magic. A lot of magic
Morning
Juliet sighs and leans back in her chair, eyes closed, a smile on her face. It had been a long time since the singer had eaten Varisian blood sausage. Too long, in fact, Juliet decided, unconsciously reaching her hand under her shirt and rubbing her tummy. There was little in life that could bring back memories from the depths of one's subconscious like a good meal. For a few moments, Juliet had been a girl again, sitting around a morning cook fire at the Thieves' Camp, the smell of coffee and mule dung and unwashed bodies all covered over by the sizzling of blood sausage in a nearby dented iron skillet. There was a lot of truth to the stereotypes of Moths. They were - are - closed to outsiders, oftentimes thieves and grifters, and there were moments of Juliet's childhood that the singer would rather remain forgotten. But the breakfasts were not those moments.
Juliet opened her eyes and looked to her brother. Rising from her spot, she went and perched on the arm of the chair Ty sat in, and draped her arm around him, a casual hug. "How do you feel today, Ty? I think you're going to have to get clean. Things are too... unsettled to be chasing the dragon. You need your wits about you. How about you stay here a few days?"
As they leave, Juliet pulls Alina aside. "You're a hells of a cook. And my brother is lucky to be here. I'll pay his room and board as long as he stays."
Afternoon
Yep. Moth lives here. All incense and tapestries, the Voice couldn't be more obviously a Moth if she was trying, which she surely is. Good for business to look as ethnic as possible.
Juliet pulls one of the chairs out from the table and smirks at Lorick's analysis. "What gave you that idea, Lorick? Was it the voice ringing in your head when you found her card somehow on your person?"
Winking at the Jaw to make it obvious she's ribbing him, Juliet kicks her feet up on the table and waits for their host to grace them with her presence.
"All the magic in the world and they couldn't even come on time to their own meeting." Evelyn waves incense out of her face while she sits. She didn't appreciate the strong scents; they made her feel...strange. Instead she tries to occupy herself politely viewing the artwork in the room.
She also tries to snatch a biscuit from the basket into her waist pouch. With the bountiful breakfast they had had there wasn't much room left, but no telling when she'd be getting the chance to eat again!
"It is probably not a matter of tardiness," Vaen offers, moving about and taking a better look of their surroundings before finally settling down in a chair. "I believe it has more to do with making an appropriately dramatic entrance."
I got an eye for detail, me Lorick grumbles as he sits down and passes the cups around and pours for whoever wants a glass.
What a wonderful place Gehenna thinks to herself as she follows the rest through the threshold. Jealously and honest appreciation compete in her mind as she takes in the room that she's standing in. Compared to her miserable hovel, this place has all the trappings of a dream realized. Everything seems to be placed perfectly, yet haphazardly, to build up an impression of mystery, uncertainty, but also acceptance.
Gehenna concentrates slightly, whispers a word beneath her breath, and triggers a magical detection spell. She slowly pans over the room searching, purely out of curiosity.
Spell, detect magic
"It's rude to do that, you know, dear." The words are directed at Gehenna, as the tiefling casts her divination; the tone is calm, almost amused - a woman's voice.
She enters through the front door as you did: a human of medium height, late middle age, her iron-grey hair partially covered by a red checkered headscarf, shot through with gold and silver thread and with triangles of green and blue intersecting one another. Her other clothing is more threadbare, the original gaudy colours now faded with much time. Her jewellery is ostentatious, in the Varisian style: silver bangles at her throat and her wrists gleam in the faint light of the room.
She smiles at Gehenna "If you want to know something in another's house, dear, best to ask first." Her gaze slips from the witch's face to look at the rest of you, taking in not only your appearance but as if she would look at the character behind. She gives a wry smile. "Quite a hand the fates have dealt me! Let us see..." Her voice trails off as she sits at the table, opposite you. Drawing a pack of Harrow cards, she deals them with calm authority and quiet expertise, her movements clearly revealing her experience with what she does. Placing the cards face down, she makes no move to turn them over. "Yes. The Inquisitor - well, no need to ask who that might be!" She smiles at Gehenna. "The Twin, the Forge, the Juggler and..." she gives a wry chuckle "-the Courtesan, hiding behind her many masks, yes, my dear Nadezhda? Well and so, that is your choice, my dear." She shakes her head. "I know who you all are. You may call me Zellara."
"I am sure you may think you have many questions. I assure you that you have only one."
She pauses, for dramatic effect.
"How can I be free of Gaedran Lamm? That is, in its purest form, your question, yes?" She does not give you time to answer. "I have the answer to that question; but I am curious what that would be worth to you. Or - to rephrase it in less crude terms - what would you do, if free of Lamm, hmm? Who would you be, instead?"
She looks at you all, keenly, watching who will be first to speak - and what they will say.
After a brief enough moment of silence, Vaenathis sighs softly, addressing first his companions rather than the newly arrived woman. "See? Was I not correct? An appropriately dramatic entrance." His violet eyes then turn to regard the one called Zellara, his lips already forming a seemingly friendly smile, equal parts innocence and charm. Well, more or less.
"I would be me. Not Lamm's puppet, dancing to his tune. With no strings on me, I could once again be my mother's son and, hopefully soon enough, my father's as well." He shrugs. "As to what I would do? Perhaps help to spruce up the old place, so people start coming again, eating and drinking and sleeping either or both of those off when they have had too much. And with Lamm gone and... well, all truths revealed, they would certainly do so."
He pauses for a moment, chuckling softly. "Or were you expecting something a little more grandiose? Maybe, if the fancy strikes me, if there is good enough cause and interesting as well. But until then, how could I know? Plans are all fine and good, but they tend to actually work a little less often than expected. So, I make them a little less often than one might think."
Evelyn follows; her answer as blunt as it is ambiguous "I will attain knighthood and restore the answer of my family name!"
Gehenna smiles back with genuine feeling. Of all the troubling questions she might have been asked, this one was easy.
"I don't know," she says, for once her words not mumbled. "But I'd like to find out."
Lorick maintains a stony expression as he places the bottle carefully back on the table. What I would do ain't important. What the two I care about would be able to is. But you probably know all about that the way you're going about
Juliet takes in the fortune teller, feeling good that her suspicions were confirmed. She's got the whole package - bangles and jangles, clothing and incense. Lady couldn't be more of a Moth.
The entrance was a good one, Juliet would give the woman that, this Zellara. Despite the singer's agitation at being called masked, and Juliet's momentary alarm, and suspicion, when the fortune teller uses her real name - Stop it, dummy. She did speak in your head after all. Magic, girl. - the singer had to admire the Moth's stage presence. Zellara may just be a Moth, but it was clear that the woman was a skilled one.
What would you be? A retort, not particularly witty, comes to mind, but Vaen beats Juliet to the punch, and the singer finds herself surprised by her companion, the honesty and almost, what, vunerability, in his answer, a dutiful son through and through. And then in turn, each of Juliet's companions gives their answers, and they each are surprising in their own way, the desires of caged birds just like Juliet. Well, not Lorick. Legbreaker through and through. But that he desired something else for others, well that was perhaps the most surprising revelation of all.
And just like that, all of Juliet's snark is gone.
But not the swagger. "I'd be the most recognized voice in this town."
Zellara nods at the answers, listening carefully to what you say - and, you suspect, listening even more carefully to what you didn't say. She smiles briefly, and nods. "I am sure you are curious about me. Let me tell you a little. It was my grand-daughter who drew my attention back to Korvosa, when that verbajno gadje, Gaedran Lamm, started preying on the forgotten children of this city. She sought to interfere - and Lamm killed her, but not before she had contacted me." The lines on her face fill with controlled rage; and pain.
"But much is happening right now, in this city; and Lamm is but the merest part of that. Even so, as long are you are his agents you are bound to him; I know how to end that. But pay attention - the city is as on the edge of a coin. Which way the coin lands has not yet been determined. The late King Eodred's death took the aristocracy by surprise, and rumours have spread: that his disease was beyond the power of the priests of Sarenrae and Abadar; that even Asmodeus' disciples were summoned from their pentacle temple in dead of night to try their dark arts. To no avail. Queen Ileosa now ascends the throne, to displeasure of the city. More than that, the Castle Seneschal has disappeared, amid dark rumours."
"Amid such unquiet times, the queen doubtless would be grateful to those adventurers who trawled the depths of Korvosa's underworld to find and return her brooch. But I counsel swiftness: the unrest you have seen thus far is but a mere portent of what is to come."
She looks at you, to see what you make of her words. "I trust you brought the jewel of great price with you?"
Lorick takes the brooch out. Where I'm from. We try as hard as hell to not get noticed by the high and mighty he says plopping the brooch on the table.
Yep, the Moth was good. Some answers, which led to more questions. A real pro.
Juliet knew the queen wasn't popular. Not surprising - nobles that despise their subjects rarely are. But the Seneschal disappearing? Diseases that the gods' own hands - and surely limitless money - can't cure? Well, Juliet found those facts quite surprising.
And then there was the dead grand-child. That would make the kid, what ten? Where was the father? Probably best not to ask.
Sighing, Juliet puts down her biscuit. "I'm sorry for your loss. We all know that man is capable of anything. But that begs the question. You want the queen's brooch? Or something else? You hinted at revenge. Why gather Lamm's caged birds otherwise? What can we do to even the ledger?"
And then, as an aside, to Lorick, "Don't be so quick to hide from the high and mighty. They've got friends, influence and money that can get us free from Lamm."
Zellara nods approvingly at Juliet. "Some things are hidden even from me - but I know by my art that if you return the brooch to the Queen, you will walk the path of freedom from Lamm."
Gehenna's eyes widen with nervous energy. This pendant is... the Queen's? If Gehenna is honest with herself, the prospect of meeting a queen excites her, but her survival instinct demands that she express caution, not excitement.
"A moment," she mumbles just loud enough to be heard. "This belongs to the Queen? How did she lose this pendant? Showing up at the Queen's doorstep with lost goods in hand... I should hate to think of what might happen if our intentions are misunderstood due to... the circumstances of the pendant's loss."
Nevermind how it ended up in a drug den Gehenna thinks, feeling that particular detail hardly needs to be brought up considering the present company.
"Quite. What insurance do we have against this little act of 'good faith'."
Zellara smiles again, unperturbed. "I might have expected the Chelish Inquisition! Rest assured, the brooch is one of the Queen's favourites - as you saw, the clasp on the back is broken: it was sent for repair, but the jeweler in question had gambling debts to the Sczarni, who took the debt in the form of merchandise..." She trails off, and makes a pretence of rearranging her red checkered headscarf.
"The Queen, upset at the loss of the brooch, has put up a reward - no questions asked - for its return. The fact that you are not Sczarni makes the fact that you recovered it rather more plausible than the idea that you were involved in its theft."
She pauses, and a touch - just a trace - of steel enters her voice. "But honestly, dears, are you really in a position to look askance at the gift I offer?"
Gehenna frowns. She is no grand judge of character, nor does she have any deep pool of worldly wisdom to draw insight from. All Gehenna can do is observe the facts.
"It really is a lovely home," she says looking around wistfully for a few moments before looking at Zellara again. "Lamm uses us to serve his avarice. It sounds like you want to use us for revenge. I... I don't think questions are out of line. No one is a saint here..."
Gehenna grips a fold of her dress tightly. Such direct confrontation is not in her nature when not "on the job."
"Not that I am not interested..."
Zellara blinks. Gehenna's remarks appear genuinely to have caught her by surprise. "Oh, my dear, I'm not interested in using you - I'm interested in freeing you! I was just wondering what you would do with your freedom. I told you a little about myself to assure you that we are on the same side. But I don't enslave people to my will." She sounds fierce about it.
"A mutually beneficial arrangement, then?"
Lorick raises his eyebrows So what is your story with the princess. Why help her hold the crown?
Juliet was never one to look past a gift. It was a quality that caused her no end of trouble. Picking up the brooch, the singer turns it over, letting the jewel catch the light, and admires the way its color shifts. Shrugging, Juliet smirks. "We're a skeptical lot, eh? It is a really nice thing to do, to help us with our freedom. A gesture some of us here, at least, may not actually deserve. Regardless, I for one am happy to take you up on your offer."
Sighing, she puts the brooch back onto the table. Of course, it would be hard to give the bauble up. Popular or not, the queen had good taste. "Why not help the queen? It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. We all get something from this. 'Reward. No questions asked.' At a minimum, if everything checks out, we get some money. Maybe we get some influence with a very powerful person. We wring as good a deal as we can from the crown to get out of our cages. Queenie gets her bauble. Zellara gets what she wants - revenge. Which we also want - and get. Lamm gets dead. It is win-win-win-win. If everything checks out."
The subtext is obvious to everyone at the table, excepting perhaps Zellara. And we will check it out. Ask some questions, find out if this reward is real. Shouldn't be too hard to verify, if it is.
Leaning forward, Juliet looks into Zellara's eyes for a long moment, her stare intense and probing. "However, I confess there's one thing you've said I just can't bring myself to believe. No one, and I mean no one expects the Chelish Inquisition."