Roakkard nods in agreement with Zaladrel. "Agreed. It is time to check the alley I think, for signs of this elf. He may even be dead, perchance."
"You all go. I'm going to toss the rest of this floor. I'll run if I run into any trouble here."
Zal hesitates a moment, his gaze passing between the half elf and her brother but then nods and move to exit to the alley where they last saw the running elf...
In the alleyway, the elf is no where to be seen but Roakkard finds his mask: cracked and chipped but still retaining shape. It's brokenness gives it an almost demonic visage.
In your hands the mask is extremely light and of considerable craftsmanship. Inside the mask is a tiny pair of initials inside: M.E.
Zal looks over Roakkard's shoulder, M.E. ... probably not useful that the two of us from out of town are looking at this. Let's check with the others to see if the initials might bring to mind someone of note...
Roakkard slowly nods, looking over the demonic mask with an eye for detail.
But after searching out its mysteries, he hands it over to one of the Korvosan natives.
Juliet's sweep of the building, turns up a few missing pieces. In the room where Spite was reclaimed, the paperwork and coins strewn about were golden crowns! Beaten and weatherworn, but still good. . The paperwork is also encoded in Thieves' Cant.
The craftsmanship of such a mask could belong to only a handful of people. The initials give it away. They are belonging to a craftsman named Maxwell Erns. He's a prolific sculptor who is sometimes employed for his works for theatrical performances. He doesn't seem the type to be involved in organized crime or any skulduggery.
His studio is in the Heights district on the other side of town. The Heights district is the district closest to the Castle and Academae and home to some of the oldest, wealthiest families.
Juliet thinks for a moment, trying to recall any fish markets that are nearby.
Turning to the others, she reaches into her pockets and pulls out the gold crowns. "All the coin that Balston had. Five each, for our trouble."
Taking the mask, she looks at it for a bit, turning it over and over in her small hands, before handing it back to Roakkard. "This is the work of Maxwell Erns. I don't know him personally, but I know much of his work - he has on occasion done set design for the opera I work at. Worked at, probably, by now."
"He's got no reputation as being anything other than a good craftsman, but he may be able to tell us something about who commissioned this mask. With any luck, it was the elf and he used his real name!"
"I know more or less where his studio is. It is in the Heights district. We should pay him a visit tomorrow."
Sighing, the adrenaline wearing off, Juliet is suddenly very tired.
Should we check back in with out mysterious fortuneteller and let her know where things stand? On a separate note does anyone know a good place to rest? I uh...hadn't thought to make arrangements. The elf offers a sort of shrug at the over sight.
Juliet studies the elf for a moment, then decides he's trustworthy. He did, after all, fight alongside you, girl.
"Sure, let's go to Zellara's. If you and Roakkard need to, you're welcome to sleep at my apartment. It isn't lavish, but it'll do the trick."
And if anyone's recognized my face, you'll be there to help against a reprisal...
"I have a... room.. of sorts, in the docks district." Roakkard mentions solemnly.
So we return to Zellara's.
Zellara is not immediately around when you return to her shop. It's only after a few minutes does she come from outside through the front door. She's holding a small covered basket with a baguette sticking out of it.
"Oh hello! This is unexpected... are you all alright, my children? Does Desna smile upon you this evening?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Juliet regards the Shoanti mystic, not sure what he meant by his comments. "What is a room... of sorts? Regardless, if you'd prefer to crash at my place, the offer stands."
-----------
Juliet nods, a small smirk playing across her lips. "Someone does. We went and visited the orphanage. Turns out, it was a front for a Shiver distributor named Balston. The addled priest running the orphange knew little-" Come to think of it, we should probably check on him...
The singer kicks her legs up on Zellara's tables, and then catches herself, and looks to the fortune teller sheepishly. "I, uh, sorry. This place feels very... homey to me. Anyways, there was an elf there. Wore a mask. Mask was made by a guy named Maxwell Erns. Heard of him? Pretty good sculptor."
"Anyways anyways, the elf's name may be the Pauper. Heard of him? He, uh, still graces Korvosa with his presence. Balston wasn't so lucky."
"I mean, Miss D'Artangen, that the architectural structure of the building is somewhat lacking of stability. So it is a room (of sorts), in that it works as one for the time being." Roakkard mentions briefly, but his gaze is directed more inward than outward.
She shakes her head while smirking at Juliet's feet-on-the-table manners.
"That is good news that you found the corruption in the Mission. However I can feel Gaedren still lives his miserable existence somewhere which is dulling my joy. The Pauper has been dealt with but there must be more to do. Have you come seeking aid with the next place? Or do you have a lead?"
-------
"A masked elf?" She asks inquisitively. "Nothing comes to mind. While I don't know this elf in particular, but there are many reasons why one wears a mask: perhaps he hides himself from a pain caused long ago. Or maybe it's the opposite. Perhaps the mask let the man...well elf in this case... dance among the shadows where his true face brings too much spotlight."
She reiterates only slightly more bluntly, "I mean, the elf may be important and protecting his identity. Which is interesting. Reminds me of an old Varisian author who once said, "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.""
"That sculptor is quite famous, Juliett. Maxwell's work can be found all over the city. His work is often beautiful, but cursed with sadness. His works can be found near Endrin Square and several of the statues on the North Bridge bear his mark. His weeping ladies, homages to slain colonists... powerful work. I do believe he resides in High Point? I don't know..."
Well perhaps we should try to start with the artist? Hopefully he is not so important of self or of such a rank he would refuse to see us. I think we merely wished to include you in events as they unfurled, Zaladrel nods to the fortune teller, It does not seem we would require anything though your input is most valuable...
Juliet's brow wrinkles as she studies the Shoanti, not sure if she's being messed with or not. He could have a really dry delivery. On the other hand, most of his people are pretty humorless.
Sighing, she runs her hand through her hair. "Well, it seems like every month there is a story about a tenement somewhere in town crumbling down on its residents. If your building is lacking stability, I'd get out. Korvosan slumlords are the worst in Varisa."
----------------
Juliet sits forward, bleary-eyed, and yawns, that adreniline wearing off. "Zaladrel is on the right path, I think. We'll visit Erns in the morning. As the person who brought us all together, we think you should be kept appraised of what we've learned, and where we're headed. And of course, if you have any advice, we're happy to hear it."
Reaching into her pack, Juliet produces the mask. "This is the mask the elf wore."
"You do me a great courtesy keeping me informed! Your diligence puts some of my mind at ease. It is with each development I can rest my eyes easier... I have been feeling restless as of late."
Zallara reacts to the procurement of the mask. "Oh my stars! What detail! I shouldn't touch.." She refuses to hold it herself. "This appears to be a very finely made masquerade mask. The Korvosan elite do love their masks."
"Mhhm. That is definitely Maxwell's work. Keep it. Perhaps you may show it to Mr. Erns."
------------
After a bit of research, you guys find out where Maxwell's manor is. The heights has a very detailed history that isn't hard to track down. Each of those houses have been around for a long, long time.
It's bright out today. Not a cloud in the sky. Fairly warm for late winter.
------------
Standing atop Citadel Hill, the Heights District has a commanding view of the rest of the city. While not illegal for you guys to be here, you all sort of get the feeling of being outclassed. This is place where folks from your walk of life don't jive. You pass walled manor after walled manor. Each with stone walls, metal gates. and topiaries.
You get to the manor. No guards are there to greet you, but imagine like a 7ft high wall of nice, lighter colored granite or other stone masonry wall with this super detailed, fine, black iron, double entry gate. In the middle of the barred, black gate is a lion with a handle in it's mouth .
Juliet wakes early, thoughts of the hunt of Lamm on her mind. Grabbing the last heel of a now days old and stale loaf of bread, she gently nudges Zal with her foot, rousing the elf. "Time to go to work."
------------
Walking through the heights, Juliet can't help but admire the architecture. It is a different world from the crumbling apartment blocks of her neighborhood to these manors, literally overlooking the rest of the city. Someday. the singer thinks, I'll kill Lamm and get a job with another company, and work at it. Really work at it. And have a house like one of these...
For now though, there's unpleasantness to be had. Steeling herself, She pulls back on the lion-handled knocker and lets it ring out loud, before ringing out loud herself. "Oi! Maxwell Erns! We've come to talk with you about some work!" Or more specifically, about some of your work.
Zal starts his morning with prayer and an impromptu harrow spread. Nothing leaps out to him but it rarely did, unlike Koya or her daughter, the cards rarely spoke to Zaladrel especially when it came to questions of himself. Readying himself for the day he thanks Desna and follows his new companions to Citadel Hill.
Once there, the cleric fidgets and feels the need to clear his throat nervously. He was acclimated to the road. Perhaps an elven city would be okay on his nerves but the streets seemed oppressive, the uniformity of stone, antiseptic. The cleric followed the half-elf to the door and promptly winced as she started yelling. It might not be his fault, we shouldn't presume to attack him with accusations...
An elderly Halfling comes hurriedly to the gate. Her attire clearly spells her out as staff of this manor rather than family.
"Good morning. Mr. Erns is, uh, busy at the moment but would very much like to request you keep your voices down."
She opens the gate ajar.
"I am Kora, halfling servant of the Erns estate. May... may I ask who you and your.... companions are? As well as your business?"
Her voice carries a very proper, upper class Chelish accent. In terms of your company, she is trying to be very polite, but cannot help eyeing Roakkard. She's definitely surprised to elves as well, but she's paid the most attention to the Shoanti in your company.
"I'm sorry. Is the tattooed one with you all?"
Zal clears his throat again, Uh yes this is our companion Roakkard and the nature of our business is... the cleric's voice fades attempting to leave a place for someone more charismatic than him to chime in.
"We wish to procure a mask such as this one we found, as the craftsmanship is exquisite."
He nudges Juliet softly as he speaks.
Juliet produces the mask with a flourish, holding out for Kora to see. "It is Erns' work, yes? Fantastic! Surely Mr. Erns can take a few minutes out of his day to discuss this mask with us! We won't be long and we won't be a bother."
"Oh yes, I'm sorry - please forgive my rudeness. I am Juliet D'Artengan. Perhaps you've heard of me? I'm getting a bit of a reputation around Korvosa as the next up-and-coming opera singer in town. These are my companions, Zaladrel, a most revered priest of Desna, my brother Tybalt, a great appreciator of Erns' work, who simply insisted he come along to meet the artist, and the tatooed fellow is none other than the most esteemed Shoanti scholar, Roakkard Red-Feather, a guest of mine in town while he researches his people. Roakkard may look imposing, but believe me when I say he's a scholar and a gentleman."
A mischevious glint shows for a second in Juliet's eye, before she masks it behind a warm smile. "Surely, Kora, you understand that we cannot always judge a person by his coverings, being the assistant to one such as Maxwell Erns, whose job as an artist is to discover the hidden meanings behind seemingly simple truths?"
"We're happy to wait while Mr. Erns finishes up his current business."
"Oh, forgive me, Juliet. It is very nice to meet you. I do believe your name may have come up before.. I don't know.. Mister Erns' love of the performing arts means he meets a lot of people. I suppose that is the meaning of being an artist... well.."
Her thought trails off as she examines the mask. She looks it over mask very lightly. "Hmm I see. Yes the makers mark is definitely his."
"Mister Erns just made it unaware to me that his fans and theatrical friends would be joining him this morning."
You can tell her emphasis of the word friends was subtly snobby and disapproving.
"Please follow me to the sitting room. I'm sure Mister Erns will be delighted to see you and tell you more about this mask."
--------------
She walks you past the foyer of this beautiful stone building and asks that you take off your shoes and relinquish all weapons. "We try to avoid tracking mud all over our new Vuldran rugs."
The sitting room is very large and wide with an exquisite and colorful rug in the middle. The wall coverings look new and well kept. On one side is a portrait of an older, stern man. The other has a great window looking out on the finely manicured lawn and shrubbery. The expensive couches and chairs, laden with useless expensive pillows, sit spread apart from the small table in the middle. A massive old chandelier hangs above the finely made table in the center of the room.
"Can I get any of you anything this morning? Tea?" Kora prompts.
A few minutes go by and a man, barely past the age of a boy, comes to greet you. His hair and dress are very hastily put as if he just rolled out of bed. He rubs his eyes as he walks into the room with you.
"Guests! How nice it is to meet you! I'm Max." He proceeds to meet you. He seems slightly distracted though and his eyes have been squinting/bothering him since he came in. Wonderful, wonderful. Just one second here...."
He squints as he makes his way to the window and proceeds to close the drapes.
"Ah much better." the man says before plopping down into a chair and rubbing his temples. "You'll have to forgive me.. I was out late last night at the new show..."
Kora will return in a few minutes with anyone's requested food or drink.
Juliet thinks about telling the halfling to stuff it. I just got Spite back..., but instead grudgingly hands the fencing blade over, saying, "Tea would be wonderful. With cream and sugar, please. You know, the proper Chelish style."
Once Erns enters the room, Juliet can't help but stare. Why, he's younger than I am! He must be truly talented. Sitting in a chair when the sculptor does the same, Juliet removes the mask from her pack and hands it over to Erns, looking closely to judge the boy's reaction. "Oh, yes, I understand the late nights. It is tough to sleep when one's grabbed by art. What show were you at last night?"
Once the artist's attention is drawn by the mask, Juliet starts in with the questions, hoping her companions will fill in any gaps that she misses. "This mask here - we think it is your handiwork, yes? It is too exquisite to be anyone else's."
Zal awkwardly follows through the house, not having been around things such as "new Vuldran rugs" in a handful of decades. As they group sits and Juliet describes the mask Zal gestures to the mask, and it bears your artist mark we have been told, so we can be sure it is genuine... Zal offers a lopsided smile and takes a moment to look the artist over...
Roakkard hands over his spear, but holds onto the crystalline staff he bears. He glares at the halfling if she attempts to take it from him and leans on it to make it seem as though he needs it and proceeds into the rooms.
He follows the others carefully. "Which new show might that be? I fear I am not a regular at the Korvosan theater."
His eyes widen as he remembers the show. "For Whom the Bell Tolls, I think. I might still..." He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a crinkled note and hands it to Zaladrel. "Yeah here we go. I still got the Playbill."
The crumbled paper's adorned with images of skulls, grotesque demons, women screaming in horror, and swordfightings. It reads:
Friends! Women! Korvosans! make time this week to relish in our delectable history! Here the uncensored, 100% true story of the 12 men who survived hell on the hill! Blood! Bravery! Betrayal! MORE BLOOD!
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
FROM: 25 Abadius TO: 25 Calistril
Directed by Pilts Swastel, Owner of Exemplary Execrables
Written by: Pilts Swastel
With music by: Kenyo Viotolli
Art by: Salvatore Scream
NO REFUNDS
"It was killer. The best retelling of our founding history, ever! It's so raw and hilarious. There's something to this new wave of music and plays coming out of Old Korvosa.
He looks over the mask. "Oh wow. Yeah this is definitely my work. I made this not that long ago. That man in Old Korvosa paid a hefty price for it too."He jests, "So you all just happened to be walking by and find it in the trash?" Following up, he wonders, "Do you have the other one? It's a set. I was commissioned to make two."
Juliet examines the playbill cursorily and then passes it on to Roakkard. "Bet you've never seen one of these, huh?" As she says this, she has to concentrate to not roll her eyes. Its not that she hates the artform - art is art, after all, and no matter the supplies it is produced with or the genre that contains it, some of it is good and some is not. There has certainly been some good work coming out of Old Korvosa lately. No, the fact that Erns is so flippant is what irks Juliet. He's an artist who's in it for the scene, and not the art.
She'd met a lot like him - good time boys and girls with plenty of talent and little life experience. Erns had certainly never been murdered, for example.
Leaning forward in her chair as Erns examines the mask, Juliet studies him for signs of stress or nervousness that would indicate deception. "Who was the man in Old Korvosa that you made it for? Who was the matching mask to be given to? We'd like to reunite the owner with his possession." Pausing, Juliet can't help but smirk. "And no, we didn't find the mask in the trash - we found it an alley."
Zal contentedly lets Juliet continue to question the young artist...
Heh. Well you don't seem like the bad type. I'll bite. It was a middle man for some big client. I met him near the theater actually. He was this gaunt varisian fellow. One of those types with a foot already in the grave if you know what I mean. Boldo was his name. Boldo Mvashti? I remember his raspy voice insisting his client remain anonymous. With commission this good, I obliged his request. I wish I could tell you more about him. Honest. But you may want to look into this on your own.
He stands up.
Anything else I can do for you?
And with nothing else. I bid you good day and I am off to see about finding a cure for this hangover.
Zal widens his eyes at the mention but does not look to chase after the artist, feeling the man would clearly know little more. At the question of "anything more" the elfsimply shakes his head and looks for the other, Time to go?
Juliet sighs as she gets up, but she quickly covers it up with a smile. Wish Erns had more to offer us. Still, it is something.
"Thank you, Mr. Erns. We're happy to have your insight, and I'm sure that the owner of this mask will be... surprised to be reunited with it."
Turning to follow Zal's lead out the door, Juliet spins with one last question. "Huh. Actually, I don't get your meaning. 'One foot in the grave' means what, exactly?"
---------
The sunlight, even on a cloudy day like this, is almost blinding coming from Erns' darkened home. Squinting and holding her hand above her eyes to block the sun, Juliet looks to the others. "Well, we have a name. I'll toss some bums and see if I can dig something up on this Mvashti."
"Something about him seemed off, you know? Like the color was gone from him in a way that only hard stuff can really take from you. My guess is that he's usin' shiver. Or was on it... couldn't tell."
As the group enters the street Zal frowns as he looks off down the road, I know him. Its why I came to the city, to look in on him as a favor to his grandmother. I found him, after a fashion, his skin pallid and gaunt, his body wracked with fever and cough, a sickness born of that drug. I took him to Desna. The cleric offers a slight smile as he turns to look at his fellows, A cerlic's habit after all. I don't know he city well but I think I can guide us back to the temple left him at. To be honest I was in such...hard place after finding him that I came to our mutual fortuneteller to seek answers. Funny that it would lead me back to the boy...
Zal rubs his chin as he looks at his feet, I pray he is still alive. He was so close to leaving this world... the elf sighs and then starts walking, leading the group on to the temple...
With staff in hand, Roakkard grimly follows the others.
"Something about him seemed off, you know? Like the color was gone from him in a way that only hard stuff can really take from you. My guess is that he's usin' shiver. Or was on it... couldn't tell."
"Ah, OK. I thought you might be speaking more literally about that foot in the grave."
Your journey back to the shrine takes you across the Jeggare river and across the entire city of Korvosa to the quasi-permanent settlements north of East Shore.
You guys walk down the hills of the Heights, flanked on one side by the decadent Castle Korvosa and on the other, the world-famous arcane campus, the Academae. The clean streets give way to slightly muddier cobblestones as you guys reach the University of Korvosa with it's young students bustling about. There's a Korvosan Guard presence here who has set up perimeter outside the Library. Going past the markets and "downtown" of Korvosa's Jeggare square. Numerous vendors and wagons are moving around as the flow of goods comes into the city via the North Bridge. The clear conditions lets you see all of the fishing vessels in the river as well as few jigsaw sharks! Beyond the bridge and to the south is your objective.
This slum doesn't have a proper district name, but it's known colloquially as "Thieve's camp" for it's high number of Varisians and Shoanti who live here. Before you get a few feet into the camp, a few drunken Shoanti eye you guys, but make no motions. You continue until the you arrive center of the settlement: the open-air shrine to Desna comprised of a circle of standing stones carved with ancient runes.
Inside the circle is a small congregation of Varisians singing along to a prayer to Desna in their native tongue. Another Varisian, nearby is setting up some minor buffet of Bread, Cheese, and Wine. She smiles at Zaladrel.
-Posted with Wayfinder
[ooc] sorry work decided to double up on my issues, I should be in the clear y Friday, maybe earlier if I can help it.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Korvosa just comes easily for me to imagine in my head. From the peace and quiet on the hills, the stirring commotion near the university, the bustling and shouting downtown, to the gulls and bells over the bridge, to the fiddle music and spice filled air of unscrupulous Thieve's camp!
I'll love any pointers to help bring that out!