The tiefling looks down at Vehemence for a moment.
"Very well, my lord. Enter and enjoy yourselves. It is our honor to receive you this fine evening."
He then turns his attention to Aterro and Ashlyn.
"M'lady. You look absolutely stunning if I may say so. Your invitations, please. And whom may I announce has arrived?"
The tiefling waves a hand at one of the white elf guards and subtly points at Vehemence.
Tenchi chose to wear a Kimono, his Daisho (Katana and Wakizashi) and mempo (A demon faced mask). He chose to trust that his armor would be safe in the cellar (in a sack to carry it until such time as he could don it again). His Kimono was made of silk and had a pattern of clouds and cranes, done in shades of dark blue, white, and light blue.
As the guard began his spiel, Tenchi exited the carrage and began to play the part of guard, following behind and to the left of Vehemence, and trailing two steps behind, just as he was trained as a boy.
Back at the base camp:
Hey, how are we going to carry all this crap? Anyone have a bag of holding or at least some regular sacks? And how are we going to get it from the rooftop to the other building or the ground?
And does anyone have some hooks? Maybe something about the size of my hand.
"I have none of the things of which you ask."
Quinys reaches into her robe and pulls a large bag out and tosses it to Thratch.
"I always carry a couple spare bags of holding. You can keep that one."
"You can keep your belongings in there while you're attending the reception. And don't take it inside the antimagic field, obviously."
She looks around at the blank stares.
"Seriously, none of you wondered how I store all this stuff in my robe?"
Thanks. Considering we don't want this near the anti magic field, I shouldn't be the one carrying it. Lys, you take it. Stuff as much as you can in it when we get to the vault. Likewise, stuff as much as you can when we get to the wizard's quarters. Never know what valuables we'll get.
Since we have this, we don't need the hooks. I wanted those to attach them to the rope, so we can hook on the bags and let Wan pull them up to the roof while we get more stuff. Although, that's still not a bad idea if we want to separate the prize to reduce the chance of losing it all if one of us gets caught.
Thratch hands the bag of holding to Lys.
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I actually already have one of these, but I can start a collection, my uncle had a collection of glass bottles."
"Good Luck, whether you're like me or not so much we both seem cursed in this world - I'll miss you when you're gone."
I'll be happy to take it back when we're done. I just don't want the anti magic field to interfere with it while we're on the mission. Thratch explains, hoping she really won't be starting a collection.
In an air that seems very out of place for the king, he flourishes in a stately manner toward the feline maiden, taking her hand and kissing it.
"Above all things, never let your ardor die. May cunning always be at your side. And as it is, so too shall I be there, rejoicing your victories. You will do well my dear."
For the first time, Vehemence's royal veneer was palpable in a manner which was far from synonymous with repugnance. His current poise made his usual coarse demeanor make some sort of sense: he was indeed the patron to the zealous.
How much do we really need to hold? It's just a painting and some gold. Don't worry about putting it into a bag of holding until we break away from the gallery and are in the sewers. I've found a nice spot to get back to the streets, that's when we can't be spotted with a painting and obvious sack of coins.
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Hey. You may be big and strong, but look at me. I'm freaking three feet tall! I can't carry as much as some of you, and twenty thousand gold pieces is a little bit more than I can handle on my own, much less be able to climb up a rope.
As long as you know that you still have to make it to the window before we dump that amulet and the bag becomes worth anything.
"We should probably get some ordinary sacks as well, so that the...infiltrating group can easily carry the money we are...acquiring."
On the rooftop.
Thanks for the help, Qyn. Just so you know, next time you just have to ask.
Thratch smiles at her, a bit sheepishly as he knows what he said was probably false. He then turns to look at the building, eyeing it as best he can.
That looks like a good point to secure our passage across, he says, pointing to a stable extrusion on the roof. Just have to order to rope to tie off to that point, and we can climb our way across.
Thratch gets ready for the start by tying off the magical rope to this building. He does it again with a silk rope.
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On the ride over, Aterro keeps trying to surreptitiously look at Ashlyn, debating in his mind if he should say something. And if he should say something, then what? The tactical part of his mind wonder if he should caution her on her abject flighiness, but he reminds himself that he knows little of the social situation they'll be in, and wonders if such flamboyant and extroverted behavior might actually help their cause.
He finally comes to a conclusion and opens his mouth to speak...but then they've arrived at their destination and the words die in his throat.
With all the warmth of an arctic glacier, Aterro let's the honeyed observation of the costumed tiefling slide, and cooly presents the invitation. "Brother Attero," his deep base states without fanfare, "and the lady Ashlyn."
He thinks of saying more, of embellishing his title or making small talk, but such things were never his forte, and, he reminds himself, he is here on -business-. Though no blood might flow, he is still taking something from someone. Hence, let Ashlyn be the warmth. He shall be the cold.
Aterro and Ashlyn are permitted to pass without any fuss. ”It is our privilege to have you.” the tiefling says as he ushers you in.
As you all enter the main hall, you are momentarily stunned by the decadence and splendor of the event. The entire room echoes with music from a chamber quartet playing in the corner. The room is furnished in marble and ornate carvings along the walls with large stone columns. A set of ornate spiral staircases of marble and metal sit on either side of the main entrance, leading up to the catwalk, and another pair in the back corners of the room. As you walk on the red velvet carpet, it leads you to a raised platform with a giant tiled eye in the middle of the floor that shifts colors every few minutes, inlaid with gold and silver. In a strange defiance of geometry, as you walk further along, it appears to descend lower and then up again. The platform is ringed with steps that go into a sub-level where you see smaller displays of paintings and sculptures. Another ring of steps leads right back up to the main floor.
You look around at the other patrons, and there’s a large mix of humans and other races, many costumed and masked.
Everywhere you see strange unearthly works of art, paintings, sculptures, some of what appear to be living creatures alien to this world, interactive fountains of glittering dust and hypnotic lights, large metal and wood sculptures suspended by metal cables from the large ceiling, minor illusions that you can walk through.
You gaze up to the catwalk and see two tall individuals in ornate robes that, like the eye in the middle of the room, shift colors and patterns continually. One has deep red skin and large horns, with strange spiked black hair. The other has pale pure white skin and there’s something unearthly and vampiric about him that you can’t describe. They quietly observe the room and the patrons, both with the slightest hint of a smile.
For a moment you feel absolutely overwhelmed by the spectacle of it all. Then, almost as a relief, you spot the food and drink tables near the front windows.
You deduce that the two strange robed individuals watching from above are the Painter and the Sage, based on what Quinys has told you of them.
As you ready yourselves on the rooftop and find an optimal location to position the rope, Quinys lowers her spyglass and turns from her perch.
”I’ve got everyone’s position inside, including the Wizards.” she says with a slight chill to her voice.
”You’re good to move across. I’ll be watching from here. When you come out I’ll move ahead to the tavern and ready our escape.”
”Good luck.”
Tenchi will observe the room, both looking for hidden threats and keeping up his appearances as a bodyguard.
Once on the gallery's roof, he ties off the silk rope for the others to climb across and orders the magical rope to untie from the building he just came from and return to him. Then he orders it to lower down the to window and climbs down to the window.
After looking to Quinnys to ensure it's clear, he activates his antimagic medalion and starts to work on opening the window. Once open, he hops inside and looks around.
If it's clear, he'll make it way to the vault to unlock it. If it seems uncertain, he'll hide.
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Aterro mentally takes note and whispers to Ashlyn, "Those two colorful characters there are, I believe, the Painter and the Sage. High-Father Joakim spoke of them once, and his description was spot-on. We must be cautious."
Aterro continues to make a show of looking at, if not exactly admiring, the art...until he comes to the illusion section. He stares in awkward fascination, desperately wishing he could spend more time studying it, or, better, come back tomorrow and cast Detect Magic on it, and gain greater insight of how so skilled a mage might have created such a thing.
He observes the ephemeral color-dance and stands as a statue, allowing the un-work to play across his eyes.
Otherwise, Vehemence was generally uninterested, not really talking to his 'bodyguard'. Vehemence regarded Tenchi as a man of action rather than one of words, and he admired his honor. Within his admiration he made a point to let the warrior remain in his stoic state unbothered. The king learned well from their prior exchange. Vehemence took Tenchi's lead in all respects, whenever his mannerisms came into play.
It took everything within Vehemence to keep him from blazing towards his wife. For his own sake, he could not blow this chance.
Thratch, Lys and Wan make their way across the rope of climbing to the gallery rooftop, then drop down to the ledge on the third level. Thratch pries open the window without much difficulty. They take a look around and see the room inside is unoccupied, and he and Lys go inside. It’s about a 6 foot drop to the floor. Thratch quickly puts on the amulet of antimagic, activating it. A ten foot field of energy surrounds them, and Lys feels very strange within the field, like part of her is temporarily lost.
They stop to look around the gallery room, which is bathed in reflected moonlight, giving everything a surreal look like they’re in a waking dream. They quietly creep forward along the perimeter of the circular wall, careful not to touch anything.
Then they see it.
The False Chanterelle hangs unassumingly on the wall before them, without any special decorations or adornments. And for a moment they are captivated and in awe.
Lys taps Thratch on the shoulder and points to the adjoining room.
You hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the circular wall over the ambient noise from downstairs.
Thratch follows Lys' direction and goes into the next room.
The group wanders about the reception, staying close but not so close as to look like they’re all together. Aterro admires the illusion art, Ashlyn looks around the room and tries her hand at regal disinterest, Vehemence admires the brutal and unsettling art, and Tenchi wishes he’d brought his sketchbook along .
Vehemence and Ashlyn respectively make smalltalk with various guests of different costumes, temperament and fetishes, while Aterro and Tenchi play their roles of bodyguards. At most they give stern and intimidating looks to some more drunken guests and generally try to stay in the background while staying alert for trouble or a signal from above.
Then, one of the tall robed individuals walks up to Vehemence while he’s admiring a particularly graphic and tortured sculpture. It’s the one with the dark red skin and horns.
”You like this one also, I see? The violence really speaks to me on this particular piece. It’s almost soothing in its absolute anguish.”
His voice has a subtle but deep echo to it.
He stops to study Vehemence himself.
”As, my friend, I may say you are as well. You look like one of my brethren, but I see you are not.”
He pauses for a moment, pondering.
”Hmmm… A muse? You’re quite far from home, aren’t you, my friend?” He bows and then offers his hand to Vehemence.
”I am called the Painter. It’s a genuine honor to meet one of your own stature in my humble gallery.”
He leans in close to Vehemence and whispers in his ear.
Meanwhile Ashlyn and Aterro quietly observe uneasily while half-admiring another illusory work.
”Admiring the illusions, or my partner over there?” a cold voice says from out of nowhere.
Ashlyn and Aterro both suddenly turn, wondering how someone snuck up on them. It’s the other individual from the upper level. He looks even more pale and undead from up close.
”I apologize if I startled you. I couldn’t help but notice the two of you. I haven’t seen you at one of our gatherings before.” he addresses Ashlyn. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle peck. His touch is freezing and Ashlyn visibly shudders.
”You really must be new here. Most of our guests are already used to being around a dhampir.” He smiles gently, revealing small fangs. His retinas have a subtle red glow to them.
”I am called the Sage. I own the gallery with my partner over there. Come, he would love to meet you as well.”
The Painter, upon shaking your hand, leans in and whispers to you, ”I’m truly sorry for the fate which you’ve suffered, but it is not her within the painting.”
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Aterro suffers a feeling of emptiness as a strange voice rips him from his revery. His sense of unease is only heightened as the speaker is revealed to be the undead he had seen, and the emotion is given the aura of Fate as he is ignored in favor of the alluring Ashlyn.
Aterro takes an instant dislike to man...creature.... But, he has a part to play, and has muscled through emotions stronger than this to reach the objective.
He clears his throat politely. "Yes. We are indeed newly come. High-Father Joakim has always been a patron of the refined arts, but one of the Chapter has not yet set foot in this place. When it became known that Lady Ashlyn was also headed for visitation, the High-Father, in his infinite wisdom, sought to cleave two necks in one swing. As it were.
Why art thou called The Sage, if I may ask?"
Aterro tried to keep the murderous cold from his voice, but wasn't certain at his success.
The furnace kings' upper lip instinctively snarls as the sheer aura of power nears him.
He feels in his soul as a cornered tiger, shaved and declawed.
Any attempt at keeping appearances would be a foolish farce.
When spoken to, Vehemence tried to find words with which he might save face, or even interact with the demon before him, but he is simply stunned.
The painter then leans in and delivers the only nail the coffin needed.
What did... He just...
The furnace kings' pupils fearfully dilate as the hairs of his neck stand on end. He assumes the worst, but the thing which irks him to his core is the fact of the wizard's damned knowing. He always abhorred sorcerors, especially this sort. In the back of his eternal mind he always knew he'd end up in a sticky place like this one due to their slippery tricks...
...this time however, he was without a crown to rebuke them with.
His face contorts back into a furious confusion. His blackened eyes bore directly into those of the painter.
"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?!"
The dethroned king gasped. Never until this moment did Vehemence think his son Remorse was actively working to drive him to ruin.
He always thought the curse given was of an authoritative nature, never one of conspiratory labors.
You all freeze, almost afraid to breathe. Wan quietly closes the window to just the tiniest crack so that he can still see inside.
A human guard strolls through the gallery. He looks to be on a routine patrol.
He stops for a moment to admire a painting near the False Chanterelle, oblivious to all of you, then he continues on his way. You wait for several minutes, listening for his footsteps to grow faint.
You are certain that he’s gone. The painting awaits.
You overhear the Painter whisper to Vehemence, but over the noise all you are able to discern is "I’m truly sorry … suffered … painting.”
The Painter looks at Vehemence with slight bewilderment and curiosity.
”He? Nobody told me anything, my fair Muse. Your surface thoughts betray you. You are convinced that your deceased wife is trapped within one of our paintings. I assure you, I know the history behind the False Chanterelle, and it is not your wife. And I do not know your son. Beyond what your thoughts tell me now.”
”It’s one of my many talents to hear thoughts. Yours … they’re screaming at me. I am eager to hear your story. I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable.”
”The woman in the painting is called Ashen Chanterelle, and she was cursed to guard one of the Medusas.” he reveals.
”The painting of which you speak hangs in one of my private galleries upstairs. It is said to be a gateway to another land, and hence why it’s in my collection. If you like, I will take you up to view it, so that you may see for yourself.”
He puts his arm on Vehemence’s shoulder and gestures to his partner standing nearby, talking with Ashlyn and Aterro.
”But first, you must meet my partner, The Sage. He is coming over now.”
Vehemence's instinct realizes that he is for at least this moment not in immediate mortal danger.
His befouling eyes gleam as a snort of breath comes out from his nostrils while he regains his royal composure.
IF YOU WISH to gaze upon me as one of lesser works, RELENT YOUR PILFERING!
WHAT AN UNCOUTH MANNER TO ESTEEM YOUR GUESTS, DO YOU THINK NOT?
Vehemence was indeed defensive, but in this exchange the viscera of his maelstromic feelings betrayed to the Painter a hint of Vehemence's own curiosity of the Painter himself.
His mind thought not whatsoever of the heist at hand in this moment.
There were more important matters on the table.
The Sage looks at Aterro for a moment and smiles before turning his attention back to Ashlyn.
”Chatty one, this guard of yours.”
”So tell me, fair Lady Ashlyn, what has brought you to these parts?”
Ashlyn replies, ”As my companion, Brother Aterro was saying, High-Father Joakim is a patron of the arts from our home, out in the West. We come from an area called the Sword Coast. I had planned to visit because it pleased me to do so, and I was honored to have a member of their order accompany me. He is not merely providing security for me, but he is also a valued friend.”
”But enough about me. I don’t mean to be rude. Please, do introduce us to your partner. And perhaps you can tell us about these wonderful illusions.”
The Sage nods in agreement. ”Yes, come meet The Painter. He seems to have found a most intriguing guest of his own!”
You have heard of Dhampirs before, but did not believe them to actually exist. They are an extremely rare crossbreed of human and vampire, neither truly living or undead, they are half-dead. They are considered all but a myth, yet as you just learned, they may very well be real.
Tenchi remained impassive in regards to what he overheard, but as the two continued to speak conspiratorially, Tenchi leaned in and whispered
something in Kara Turan while looking directly at the Painter.
"Are you in distress? Do you require protection?"
This is it. Finally a chance to prove myself to the guild.
Thratch has always been sure he could do it, but every decision he makes always seems to be the wrong one. It never gets him in trouble with the law or with the target, but his guild and masters were always pissed. Now was his chance. Step 1 was to steal the painting, and that's what he desperately wanted to do right now. So instead, he ignored it.
Come on, he whispered, Let's get that vault open. We'll grab the painting on the way out. Thratch quickly pitter-patters over to the vault and starts working on unlocking it, hoping his anti magic amulet removes any of its magical protections.
Once the lock is open, Thratch whispers to Lys, Shove as much as you can into that bag. I'm going to head upstairs to grab what I can. Are you ok with that?
Thratch is able to easily disarm the mechanical lock on the safe once the magical locks are negated. He begins shoving large amounts of gold coin into the bag of holding while Lys holds it open.
Then, he leaves Lys to continue loading loot and he turns his attention to getting to the upper level. When the antimagic field is off of Lys, it triggers her exasperation ability, having been previously suppressed.
A short set of stairs at either end of the middle hallway appears to lead to what they’ve been told is the Wizards’ living quarters. Looking up the staircase, Thratch sees the stairs disappear into shadows. He slowly climbs the stairs into the main hallway of their quarters. He sees two walls on either side of him, with no apparent doors or other portals anywhere. At the end of the hall is the staircase on the other side of the floor leading back downstairs.
An ordinary animal— cat sized or smaller— appears. The Alice cannot directly control it but it will not under any circumstances hurt the Alice.
You look up and you see an owl perched atop the safe, staring down at you.
The Sage leads Ashlyn and Aterro over to The Painter, Vehemence, and Tenchi. Tenchi looks a bit concerned. The Sage makes introductions, and The Painter nods at everyone, then goes back to fawning over Vehemence.
”My new friend and I were just discussing a painting I have upstairs of which he’s been having curious visions. We were about to go take a look at it in my private gallery.” The Painter exclaims.
"Would you all care to join us?”
He puts his arm around Vehemence consolingly. ”Come, fair and stoic Muse. Let us take a look at The False Chanterelle, and I will hear your story. I have connections into worlds far beyond this one, and perhaps I can help you with your troubles.”
Tenchi returned to his stoic and proper position and waited on Vehemence's reaction to the situation."[/b]
Thratch quickly makes his way back to Lys.
Come on. Let's get out of here. I didn't see any more rooms upstairs. Maybe they require magic to get into, but no way in hell am I turning this medalion off.
Unless you want to check upstairs, then we should go.
Assuming Lys leaves the vault, Thratch closes and relocks the vault behind them.
He makes his way back to the painting.
You ready? Alarms are likely going to go off once we take this down.
As soon as Lys says she's ready, he takes the painting off and puts it in the bag of holding, then makes his way to the window to escape.
I really enjoy the use of spoilers for a split party. It's been fun completely ignoring the other side and having no idea what they're doing. Just like my character would.
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Aterro has a mental, and silent, conniption, as the Painter offers to take Vehemence to the place where the theft may be occurring at this very moment.
He starts mentally rehearsing how he would start a fight in his head. The line "You keep a civil tongue in your head, knave!" seems most appropriate for this situation.
It's probably not best to start a fight right in front of a dhampir, but...any price for the Greater Good.
Vehemence was no pet, to be nuzzled or cooed over.
Nor was he a wench, that he might be seduced by tongue, attention, or flourishes of prestige.
He was the Furnace King of The-World-Without-Skies, and in this thoughtless moment he abandoned his self-wrought woes of mortality.
He had crawled back from the brink of several hells ages before this present trek.
He would not be tamed. The only remnant of the last one who tried lay 'round his neck; a shriveled pitiful heart.
But this fetish would not be the Furnace King's last trophy.
Vehemence bellows his command as he swats the Painter's advances away without prudence.
He steps back a pace and jerks in a way in which his compatriots have not yet witnessed from him.
Vehemence's voice pierces the atmospheric chatter of the low lords as he stretches his hand into the air and conjures a grand and wicked brand from nothing.
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As Vehemence stepped back, Tenchi replaced him, staring directly into the face of The Painter and squares up with him before placing his hand on his still sheathed sword.
"I believe the one that I protect does not wish for you to lay his hands upon him. I know that we are guests in your home, but should you attempt to do so again, Honor would demand that I remove your hands at the wrist, which would be least amount of flesh that I could take from you."
While he is facing up at The Painter, his body language is completely neutral.
The other guests nearby stop their conversations and look at Vehemence summon his pact weapon. The music goes quiet.
At the moment they seem to be intrigued and amused, assuming it’s a performance art piece.
The Painter steps back and exchanges glances with The Sage. It almost looks as though they’re communicating with one another, though neither says a word.
He addresses Vehemence, completely ignoring Tenchi, ”Fair Muse, my honored guest. It appears that we have reached a misunderstanding here. I offer my humblest apologies.”
You notice The Sage depart with a pair of guards and head up to the stairs. They move unusually fast, quickly becoming a blur.
”As a token of friendship, my partner is bringing the painting down here to you right now.”
Then you hear a shrill sound echoing down the stairs from the upper levels. Either your crew upstairs was successful, or they ran into trouble, or both.
Thratch and Lys close up the vault and grab the False Chanterelle, placing it in their bag of holding. As expected, once they move out of range with the antimagic field, a shrill sound begins to echo through the gallery. An owl flies around nearby, perching atop various sculptures and paintings.
Mechanical metal bars start to move from the ceiling quickly down the walls along the windows.
They hear several footsteps rapidly approaching.