|
Striding boldly up to some workers, Finarin adjusts his guardsman's hat. "Why good day to you. What is it that you do here? It seems .... difficult work at that. Must be rolling in the .... coins. Mayhaps I should change in these guard clothes. Seems like this would be a great place to work. Fresh air, hearty companions, great pay judging by your garmets."
After a difficult and long-winded speech without his natural pausing, searching for common vernacular wordings, Finarin looks expectantly at the warehouse worker.
|
"Too bloody right! " screams Lort at the conclusion of Cyrus' speech. He rolls up his sleeve, revealing bulging green muscles. Lort carries the box he was moving all the way over to the supervisor before dropping it as his feet, "So, yer been paid right, or are yer gonna protest with us? Don't be tellin' me we got a problem."
Lort will scowl at the man until he agrees to accompany the protesters (perhaps even start them off if none have been moved to protest yet) and picket the warehouse.
|
|
"Hello gents. Brathomir Snodgrass, from Lord Minovitas' estate. He sent me and ole' Rosco here," he indicates Ibid at this point, "to check on things for him down here. He knows times have been tough, and wanted to hear things first hand. Well...now I've heard it. M'lord has authorized me to give you each two gold coins and the night off, as a personal 'thank you' for the hard times you've been forced to endure. So, go ahead and line up, and I'll give you each your gold on your way out. Have a good time!"
Miro stations himself by the door, motioning Ibid to man the other side of the portal. If the workers agree, he will give each 2 gp and a hearty handshake for a job well done. He will motion Lort and Cyrus to come with the others, confident they will return soon enough.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Cyrus ambles his way around the warehouse, appearing to be random, but purposefully moving away from the dock and location where the paintings are stored. As he moves, he grumbles, clearly frustrated. Once a safe distance away, and with Lort a few dozen yards away and within easy earshot, he finally snaps.
”I don’t know how much longer I can take this crap. All day! Every day! My son is practically an orphan I see him so little, and by the time I do bring home my pay, its short! They ask us to work more and more, and they pay us less and less.” His volume begins to increase as he starts walking from worker to worker, looking them in the eye. A hearty ”Here Here!” is heard from a particular large half-orc moving a stack of boxes just nearby.
Cyrus looks around to make sure he has some of the worker’s attention, and snaps a broom over his knee. Stepping up onto a larger crate so he can be seen by more people, he continues. ”Those greedy good for nothing bosses aren’t afraid to line their pockets every chance they get. And at who’s expense? I’m still using a cobbled up box jack that I swear was made before the last time Absalom was invaded! They can’t give us anything to work with…” Cyrus continues on unabated, volume increasing for several minutes, egging on the crowd and playing to their frustrations, particularly their lack of recent pay, the crowd no doubt being seeded to further inflammation by his companions playing their part in the crowd.
”When are they going to ever respect the work that we do? We started out as a necessity, important, nay CRITICAL I say to the success of this warehouse. WE are the ones who make it happen, who keep this place running. WE are the ones who makes sure the brigands and thieves don’t raid the merchant’s goods that are stored here. They used to know that, and now we are just a line item on an expense report! An unfortunate expense...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
One of the workers stops, and starts listening to Cyrus' speech. The man lights a cigarette, and turns to his co-worker. "Hear that, Karl? I think he has a point.." he says. "It's true, Vladimir..." the other replies, rubbing his mighty beard. "The bourgeoise get their profits out of my back... And what does the owning class for the benefit of this warehouse? NOTHING! They just sit in their villa's and count their gold pieces. Just as that man said, the working class deserves some respect!"
The man called Karl strides toward the door, taking the offered gold pieces, and calls to his friends: "Leon, Friedrich... are you with me, too? Take the gold this man offers you, it will pay your living for the next weeks. This time we use to plan our next move. Plan to have the working class heard, and respected. Ha, this calls for REVOLUTION!"
The other men shrug, and while they do not have such fire in their eyes as their sudden leader, they follow him. Politely they shake hands with Miro and take their gold coins, and leave the building.
The supervisor, on the other hand, doesn't look pleased. "What have you done? All the workers!? Gone! I'll... I'll... I'll talk to my superior!" he declares and runs out from the very same door the workers used very recently.
The warehouse is now empty of resident workers, and the disguised Pathfinders are free to start their work with the paintings.
|
|
"Nice work, my friends!" declares Lort, grinning, "Now let's get to work on these paintings. You've got the right scrolls and gear. I'm not much for painting and finesse. I'll see what I can do about keeping any 'intruders' out."
Lort grabs the paint that he procured and heads outside, sap in one hand, brush in the other. He mostly keeps an eye out, but paints things on the walls to maintain his cover.
CHEAPSKATES
RICH PIGS
WE DESERVE MORE!
FEED OUR FAMILIES, NOT YOUR POCKETS
... and so on.
|
"I'll give you an address where you can pick up paints and brushes. I also had enough warning to commision two paintings, which you use to replace Minovitas' gaudy art." This time, Morilla hands two unframed paintings; one is a fairly realistic depiction of Lady Morilla mustering soldiers, and the other shows Finarin Moonstep battling a demon.
Cyrus grabs a brush and takes a look at one of the paintings. An idea strikes him as he modifies the oncoming hordes of demons to look like peasants instead, with Lord tub-o-goo appearing quite obviously in an 'ignoble' state, based on the information Ibid was able to bring to light.
With that complete, me makes his way over towards Miro, laughing at the alteration the halfling has nearly perfected. He adds a few suggestions here and there, mostly letting the bard's brilliant rendition shine through on its own.
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Friends, we also have the paintings that Lady Morilla supplied us... should we swap them out as well? Would be faster than re-painting, would it not?"
"Cyrus, you have the most... dextrous hands. I'll call upon the Accidental Hero to grant you succor, and ol' Ibid can help you out as well. Miro, you look like you're handling that one!"
"Hey, he's all Taldane, and stuff, right? Bet if you painted a tattoo of Saranrae's holy symbol on his chest, that'd be pretty... exciting. Them Taldan nobly types still have a stick up their collective bums about the Dawnflower... I think her worship might still be illegal in the Empire. Oh, and replace that Falcata with a scimitar!"
|
|
"Be mindful of the lines and flow prepared by the original artist, you don't want your work to clash and be an obvious late addition to the piece. But be sure to take what time you can... we don't want this to end looking like a shoddy work of gestural abstraction..." Ibid says, craning over Cyrus, helping guide the youth's hand.
"I once read that the most ascetically pleasing location for the focal point of painting is not in the direct center, as you might think, but there is a mathematical principle which prescribes where an artist should place their painting's focal point to make it more appealing..." Ibid pauses, tracing the path of the frame in the air with his finger.
"Apparently, if you can determine mathematically a point along each edge of the frame, where if you divided it's length in two, and the ratio of the shorter segment to the longer segment is equal to the ratio of the longer segment to the frame edge's entire length... You end up with a ratio of about 1.61. If you do this process to both the height and width edges of frame, it gives you the a crosshair upon which to place the focus of your painting."
"The golden ratio, it was called. Apparently it governs a lot of artistic composition and design," the old blathers on and on. "Of course, it seems like load of rubbish to me."
|
|
Cyrus' face slowly contorts more and more as his focus centers in on the work he is doing, his tongue eventually sticking out if the side of his mouth, unbeknownst to the ninja.
Ibid's voice over his shoulder drones on... " *whaan whan whaaan ...golden ratio... whaan whaannn*"
Cyrus steps back for a moment, and quickly catches the words he was about to say in his mouth, instead choosing to roll his eyes as the old man blathers on.
I don't think there is anyone as smart as ibid... Well anywhere. But man can he find the most obscure, boring...
"...load of rubbish anyways" Cyrus chortles at the end of the man's soliloquy, just as he is finishing up another of the rework jobs.
Cyrus stands back to admire the work, grateful for the help from his friends. "I think that ought to do nicely." he says with a content smile.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Finding a new artistic side to themselves, Miro and Cyrus manage to display Lord Minovitas in a whole different light than he intended when commissioning these paintings. The others not not wanting to try out their skill with brush, just replace two of the paintings with captain Morilla's canvases. The deed is done!
|
|
"Wow. Nice work, everyone!" Lort says admiringly at the paintings, "Best to make sure they get there now. Don't think we can rely on this workforce to make any kind of speedy delivery. Let's get it to His Grand High Lord Fatness, and make sure it gets done properly. I'd suggest we take whichever route the departing workers didn't take. Is there a back door around here somewhere?"
Lort helps the pathfinders pack up the paintings and looks around for an alternative exit to leave by. If he spies none, he will take the lead out the front door. Either way, his sap will be at the ready.
|
|
Cyrus suddenly remembers the conversation with the attractive captain. "The silver raven! We are supposed to contact her when we are done here, and she will tell us what to do next."
Cyrus inspects the small figurine, not entirely sure how to make it work. He sets it down on the floor, and crouches down in front of it, his head cocked slightly, not unlike a bird, as he looks at the curious object.
"Uhhh.... Tell Venture captain Morilla that we are done with the paintings, and we are waiting further instructions." He stares at the small object, hopeful it will somehow do as he says. It is magical after all...
|
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gunari takes a look at the finished works. 'Inspired work!' he thinks. First he looks at Miro's masterpiece. He has taken the painting of Lord Minovitas, and removed the fiend altogether. On top of that, he has repainted the clothing of the corpulent lord, who is now in a tutu, posed in a ballerina's stance. 'Simply marvelous work, that!
He then moves on to the next painting... where Cyrus has altered the visage of Lord Minovitas leading a charge into a horde of demons to be him, fork in hand, leading the way to a fantabulous buffet! Amazingly, where the original painting had flying demons overhead, Cyrus has replaced them with what appears to be roast songbirds, on the wing!
Cyrus quotes the command word, and watches the silvery figure spring to life. The raven listens the young ninja's message, and takes flight. Soon, the all he can see of the figurine is a silvery glimmer in the night sky.
Some time later, the Pathfinders hear a rustle of metallic feathers as the raven returns, bearing a message
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Oh, wait, I just remembered that some replacement guards were supposed to come to transport the paintings!" declares Lort suddenly, "Best we just pack these away as best we can, clean up and leave."
Lort helps Gunari stack the paintings. He has a bit of a chuckle as he packs one of them away. Lord Minitovas was stabbing a demon in the back, with the demon wailing in agony. With a slight change to the turn of the demon's mouth, the agony now appears to be ecstasy. The second change is a little less subtle: a modification to Minitovas's weapon grip, a little opening in his breeches, some liberal use of flesh color, some purple veins here and there, and the fat Lord most definitely appears to be buggering the demon in question. The triumphant look on his face works even better in this new pose. Just a shame we had to make him so well endowed to cover the rapier, muses Lort, his smile unabated as he carefully repacks the portrait.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
As he wraps the final painting, Gunari just had to shake his head. Cyrus outdid himself this time. Maybe it was the "help" that Ibid was giving him, maybe some deep seated torment, but this was the masterpiece.
Lord Minovitas, holding aloft an ankh of the Dawnflower in one hand, a scimitar instead of his usual falcata in the other. His normally pale skin appeared bronzed, as though he had spent a good amount of time in the sun. Even his cloak seemed of Kellish design. A small green demon hovered behind him, hand to his mouth as if whispering something to the Taldan noble. Was this hinting that the noble was actually a Qadiran sympathizer, and that perhaps he was taking advice from a quasit? Gunari is overwhelmed by the cleverness of this modification!
The group packs the paintings back to their crates, and disappear into the night. Then they have some time to rest before the next part in Morilla's plan executes. On the evening of the third day the agents head to the grand opening of the Opparan Trade Commission, a reception that involves lavish finger food, expensive drinks, and exposure to many of Foreign Quarter’s and Absalom’s leading citizens. Morilla instructions were to chat with the guests, and enlighten them about Lord Minovitas' distasteful habits, whether real or fabricated. Guests with whom to initiate conversation include:
Senator Augustyn Naran of Andoran: Senator Augustyn is a prominent member of a banking family and travels to Absalom to see and be seen when not needed in Almas. He is an obese man in his late sixties, and constantly sweats in Absalom’s midday heat. This makes him quite irritable and open to taking out his frustration on easy targets.
Lady Vaelia of House Wintermark: Lady Vaelia is venerable and frail, walking with the aid of an ebony cane while wearing a worn falcata (her late husband’s blade) at her side. She is vehemently against everything Qadiran, and although she believes Taldor can do no wrong, she is open to criticizing her peers whenever they fail in Taldor’s name.
Alvalda Margruel: Alvalda is a statuesque woman in her late forties whose family co-operates the Kortos Consortium, a powerful guild of merchants in Diobel, with two other families. She is well known among Diobelians as a capable businesswoman, a philanthropist, and a staunch advocate for using local labor.
Scion Lord Avid of House Arnsen: Lord Avid holds the title of Teriarch of Diobel, making him lord-mayor of that city by the appointment of Lord Gyr, the Primarch of Absalom. Lord Avid is hardly appreciative of this assignment, and he often struggles with the Kortos Consortium for control of the town.
Bellonna Trask: The business owner whom the party met in Grand Lodge.
Lady Darchana of House Madinani: Lady Darchana is the Second Spell Lord of Absalom, Archdean of the Arcanamirium, and a member of the Low Council. And a familiar associate this particular group of Pathfinders.
The party can see also Venture Captain Glorianna Morilla navigating among the guests, but keeping her distance to the Pathfinders.
|
|
Lort tries a few times to talk to nobles, but the snobs just don't want to say more than a few curt, falsely polite monosyllabic words to the enormous half-orc warrior. Most seem quite intimidated by his large stature, prominent tusks, loud voice, full plate armor that is clearly displayed and the massive greatsword that is ever strapped to his back. That's not to mention his breath...
Lort instead plies his skills upon the help. For example:
"So, you work for Lord Minitovas, huh? Well, his days as a star here are numbered. You'll need to find better employment pretty soon," Lort stands uncomfortably close to the butler, "Those paintings will be the laughing stock of the town. He'll lose so much business, he won't be able to afford such fancy footmen no more," Lort deliberately incorrectly identifies the man's job, and runs his thumb and forefinger slowly and menacingly along his lapel, "Now, I'm sure Lord Round-Tummy doesn't treat you well, so this will be a blessing in disguise. Maybe one of these here nobles will take pity on you and hire you instead.
"When those paintings are unveiled, you'd be best served laughing and jeering with the rest of them. Or else! Savvy? Pass the word around. Best to make your voices known when you're near to that nice halfling woman there. Maybe grumble a bit before the paintings are revealed. Don't be a follower, lead the complaints. Get in early. Just do what I say."
Lort will continue to brow-beat the staff into joining the chorus of disgusted, amused and generally anti-Minitovas noises. A few choice phrases and talk about how poor a boss he is from the man's own staff ought to sway the opinion of a business-minded individual like Bellona Trask to believe that Minitova was no good.
|
|
"Lady Vaelia of House Wintermark, may I introduce myself. I am Finarin Moonstep of Kyonin. It is both a pleasure, and a .... honor to meet you. I have long heard of the famous ... deeds of your late husband, may his enemies ... tremble in fear of him even in death. Might I have the pleasure of a ... dance?"
While dancing, "My lady, your falcata. Much and many thanks. What, if I may, do you make of Lord Minovita recent ... censures. To sully the impeccable image on noble Taldor. Well, I have a ... brother. He brought shame to my ... noble house. Very distressing."
"My lady, you move like a doe through the woods at twilight. I fear you quite ... outpace me. Care for a refreshment? One would think that Lord Minovita would .... spare no expense to show the grandeur of Taldor. I apologize that this sparkling wine is of 432, a .... sub-par year at that for this gape."
"My lady, it has been my pleasure. May Taldor always rise to the ... top."
Bowing gracefully, Finarin makes his way to another group.
|
|
Cyrus ambles about the party, smiling and nodding to those he makes eye contact with, doing his best to dress and look the part of a proper, respectable person of noble background. Granted, he was an orphan of the streets, so he doesn't always quite pull it off. Still, his spirits are high when he considers the fun he has had on this latest foray, and the anticipation of the reveal and the subsequent reaction from the crowd.
Finarin sure is in his element here... I haven't heard him complain once about mud and slog and messing up his hat! It is definitely going to be a good evening.
"Teriach Avid is it? What a pleasure to meet you, I have heard so much about you. ... Yes? ... Oh good and bad to be honest. It is quite maddening to tell you the truth, so many rumors flying around, always trying to get a handle on the damaging ones and where they came from. I admire you, you know? It takes a man with thick skin and strength beyond measure to lead a city like Diobel. I can't possibly imagine how quickly that town would devolve into chaos without a leader of strength to keep the consortium in check. That is why you are here, is it not? What with Lord Minitovas in the pockets of Kortos? Well, thats why I would be here if I were you, not that I am entirely sure I could bear the weight of the job you do the way you do. I would be here to find out the ways and schemes he is pulling tonight to curry the Kortos Consortium favor. Look! There is Alvalda now. That snake Minitovas is no doubt... oh.. I am so sorry. I apologize, I didn't mean sully your evening by bringing these things up. I'll take my leave from you now. I do hope you can get to the bottom of this, perhaps there is still a way this evening to strengthen your position, or at least head off Minitovas' efforts to strengthen the consortium's position. You have my word, we never spoke this evening..."
And with that, Cyrus bows politely, and blends in with the crowd, snagging another glass of wine from a server and a few snacks from the cheese tray. He raises his glass in salute to his elven friend's fine dancing.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Gunari makes his way to Senator Augustyn Naran of Andoran, making sure to have a couple of tasty beverages in his hands, and casting enhanced diplomacy on the way in. "Senator Naran, I presume? Gunari Maximoff, Priest of the Drunken Hero, at your service. You looked parched, so I deigned to bring you a tasty beverage. Hot here, isn't it? Seems always to be the case in Absalom! So, what do you think of that noble fop, Lord Minitovas? Those Taldans and their titles... seems to me you can't swing a dead cat in Taldor without hitting a noble or two... unlike in Andoran. Best thing you Andorans did, getting rid of those pesky nobles, I should think. Liberty, Freedom, and all that!
"I hear that this paintings are going to be showing off His Lordships... prowess and power... probably all about oppressing the people and taking credit where credit isn't due. Typical. I wouldn't be surprised to see him showing off how... depraved... the Taldan nobility has become... don't you think?"
Gunari realizes that he hasn't let the noble have a moment to speak as he babbles away...
|
|
Miro approaches Alvalda Margruel, bowing low. "Greetings, Lady Alvalda. How fare you this evening? It's quite a bash they're throwing here, wouldn't you say? And Lord Minovitas is going to try to top it all with some kind of showcase. A showcase commissioned and worked on by foreign hands, with warehouse workers not even receiving their meager wages delivering them."
He shrugs, "I guess it's no surprise, really, with the way Minovitas handles himself. I mean, it's one thing to hold a grudge against those who speak against you, but two convenient disappearances? I should happen to say that he should thank himself he's a noble, else he might be swinging from a tree at this point. Anyway, there I go, running my mouth. Enjoy everything!"
|
|
With an air of confidence normally absent from the old man, Ibid walks purposefully across the room and waits nearby to Her Ladyship, Lady Darchana. When the Archdean of the Arcanamirium is free from her other conversations, and is otherwise momentarily not engaged, the old man bows slightly in deference and then introduces himself.
"Good Evening, Your Ladyship. My name is Ibid," he begins. "We've met before, twice to my knowledge, in fact. I've also heard a great deal about splendid dinner parties which you've been know to hold in the past. Though I've never attended one myself, I simply wondered if you've had any in the recent past and how they have turned out, if I may be so bold?" Ibid speaks, and keeps his intentionally vague reference well shrouded in regards to a certain dinner party, with a certain guest's handmaiden entwined with secret scrying sensor. The old man hopes this will help the woman open up to him, while keeping everyone around oblivious to her personal life.
A moment later, he leans in a bit closer so the surrounding crowd cannot hear, and speaks again, "If I could be so lucky that you remember me, first of all you would make my day, and secondly, you might know what I mean when I say I'm here not entirely in a personal capacity."
"Your Ladyship, a woman in your position already knows of the follies of Lord Minitovas, so I wouldn't dare insult your intelligence nor waste your precious time regaling you with stories of his inexcusable actions and censures, of which there are too many and which should not be uttered in polite conversation. But if you ever wish to know more about our gracious host," Ibid says this last part in an obviously ironic and sarcastic tone. "I have it on good authority, Lord Minitovas recently, in an outburst of truthfulness uncharacteristically like himself, and possibly through a bout of self loathing, has commissioned some rather interesting paintings which display who he truly is on the inside and what he truly cares for in life."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lort manages to whip some real fear into the servants, who run into attending their duties, casting worried glances towards the half-orc. Lady Wintermark seems genuinely pleased to have a dancing partner, but Finarin doesn’t feel he managed to sway her opinion on Minovitas.
”That snake…” the Tetriarch grits his teeth, completely buying Cyrus’ tales. ”I thank you, young man. I’ll follow up from here”, he dismisses Cyrus and approaches Alvalda like shark approaches a prey. Meanwhile Senator Naran consumes several drinks of Gunari’s offering, and starts to get slightly inebriated. ”Ha, you’re right. Those Taldans are nothing but depraved inbreds!”
Margruel enjoys Miro’s company, but doesn’t seem to buy the story around foreign commission. ”Well, the artist might Varisian, but artists are artists…” Likewise, Ibid is having no luck with his lies. Lady Darchana just smiles: ”Oh, I think I know what kind of game you are playing here. But don’t worry Ibid, I have a good memory, and I always remember the ones who have aided me in the past”
—
Interrupting the Pathfinder’s socializing, three trumpeters play a fanfare to call attention to Lord Minovitas as he takes to the stage.
”Welcome esteemed colleagues and honored guests. On this historic day, the glorious Opparan Trade Commission is open for business! But it is not just commerce that we commemorate today; we also recognize the valor of several of the greatest heroes of our time who have fought in Mendev’s recent crusade and pushed back the demon threat so that others might live in peace. Yet this was not accomplished alone, and in an alliance of nations we found our strength. With the establishment of this facility here in Absalom, the Commission hopes to continue this alliance and further promote fair and equitable trade to the benefit of all.”
“With great honor, I dedicate this embassy to its founding members, whose esteemed accomplishments shall be forever commemorated by the work of the world-renowned painter Amya Illanaf!”
With that, Lord Minovitas gestures dramatically as if expecting someone to unveil the paintings for him. When that fails, he strides over to the first painting and theatrically whips off its cover while smiling to the audience. Not even looking at the painting - “Finarin Moonstep Fights a Demon” - he moves to the next one. Unveiling of the “Minovitas the Dawnflower” draws some gasps from the crowd, making the noble to pay attention to the painting. Sweating heavily, Minovitas starts unveiling the other paintings. Once Lort’s “Assault of the Rear” is displayed, the audience bursts out in laughter. Painting after painting the crowd laughs more, jeering maliciously. Minovitas panics and ineffectively tries to calm the crowd before retreating from the stage.
Somewhere in among the audience Lady Morilla is smiling a mysterious smile, akin to that displayed on her painting. The reception is more or less over, the host having fled the building.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"May I suggest you head to the Worldwound," shouts Lort after the flabby man, "And be sure to bring a sword and a sketch artist. This time, fight the demons... don't fu-" the remainder of Lort's taunt is cut short by a scathing glance from Finarin.
"-ck them," Lort mutters under his breath when Finarin turns back around.
|
|
Cyrus is in the back of the room when Minovitas reveals the paintings, munching on yet another platter of snacks. He puffs his chest out a bit more in pride as Finarin's painting is revealed, and joins in the laughter as one after one the paintings reveal the lord fop's secret shame. He catches a glance of Lady Morilla's smile, and wears one of his own, satisfied in another job exceedingly well done.
I don't think there is anything that can stop us...