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Swinging down from the lithe mare he had chosen for himself, Sin hands the reigns to a stableboy, before tossing him a couple coppers for his trouble. Sliding his mask down around his neck, where it pools like a black scarf, Sin looks to Edgar, before nodding and heading towards the door.
Pushing his way in to the interior of the Fang, Sin moves to a seat, near the hearth, placing his back against the wall, and looking out over the Tavern with a smile, keeping his eyes peeled for danger.
He smiled easily at the serving girl, before speaking. "Greetings m'Lady. I know we are late to the Tavern tonight but I wonder, could you find some of whatever is in the pot for me and my friend here? There is some coin in it for you!" He grinned and winked, slipping a silver coin from his sleeve, before closing her hand around it. "We just blew in to town this evening on the tide. Blue skies and still waves. A lovely journey. I need some food to fill me, a drink to calm me and a woman to please me!" He winked and laughed softly.
Edgar follows Sin into the Fang and takes a seat next to him. He gets a good look around at the patrons as Sin speaks to the serving girl.
Perception
Tellar shakes his head slowly as the pig of a mayor rattles off his companions problems. He hadn't realized how sorry of a crew he had joined until now. Well you certainly don't abandon your ship in a storm simply because you find that some of the wood is rotted. Although it goes to show that I've been right in avoiding dealing with people like this mayor. Should've just stayed on the ship.
Tellar helps himself to more food, heaping his plate high and making sure to eat his fill while he can. The man might be a conniving snake but his spread was good. And if he was going to blackmail us, might as well make him feed us while he's at it.
Eaton blinks and lilts his head, his fork half poised to have a bite of pie...
"Huh..."
He slowly sets the fork down on the plate, and lifts his napkin up off his lap, dabbing his lips with the napkin despite the fact that he hasn't eaten anything yet. He folds it over once and gently sets it down on his pie.
"That's unfortunate, Lord Mayor. I've never been so insulted in my entire life. I won't have my father's business blackmailed. You'll find that Starse ships will no longer dock in this port. You'll find that several of the Ushers rely on the steel we provide for trade and expansion. When they have to go to Korvosa to get our metal, they're going to be very put out. Had you ended with 'a shard' I would have been quite interested in acquiring it for you. Very unfortunate indeed. Send the rest of your blackmail to the Valdemar estate. I'll receive it there. Good day, sir."
He rises and brushes his hands once over his coat, then storms towards the door.
"Your father or his advisors are not going to cut off trade with Magnimar simply because I slighted you, boy." The Lord-Mayor replies, dabbing his chin delicately with his napkin, somehow managing to suddenly look poised and refined, "Korvosa's trade laws are far too strict to foreigners and mine are far too good. Besides, I never blackmailed you. I simply said that I could."
The two guards at the doors cross their halberds, barring the path while the Lord-Mayor continues, "Your honor may not like it, but I've done nothing close to slander you, all I've done is offered you a business proposition."
He nods towards Phaedra, "The warrants for your arrest do exist, my dear, I'm dreadfully sorry for that." he glances back towards the Eaton, "As do the ones for your two friends. I did not swindle, connive or trick those in to being in any way, they did that all on their own."
He takes another delicate bite of his pie and waves a hand, so that the guards uncross their weapons, "I am offering you a good deal. you and your friends do a bit of spelunking for me and I wipe their slates clean. Otherwise..."
he sighs and waves to two of the guards, "I loathe doing this, but if you are adamant then I must place Miss Valerius under arrest. She is to be escorted to a private cell in Arvensoar and no harm shall come to her until her trial."
"You will address me as my Lord, you fat, foolish piece of filth. I am a Taldan Noble and one of the Bearded. You have extorted and threatened me, and now you have insulted me -twice-. Miss Valerius is under my protection. Lay a hand on her and start a -war- with Taldor. Not to mention..."
His right hand closes and he turns towards the guards, that halloween energy rippling to shuddering life around his hand, coursing up his arm, and playing black and orange havoc in his eyes and between his teeth. "My father is an Archmage. Quite aside from the -diplomatic incident- of trying to extort a nobleman, the first one of you that lays a hand on Miss Valerius will be vomiting up spiders till the day he dies. Which shant be very long, granted, since venomous spiders make poor bedfellows."
Whirling on the Lord Mayor again, the young Lord Starse sneers "As for you - you ignorant, offensive, overblown trash - you have stained my honor and I demand traditional Taldan justice. I challenge you to a duel. To the death. At dawn. Which of course you will refuse because you are a coward, as well as a dullard. I said to send the rest of your blackmail to the Valdemar estate, yet you continue to try and extort me here, in front of these armed men, and make further threats. So instead, why don't I simply -gut you where you stand-? A priest and two magicians? Really? You want to attack a priest and two magicians? While you're within short spell range? Threaten me again while I can lay hands on you and watch me -really- lose my temper, you slovenly, goggling, low-born buffoon. Move your men. I shan't like to harm fellows doing their jobs. And I will await the rest of your blackmail at the Valdemar estate. Or continue your ham-handed farce, and I'll have the Taldan Military march on your fair hamlet, and your skin flown like a flag. Choose quickly. I haven't had my -nap-.
Tellar clears his throat before pushing back his chair to cross his legs in front of him. Settling in he looks at Eaton, his eyes firm on the young man's. You're mighty quick to speak for the rest of us aren't you boy? You're like a newly minted deckhand, thinks the seas are his to command yet he's never tasted the true wrath of the hurricane. Is your honor so fragile a thing that you would risk my life to defend it? The Lady Phaedra's? He puts emphasis on that last point.
You're my shipmate and my companion and I will support you as best I can but even a captain can be replaced if his orders prove to be too dangerous for the rest of the crew. And right now boy you're asking us to dive into shark infested waters.
Tellar then looks to the Lord-Mayor, his gaze just as hard as it was for Eaton. While I think Lord Starse here is a bit too hot headed for his own good some times, make no mistake mi'lord that he is my companion and compatriot. I hope cooler heads prevail today but he certainly doesn't stand alone in his dislike of threats and games.
The Fang is something of a strandard when it came to the mariner's trade in Magnimar, and most likely this wasn't either of the two boys first time in the tavern. The place is typical, made of oak, redwood and any other wood they may have been available. Darkened with age - and in some places burned black from torches, candles and smoke. The bar is set off to the side, a set of stairs climbs up to the second floor and door to the kitchens rests behind it. And the rest of the place is filled with round tables, almost all of which are filled. Sailors, dockworkers, guardsmen who (probably) just came off duty.
On the other side of the room, a raised stage currently holds a single bard. a young Tian woman, dressed in travelling clothes of whites and blues. Her hair is cropped to her chin - with two strips of vibrant blue dyed into her front bangs, clashing against the black of the rest of her hair. Her fingers fly across the strings of an odd guitar-like instrument, plucking out a fast paced and exotic tune.
The serving girl - pretty with curly blonde locks and green eyes - smiles to the two of them. "If this is late, you came to the wrong bar. But aye, we've got some beef stew on the pot. Find a table and I'll bring you a couple bowls."
and she does return a few moments later with two bowls filled with a piping stew that's rich with a savory smell. "Here you go lads, courtesy of Ol' Mam. Can I get you two anything to drink?"
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Smiling broadly, Sin inclines his head to the woman in thanks, before speaking.
"Two ales and two tankards of water please Miss!" As she heads off to get the drinks, Sin leans in, breathing in the aroma of the stew, smiling contentedly.
Taking the opportunity, Sin begins to whisper to Edgar. "We stay here for an hour then make our way to the boat. We forego the prostitutes and just sneak on to the boat. If it is too guarded when we get there, we set alight to a warehouse. Seem like a plan?"
Edgar frowns. "I'd like to not add arson to the list of things we do tonight...Sigh... Maybe we should wear disguises incase we are seen? Edgar replys.
The silence hangs in the air, palpable as Lord-Mayor Grobaras stares at Eaton. His face is an impassive mask; gone is the joviality, but neither does it show any hint of anger or worry. It is as blank as stone.
He stays silent when Tellar says his own opinion, and slowly turns away toward his plate. absently fingering a grape on the plate, "Of course I will turn down your request to duel" he states, his voice as solid and emotionless as his expression, "But not because I am a coward, and most certainly not because I am stupid." He raises up from his seat and faces Eaton. Suddenly a man who seemed to be nothing but a fat blob is nothing but. He is imposing, his presence as strong as Eaton's.
"And if I could offer one piece of advice, free and out of good will, it is this. If you are so hells bent on making me an enemy, you would be wise to not underestimate me."
He smiles, not a broad grin but a small humorless smirk, "I am as versed in politics and intrigue as you are. So no it is not my Lord. This is not Taldor." He turns away, presenting his back to Eaton and walks over to the window, gazing out on the sea. "It is Lord because that is the title your family has given you in your home and in courtesy I should respect that. I apologize for my breach of protocol."
his eyes trace along the path of a gull that soars lazily through the air over the waters, "But please, Lord Eaton, be honest with yourself if not with me. Grand Prince Stavian has not risen to the aid of any of his nobles since he took his crown. Even if he was willing to do so, the nations of Andoran, Isger, Molthune and Nirmathas lay between by land, and any armada that came by ship would have to cross the waters of the Chelaxian navy - who unless I am mistaken hate your country as much as your country hates them."
He looks back, a sympathetic look on his face, "And your father... well Archmage or not, he simply isn't as powerful as he once was. Otherwise his only son would not be halfway across the world from home trying to secure shipping contracts when his business has always relied on- and profited from - the use of magical transportation."
The Lord-Mayor pivots on his heel then, coming back around to full face the three. "And even if that were not the case. Even if your father had the sway and the means to convince the Grand Prince to march the armies of Taldor, to cross the lands of half a dozen nations, some of whom you are already on the edge of war with. Even if that were all so. Do you really believe that Iacob, Master of the House Starse, the Iron Lord, would do so over a farm girl, a deckhand and a known thief?"
The question is an honest if frank one. Grobaras' voice isn't snide or mocking but rather like a teacher forcing his pupil to examine all the facts. With that all said though, the Lord-Mayor turns to Tellar and Phaedra,
"I apologize to the two of you for the way this meeting went. Perhaps I overplayed my hand to a degree, but this was never meant to be personal. However, I did not fabricate any of the charges against you or your friends." he waves over a page carrying a wooden tablet with a piece of parchment and a quill and inkwell, the Lord-Mayor begins to etch along the paper, "This is simply a business proposition, and one that is open to any of your group, even if Lord Starse chooses to remain rooted in his decision. Do this job for me and I will erase the charges, otherwise you take your chances with the law"
he drips a few drops of blue wax onto the paper and press a ring into it, stamping it with his signet, "Miss Valerius, as a show of good faith I am placing you in the custodial care of the Valdemar family until a date for your trial has been set. Of course you are forbidden from leaving the city."
He waves a hand dismissively at the two Guards, who push open the doors that the three came in through, "And a piece of advice for you, my dear." he says to Phaedra, "If you choose not to take up my offer, I would find a good Arbiter. You may be able to find justice in your trials. For Edgar and Sinders I would find a good priest." he motions to one of the page's "Tobias will show you out. One of my carriages will return you all to the Valdemar Estate if you wish."
With a friendly smile, the Lord-Mayor turns to the older page - the one who the tablet and papers and starts reviewing another document - apparently deciding the meeting had ended.
Tellar was pleasantly surprised that Starse's temper had gotten them killed or locked away. Grabbing a few rolls and stuffing them in his pockets, he headed for the doors and the waiting carriage. Here's hoping he doesn't find another way to get us killed on the way back to the others.
First stunned into silence by the lord mayor's offer and the threat of her arrest, Phaedra is even more stunned by Eaton's fierce reaction and his defense of her and their other shipmates. She then finds her emotions in a bit of turmoil as fear for herself and friends mixes with happiness that Eaton's overtures towards her must have been sincere, otherwise he would not be defending her so.
Attempting to form some coherent thoughts after the lord mayor's last speech, Phaedra moves up to Eaton, placing her hand upon his left arm. "Please m'lord, I think we should discuss this offer with Miss Emilia and the others before you continue your spirited discussion with the lord mayor here. At the very least, the two of our group who may face execution for past crimes should be given a chance to give their opinion as to what choice of action they wish to pursue."
Now would be the ideal time for a pithy comment and a dimension door. Need to study a bit harder...
As Grobaras' speech dies, Eaton shakes the corruscating black and orange power from his hand, the energy shuddering and dying with a sputtering crackle. At least his manner is grown more palpable. When Phaedra sets a hand on his arm and asks him to calm, Eaton straightens and smoothes his sleeves "How much more smoothly this would have gone had you simply asked, Lord Mayor..."
He turns to face her, and only then are his hard eyes softening, the thin set of his angered lips turning down into a worried frown "I would not abandon men who have shed their blood in defense of my life, Phaedra. I am not a cad. I agreed to await the rest of his promised blackmail at the Valdemar estate. It is only a shame that he takes such a chance at self defense from you. I gave my -word- I would protect you, and I shall. That is what it means to be a Lord." He sniffs and casts a last, disgruntled look at Grobaras, even as he folds Phaedra's arm in his, to lead her towards the door. "What a lovely birthday party Miss Emelia has invited us out to!"
The Carriage ride from Defiants Garden is a solemn one. Barely a word is spoken between the three. The implications of the last hour churning in their minds, eyes cast to the coach's floor. The three hardly notice the scenery outside pass until the carriage comes to a halt in front of the Valdemar Estate.
Entering the manor, the three are greeted by Tanyn, "You've returned faster than we've expected. I'm afraid Lady Emilia is in a meeting with Captain Derrington."
The atmosphere of the bar had reached a fevered pitch, though really for any dockside bar that was the norm, especially when that bar was the Fang.
The Tian bard had finished a couple of hours ago and her place had been taken by a more traditional band. As fiddle, flute and other instruments played a raucous jig, the bar was alive with a plethora of voices and movements, of characters and spirits! Barmaids all but danced through the chaos with a practiced ease, while the patrons laughed and revelled.
"...So there I was, staring right down the nose o' the King of Brevoy! when suddenly..."
"Oh my gods, the teats on this woman, I'm tellin' ya Mak she could keep an army fed fer a year. and happy!"
"... This... this ship as black as the devil just... sprang outta the water! Not a soul escaped alive."
"Should a seen the look on his face, near pissed himself he was so scared"
"I hear they got that Valdemar kid locked up in The Hells!... Gods the stories you hear o' that place."
As Edgar and Sin rise from their table, they see a familiar figure enter the tavern... Tellar!
Eaton is upset the entire way 'home', but he's also thinking quickly. What can they do to free their friend from Grobaras' pudgy clutches? What can they do to escape the city unmolested? Mmmmm. They wouldn't expect a salty young man on the crew to be anything but a salty young man, would they? There exist spells that can make a disguise -foolproof- so long as they recipient remembers to carry herself in a manner other than her natural bearing. A pair of scissors, a wrap of linen about the chest, a dusting of coal and cocoa around the lips and cheeks to suggest the beginnings of a proud brown beard...? They could easily turn Phaedra into -Finn-, and smuggle her right out of the city. There's no limit to what you can do with sufficient coinage.
Stroking his beard the whole way back to the estate, his eyes glitter as he stares absently out the window of the carriage, his hand but once groping blindly for Phaedra's to offer a comforting squeeze.
At some point along the way, too, he fastens a mournful, disproving look on Tellar and puffs. "Master Bronsev, have I ever been anything but courteous and respectful of you? Have I ever been inconsiderate of your rank or station? Have I -once- adressed you as 'old man' or 'you there'? Do I not heed your advice when it comes to matters of the sea and take your council when it is given? Or been less than appreciative, even gracious, for the powers granted you by the sea herself? Why would you treat me so shabbily? And in front of our lady friend and in front of that ham-fisted and transparent lout? Is it that you've no confidence at all in my skill? It may be true that I don't -swim- well, but I've never actually been ditched into the drink with a chain-shirt around my shoulders and threatened to be ground to meal between the hulls. Shall I not speak for you in the future? Shall I divorce myself from you completely, and consider us no longer brothers in arms? Have I not -properly- expressed my gratitude for your part in dragging me out of that dirty hole and hauling me back to civilization...? You hurt me, Master Bronsev. Deeply. And a greater treachery than that bloated pig showed in betraying proper conduct in his -blackmail-. Where do we go from here?" Unable to look directly at the man for long, he twists his mouth up in an sour expression of distaste and turns his violet eyes back out the window, watching Magnimar rumble past.
...
Upon entering the estate he nods to the old elf "Master Tanyn, thank you. We ran into some unpleasantness with the Lord Mayor's greed and manipulation. He's roundly threatened the whole company including Lady Valdemar. We've no choice but to bend to his wishes... I need to speak with Lady Valdemar immediately when she's finished with the Captain. I shan't intrude. I'm afraid our meal was cut short as well, poisoned by the atmosphere, I think. Can you arrange to have a bit of bread and cheese and a bottle of white wine brought to us? We'll have a light repast and wait for Lady Valdemar's attention..." He strips off his gloves and stuffs them in his belt, straightening them to hang and unfastening his cloak, obviously settling back in for the remainder of their long 'stay'.
He leans back and glances out the window before turning back to Eaton, his voice tired but firm. I call you boy and question your decision and with only that small slight to your honor you are ready to cut me adrift, assured that I will bring you to ruin in some way. Is your honor so fragile a thing as to shatter at my harsh common graces? You are young on this earth and yet only too eager to deal in absolutes. Despite what we may wish, this world exists in shades of grey and it is something you will need to accept. If you feel I have betrayed the trust in our camaraderie with my few words then so be it. As I said I am a simple man with only common graces, mi'lord. It is how I speak and who I am. You are my shipmate and I will perform my duties with regards to you without question and if that is the extent to which you want to keep me at, then so be it. But you have the tiller and it is your course to set.
Watching the streets of the town, Tellar tries longingly to catch a glimpse of the sea. Things are always less complicated on the open waves.
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Tellar hobbles slowly into the inn and catches Sin and Edgar's eye. I see you lads haven't missed my company too much.
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Sin stands up, stretching and sighing. "Well damned if that was not a beautiful meal. I like it here ya know Ed? Tis a nice place!" Turning towards the door, Sin sees Tellar and waves in greeting, before making his way towards the older man.
"Not much. But neither would you if you had wine and wenches!" Sin laughs softly, patting the man on the back. "Glad you're with us Tel!"
Phaedra will wait with Eaton to speak to Emilia when she is done with her meeting. She has no intention of attempting to join the others on their mission since she has no skills at sneaking about.
Stepping outside The Fang into the humid summer air, the Dockland's main street still bustles with the life of a port city. The streets are lit by rows of oil lamps that burn brighter and cleaner - thankfully without the god awful stench - as the lamps that lit the ways of Riddleport.
The three sailors easily spot The North Star, moored a short ways away. Two of the ship's deck lamps burn softly, though no one appears to be on deck, and a pair of city guards stand post at the foot of the walk way onto the ship, one leans on his spear while the other rests against the rail of the gangplank.
Tanyn's eyes narrow in concern, shifting to each of the three before nodding, "Of course my Lord. I believe there is still some food left from lunch, I'll bring it to the solar right away." he turns to attend to his task, but stops a moment, "Lord Starse, Lady Valdemar mentioned you wished to write to your family. There is some parchment and ink at the desk in the Solar, or I could bring some to your chambers later if you prefer."
A few moments later, once the question of ink is settled, the trio arrive in the Solar - which lives up to its name with bright rays of sunlight shinning in through a grande window, glittering off of the sea in the distance.
Tanyn enters a few minutes later with a silvered tray bearing a loaf of bread, cut and lightly drizzled with olive oil, slices of an dark orange chedder and a bowl of salad tossed with flecks of salmon and a balsamic vinegrette. A pitcher of wine and four glasses complete the meal. "There you go," the old elf says with a smile that feels both refined and fatherly at the same time. "Do let me know if you are in need of anything else."
Even as he finishes his sentence, Emilia can be heard from the hallway, "Thank you again Captain. Hopefully our next meeting will not need to be so formal. Say hello to your parents for me."
She enters the room a moment later, "Tanyn, have you sent the invitations for this dinner tonight?"
"Not yet, My Lady."
"Good. Don't." she answers, rubbing the bridge of her nose between two fingers, "I don't know what I was thinking. And if you could have the ledgers of our last year on my desk I would appreciate it. I've A lot of work ahead of me."
"Of course. How did your meeting with the good Captain go?" Tanyn smiles,
"As well as could be expected, better in fact. The Council of Ushers is pushing to have Eredin's trial by the end of the week. And Commodore Jeggare has determined that according to salvage laws, once the matter has been settled, The Rogue is to become our property."
"Well, silver linings then. I'll see to those books My lady." Tanyn bows respectfully as he leaves.
Emilia smiles to the three and slumps down into one of the plush chairs, pouring herself a flute of wine and nibbling on a piece of cheese, "How did your meeting with the Lord-Mayor go?" she asks.
Nodding quickly, Eaton flattens his lips into a serious line. "Yes, thank you, Master Tanyn, I'll take the opportunity now." Eaton gratefully follows the old elf up to the Solar and starts in on the letter even before the man has returned with their dinerette, dusting the paper and paring the quills and stirring the ink. He's just begun writing when the man returns, and favors him with a brief, honest smile. "Yes, thank you again."
Eaton is opening his mouth to dismiss the man when Lady Valdemar's voice rings from the hall, where he turns his head. She enters and confers with her servant and he remains politely silent until adressed. "Oh, I don't think it could have gone worse. He threatened to have Mister Arrowni and 'Sin' beheaded, Miss Valerius locked up, you investigated, and my family's trade banned from the city-state. All this blackmail in order to get us to go and gather, free of charge, some magic shard from some hidden dungeon. If he'd been willing to pay even the slightest gratuity for the cost of getting us there and back, I'd have likely happily agreed out of sheer curiosity. Instead, I panicked, and called him a grotesque fat pig, and -now- he's angry as well as blustering." He drains his wine all in a single draught and pours himself another very quickly, shaking his head ruefully "I expect his maps and written threats to be arriving very shortly. He'll want us after his toy at first light. I'm afraid I can see no way out of the situation but to do as he says."
Turning casually to the letter he had been writing, in tiny script at the bottom, he places a single sentence, covering it even as he writes with the shadow of his hand and then quickly folding over the parchment and passing it to Emelia.
Dearest Mother and Father,
-I believe we are being scryed upon. Watched. Say nothing aloud.
You two don't suppose that they would let us on, do you? He whispers his rhetorical question. "So do we just swim over and board then?" Edgar asks, assuming Sin has more skills in these kind of areas.
Tellar grabs a seat on a nearby barrell as they discreetly look over the ship in the darkness. Well I can tell you I don't have any compunctions about getting myself wet and if it comes to it, I've got some tricks that will make you lads glide through the water like an eel. Shaking his head he continues. That's not our biggest problem though. Climbing up any of those mooring lines, or gods save you the anchor chain itself, is going to be quite the effort for even the strongest of us. They're all likely to be slick from the sea and a danger to the mission.
Tellar looks to Sin and Edgar. Easiest way on to that ship is up the gang plank but that means dealing with the guards. They certainly don't look like the city's finest but it only takes one yell to blow the whole thing.
"I have a grappling hook and some rope. I can knot it and we can use that to assist in our climb. Is there somewhere I can throw it from land?"
Edgar takes a hard look around looking for any other possible ways to get onto the ship.
Perception
Phaedra takes a seat beside Eaton and takes small sips of her wine as she picks at her food without much appetite. Giving a small sigh as He finishes his recap of their visit, she asks: "Do you think he will let us go if we do get this shard for him or is he the type to keep on blackmailing us regardless of what we do?"
"Well, that's only part of the problem with blackmail, isn't it? The threat never 'goes away'. He's not actually offering to trade us anything, only threatening us. Even if he was offering, how could you take him seriously? He holds all the cards. Either we call his bluff, or we do as he says and look for another way out. Since I'm not keen to see my compatriots killed, or you lost forever, we have no choice but to do as he says." Eaton raises, dangling his glass of wine dangerously at the end of two fingers, sipped mostly empty but still a bit precarious, a long practiced grip. He saunters around to behind Phaedra and leans down, saying "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Miss Phaedra..." before lowering his voice to whisper...
"Look for scrying sensors..."
"We can do this... Maybe the gangplank is the way to go but Tel is right... One call and we are done!" He sighs. "This is going to be awkward. If only we had some way to silence them..."
"To bad Phaedra's not here, she could just send them to sleep. If Eaton was here, he might be able to talk them into letting us on the boat somehow, or at the very least confuse or distract them with his... well, his being himself. We can try bribing the men, but I doubt that we have enough gold... I think Subterfuge or brute force is our only two choices... I say we grapple to the boat get in find what we need to find and get out before someone spots us. Do either of you have any skill in disguising? I'd hate to get seen and have this lead back to us or Emilia."
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Sin grins silently to himself, before pulling his bag from his shoulder and reaching in to it, pulling out a load of clothing. "Stand still..." He steps towards Edgar and begins to fix his costume.
Stepping back to look at his work, he nods softly, before moving on to Tellar.
Stepping back once more, he grins broadly. "Wow... Good look for you Tel. Think about keeping it!" He frowns for a moment, before reaching in to the bag once again. "My turn..." He turns his back on the two men, before beginning.
As he turns back around, he itches at the eye patch he is wearing and screws his face up, before speaking in a thick, uneducated accent, directing his words to Tellar. "Ar Cap'n it do be yer jab now. Tell me and Gibbs ere when ye be wantin us ta go!" He laughs softly, itching at the eye patch again.
"Well no one will recognise us now... Reckon we could rob Eaton for fun when we are done?"
Tellar laughed out loud as Sin finished his work. Son I ain't got no aspirations to be a captain so you just make sure to remember that when we're done with this. That being said, on yer feet you lazy scallywags and let's be on.
Tellar will lever himself up and begin heading towards the moored vessel.
Edgar snorts at the costumes. "Great, this will do perfectly. Err... you... uh, Scallywags... (sigh) Lets just get this over with!"
To Beat:
Moving with stealth and guile, a line is tossed from the dock to the rail of the North Star and one by one the three climb hand over hand, to roll quietly to the deck of the ship. The small light of the two lamps burns dimly, and the lads need to keep crouched to avoid giving away their shadows.
Communicating with hand signals, they search the ship, starting from the bottom up, but their search shows nothing out of the ordinary, and after almost an hour, they're left with one room left; The Captain's quarters.
The door swings open silently - thankfully well oiled and cared for - and they enter into the room. It manages to be both refined and modest. a four poster canopy bed rests in the far corner, a desk for writing, a table with sofa and chair, a small bookshelf that comes to just above navel that's topped with a large family portrait of a handsome man, a beautiful Elven woman, and two precocious looking half-elf children. Given the man's resemblance to Frederick, it can be assumed that this is a portrait of Emilia and Eredin, with their mother and father.
The three step in through the doorway, the room seems to be untouched and well ordered. When the door closes behind them - quicker than it should - and a slender female figure, garbed in black leathers lashes out with twin daggers, narrowly avoiding Tellar's back as the priest dodges out of the way.
The three get a better look now at the woman. Her black and red leather armor is fine and supple, shaping itself to her alluring figure. Her slender fingers flex across hilts of twin daggers with blades that curve back and forth in wicked fashion. She's an elf, or looks like one, except that her skin is a deep ebony black, and snow white hair falls to her shoulders, framing eyes that are as white as her hair.
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Pulling the Wakizashi from the sheath across his lower back, Sin twirls the blade in his hand, as he moves towards the woman, circling wide, to come up behind her, placing her between himself and Edgar. Waiting for an opportune moment in the trade of blows, Sin ducks in, twisting and sending his blade darting towards her.
Sins' blade slashes deep in to the womans' thigh, causing her to stumble for a moment, before, fueled by his success, Sin lashes out a second time.
Edgar turns towards the dark elf, cutlass already in hand, and moves to defend Tellar!
Edgar cuts a huge gash across the dark elf's chest, as Sin, as if appearing from her shadow, finishes her off from behind.
As she falls to the floor, Edgar whispers, "Who the heck is this!?"
"We Won't be losing anyone, Eaton." Emilia says, her voice barely giving away the uncertainty behind her own words. She paces back and forth a bit, slender fingers drumming along her chin, "There's more to this than that... there has to be... "
Stopping her contemplation, Emilia looks up to the other two, "It's late, and We won't be able to come up with any brilliant plans if we're exhausted. Go try to get some rest, enjoy a real bed. I have some connections who may be able to help us but we won't be able to speak to them until the morning."
The two retire for the evening, Emilia herself takes her leave, and each one returns to their chambers for a fitful and hardly relaxing sleep.
Both Eaton and Phaedra are awoken by Tanyn in the early morning, just as the first pink rays of sun creep over the horizon, and are brought to the solar to find Emilia dining on some fruit,
"I need the two of you to run a few errands for me," she smiles casually, as if the three of you hadn't discussed a plot by the city's powers against you, "My uncle had some shipping contracts with a few merchants throughout the city, I'd like you to check in on them on my behalf," She passes a rolled piece of parchment to them, "You'll find all the details there. Thank you both."
We can not assume that the Lord-Mayor will uphold his end of this "bargain" and I suggest we find a way to turn the tables on him. However, we are fighting blind at the moment. Eaton, use your connections to find out any information that could be useful. I would suggest starting with a Dwarf named Pwindle Rockbottom. Funny name I know, but he's a retired Pathfinder and a friend of my father's. He may have a clue about this "Shard."
Tellar nudges the woman's blade away with his foot before inspecting the body closer. Aye, who this is and also what this is. You boys ever seen an elf black as night? I thought it might be paint or dye, to make her a better assassin but this is her gods given skin.
Tellar turned back to the room, eyes scanning for some clue as to what they were looking for on the ship.
@Last Night
Eaton eats sparingly, his appetite mostly spoiled, but he drinks heavily, and by the end of their little tete-a-tete he's finished off all the wine present. He squeezes Phaedra's hand in what he hopes is a comforting way and mmms, murmering softly "Sh's right. Wull all see things better in the morn'..."
@Next Day
Lingering in bed a bit, the Lordling insists on a morning bath before he can really get by for the day.. needing to soak his head and remove every trace of the salt-air from his body with soap and a good stiff brush. But he can do so after the meeting with Emelia, attending in a morning gown, slightly mussed, and with a towel over his shoulder. He squints and smiles wanly, nodding (gently!) his approval "Of course, 'Captain'... I need to buy a good mirror to travel with anyhow, and look into purchasing a new spell or three for my book. We'll head out straight after some breakfast." With magic and makeup, he fully coifs, perfumes, trims, neatens, and aligns his hair and clothes, buttons up, straightens, straps his sword on his side, and dons his polished chain shirt, the salt-stained thing having been neatly magically dried after being hauled out of the drink after his impromptu swim.
Clean and ready, he returns for a light breakfast of whatever Tanyn is serving, eats heartily, feeling in much greater spirits after last night's spirits, and drinks about a half gallon of water. The note is folded twice and set in his shirt pocket, and nearing the end of the meal he asks the old elven servant to ensure that his backpack is readied near the door for their departure, awaiting on Phaedra as his escort.
Idly, he mumbles "I wonder if I could convince Phaedra to wear a -wig-...?" while stroking his fussily groomed beard with one hand...
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Sin shrugs, playing with the eye patch. "I have heard of rumors and ledgends but never believed them and never seen one myself. Can't for the life of me remember much about it..." Sin shrugs, less interested in the fallen foe, than he is in the area around them.
"Do you think this is what Emilia was looking for? This woman I mean?"
Phaedra picks at her food at sips at her wine, too concerned with their current turn of events to have much of an appetite. Sighing a little over Eaton's continued over-indulgance of alcohol, Phaedra never the less appreciates his attempt at reassurance as they part ways to their rooms for the night.
Dressing in her new clothes again, Phaedra pulls her hair back up into a ponytail and draws her hat low over her face before she prepares to leave with Eaton to run Emilia's "errands".
Edgar quickly searches the unconscious drow woman, looking for anything to loot and if there is anything to identify her, or give him a clue about her.
Once done he helps the others search the captains quarters.
The quicker we finish and get out of here the better...
Edgar searches through the strange obsidian elf, feeling over her armor for any clues.
the woman's armor, supple leather that fits together like a puzzle, covering most of her body, bears a number of small embellishments; monstrous images embossed in the material, but no clue as to where she came from. Her cloak is finely crafted, and lightweight, but not out of the ordinary.
Just as he's about to relent though, Tellar finds a piece of parchment rolled up and tucked into her boot. unrolling it, it seems to be a note, scrawled out in a light and delicate hand. The characters however, are completely foreign to Edgar...
Searching the room, the three men cover the room. The bed, the table, the desk the wardrobe, all of it seems to be normal.
It is Tellar who lucks out though. As he inspects the bookcase, his fingers graze across the frame of the Valdemar family portrait and find one piece - a rose carved in the corner of the frame - that moves! Twisting like a knob, the portrait gives a 'click' and swings open, revealing a small cubby hole. Inside is a single small book, bound in a soft blue leather with the image of a four pointed star embossed on the cover.
Opening the small book - in a curving quill written scrawl - the front page reads:
~ The Journal of Joshua Valdemar, Pathfinder ~
Tellar pulls the book out and shows it to the other two men. Going to this trouble to hide a journal, if this isn't what we're looking for then it should at least be brought to the Captain's attention. But I'm thinking this is it. Best one of you hold it, in case we get separated. He pats his bum leg. There's a good chance I'd be the one caught.
After handing off the book, he takes a quick peek at the note the night elf woman had tucked away on her.
Edgar grabs the two blades from the dark elf and hands the note to teller to try to make heads and tales of.
When the secret room is found Edgar whistles silently. After Tellar takes the book, Edgar takes a quick look around in case there is more secrets hidden in the secret little safe.
Unless he finds something he whispers "Well that's got to be it, we searched everywhere, lets scram!" Edgar looks to the drow. "What should we do about her, leave her? She might still be alive..."
Edgar tucked the journal safely away and lifted the two daggers from the their would-be attacker. The twin daggers are exquisitely balanced, with grips wrapped in well oiled leather, and a wicked back curve to each blade.
"Alright, lets get the heck outta here!"
The trio tries to leave the same way they came.