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"I'll freely admit to not knowing a king's price, not having tried to purchase one. It seems a princely sum at least, though." Raphael quips as he studies the mirror with idle curiosity. "I wouldn't spend those platinum just yet, Valentina. If I recall my basic property rights laws, which I do, there will be a hold on the mirror until its status can be discovered. You won't be seeing any proceeds for a time, at least."
Raphael grunts in surprise as Seth's hand sinks into the mirror and he watches with goggling eyes. "I think having your friend take a look would be wise. I have a former client who might also take a look at it as a favor, potentially. I think we can safely say that it is worth considerably more then your aforementioned five platinum, Mademoiselle Silverstone. A rider to collect the guard and one to collect the mage seem prudent. In particular, I think Von Moltke would appreciate news of this particular discovery. I think your analysis, Halycon, is spot on. For such a potent artifact to appear tonight of all nights seems to be no coincidence. I would advise against tampering with the mirror any more then we have already, lest we contaminate what may well be a criminal scene."
Raphael snorts in amusement at Valentina's teasing, "I'd like to think I don't need to wait for a murder to arrange a date with a lovely young woman, but if that is the price that must be paid..."
Halcyon moves to stand before the mirror, as best she can as the mechanical man holds it. "I volunteer to put my head through just long enough to get a good look at what is on the other side. If I can recognize anything, it might tell us where this gate connects to, giving us a clue about this conspiracy."
She is struck by a thought. "Did you say the air was warm? What if it connects to Tizonia? That is the only land I can think of that might be warm during the middle of winter. If so, perhaps we should have been more suspicious of Tomas, the lone Tizonian at the party. Perhaps they are hoping to stir up trouble between Roland and Galatia, in hopes of profiting in some way."
She stands poised to lean her head into the mirror, but does not do so immediately, in case the others want to suggest a different path.
Valentina gives the clockwork man a pat. "You heard him, place it down." The Construct obliges, clicking as it unlocks its limbs. They slowly reach down, placing the mirror back to the alley. The mirror's surface reflects much of the party now. Nishara waits behind with Lucia and Seth. "If it fetches more than fifty gold, than I can wait." She looks deep at herself in the mirror, parting some of her hair over her ear. She smiles. "It seems time is money after all, and this could prove a pretty investment."
The world in the mirror is dark and boundless. It seems to extend forever. It seems to be an extra-dimensional space. In front of you are four mirrors, dimly illuminated in the void. They are all large, with varying trim around them. Some are basic wood, one is made of twisted metal, another painted with gold leaf. As you tilt your head, you spy the elegant rim of the mirror you entered all around you. It appears to act as some kind of portal to this realm.
The Mirror world is warm, a pleasant temperature soiled by stale air, an eerie lack of sound, a lack of any smells. It is both serene and haunting. The tracks of boots walk in circles, leaving a trail of dirt before exiting to a single, golden mirror. More than one person crossed into this realm, but without a closer look you cannot determine how many. In each mirror you see the state of yourself: four reflections stare at you, sharing your disembodied head in their panes. You shudder as you think what would happen if the spell ended this instant.
Nishara is quiet, though she peeps up when Tomas' name is mentioned. "He didn't seem bad. Too proud for poison."
"If you want to put your head in so be it. It was warm when I put my hand in so, it might lead to a room somewhere." Seth listens to Valentina and Nishara speak before he pipes up again. "I do think though, depending on what Halcyon sees we might have to bring this to the Guard. I would volunteer to go through the mirror and look around where ever it leads to gather more information, but I am not so magically inclined to maybe learn something other that by sight."
Halcyon puts her head through the strange surface. Her flesh shows a sudden horripilation down the back of her arms and on her neck. She shifts slightly as if to look different directions beyond the surface that hides her head. Moments later, although it seemed much longer to her, she steps back to be completely in Roland and shakes her head as if to clear it of cobwebs.
"Not a landscape but ... some kind of ... nexus maybe. I saw other mirrors as if I could move in and turn left or right and move through another? I'm not sure, but it was eerily quiet and devoid of smells. There was one golden mirror with dirt foot prints showing more than one set of tracks to this mirror from goddess knows where."
Valentina seems intrigued. She walks over to the mirror, putting just a finger through at first. As she dances her finger across the mirror, it leaves a wake of ripples in the metal. She places her head through.
As her head inside the mirror, Valentina holds to the wooden edge, holding it lightly for support. She returns completely to Roland. "I think this was the entrance? Think they'll be coming back?" She crosses her arms once more, grinning as she thinks it over. She reaches into he jacket pocket, removing a single copper coin. She tosses it to the mirror, but it bounces off the mirror's surface. Her smile briefly turns to a pout. "Huh. Takes away a bit of the fun this thing can make."
Valentina reaches into her bag, removing a large metal sphere, maybe a foot or so across. It seems heavy to her, and she places on the ground with a thud. The orb seems lined with almost runelike carvings. She bends over and gives it a tap with a finger. "Time to wake." The sphere breaks apart at its grooves. It stretches out eight thin, spindling legs and insect-like wings. It seems to have a single large "eye" composed of many moving internal lenses. The wings rapidly pulse, briefly taking the creature a foot off the stone. It looks to Valentina, awaiting its orders. "Search around and listen for anyone speaking of a mirror." It's legs begin to climb the walls of the alley, skittering up until it reaches the rooftop, leaving the view of the party. "One mystery after another. How many can we solve before we head to bed..."
Raphael frowns at Halcyon's description, turning into a scowl as he looks again at the mirror. "I find that I grow only more suspicious as we learn more and more about this mirror. I think I am now certain that Vol Moltke will be interested in this mirror. I don't suppose you have a carrier construct secreted about your person, Valentina? If nothing else, it would surely convince him that you are the one sending word."
Valentina gives a knock to her clockwork man. Her smiles comes easy. "This is as close as it gets for delivering anything. Don't think many are partial for the little Spy. Used to let one wander to see what it'd pick up but..." She trails off in thought. "Not too sure where that one went. Scrapped by kids I imagine. It is what I'd do if I saw one of them skittering."
"No matter the case, one of us should inspect it while one of us goes to inform Von Moltke." Seth was going to continue but Marcus had already taken off. "With one of us already gone, we should not dwindle our numbers in case the whoever might have came through this mirror returns."
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"Let's take it to a back room of the Tall Tail and lay in face down on the floor. That should block anyone new from coming our way. Then we can keep an eye on the alley to see if anyone who came through returns. Others keep watch over the mirror while those with horses and the means to protect themselves ride where they need to ride to alert the guard and the guild."
Halcyon offers her suggestion and then gets into a mild fit of giggles. "We could position the mirror facing down and hoist it high above the ground. Anyone coming through would be in for a rude but well deserved surprise. And anyone wishing to return would need to be able to fly to reach it."
After eight minutes on horseback, Marcus arrives at his first destination: the apartment of his friend, Madeline Rose Bonnaire. It is immediately apparent that her apartment complex is inhabited mostly by mages. Arcane Marks identify each door, proud runes of every color. Glowing, hanging orbs of light patrol the outside of the buildings. Familiars (a cat, a sprite and a turtle) play and dance in the absence of their masters. The outside of Madeline’s door is the most humble. There are no signs of magic, no dancing lights, no sigils nor arcane marks. Her area is the only place without an aura of magic, and in a way, it may make Madeline the most competent of the nearby mages.
Marcus knows that Madeline masks most of her magical talent. Her study into divination and scrying has maybe left her paranoid. It is dark through the windows of her apartment, nothing can be seen within them. But Marcus knows better. He gives a knock to her door, and the wood twists in the center, forming a set of full lips. It seems to be a spell, but it is without an aura of any kind. A voice comes out, feminine and almost uncaring.
“Madeline Bonnaire, Diviner Extraordinaire. Look into the crystal, darling.” There is a small sphere of glass embedded in the door. It glistens as one of the patrolling lights crosses the front of the complex. The door twists into a grin, unlatches, and opens.
A dark, foggy veil covers the inside of her house, just past the doorway nothing is determinable. Marcus does not recall the fog from his last visit. It doesn’t show as magic, but a fog this thick could not be natural. Nothing is heard from the other side, but a woman crosses through.
From the veil crosses Madeline. She appears in her mid-twenties, with thick brown hair tied into a tight braid. She wears a scarlet, almost rose-petal like dress and a matching hat. Deep crimson ribbons and belts dance across the outfit fit to her form, highlighting how thin Madeline is. The dress appears almost like that of the witch-like garbs of the nobles of Murgleis. It is intricate, a bit too formal for leisurely wear, but Madeline always was more on the formal side. A pair of thick, round glasses hang on the tip of her nose.
Her voice is soft and like a whisper. “A pleasant surprise. Please come in Marcus, what brings you-.” She walks back into the void, disappearing as she walks into it. Her voice is instantly cut as her mouth passes the veil.
As Marcus crosses through the fog, the darkness instantly fades. It is clear inside the apartment, and he can see everything outside. The apartment is incredibly neat despite how cluttered it is. Thousand of books and runes line the walls, cabinets hold forgotten tomes and a library of elixirs and potions. A black owl twists its head to Marcus, keen on the man. The door closes behind him on its own. Her voice is clear now. Madeline seems to have been talking the entire time, unaware or uncaring if she was heard. “-your arrival brings bad news, I am sure. The Tail catch fire? Nishara in over her head?” She looks to Marcus, seeing if any her predictions are true. She shakes her head as she decides on a new thought. “What do you need to know, darling? What do you need me to examine?”
Marcus leaves as the others discuss their course of action with transporting the mirror. The party agrees over the next minute that they’ll meet at the Tall Tail Inn, placing the mirror in a back room until the Guard can arrive and investigate.The clockwork man grabs it once more, whining as it lifts it to the air. The four arms go rigid as it locks once more. The mirror is once again held at the clockwork man’s back, and it takes steps away from where the mirror was.
As the clockwork construct moves, something ejects from it, perhaps from the Mirror realm. It appears that an assortment of debris and waste comes from the mirror. A collection of medium length silver hair, dirt and dried blood fall a foot or so back from the construct man. They exit with mirror with a ripple, and the metal surface shines brightly before returning to its normal reflective properties.
Valentina gives a look to her remaining party members. She commands the construct man to stop. She takes a passing glance at the blood and waste gathered in a pile before running her finger against the mirror. It doesn’t pass through the surface. She gives it a knock now and it rings a low thud. “Huh. Marcus left a tad early, didn’t he?" Valentina sharply whistles, and from the alley creeps her mechanical spy. It crawls to her, and she presses into it, opening at its top revealing a red gem at its core. She examines the stone for a few second before giving it a second tap, closing the construct. She sounds almost disappointed when she speaks. “Time for bed,” Valentina exclaims, and the spy folds back into a sphere, covering its lens to appear unassuming once more. She lugs the object back to her bag.
Her face twists to a familiar smile, but she doesn't sound too happy. “Well, shall we?”
Seth, Lucia, Halcyon, Raphael, Nishara, Valentina and the clockwork man all walk east towards the Tall Tail Inn. On foot the trip takes five minutes, and the party is slowed by the lumbering pace of the clockwork construct. The sounds of merriment fill the area. The warm, inviting lights of the taverns saw the entrance and exit of several patrons. Cries of wagers, screaming stories of daring adventures, shameless flirtation, proud roarings, and universal cheer emanate from the the tavern. The place seems unaffected by the murders across the city. Nishara steps ahead of the party, gives them a quaint smile, and leads them into the bar in silence. Her entrance is returned with a roar of approval.
The rest of the party enters the bar, closed by the clockwork servant. It barely is able to fit through the doors of the bar. The inn has multiple floors, but the hub of the activity seems to be on the ground floor. Drinks are poured with great haste and with a quick transfer for silver coins. A couple hundred patrons all gather together in song, in celebration, in brawls, in stories, in sorrows. No one retires to the rooms upstairs so much as they pass out, and are brought to the upper floors by friends and staff. A man pours a dark liquid from a tall, thin golden cylinder. He is young, charming, and appears human. A dwarven crowd watches in amazement.
“Pray those aren’t free.” Nishara says to herself, watching her younger brother extend the ebony glasses to the crowd from behind the bar. Not even a single copper is exchanged. Nishara shakes her head. The party follows Nishara into a room in the back of the bar, under the second floor. The room is rather sizable and clearly made for two. It has a large cot with comfy pillows on both sides of the bed. Magic lights hide behind shrouds of cloth, shining passionate pinks and reds across the room. A thin shroud covers the bed frame. If it weren’t for the roars behind you, it would be rather romantic here.
Nishara points to a corner where there is enough space for the mirror. “Face down or standing?”
It is 12:35 AM. There are an estimated 10 minutes until Marcus' return.
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"A series of events have kept me from returning to my home, but as far as I am aware it should be fine, though I will have to clean up after the party. Unfortunately at the party I was invited to there was an assassination on one of the foreigners, and I was led to believe it was far from the only one of it's kind on this night. On our way back, barely a block from the inn, we discovered an ornate mirror with some kind of spell on it, that lead to an extradimimisional space containing a small collection of other mirrors, the only aura I could detect was a powerful abjuration spell but your abilities in divinations far surpass mine, and we could use your expirtiste, preferably before the spell fades, but if not then then before the lingering aura fades... Speaking of homes and auras, the fog is new, gives it a nice air of mystery and power, did you have it commissioned?"
Raphael starts in alarm as the mirror ejects a blur of waste and debris. His hand reflexively goes to the dagger at his waist. Breathing deeply and scowling, he releases his hold on the dagger and approaches the debris. Studying the mess of hair and dirt, he opines, "That makes for an odd mess. Silvery hair of all things along with blood. Dry blood at that, so it's been there a while."
Looking at the mirror, he is surprised to find that the magical aura on the mirror itself is gone. "Well now, that is a surprise. Whatever spell was on the mirror is gone, if it wasn't clear when your hand didn't pass through, Valentina. Let's get this thing into cover and we can determine what to do from there." Raphael frowns down at the hair again, studying it for a moment for magical auras. Shrugging, he joins his companions in making their way to the Tall Tail.
Once through the crowd in the common room, Raphael shrugs, saying, "As long as it doesn't harm the mirror, I don't have a preference. There is no magical aura, so there is no need to have it lay face down. So, the question now is what to do with the thing. I believe we will still need to inform Von Moltke, though having moved the mirror and broken the spell, there may be legal ramifications at work. I should have spoken up, but I was hardly anticipating a change in the mirror. It's clear this was used as some means of transport, but that hair seems pointed to me. Could someone have impersonated one of the two Agnes twins?"
Halcyon examines the debris visually. She removes the veil that she was wearing over her face at the party and lays it flat on the ground next to the debris. She uses her foot to nudge the debris onto the fabric and then bundles it all into the veil, like a sack. "When I'm fresh, I'll see if I can determine anything about this. There are also divination spells that might be able to tell us something about the person whose blood was spilled."
Seth follows everyone to the Tall Tail Inn. Never being there before, he takes it in looking around watching everyone have drinks and be merry. He can't stop himself from thinking about how they are all having a good time, and how his evening has so different from theirs when it was so similar not but a few hours ago.
When Halcyon brings up the divination for the blood, Seth all of a sudden perks up. "Well, I actually might have something useful." Seth rummages through his pockets before he pulls out a glass vial. "Helmuth was kind enough to give me this earlier tonight. Perhaps this will do us some good. The vial contains a spell called Blood Biography. I don't know much about magic, but it has blood in the name so it has to be useful." He extends his hand with the vial in it letting anyone take it.
Madeline smiles, taking a seat to her desk. “Don’t forget to breathe when speaking so long, darling.” She scoots the chair forward, placing an elbow down to balance her head on. “Hart, 'The Devoted Voyager: A Traveler’s Guide to Dimensional Travel,' if you will.” The owl heads to one of the many bookcases, perching itself on a row while it scans the titles. Madeline continues. “Secrecy was the intent, a diviner has no need for mystery. Cost a small fortune, and will be here long after I am.” The owl waits for her pause, giving her two hoots and a shrill cry. “Third edition,” she tells it. The owl takes the book with trimmed talons, dragging it to the table in a clumsy flight. She gives traces a finger over Hart’s feathers.
“A mirror was it?” She splits to the center of the tome, holding a finger there as she looks to the index. “Rather limits the spells. I believe I already know which it was.” Her fingers comb through the pages. Madeline gives a quick glance to a page before rising, leaving the book open. She fetches a coat. The page is sprawled in fine text, detailing several spells. Near the bottom is a picture of a mirror with a man in transit through it. “Mirror Transport” seems to be the spell in question. She lets Marcus read the small entry as she prepares to leave.
Hart flaps to her shoulder. “Mirror Transport. Not a popular spell. Limiting. I’d need knowledge of either the mirrors nearby or set-up my own network to get good use out of it.” She grabs a plain, white book lined with dozens of colourful bookmarks. It is her spellbook. “Transmutation, darling. The spell. If there was an abjuration aura, I’ll have to see it first hand.” She closes the book, returning it to its shelf. “Come. If the mirror is moved, the effect is dispelled.”
She waits opens the door, waiting for Marcus to exit. She follows him, outside the black fog once more. She closes the door, locks it, and casts a spell on the lock. Again there is no aura. She steps to Marcus’ horse and opens her white book to one of the first pages. She chants to herself, her hand motioning in sharp patterns, cutting the cold evening air.
A brilliant white light materializes. As it shimmers, it takes the form of a large beast, mirroring that of Marcus’ horse. The stones tremble briefly and the light solidifies as a ghostly, pale stallion. A dark leather saddle hangs on its back, and gray hair lines its spine, reaching the top of the beast’s head. It has two black eyes that are motionless, staring straight ahead. “Tell me about this party, we have a few minutes.” She gets on her horse, and leads with a canter.
Valentina plays with a necklace in her pocket. “Hair seems a bit short for the Agnes twins. A bit coarse, too. Darius wouldn’t stop going on about his hair." Valentina grins, "He seems the type to scoop it like gold if it fell." She stops fiddling with the necklace, her hand returning to her side. “Let us hope I wasn’t played a fool by a couple pretty faces.” Valentina doesn't volunteer to take the potion. She eyes the mirror.
“BLOOD OF THE MAN IN THE MIRROR
CHILD OF ROLAND
LET BY A BLADE SHEATHED IN LEAD AND LIES
IN HIS HOME BETWEEN REFLECTIONS
NOT TWO HOURS AGO!”
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"My apologies I misspoke, possibly because of my talking all in one breath." he says pausing to smile at the little joke. "as to the party, it was fun, at first anyway, plenty of the usual showing off of wealth that you know I find rediculous and amusing, there was good food, fine music and people to dance with to it. I think my sister has her eye on a tanzonian who was there, but of course you didn't hear this from me." he says with a conspiratorial wink "it was at the dance, right at the climax of the final song in fact, that things took a turn for the worse. One of the guests, a foreign noble in fact, collapsed mid dance from poison. I and a few other well intentioned party guests attwmpted to save her, and we apparently nearly succeeding on hijacking her survive the potion run it's course, but she didn't make it, it was determined that he had had several doses of delay poison so that it would happen in a public place."
"Doses? She was poisoned and drugged?" Madeline seems intrigued. "And several times at that? Not a frugal assassin, are they?" She doesn't laugh, and it doesn't seem like a quip. The horses continues down the road, not at a sprint but just speedy enough to allow for a conversation. "A proper wizard could produce the same effect with a single potion. Who determined it was several potions?"
She opens her white book, looking at her spells. Hart leans in on her shoulder, examining the pages intently.
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"Mostly a vision of an oracle friend of mine, she should be at the Inn where we're meeting up, we also determined that it was intended to happen publicly to deliver the maximum amount of shock, though the exact purpose is unknown, it is likely that whoever did this desired war" he says, disgust clear on his face at the end of his statement.
Raphael lays a weary hand to his head, shutting his eyes a moment, then opening them. "I'm having trouble recalling what I learned of such spells. It's been a long and tiring day. Give me a moment and we'll see what I recall. Either way, if we can learn something of who the blood belongs to it would be helpful. It seems that with every discovery, tonight's events grow only more convoluted."
“A single assassination that leads to war?” The wizard seems skeptical. “You said she was a woman, but short of the death of the Golden Son, I hardly see war in the near future.” The two of them pass by a patrol of Guards. As they near the center of the city, they seem more frequent. The observation didn’t escape her. “It wasn’t just that woman, was it?”
“Curious circumstances you drag me into, darling.” Madeline grins. At the market, the echoes of roars and laughter are heard. “Right. New Years at the bars. Someone is going to spill something on my book, I guarantee it.” The two of them arrive at the Tail. Marcus ties his mount nearby, while Madeline’s horse remains eerily still and silent. They enter.
Marcus’ return is immediately greeted with loud yells and applause. The regulars all stop what they are doing to give the man a cheer, while those unfamiliar with the man join in the celebration as to not look out of place. A hundred flagons and mugs rise to the ceiling at the man’s arrival. Dozens of cups splash golden liquids high. One such mug is a bit close to Marcus. Madeline's familiar watches, beak open aghast as the ale falls upon the diviner’s white spellbook, staining it. Madeline tenses her hand, almost shaking. “I hate knowing how all is to be… The true curse of Oracles and Diviners.” Her voice was almost a yell, and still almost lost in the bar. Marcus spies Nishara across the building for a moment before she closes a door, unaware of her brother's return.
For a bit, the women and men in the room are quiet. The same cannot be said of those outside the room. The hundreds of patrons in the bar seem to show no signs of ceasing their joyous cries and festivities. A loud cheering roar from outside bellows. Nishara wonders how much extra gold the bar will make this evening as she closes the door in a poor attempt to lower the noise. Valentina takes a seat on the bed, her platinum hair glowing a soft pinkish hue in the lights. The construct goes to her side.
The mirror ripples. A man emerges from the reflection of the room. His head emerges first, brunette hair slicked back with dark liquids. He has thick and angular eyebrows. His eyes are a brilliant hazel, and dash from figure to figure as he emerges from the mirror. He looks to be in his early thirties. A deep red stroke stretches across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Blood drips in three streams down the gash.
He wears an assortment of piecemeal armor. One of his arms is lined with platemail, thick sheets of lusterless metal, scratched, torn, punctured. His opposite arm is largely bare, though its shoulder holds a thick slab of a silverous material. On his chest is a breastplate that may have once belonged to a general or noble. It is lined with intricate metalwork, cracking, dancing arrangements of vines and ivy. The flag of Roland is sloppily painted over the breastplate: the vertical tricolour stripes of blue, white and red. Slung over his shoulder is a four foot long gray-black lead pillar held to him by a wide leather strap.
Few parts of his attire are matching. The man’s gloves are have a strange reflective quality like that of quicksilver. One hand holds a small repeating crossbow. His brown boots would be identical if one was not drenched in blood. Two daggers are held on his belt, and six iron bolts line each of his legs.
The man appears surprised, but his face shapes into an almost charming smile. His voice is gravelly and deep. “Ganelon’s left f*~&in’ nut, what we have here?” The smile persists, and he speaks as if he just accidentally opened the door. “Be kind and gimme a second, will ya?” The man takes a pivot perpendicular to the mirror but does nothing to it. He still looks at party, pointing his crossbow to the ceiling. He keeps returning his gaze to Nishara.
The Man on the Mirror readies an action. He is to shoot at anyone who attacks him, makes hostile behavior.
Curiously, the mirror shows no aura. It still appears mundane, despite the man’s exit.
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Marcus obligingly cheats back and raises his arm in recognition "If you would put the book away when you go into such a place perhaps in a waterproof case, being able to predict the future is useless if you don't make preparations for what you know. But then that's just the humble opinion of one man who must content himself with the gift of the present" he asks his brother which room the others are in and guides his friend to it.
As the grouo had been discussing, Seth had started to lean against the wall and cross his arms. Upon the man exiting the mirror Seth shifts from his relaxed posture to standing his hand obviously showing he is ready to draw his blade at any time. "I'm guessing this mirror belongs to you? Seth shifts slightly to protect Lucia who has moved closer to Seth's side.
Raphael stands at the foot of the bed, absorbed in thought, when the mirror ripples alarmingly. He struggles not to gape in surprise as the man emerges from the mirror. The spell on the mirror faded, how is it that it is still functioning? Some trickery is at work here.. The lawyer's eyes run over the man's wound and to the gore covering his foot. He studies the man intensely for any sign of treachery or malice for a moment, his hand instinctively slipping to rest in his belt, by his dagger. He speaks in an even, unemotional tone, "A moment, certainly. Perhaps you'd like to set aside your weapon a moment so we can see to that vivid slash you have? It will be difficult to converse with you bleeding all over everything. I am Raphael. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
Madeline casts a spell, and the beer rises from the book small in small amber spheres. It seems to have done the trick, though an ever-so faint outline of the golden splotch remains on the book. "It seems as soon as a diviner glimpses to the future, it is set in stone. Be happy in the present, darling, it is a wonderful place to be I am told. Let us see to that mirror."
Marcus finds his brother amidst the chaos behind the bar counter, hastily pouring drinks for a party of clerics. “Brother! Finally returning home to help?” he seems dismayed when it isn’t the case. “Room over there, they brought this large mirror with them. Are they doing an act later?” He seems dismayed when told they aren’t.
Halcyon takes the proffered potion and gives it a sniff. She is not about to take a potion without confirming what it is, particularly not after the events of the evening.
Satisfying herself it is what it was advertised to be, she drinks the potion and concentrates on the blood on the hair in her veil, whose contents are now laid out on the bed.
The blood begins to shine a glowing crimson. A morsel of the blood rises, twisting, undulating into a wiry sanguine text. The words dance hauntingly, almost alive:
“BLOOD OF THE MAN IN THE MIRROR
CHILD OF ROLAND
LET BY A BLADE SHEATHED IN LEAD AND LIES
IN HIS HOME BETWEEN REFLECTIONS
NOT TWO HOURS AGO!”
As these words faded, she scarcely had time to wrinkle her brow before confronting the man in the mirror. She holds her staff in front of her and assumes a full defense attitude, watching the man warily, taking a step away from him toward the door at the other side of the room from him.
"Open that door and we have trouble. And this already ain't been a pretty night." The man from the mirror taps his foot rhythmically. He looks to Raphael, lowering the crossbow down to his side. His smile fades and he does not put away his weapon. He waits a moment longer, tapping his foot. “Kind offerings, Raph, but it don’t need a patching.” He doesn’t give his name in return to Raphael’s. He twists his head to Seth, responding to him while looking at the mercenary’s gear. “Yeah, yeah, my mirror. Speaking of...” He stops tapping his foot.
The mirror ripples once more, and a large figure emerges. The man’s bald head rests atop a mountain of muscle and fat. The goliath doesn’t wear much for armor, just a few pads of leather. He looks surprised as he exits, but finds comfort in his armored compatriot.
Over the large man’s shoulder is a frail, limp figure in brilliant green and brown robes. The earthly colored garb is stitched with plants and flowers along its hems, and seems to be a very well made outfit. While their face is buried into the back of the man, they have long black hair that almost reaches the floor, and an amulet peeks from the strands.
The first man from the mirror speaks. “Sage, names, if you will.” He begins tapping his foot once more as he takes the large lead pillar off of his shoulder, placing it beside him. He sighs with relief as he takes it off.
The big man speaks with a high voice, filled with uncertainty and alarm. "Uh, Yes, boss."The large man takes a step from the mirror. He looks first to the closest man, Seth. He studies Seth, trying to recall something. It clicks. “Uh, Varianna,” he proclaims as he pivots clockwise. “Uh, ‘nother Varianna.” He continues, first pointing to Halcyon, then to Nishara. “Uh, don’t know that one, sir…don’t know that one... Uh, Silverstone… Montefiore.”
“None on the list?” he asks, still tapping. His hand rests on top of the pillar, but the crossbow is still held in his hand at his hip.
“None on the list.” the man repeats back. He adjusts the body draped over his shoulder.
The first man mostly eyes Halcyon now, though the gaze switches between her, the construct man, Seth and Nishara. "Well, saves us something strange. Durendale Special Forces, Homeland Infiltration division. Normally give my name, but 'structed not this evening. Don't be alarmed, we got 'nother coming through shortly."
"You aren't giving the best impression if you are part of the special forces. Why would the special forces use a mirror in the middle of an alleyway?" Seth continues to look over both of the men thinking about their 'list' and who that might pertain to.
His foot continues to hit against the floor. He seems to be counting seconds. He twists the top of the pillar, rotating the top inch of it ninety degrees while the rest of it remains still. "Best impressions, says the mirror thieves..." The man chuckles, smiles and puts the crossbow over his back, holstering the device. He shows his palms to the party, wiggling his fingers lightly in some measure to show good faith in the company. His hand falls to one of his daggers, still wary of those in the room. "Varianna, right? Usin' like a relay. Hop in, get our target here, hop back to 'telligence. Hopefully ya didn't put us outside range. Where we exactly?"
The larger, less equipped man looks around the room. The man is almost seven feet tall, a head and a half above than his "boss." As he reaches to scratch his head, the large man almost hit the ceiling. He looks at the two he doesn't know, Halcyon and Nishara, trying to see if he can remember who they are with a bit more studying. He blushes as he stares at them. Valentina slowly puts her hand into her pocket, gripping the necklace that Agatha gave her.
"We are aware of many attacks on Galatians across the city tonight. Prove you are not the cause of those attacks."
Halcyon considers adding, "or else!" to her demand, but she wasn't sure they could muster much "else" if push came to shove.
The man looks at her genuinely confused, his smile fades. "Galatians? Don't take kindly to bein' called a racist, Miss." He tilts his head to the body over his companion's shoulder. "Mercy, by the cut of your clothes I thought y'all'd have a lick of manners. What color hair that look like to you? Cause it look awfully f~@*in' black to me." He looks over to his compatriot. "Sage, back me up. How many Galatians we got on the list?"
Sages speaks up, breaking from his trance of staring at the two women. "N-None, sir."
"That is fair enough." Seth watches the back and forth between Halcyon and the man before piping back in. "What are you going to do with the people on that list?"