Nishara looks around the room. She once more turns to the decrepit suit of armor, grabbing it by the pauldrons as she changes her shape to that of a regular looking man. “Deal. Hide.” Nishara tries to pull the armored figure towards her. It hardly budges, but as she alternates her pushes and pulls, the suit begins to rock. She heaves it down, crashing the metal into an already broken urn, toppling ceramic shards and armored plates over the floor.
The sound of the crash is pain inducing, but Nishara managed to keep a wide grin before she turned to the wall. She put her palm to the wall and begins to scale it, climbing up to the wooden ceiling. Nishara clings to the surface now, wrapping her clothes and cloak around her tight. She hangs over the suit of armor, waiting like a spider for its prey.
As the echoing roars begins to fade, the voices from above begin once more to speak.
Man 1: "Gods, the knight fell again.”
Man 2: “Wait, you still have that old thing?”
Man 1: “If our next one is, uh, wizard or some shit, sellin' that ol’ relic will get ‘em through at least a few months.”
One of them begins to get up and walk from above. His steps move towards the ladder, and he begins to descend down to Marcus and Nishara. “Hells, swore it, uh, was cleaner.” The man stumbles across the basement, making his way towards the suit of armor. As the light recedes, he extends an arm out, trying to guide himself among the garbage. He feels around, finds the suit of armor and drops to a squat.
Nishara twists her head, looking at the man below her. She releases a hand and points her elbow at man beneath. She falls, swinging her elbow into the back of his neck.
Her blow lands, and the man instantly falls unconscious. Nishara turns him over, stares at him for a few seconds and assumes a form rather close to his. She removes a coat off the man, putting it over her outfit. She looks to Marcus with a smile. "Hey, uh," she calls out loudly, taking on his voice now, "one of, uh, you come down and help? Suits heavy, and its darker than the night down here."
Cloaked in darkness and her new disguise, the kitsune whistles as someone above steps to the ladder once more. Another man climbs down, younger, perhaps twenty five. He takes uneasy steps in the basement, hindered by the darkness after the initial dimness by the ladder. “Over here,” Nishara beckons. She tightens her fist, launching it in his stomach as he draws near.
The hit catches the man off guard, leaving him gasping for air before falling. Nishara grabs him, laying him down gently before walking towards the ladder, rising from where the two men came from.
Steps are heard once more, the sound of a pair of boots on the wooden floor board.
Something, or likely someone, thuds against the ground. More steps from above, though only one person seems active. There is silence for a few moments, but Nishara's voice cuts through it. "Easiest vacation I've earned. Let's get going."
Upstairs is cramped and untidy, though cleaner than the area below. The wooden floors and circular wooden table have seen better days, stained dark-brown. Chipped ceramic mugs hold the remnants of the ale the men drank. Food litters the floor, and even if the few lanterns and candles around the room didn't dance light upon the meals from days prior, the smell would give their presence away.
A door leads into the alley, small broken glass windows peeking a little light in from the city lamps. Nishara stands beside it, donning a new disguise of an older brunette woman. She reaches into her bag, pulling out a reversible cloak colored navy blue and crimson. She hands it to her brother. "I wonder how far we are for the bar."
"Well, they are clever kids, right? They'll find their way home. What do we do about these two in the meantime?" Valentina asks, looking at the unconscious Sage and the newly-named druid, Liliane.
Valentina walks close to her robot, whispering something to it. It merely clicks in place, seemingly not acknowledging its master. "If we're going to be up much longer, I'm pouring myself a drink and taking a room to crash in. I think something strong will make this night better... Or at least make it a bit less frustrating, a little bit more hazy."
|
Marcus checks to see if any of them are still alive. If any are he stabilizes them and ties them up "remind me never to get on your bad side" he says with a light and joking tone, though from years of being raised with one another would let her know he is legitimately somewhat surprised. He looks them over for any magical items and keeps his eyes out for them as they leave.
When they make it outside Marcus marks the front of the house with a T using his adamanite blade "Let's look for some landmarks" he says in response to her musing
Halcyon nods and says, "Thank you, ... Lilliane.
Before saying more she turns to the others in the room. "Please, give me some time with her. She has agreed to tell me what she knows. Raphael, please listen. I told her you could advise her on her legal situation."
Halcyon turns back to Lilliane. She says, "Consanabit" and touches her with her now-glowing hand.
"Better? Now. Did you have anything to do with the murders that occurred this evening?"
Liliane’s wounds recover. While part of her outfit is still stained red, her breathing eases, and what visible cuts she had faded to scrapes, then faded altogether. "No, I mean, yes but I didn't- Okay, so..." She recounts her night to the Oracle.
“The, um, Mirror Man, he kept talking about the ‘big prize’” she begins, glancing up to Raphael, “He said it over and over, that our, um, friends would be catching minnows, but we’d be bringing in the whale. He said he specifically asked for me, that my job was special, that everything would go wrong without me.” Liliane looks at the guard uneasily, giving another pet to Mako. “It was, um, The Children’s first steps, he told me.”
The room is silent as Madeline turns another page. Valentina removes her bag, slinging it over her construct. She puts away her Pistol. The guard yawns, bored or sleepy.
The druid continues. “He gave me his map, he made it himself. He told me it had every mirror in Roland and he could travel through them all. He wanted me to plot the course, so he called me Pathfinder. He, um, showed me where we are going. I didn’t think anything of it, thought it was going to be a Guard Captain, or one of Roland’s old money families.” Liliane looks down to her feet. “He- He said it was a councilman’s home. That our first step was going to be a leap. That we would start with the Spymaster, and work our way up the ladder.”
The guard tries to pay attention now. Madeline looks up from her book, intently listening to the story. Valentina whispers to herself, perhaps too loudly: "Yup. Looks like I'll need that drink."
Liliane grows flustered, again defending herself. “But he was a bad man! He had forsaken his vows to the Green! He turned nature into his weapon, and twisted it to his will! The Mirror man promised we would end his reign. That I would stop any of his plants or Leshy from spotting us, and he would take their life. I didn’t kill him! I didn’t get to touch him! I was brought around for the ride, and just pointed to the plants that would hurt us.” She is agitated, holding back curses and sobs. “He-” she starts, pointing to Sage, “He is more involved in this than I! He memorized the list! He was ready to kill them all! I just, I- I just… wanted to undo the wrongs… I wanted to restore what little nature is left...”
Liliane breaks down into sniffles. It takes her a minute or so to recover, but she wipes away her tears and continues her story. “The, um, Mirror Man removed this sword from his lead case. An ornate curved thing. He, um, sliced himself across the face with it as he gave himself a pep talk or something. Then he just jumped through the mirror. When we followed him in, this blade was in the spymaster already. The leshy and the vines all reached toward him, and-” she sniffs, “He told me to deal with them. I only scorched the plants, that is my only crime! I even felt bad about it! I’m not a murderer. I’m not. I’m a good person. I’ve followed every tenet of the Green. I've given my life to the Green. It was what had to be done. It was what I, I mean, someone needed to do.”
The door lead to an alleyway rather than a main road. As Marcus carved a shape into the building, Nishara grabbed his shoulder. “We aren’t getting lost...” Marcus turned to face down the alley. He recognized the place, even in the darkness. The location wasn’t to far off from the Tall Tail Inn, perhaps a bit under a tenth of a mile away to the northwest. While the sounds had quieted a little, the bar was still a dull roar of activity.
Nishara started her march southeast towards the bar. “Keep the blade out.” she mocks, “Who knows whose house you’ll want to mark as your own.” The two kitsune began their hustle back home, under what little stars shined through the dimly lit night sky, and though the howls of the wandering drunks.
Halcyon frowned at the revelations of Liliane. "There were attacks on Galatians all over the city near midnight. Was this part of your 'mirror man's' plot? Are they trying to start a war between Roland and Galatia?"
Liliane looks confused, almost bewildered by Halcyon's question. "N-No, that, that couldn’t have been us.” She sounds unsure. “They didn’t, I mean, he didn't say we’d be doing that. We were - they were - going after the cancers and parasites. The hedons, the monsters, the greedy. The ones who, the ones who put everyone beneath them, and damned their own brothers and sisters for gold and power. People like,” she looks up, searching for the words. She looks at Halcyon, but her gaze bounces to Seth and Lucia. “People like…” She turns to Valentina then Raphael. Liliane puts her head in her hands. “Gods, what have I done...”
Marcus and his sister arrive back at the Tall Tail Inn, once again greeted by a shout of cheers. In the last ten or so minutes, much of the clientele had left, hundreds of souls wandered back to their homes with warm spirits. A few dozen still remained, notably a band of rowdy dwarves, an old elven couple, and some mercenary braggart who had a bit too much to drink.
Parts of the bar had been broken in the festivities. A few tables lie shattered in splinters, broken glass is brushed to the walls. “MY ROSE WAS HERE” is carved ornately into a wall accompanied by chicken-scratch “AND SO WAS SILAS,” with a large heart encircling the writing. Nathen Tamarin counts coins, struggling to keep them in a pile, struggling to stop them from overflowing off the counter he stands behind. He looks up to his siblings with a wide smile.
Marcus and Nishara enter the Honeymoon Suite as Liliane collapses into her hands (“Gods, what have I done…”). The Guard exits the room, promising to bring an officer and backup to escort the two criminals to the Guard Headquarters. He lumbers out of the room, shaking his head with dismay. Madeline turns, smiling briefly at Marcus though quickly hiding her relief at his appearance. She closes her spellbook.
The diviner walks to the unconscious Sage, and begins to chant. Some of the blood on him begins to spiral upwards, converging into a single red orb hovering over her finger. She opens her spell book once more, and tears three pages from the back of the book. When she points to one of the pages, the blood orb spindles into a web, and marks the page with text. She does this once more with the crying druid, and a third time on the blood at the base of the mirror from the first mirror invader’s boot.
End Chapter Two: Smoke and Mirrors
She brings the three pages to Marcus, passing them to him as she closes her book.
CHILD OF ROLAND, DRUID OF THE GARDENS, DEVOTEE OF THE GREEN FAITH
LET BY THE TREASURED BLADE OF A MERCENARY LORD
ON THE FIRST DAY OF THIS NEW YEAR
IN A REALM OF MIRRORS
CHILD OF ROLAND, LABORER OF ROLAND
LET BY THE DAGGER OF MONTEFIORE
ON THE FIRST DAY OF THIS NEW YEAR
IN A CLOSET BATTLEFIELD WITHIN A DEN OF EVIL
SPYMASTER OF ROLAND
LET BY A SINISTER BLADE WIELDED BY AN UNKNOWN, DARK REFLECTION
ON THE FIRST DAY OF THIS NEW YEAR
IN HIS OWN HOME, IN HIS OWN BEDROOM
Madeline casts a couple more spells, though becomes increasingly irked at their failure. She tells the party she is unable to track the Man in the Mirror, but an experienced scryer may be able to do something. While Marcus offers her a room for the night, she politely refuses. Madeline says that she is intrigued, and begrudgingly admits she is glad the party brought her into this scenario. Personally, she says she would shatter the mirror before going to bed, intruders are still able to exit through it.
The diviner leaves, and the party is left alone with a once-again-sobbing druid. The minutes pass like hours, and Marcus states anyone can spend the night at the Inn should they not feel safe returning home. Valentina obliges wholeheartedly, retiring for the night upstairs. While her construct has some difficulty climbing the steps, it follows her, thudding loudly as it crosses the hallways above.
Five Guards enter the room, two with halberds, two with swords, one with a musket. The officer asks for the story, but quickly gives up as the party tell the tale. She tells them that the two captured invaders would be held safely by the Guard for questioning. She takes the names of the party, grabbing their addresses and writing them in a small journal. She tells them they will be contacted for more detailed accounts of their stories, and that the mirror will be claimed in the coming days. The Guard leave, restraining their captives. The dog, Mako, was left behind, the Guard either unwilling to transport the creature or uncaring over its wellbeing.
The night took its toll on the rest of the party. A conversation could take place tomorrow, as tonight rest was needed. Halcyon rose, and Mako stirred beside her. The dog, though confused, had some understanding of what had took place. It follows Halcyon to her room, and as she fades to sleep, she felt a brushing at her feet as the dog rested on the bed with her.
Raphael found his room, removing his equipment. As he lay in silence, he spots the glimmer of a small mirror hanging above a cabinet. He rises to his feet, inspects his exhausted reflection, and removes the mirror from the wall. He places the surface face down, and falls asleep wondering if there would be any cases in the office relating to these murders come Moonday.
Lucia and Seth share a room meant for one. Though the bed was small, they intertwined, and fall asleep as their whispers grew fainter and more seldom. As Lucia drifted into her dreams, Seth awoke with each creaking floorboard, ready to grab his blade close by the cot. After perhaps an hour, the mercenary, weary and wary, began his deserved slumber.
Nishara and Marcus clean the Inn as the final customers begin to fade. They close the Inn and lock its doors after they make sufficient progress, though the Inn would bear the marks of its partying guests for days after. They retreat to their respective rooms, both wondering if they should sleep as man and woman or kitsune.
End Chapter Two: Smoke and Mirrors
Sunday Morning, First of Abadius 484.
A cold day to start the year, a bit below freezing. To those who rise early enough to see it from their windows, the sunrise is beautiful, and plays with the frozen droplets that scatter across the rooftops of Roland. It almost feels like yesterday didn’t happen, it almost felt like a distant dream. Almost.
The party awakens, gathering in the main hall of the Inn. Mako follows Halcyon like its own master, but shows the rest of the party little respect. It snarls when the kitsune draw close, but ceases its behavior with a wave from Halcyon. Valentina helps herself to the food in the back of the Inn. It is still ours before the bar will open.
The Durendale Daily arrives a bit later than it usually does. The Sunday paper has a single article taking its front page, with various subsections leading to all parts of the paper. There seems to be no news about the missing Spymaster.
Seth awoke the next day, rather late into the morning. Normally he rises early, but after the events of the previous night he was very tired and he needed the rest. He awoke to the cold morning air, the covers of the bed barely covering him. He stood up with a long yawn. He might have have slept, but he did not sleep well. He put his clothes from the previous night on and walked towards the bar area of Marcus' inn, awaiting his friends to join him.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Halcyon did not get to sleep right away. Images from the previous evening kept showing in her mind, the death grimace of Abigail in particular, the distraught Eduard, the stuffed Fey creature, Vincent, Caroline, Asfal, Emile, dancing with Vincent, the Man in the Mirror, Lilliane holding her stricken animal companion, Vincent pulling out all those weapons, Vincent watching the crowd for ... enough. She sat up, petted Mako, lit a lamp, and spent some time drawing cards from her deck, not to tell the future, but to distract her thoughts from all that had happened. She laid out some cards and composed a story in her head, something her mentor had taught her to do. She deliberately kept it light and without anything to do with Galatia, Roland, or anything else of the evening.
Once she had a story mapped out, she lay back down and imagined the story in greater detail, letting the images amuse her and before she got to the end, sleep finally gave her rest.
In the morning, Halcyon rises and surveys the bar-room. She takes some food and water up to Mako, but leaves him in the room with the door closed and locked. Then, she returns to the bar rom, helps herself to some breakfast, and then pays for the food by helping to clean up.
If Madeline is still there, Halcyon asks her about herself, what kind of magic she does, how she came to know Marcus, etc. She asks what the spells that involved the blood were (she suspects they were blood biography). If so, she wonders what the spells revealed, if Madeline will share.
She then tells Marcus she is going back to her apartment to change and will spend the day talking to people she knows, trying to find out more about what happened the night before.
She will return to the bar to see if there were any developments and if Mako still needs a guardian, she will take him back to her apartment and spend the evening making notes of all she remembers of the past 36 hours.
Nishara awoke, getting dressed and walking downstairs. Her outfit from the day prior was replaced with a plain white blouse and salmon colored pants. She descends to the basement, returning with a handful of tools and supplies. She grabs a piece of sandpaper, and begins to rub away at the two names cut into the walls. She curses as her efforts prove fruitless.
"Why didn't Nathen stop this." She drops the sandpaper to the floor. Nishara picks up one of the papers, scans it quickly, then casts it aside. "Not one mention of our work. It's a thankless job being a good person." Valentina nods from over the counter, face full of food. Her construct watches from the corner of the room, idly examining those that awake hungover and gather at tables.
Mako whimpers as it is locked in the room. Madeline had left the night prior, and Halcyon wasn’t quite sure where she lived. As a regular member of the Society, she probably lived somewhere by the academy as most mages settled somewhere close. Looking at the papers she produced earlier, Halcyon recalls that they were similar to the Man in the Mirror's reading, and are certainly all Blood Biographies. Halcyon leaves the bar, pursuing the investigation through her own circles, promising to return.
At noon, Halcyon arrives at place, only a few blocks south of her own. She knocks, and after a minute, the attempts feel in vain. A tired voice calls out as she begins to depart. “Yeah, yeah, give me a second.” Several bolts move from behind the door. It opens slightly, still locked by chains, while a figure inspects who is at the door. He unlocks it fully, and lets her in.
Jean-Tom stands a couple inches above Halcyon despite being somewhat slouched over. He twists his jaw as he yawns. His hair is long and messy, particularly so as it seems he just rose from bed. His flat is cramped, with the main room serving as a dining room, kitchen and entry to the house. He tosses a bunch of trinkets and papers from a chair to the floor, offering the oracle a seat. “Look like you’ve seen better days. Bad cards?”
Seth doesn't eat anything as he waits for Lucia. He sits silently at the bar, watching and listening to everyone. Once Lucia came down, and was ready to leave they went back to their home. Seth finally got to change, and a sigh of relief once his armor was on him.
Seth will go and seek out Helmuth and inform him of the events of last night, and to hopefully collect his payment. After he would head back to his bar. If any of his mercs who helped out last night were in the bar at anytime, he would ask for just a brief report of what happened after he left, and pay them for their help.
Seth and Lucia depart the inn, heading home, cleaning up and heading out once more.
You didn't even have the chance to ask about the last night. He fills you in on all the details you didn’t want to know. “Ya wouldn’t believe it, sir. Three in the morning us and the guard do a shift. I come inside, alright? After three hours of freezin’ my ass, they let me in. I’m there for five minutes, patrollin’ upstairs I am, walking back and forth. Then, I see her. Most beautiful girl I lay my eyes on, she was. Long silver hair. Fairest skin I’ve seen. Pretty revealing dress too, if you get what I’m saying. Fell in love, boss. Always said I was a fighter, not a lover, but now I ain’t too sure.
When you clarify your question, rewording it to suggest you didn’t want to hear a love story (though good for him you suppose?), he provides more wanted information. “Safe under my watch they were. Something was skulkin’ in the bushes, it was, but I took care of it. Kicked the stray cat to the curb. Later learned your host has allergies, you understand? Saved his life, I did. They slept soundly under our watch, then we escorted the guests home.” It seems nothing else happened in the de Beaux Manor.
Luckily, the detour home didn’t veer Seth off path of heading to the Guard Headquarters. Seth arrives at noon. The surrounding walls of the building reach into the sky, featureless slabs almost that reach thirty feet in the air. In the the exercise fields after you pass the front gate, young men train with wooden swords, wearing only a uniform and boots despite the cold weather. It reminds you of the old days with Zihark and the gang.
Inside the Headquarters, uniformed men and women dash to around the grand foyer. It seems there is no lack of work this day. The reception begrudgingly tells you where Helmuth’s office is.
On the second floor, bending around the aisle, you find Helmuth's office. It is astoundingly neat. Despite the influx of papers, all of them are arranged in a particular order. Helmuth however, isn’t in his office. You hear his voice, his shout, somewhere close: “The Colonel be damned! We are out of detectives and out of options!” He catches you outside his office as he turns the corner. He seems in good health, well rested. “Oh, you are here so soon? I apologize, I told my superiors that you didn't need an investigation, but the Colonel wants interrogations, and well, she gets what she wants I’m afraid.” The captain enters his office. He sits at his desk, opens his drawer and takes out a small velvet sack. He slides it across the table. “Here you are, my man. Now tell me, did you come all the way here just for a few gold coins?”
Halcyon watches Nishara attempt to fix the graffiti. She considers suggesting she find a mending or make whole spell, but then assumes Nishara has had similar issues before and knows her options. Instead, she washes her own dishes and some of the remaining dirty dishes before heading back to her apartment.
She feels silly dressed to the 9.5's during daylight, especially when it is so cold, but she endures the discomfort and changes into more comfortable wool pants and shirt, puts her cloth armor on over those and tops it off with a woolen cloak. She checks her mailbox for any notes or requests for readings, finds a few and decides they can wait.
When she rouses Jean-Tom from sleep, she is curious if he had as eventful a night as she, but decides she will share first and ask after his time later.
"Bad cards. You could say that. The Snakebite, for starters, and it went downhill from there." She then recounts the evening in abbreviated form, focusing on her suspicions and the eventually poisoning, her suspicions as to how the poison was delivered and timed to take effect well after the poisoner was gone. She mentioned the woman she most suspects, Blaire Rey, and why. Then she follows up with the events involving the mirror, Liliane's comments, and what she had for breakfast.
"So all-in-all, just another boring evening with the aristocrats of Roland," she deadpans. "How about you? You look like you lost your way and some cat dragged you back through the sewers."
She ultimately wants to know if Jean-Tom has any ideas about how to get clues to what is going on. She will do what she can to gather information he might not have access to.
|
|
Marcus dutifully informed the guards of the men he and his sister knocked out and tied up before asking the others for a briefing about what happened while he was away.
Once he gets the briefing he offers to escort his friend home or give her a room on the house for a night, either way once they are outside earshot he asks her "do you think you could identify the effects of a little piece of jewelry my sister picked up sometimes yesterday, not sure how much she spent but she called it a gift for me so I'm rather curious"
In the morning he opens the bar and gives out the weeks pay to his employees and gets to fixing the damage of the night before.
He smiles contentedly as he watches the first of the guests who rented a room shamble downstairs to the smell of food cooking and coffee brewing.
A lot had gone wrong last night but a lot was still good, and he intended to embrace the latter even as he vowed to put a stop to the former. Still, he supposed there was time for political machinations and vengeance later.
“He won’t be doing that to you, I assure you. You’ll have Frankie doing your questions, the eleventh is the day he is planning to summon you all. Make sure your stories line up, don’t forget to mention my leadership, and for the love of gods, don’t lie to him. ” Helmuth offers a smile. You doubt he is supposed to mention that you’ll have a formal questioning by a Guard detective. "When I read Gilles’ notes, I’ll tell you what he finds. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to convince a superior I'd be better in the field right now than my office." Helmuth salutes, escorting you outside his room, locking the door behind him.
When the Mirror is brought up, Jean-Tom becomes more curious. He asks what the man looked like, if he wore any regalia or symbols, if he mentioned any base of operations, or any names on the list. “I haven’t heard anything on them. Sound like more fun than nationalist warmongers. I’ll keep an eye out, see if I can find anything on this Mirror Man.
When asked about his nights, he shrugs. “Keen nose. Spent half the night on the pier, and half the night in the water. Someone really wanted to know what was in one the warehouses, but judging by its security, its owner wanted it to remain a secret even more. They started patrolling the docks, had to get to land by swimming through the sewers. So all-in-all, just another boring evening with the riff-raff of Roland.” Jean-Tom smiles. He seems a bit worried after hearing about the Mirror Man, but puts on an admirable guise.”
As the inn slowly fills with life, a couple ask for another copy of the Durendale Daily. Most read is aghast, or with bleak faces. Some reach the only a few paragraphs in before they put the paper down. The patrons order drinks earlier than usual, not even noon when the first liqueur pours.
Nishara calls out to the clients, offering a free drink to whoever has a spell that can fix the wall. It seems that no mages spent the night however. Valentina departs with a thanks, saying she will check what apothecaries she knows to see if there had been any sales of Delay Poison potions recently. Her mechanical servant steps behind her, struggling to fit through the door.
Most of the clients that spent the night leave before the afternoon begins, though they are quickly replaced with those ready to drink. It doesn’t take long for Nathen, Nishara, and the other employees to be completely occupied by serving drinks and food. You might be able to get some information out of the more inebriated clients, most of them are already talking about what has quickly been dubbed "The New Year's Massacre." You notice not a single strand of blonde hair in your tavern.
|
|
marcus tends bar until one and a half hours after lunch as usual. He chats with the people he serves, subtly steering the topic of conversation to what happened last night. If he recognizes anyone as having been in the bar the previous night he asks them if there were anyone interesting from out of town in the bar.
After the lunch rush ends he passes the bar to the next person on shift and goes to check up on his other business, and ask them how business had been lately, whether or not they've recently sold a number of delay poison potions and things like that.
There aren’t many men on the streets, and most are blanketed in thick jackets and scarves, heads looking to their feet as they are buffeted by the cold winds. The normal crowd of beggers and vagrants are likely hiding in the sewers, huddled together for warmth. You hear one man talking about how the light of Sarenrae had graced him, and he has found meaning in the teachings of the Everlight. His friend seems resistant to attending the church.
Lucius’ home is a little ways a way, nestled right on the city’s wall. Arriving at his home, skin covered in goosebumps, cold to the bone, you knock upon his doors. Lucius answers, layered in a shirt, sweater, and two sets of robes. His home is cold, and the old man fights the weather rather than submit to it. Lucius tells Seth that he only heard what was in the paper. He doesn’t seem surprised by the New Year’s Massacre, expressing that he thought such an atrocity would happen sooner. He offers Seth a meal and a bit of time to unwind. He asks how Zihark and the other mercenaries are doing.
The ring is engraved in silver feathers. Now that the ring’s purpose is known, it seems like a clear indicator of its magic. You wonder if Tomas Parisi has realized his ring is missing.
You find it hard to recognize faces from the night prior. There were more patrons than usual, and for some reason, the rowdy dwarves and the Man in the Mirror keep coming back to your mind. You find a few clients from last night, and they all talked about a lovey-dovey couple, a Galatian man and a Durendale woman. The couple seemed to place themselves in every circle before the end of the night, though nobody quite remembered their names.
The alchemist’s stall is closed today, though Marcus knew where to find their worker. He asks if a Delay Poison potion was found. The old alchemist searched their mind and their inventory for several minutes, unsure if their memory had failed them. After looking through their logs, they recall they only sold a few Cure Light Wounds potions, a couple Mage Armor’s and miscellaneous alchemist reagents. They tell you that if they sold a potion like that, they wouldn’t need to work for a week.
The alchemist offers you a tea, saying it is a new concoction he has been meaning to try on “something young” for a while.
Raphael wakes from his slumber at a habitually early hour, reflexively clutching the dagger he kept sheathed under his pillow. The night hadn't been an easy one, with a jumbled series of dreams leaving him tossing and turning. Sitting up and relinquishing his hold on his dagger, he pauses a moment to sort out the chaos that had robbed him of a good night of sleep, but finds that he recall little of what he dreamt other than it had left him uneasy and angry.
Sighing, he slips from bed, donning a robe and making his way to his office. His assistant, Alexis Montferrat, had already set out a copy of the Durendale Daily, a croissant au chocolat, and a cup of Tizonan coffee that his MTC subsidiary had imported. Sipping the hot beverage, Raphael reads through the notes grimly, pondering the political implications of the past night's slaughter. For so many Galatians to die, particularly the royals and ambassadors, will do no good. I am no great friend of Greater Galatine, but this slaughter is unconscionable. It is also a demonstrable failure on our own part that we could not stop it. We have a moral imperative to bring the assassins to justice. His sour mood is only slightly improved when he finds the segment calling out his successful trial.
After finishing his morning meal, he asks Alexis, "Would you kindly you send a runner to see if Guardsman Estelle is free to meet here this afternoon? I will be going over some casework and her expertise would be appreciated. If she is unable to make it, kindly have the runner return with such news." With a nod to his valet, Raphael dresses and retakes his seat in his office. He pulls a few packets of case notes that he had recovered from his archives and began a review of them, though his mind wandered at will.
The tea tastes strange. In fact, it hardly tastes like tea at all, rather like an odd juice was diluted and heated up. Half through the glass, you realize that your chemist is staring at you intently. You feel off for a moment, and something battles against your altered disguise. For a second, you think that it might give way, that you may revert to your Kitsune form in front of the chemist. Whatever it was, you manage to suppress it, and keep your usual form. The chemist expresses dismay, saying his “Venerable Appearance” potion still needs some work.
Secretly, you think that what he gave you works as intended, and that your current transformation is all that stopped it from revealing an old, aging fox. The chemist seems happy that you tried his concoction, his smile forming large wrinkles over his cheeks.
Alexis nods, leaving Raphael alone in the office. Four cases need the attention of the Abadar lawyer, the minor rabble taken by his assistants. An appeals case to an old War Criminal, another magical regulation case, the classic Guard corruption case, and a request by a group of murdering nationalists. You doubt you'll be able to take on all of them.
Estelle Bellerose urged you to take the Ratfolk case, hoping you would help them pro-bono. The Bonnet v. Greater Galatine case seems the most controvercial. It strikes you as strange that the case has already arrived at your office given the 37 murders only happened not even twelve hours ago, and on a Sunday no less. Whoever sent you this case must have planned to give it to you.
After looking over the cases a bit, Alexis returns saying that Lieutenant Stingborn would be arriving at four, a little over three hours from now. [/i]
Raphael frowns down at the case file before him. He'd been mulling over what to do with it for a time but still was no closer to a resolution to his questions about it. Why would they pick out me to see to this case? Who are these murderers that are so interested in me. It bodes ill for their trials that they so clearly sought out a lawyer before the crimes were committed. Perhaps taking the case might prove fruitful, but I would not be a popular man for doing so. Despite his initial misgivings, Raphael felt inexorably drawn towards the case. It would strain his abilities to extremes and might threaten to put a stop to his other cases, but it was tempting to him none the less. Perhaps this is an opportunity to enter certain circles that might otherwise be closed to me.
Bonnet and his colleagues all seem to be merchants, professionals or business owners, but none have names that you recognize. Perhaps the ten assailants together would have a small empire rivalling the Montefiore Trading Company. Each of them murdered a single Galatian with varying methods. One used poison, one used magic, and eight used conventional methods such as blades, firearms or strangulation. A couple of the names of their victims look familiar. Galatian Royalty. Bonnet himself murdered the eighteenth heir of the Galatian Throne, Duchess of Arondight, Magdalene Knight. Twenty seventh Heir, Warwick Starr, was murdered by another caught assailant. Both individuals were members of Galatian Parliament, both visiting Durendal as ambassadors.
At home, you are greeted with a warm meal from Lucia. She seems worried, but is immediately relieved that you returned unharmed. You figure you have a few hours before you should return back to the Tall Tail Inn with whatever news you have gathered.
The Durendale Council Building seems more protected than usual. A dozen Guards stand vigilant at the entrance, and a few more watch you approach from their rooftop perches. Before you arrive at the building, you are intercepted by a lightly armored woman asking for your reason to approach the building. While none of the Guard are actively aiming at you with their bows or guns, you can tell that most of them are readied for such action.
Back at the bar, a particular guest has arrived early. Sitting at the bar is Romane Vieuxpont, dressed in a black dress that trails golden hems. She wears several necklaces, from pearls to symbols of Shelyn, to red rosary beads. She removes a small wooden chest from her purse, takes an amber hard candy, and pops it into her mouth. When Marcus returns and is greeted with the usual cheer, Romane turns her head to face him. She is alarmingly beautiful, and her almost bleach white skin appears almost like a porcelain mask.
She beckons Marcus, calling him over with a wave. Nathen Tamarin hands her a drink, and she pays for it with a mere smile. When she speaks to you, her words comes out sultry and low, intimate almost. Her wide, dark eyes are mesmerizing when she looks to you. “Couldn’t wait for Wealday, love. Care to explain why I wasn’t invited to your party in my closet? Think you’d find I’m quite fun.”
Nathen appears confused, but smiles at his brother. He whispers that you should bring your girlfriend around more often, that every man who has seen her has refused to leave the bar. Nishara doesn’t share the sentiment, and seems to avoid looking over to Romane.
The woman has no magical auras on her person. In addition, you aren't able to determine if she is a caster or not. She certainly has enough presence to be a sorcerer, bard or summoner however.
|
|
"Being forward with your intentions saves time energy, and ironicly enough, puts people off their guard, so I find that beating around the bush is pointless for it's own sake," he says as he closes the door "but then, where do I begin... I assume you're at least passingly aware of the great tragedy that befel our city last night?"
Emile de Beaux: D:
Francis Lyon: ):
Helmuth von Moltke IV: :D
Ernest Stoneheart: ):
Abigal Bolton: ):
Eduard Boltonward: ):
Aron Carlisle: ):
Agatha Agnes: ):
Alexander Ravenhall: ):
Bertrand Travere: ):
Alistair Hawthorne: ):
Vincent Durant: ):
Estelle Bellerose: ):
Asfal Stormborn: ):
Thomas Parisi: ):
Caroline de Beaux: D:
Darius Agnes: ):
Beatrice de Beaux: :D
Sinclair LeBlanc: :D
Ellen Merlot: ):
Florian: ):
Evelynn Durant: ):
Skiver Talltail: :D
You figure it is almost time to return to the Inn. Estelle offers to protect you on your walk home mockingly, saying that it isn’t safe for civilians to walk about.
Halcyon smiles at the guard and keeps her motions deliberate. "I am Halcyon d'Orsay. I would like to speak with councilman Blake. I am a oracle consultant of his and would share information with him about recent events."
Octavia Quintana: :)
Romane Vieuxpont: ):
Adhmad Iochloro: D':
Luc Gardinier: ):
The captain signals her colleagues, and they all unease a bit, with the exception of the black knight, who remains motionless. The foyer is large, constructed of plain marble, and relatively empty. A grand staircase leads upstairs, and a balcony circles above the foyer, with around a dozen doors on each of the four walls. The captain walks towards one, knocks, and twists the door handle.
Nine individuals, all but one sitting at a polished wood table. It appears rather humble, unlike a place one would think the nation's leaders would gather. An old woman with a stern look upon her face. A bald individual with a ghost white beard. A black-robed man with long dark hair. An older, stout gentleman dressed in a finely tailored suit. A dark skinned hooded woman, dressed white and gold. A young ifrit woman in uniform, two pistols at her sides. An old half-elf, again dressed in uniform, with a thin blade by his seat. Arthur blake sits near the entrance, and a golden haired woman stands beside him.
No roll for Arthur or the blonde woman, as you have already rolled on them before.
You hear her call for a “Lance” as she walks down the stairs.
