Kintargo has always seemed a city apart from the rest of Cheliax. Separated from Cheliax proper by the Menador Mountains, it is physically apart. Filled with ships and travelers from far countries, it is culturally cosmopolitan, very different from the other major Chelaxian cities. And, despite the presence of the Church of Asmodeus, the stubborn independence that characterizes Kintargans keeps the flame of rebellion alive here.
Still, when knights of Iomedae defeated the Hellknights of the Order of the Godclaw and began calling for open revolution against the rule of Asmodeus and House Thrune, the citizens of Kintargo generally thought them naïve and foolish. Over the past few decades, the citizens and rulers of Kintargo have learned a great deal about keeping their heads down and not drawing attention to themselves, simply going quietly about their business and ignoring, as well as they could, inconvenient dictates of Asmodean rule. They feared the call to revolution would result in disaster.
House Thrune acted swiftly to declare martial law in the major cities, including Kintargo; much to the surprise of the citizenry, who had not risen in rebellion at the call of the “Glorious Reclamation”. Thrune sent one of its own, Barzillai Thrune, to be Archduke of Ravounel: a surprising move, since nobles in favor tended to remain in Egorian, leaving those nobles who had made a political misstep to be shipped to the hinterlands in virtual exile. But it was rumored that Barzillai had volunteered to rule the archduchy, and, when Kintargo’s Mayor, Jilia Bainilus, disappeared ten days ago (on a ship bound for Andoran, according to some rumors), he moved in to personally rule Kintargo. To help keep order in case the Glorious Rebellion infected Kintargo, he imported Hellknights from the south and began enlisting loyal Chelaxians in a sort of home guard, called the Chelish Citizens’ Group.
Seven nights ago, outspoken leaders of seditious groups and prohibited faiths disappeared, along with several buildings which were burned to the ground. The Night of Ashes left underground groups leaderless and in disarray. Whatever membership remains of such factions as the Sacred Order of Archivists, the Bellflower Network, the Silver Ravens, and the worshippers of Sarenrae and Milani has gone to ground. Seven proclamations issued by the new ruler have caused tension and unrest in the city, with citizens fearing worse to come. Tension has only increased when minor protests have been dispersed by the new dottari, Hellknights of the Rack.
The first major protest in the week since Thrune took power in Kintargo is rumored to be starting soon. The gathering will be in Aria Park, immediately south of the great Opera House where Barzillai set up his residence. The people plan to gather to protest the occupation of Kintargo’s seat of power by Paracount Barzillai, and the imposition of the seven proclamations. It seems the independent spirit of Kintargo is recovering from the setbacks of the past ten days.
Even with the cobblestones of Argent Avenue and the foliage of Aria Park still wet from the morning’s light rain, dozens of Kintargans have begun to gather along the facade of the opera house to protest the city’s new lord-mayor, Paracount Barzillai Thrune. The city’s new leader was appointed by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, in the wake of the previous lord-mayor’s sudden flight from the city — an event that still has local rumormongers whispering furiously. In a scant seven days, Paracount Thrune has instituted martial law, a curfew, and seven outlandish and polarizing proclamations. These actions and more have called many of Kintargo’s dissatisfied citizens here on this overcast morn. There’s been no sign yet of Barzillai Thrune himself, and the opera house’s doors remain tightly closed—as they have since the man chose the landmark as his new home—but judging by the growing sound of the protesters, he surely can’t ignore the scene on the streets below much longer.
The protest has been bruited about for a couple of days, though nobody knows exactly when it is supposed to start or what precisely will happen. Some of the locals move with purpose, assembling into tight groups which are starting rough chants to make their positions known; other citizens wander around between the chanting clusters, curious or perhaps trying to make up their minds about what position to adopt.
Street vendors, taking advantage of the unusual opportunity, set up their carts nearby, and the fragrance of hot food wafts through the air as a few children dash between the protestors, chasing one another with screams and laughter. The event could almost be festive, save for the undercurrent of tension and the silent vigilance of the half-dozen or so guards lined up in front of the opera house's tightly closed doors.
Jep keeps his hood pulled up over his head as he works his way through the crowd. He hopes to keep some semblance of anonymity among the protesters as he seeks out the contact mentioned in the note he received. He scans the crowd for sign of the anonymous revolutionary - a black glove on one hand, with no glove on the other.
A lock of unruly brown hair escapes from the hood and dangles over his left eye, but he is too focused to notice. His arms stay close to his wiry body, a russet cloak covering his leather armor and various implements of defense and subterfuge. He is expecting anything at this event, and came prepared.
A tiefling with ears eerily similar to half-elven ears scans the crowd and occasionally fixates on one person, seeming to commit their appearance to memory.
He shifts nervously as the crowd builds.
Walking around the protest area, Dravek Krvavi-Dlan affected a look of shaky concern. He pushed up the plain glass lens he wore to mimic spectacles. He had decided to use one of his favorite disguises: an Alabaster Academy student. The juxtaposition and irony of it always gave him a sense of amusement. The scholarly robes' ivory tone set off the crimson hue of his skin nicely, and if thought of a tiefling finding acceptance at the failing school made people uncomfortable, what was there not to like? After all, Dravek was fairly certain the school was responsible for his mother's death. He was sure the Temple Hill Slasher had been involved...somehow.
His horns went almost straight back along the sides of his head. Their slight twist almost allowed him to hide them within his long black hair. Some of the more pompous hairstyles he'd seen popular among the wealthier and theatrical set would actually succeed in making it seem his red skin and eyes were all that was unusual about him. Not that he tried to hard to hide what he was. The skin was usually the first giveaway with the horns and tail serving to confirm his diabolic origins.
Aside from that, he has was tall and powerfully built. Sometimes he struggled with making his movements less fluid and more jerky the way the average person walked and moved. But that only mattered when he was hiding his nature. Like today.
Dravek had determined that if the city was actually going this far to protest the method the Thrune had instituted martial law, he wanted to see which of the citizens who showed up were serious and really ready to take it further. This was their chance. As one who mainly did his work in the privacy of his victims' homes, Dravek was certain he would have much skill to offer...for the right price if he could negotiate it.
He allowed himself a small smile and purchased a couple of donuts from a vendor. Biting into one, he waited for inevitable crackdown from the governor's forces. Today would not end without bloodshed, oh no. Dravek was certain of that. And if he could find an opportunity in it, then being here would be absolutely worthwhile.
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Amadeo picks his way carefully along the street. His features leave little mystery as to his parentage, favoring his fiendish father. Despite such a fearsome visage, he affects no swagger, rather staying to the shadows of the buildings,
The crowd seems to surprise him, as he sidles closer to the mob, fascinated despite himself
An astute observer would perhaps note a small animal peeking from a deep pocket of his duster jacket
Jep
The crowd is varied. Some seem to treat this as a festival, others, like Jep, prefer to keep well covered. Nobody, though seems to prefer to have one hand covered and the other hand un.
Bub
Many people are here, some plainly workmen or homebodies out for a day's entertainment. Five clusters of people have formed and are starting to make up chants - some better than others. Some really need the help of a decent bard.
Dravek
There are certainly some amusingly earnest protestors, intent on getting their messages heard. Some are well-covered - possibly ready for trouble underneath those cloaks. Others, well... they're simple civilians looking for some entertainment, in everyday garb. Children of all stripes dart among the crowd.
Amadeo
Most of the crowd are more interested in the Opera House than in their fellows, so Amadeo is not particularly scrutinized. The guard presence is focused at the doors before the Opera House. For now, they are avoiding the park proper, allowing the crowd to mingle and flow. Many are buying comestibles from the opportunistic vendors; late breakfast, or early lunch. Occasionally, snatches of song rise from the crowd, generally breaking off shortly to laughter and scattered applause.
We are in “rounds” of an hour each as the crowd assembles. Choose one action from the list below for each round. If your name is bolded, you can go yet this first round.
Round 1:
Jeb
Bub
Dravek
Amadeo
Listen for Rumors: Eavesdrop to see what people are saying, or simply chat up your fellows in the crowd. Eavesdrop: Roll Perception. Chat: Roll Diplomacy.
Pilfer: Hey, wherever there’s a crowd, there are dangling purses. Who better to target than some true believer all wrapped up in politics? And those vendors… they can’t watch their carts all the time. Grab Something: Roll Sleight of Hand.
Rabble Rouse: What’s a protest for, if not to protest! Let’s get things het up! What will work? Maybe a few persuasive words. Maybe a stirring oratory or protest song. Warm up the crowd: Roll Diplomacy or Perform.
Search for a Contact: If you’re here to meet somebody, better watch the crowd and try to find them. I’ll have a red gardinia in my lapel check: Roll Perception.
Silence the Undesirables: Too many cooks spoil the broth, and too many different factions protesting different things dilute the message. And what’s this? Thrune loyalists? Anarchists? What are they doing here? Best to shut down the wrongheaded fools fast. Flex some muscle: Pick a faction to silence: Kintargo partisans (demanding local rule), economic conservatives (no new taxes!), advocates of democracy (elections, not appointments - they allow elections in Westcrown, why not here?), anarchists (rule? what? getoutahere! everybeing for itself), or loyalists (Go Thrune!). Then roll Bluff or Intimidate to try to cut them off from the crowd or send them packing.
Watch the Crowd: There are a lot of people here. What a great opportunity to people watch! What can you see? Keep watch: Roll Perception or Sense Motive.
A lonely fish wine vendor, desperate for sales, will even make idle conversation with a tiefling if it might get him business.
"Welcome, welcome! Can I get you a glass of Pike Red?" He displays the bottle, pike floating inside to show that it's a quality brew. "Hear about The Thrashing Badger burning down a few nights ago? They’re saying it was another bar fight gone too far, but they’re just a bunch of drunk old professors and barristers… Seems like a lot of places are burning down lately, between this, the Silver Star, and the Victocora estate.”
"Well, maybe that's why they are calling it the Night of Ashes," a well-dressed, snotty little towhead interjects acerbically, dashing up and making faces at the sight of an anglerfish floating in a glass jug of formerly white wine, "How did you get the fish in here? It's too big to fit without cutting it up."
"Trade secret, young master," the vendor replies, before leaning towards Amadeo to whisper, "Well, I heard there was guards at the Badger, and not to put out the fire, nor to guard what was left, if you get my drift." He straightens and waves an empty glass. "Now, sir, what's your pleasure? Angler white? Chilled cod cabernet?"
Dravek munches his donuts and cooly surveys the crowd.
A couple laughing urchins began to play a game of balloon keepaway which obstructs his view for a bit. Dravek scowls at them slightly and moves on to locate a better vantage point.
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Amadeo peers at the pickled piscines within the jars
"No good sir, I had not heard of the Thrashing Badger catching on fire"
He indicates the Cod Cabernet
"A glass of this my fine fellow! "
As the vendor decants his Devonian delicacy Amadeo leans in
"Was anyone of import harmed? Or was it strictly back benchers?"
Amadeo
”Dunno much ‘bout that, sir, was never part of the Academy crowd meself. Some regulars survived, I thinks, but the Badger proper’s gone - caved right through the boardwalk, if you can believe it!”
Dravek
The currant filling of the oliebol drips onto Dravek’s fingers as he moves away from the rambunctious children.
Round 1:
Jeb
Bub
Dravek
Amadeo
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Amadeo sips at the proffered potable, savoring the nautical notes the cod lends to it
"Straight through the boardwalk! Why that fire must have been as hot as Asmodeus' Azzhole!"
Amadeo looks about a trifle nervously
"No disrespect to You-Know-Who you understand. Just a jocular jape"
Amadeo gulps his glass down
"Still, one wonders at such a brazen blaze. Especially in these difficult days"
The man snickers, waving at Amadeo to keep his voice down. "Must have been, indeed. Not the only blaze that night, as the esteemed young master pointed out. But all the bodies retrieved right and proper, burned, too, in accordance with the law of the land, less Besmara swept 'em off to her realm. 'Course, they was probably burned already. So they're off to Asmodeus' tender embrace, or one of the Whore Queens, eh? Might not be so bad, that." He stops suddenly, realizing who he's speaking to. "No offense, of course. On the house." He nods at the empty glass, then turns to harangue the crowd again.
"Strength to you, sir, and may the weak fear you."
"It would be safer to find out as much as possible before I act.
Also...
Bub
Overheard:
"Carmen's Nona is having trouble with her bunions today, otherwise she'd be here, shaking her cane and shouting."
"This Angler White is terrible."
"My Harrow reading didn't look good."
"That's just a bunch of superstition, you idiot."
"I'm dying to hear an opera. My favorite new star, Valexia, was scheduled to perform before Thrune moved in."
Jep overhears just a scrap of the fish wine merchant relating the sordid tale to the tiefling. He casually stands near Amadeo. "It's enough to make you sick isn't it? Not the wine, although I've never cared for it myself - the fact that a tavern full of hardworking regular folk can get burned into the sea, and the lords at the top go on supporting the regime that let it happen. Almost enough to make one restless..." From under his hood, he glances sideways at the tiefling, trying to gauge his reaction.
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Jep overhears just a scrap of the fish wine merchant relating the sordid tale to the tiefling. He casually stands near Amadeo. "It's enough to make you sick isn't it? Not the wine, although I've never cared for it myself - the fact that a tavern full of hardworking regular folk can get burned into the sea, and the lords at the top go on supporting the regime that let it happen. Almost enough to make one restless..." From under his hood, he glances sideways at the tiefling, trying to gauge his reaction.
Amadeo glances askance at the newcomer. It is so hard in these times to sort the informers from the information gatherers or the simple gossips
"Aye. I had taken a few classes at the Academy myself at one time. "
He coughs delicately
"The Street Campus of course. I had not the silver for a formal degree, but many of the professors there would teach for other considerations at times"
Amadeo frowns
"I hope that none of my erstwhile tutors were in the blaze. Most were not tipplers, but they were of the more ... rebellious bent?"
The hooded half-elf grins. "Rebellious, eh? That's what they call anyone who can think for himself and understand the oppression inherent in the diabolic plutocracy."
He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a folded leaflet and slips it into Amadeo's hand. "This is an insightful bit by someone calling himself The Grey Fox. Sometimes people need to be encouraged to think for themselves, if you catch my meaning. What's your name, friend?"
"Jep Greyel. Philosopher, jackanape, and doer of odd jobs," he replies. "Well met." He scans the crowd once more. "I was supposed to meet someone here, but it does not appear they are going to show."
Dravek sees quite the congregations of political thought from the loyalist to the rebellious. The fish wine seller seems to be doing well. Another tiefling and a hooded male seem to be conversing maybe too cautiously(?). No matter, Dravek was certain he would he just needed to flush some of the more intent out.
Maybe if he started up his own rabble-rousing...at least by appearance. Figuring people might think another group was forming if he approached those two over by the wine seller. Heh heh heh.
"Ho! I'll take a dram of your white, good man," Dravek says with a toothy smile. White? Why not seeing as he's going for an all Alabaster appearance. He throws a couple coins on the stall counter.
"Busy day! One would think it's a festival. If all it took was a little protest now and again to keep the peace, maybe the new governor should host these every week!" he says to the vendor with a chuckle.
The wine vendor decants a glass of Angler White and hands it to Dravek, hawking his wares and appearing pleased with all the business. "Indeed, good sir, it does well by us tryin' to make an honest living, don't it? Even poor students are willing to part with coin today, eh? Enjoy, sir!"
The early morning clouds drift off, and the sun raises wisps of steam as the last traces of rain evaporate from the cobbled streets. The cool sea breeze keeps the sun from being oppressively hot. A few vendors, blessing the protest as they are sold for the day already, pack up their carts and roll away, only to be replaced almost instantly by fresh hopefuls.
More people straggle into Aria Park as the hour passes. Some join the knots of focused protesters, which grow larger but remain approximately equal in size. The group of protestors shouting for free and fair elections is confronted by several people trying to shout them down in favor of the Lord Mayor. Despite the tension between the groups, there are no weapons drawn nor threats made. The guards seem uninterested in doing more than protecting the Opera House, though the long watch has them shifting uncomfortably to ease their feet.
A troupe of Varisians plays and dances in the far southwest corner of the park, well away from the guards, gaudy clothing and streaming ribbons flashing bright in the sun. A middle-aged woman waves a Harrow deck and shouts a price for a reading. Seagulls wheel and cry overhead, riding the winds and darting from time to time down to scavenge the odd ort.
Jep
Bub
Dravek
Amadeo
Listen for Rumors: Eavesdrop: Roll Perception. Chat: Roll Diplomacy.
Pilfer: Roll Sleight of Hand.
Rabble Rouse: Roll Diplomacy or Perform.
Search for a Contact: Roll Perception.
Silence the Undesirables: Flex some muscle: Pick a faction to silence: Kintargo partisans (demanding local rule), economic conservatives (no new taxes!), advocates of democracy (elections, not appointments - they allow elections in Westcrown, why not here?), anarchists (rule? what? getoutahere! everybeing for itself), or loyalists (Go Thrune!). Then roll Bluff or Intimidate to try to cut them off from the crowd or send them packing.
Watch the Crowd: Roll Perception or Sense Motive.
That bit about the opera sounds interesting. I'll listen for more on the opera house.
Dravek gives a thin smile to the other tiefling chatting with wine purchasers.
"What's your take? Think Lord-Mayor Barzillai will make a move against the protest?"
He takes a large swallow of the white wine with no sign he even tasted it. He continues to watch the crowd even as he leans on an edge of the stall close to Amadeo
A woman walks up to examine the wine, sniffing gingerly, then turning to leave. As she does, she notices the cluster of tieflings and approaches. Though she appears human, as she nears, you can see the telltale catlike eyes, and suspect that she has fiendish ancestry somewhere. She speaks quietly to Amadeo:
"Greetings, brother. I see you are all well and whole. In case you haven't heard, you should avoid the Devil's Nursery if you want to stay that way. Somebody's got it in for our kind, and... well, from the looks of it, the Slasher is back." She shakes her head. "Impossible, I know, but there it is. Best to keep clear."
Seeing the other tieflings approaching Amadeo, Jep excuses himself. "If you don't mind, I believe it is time I tipped the balance of these protesters..." he says conspiratorially. He wanders casually to where the protesters have congregated.
He eases his way among the Thrune loyalists, joining occasionally in their chants. He sidles up beside one of them and offers helpfully, "We're clearing out, right? I heard that the paracount wants everyone out, even us. He's worried about keeping the peace. Everyone's going to be arrested. He may be right - we ought to set the example before things turn ugly,"
Jep meanders over to the Thrune contingent, chatting up the loyalists. Soon, they are casting uncertain glances towards the Opera House, the Dottari, and each other. Though a few remain together in a knot, the rest wander off, uncertain. ”I thought we was supposed to stay?” “But he wouldn’t want us gettin’ arrested, makin’ him look bad.” “Orgiali said to shut up the ones what want us to be like Westcrown next.” “Orgiali’s always gettin’ things wrong. Best we be gone afore the arrests start.”
The park is nearly full, and the chanting of the malcontents rises in volume as the day wears on. Still, there is no sign of the Lord Mayor on the balconies of the Opera House, and the shutters remain tightly closed. As the crowd grows more restless and agitated, the tension of the guards along the doors ratchets up as well, and they come to attention spontaneously, gripping their weapons with white knuckles. The Varisians, well-acquainted with trouble, pack up their instruments and Harrow decks and vanish down the side streets, well away from the park.
Jep
Bub
Dravek
Amadeo
Pilfer: Roll Sleight of Hand.
Rabble Rouse: Roll Diplomacy or Perform.
Search for a Contact: Roll Perception.
Silence the Undesirables: Flex some muscle: Pick a faction to silence: Kintargo partisans (demanding local rule), economic conservatives (no new taxes!), advocates of democracy (elections, not appointments - they allow elections in Westcrown, why not here?), anarchists (rule? what? getoutahere! everybeing for itself), or loyalists (Go Thrune!). Then roll Bluff or Intimidate to try to cut them off from the crowd or send them packing.
Watch the Crowd: Roll Perception or Sense Motive.
The fact that Amadeo doesn't choose to respond to him is largely missed by the tiefling posing as a student as his attention is diverted to a petty crime witnessed between two ladies in the crowd. He shifts his weight and prepares to take action...
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** spoiler omitted **
The fact that Amadeo doesn't choose to respond to him is largely missed by the tiefling posing as a student as his attention is diverted to a petty crime witnessed between two ladies in the crowd. He shifts his weight and prepares to take action...
Anadeo nods towards Dravek
"My money is yes. Although he might hide his iron fist in a velvet glove "
Amadeo nods at the Thrune Loyalists
"Or a hempen one"
Jep continues milling among the protesters. Among the most anti-Thrune factions, he begins quietly passing out leaflets. "The only way things are going to change is if we change them," he comments to a few.
Dravek emits a tch sound at Amadeo's indication of the loyalists. "That would probably be for his amusement, since he's probably watching us right now." Dravek indicates any large windows the opera house may have overlooking the park.
"I have to go see to something, but perhaps we can chat again." Dravek tosses back what's left of his wine and returns the glassware to the vendor.
Then without hesitation or preamble he trots after the young lady pickpocket.
Approaching the young woman, Dravek attempts to catch her arm. If he can do so, his grip will be rather firm.
"There you are!" he says with a cheery tone and matching smile. "I've been looking all over for you."
Under his breath, he mutters, "Let's talk about about those sticky fingers of yours, shall we?"
The girl immediately attempts to jerk her arm away, glaring up at Dravek. "Looking for me? Why would that be, now. I don't consort with fiend-blooded. She looks his outfit up and down "Or students. Now let go of me or I'll scream for the guard." She looks appealingly at passers-by, a couple of whom look curious or even concerned.
Dravek chuckles without concern.
"Oh? You best consider starting. At least for the moment. Otherwise, I'll make sure my milady of elvenkind is made aware of why her purse is a bit lighter this morning. So far, you're making a clean getaway, but I can change that in an instant. Make trouble for me, and I swear you'll see my best impression of the Temple Hill Slasher before anyone can even come close to saving you."
Dravek masks the deadly intent of his eyes with a toothy smile.
"I ain't looking to bust you. In fact, I merely need to know how much you managed to nick. The amount, the number, and then you don't have to hear from me again this day."
It seems like tension is building. I'll watch the crowd so I can react to anything that goes down.
"I yell for the guards and I won't have to hear from you again this day," she spits, "Unhand me, devil, or I scream!
Powers of observation honed for years, you can't help but notice currents in the crowd, knots of people gathering and then dispersing. There's a subtle dance going on, unnoticed by most, and it has nothing to do with the chanting groups or the erstwhile fairgoers. Something is up. Something is coming. And you know it.
"Right you are, lad. They used to be civilized, when the old Mayor was about. Still, Thrune's troops avoid killing, mostly. Too much paperwork when they off a civilian, I heard!" He laughs. "Who'da thought the laws of Hell would work for the people, for once?"
The crowd has grown thick and restive as the afternoon passes and the party chat and watch the happenings. Suddenly, a hush falls over the gathering and the mass of people surges towards the Opera House, effectively jamming everyone in place. All eyes are drawn to the opera house.
There, standing on a balcony, is a tall, imposing man wearing red and black clothing and an ornate breastplate. The pentagram of Asmodeus and the cross of Cheliax are emblazoned on all his garb and the breastplate. The lord-mayor of Kintargo, middle-aged and dark-haired, cradles a glass of dark red wine in one hand and shoulders a diabolical mace with the other as he surveys the throng. Once the crowd has quieted expectantly, he clears his throat. His voice rings across the park.
“Ah, my adoring subjects. I am sorry to say I have not yet adapted to your quaint, country ways, being accustomed as I am to the sophistication and learning of Egorian. Nonetheless, know I have heard your concerns, and that I appreciate your valued feedback, and I know we shall eventually find a mutual understanding in the fullness of time."
"I take pride in updating Kintargo’s quaint, outdated laws to the modern standards the city deserves, and strengthening its ties with the empire in these cruel times, but obviously I have approached my duties too aggressively. You say you chafe at the presence of nonnatives in positions of power? That authorities not of this city have no place as its leaders? That you will not be yoked by intruders? Your lord-mayor hears you. And so it is with a heavy heart that I issue this proclamation, in response to your demands: All ships’ captains are hereafter barred from leaving their vessels and setting foot on Kintargo docks or streets, under pain of... oh, let’s say... squassation!”
Enough torture has been performed by the government, the church, and the Hellknights through the years that you're all well aware of what squassation is: the victim's hands are bound and he is suspended by them while a weight is tied to his feet. It causes intense pain in the arms and legs and can, eventually, be lethal.
At this new proclamation, many in the crowd begin shouting, "No, no!" A rising tide of anger and unrest sweeps the crowd.