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.
A raven flies overhead, oblivious to the conflict brewing in the town below.
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.
Ensis stands a wiry 6'5" tall, with a long and lean frame. His complexion is fair, with a small smattering of bronze freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and cheeks being the only sign he's ever been out in the sun. His shoulder-length midnight-black hair is a marked contrast to his light skin, flowing in waves around his face, with two thin braids framing the high cheekbones and hawkish nose of Chelish nobility while also keeping his hair out of eyes the colour burnt amber, with small flecks of gold and black. The cheekbones, nose, and the intensity of his gaze give him a vulpine, almost hawkish look, which is only reinforced by the fact that, despite his lanky, almost awkward, long limbs, he moves lightly on his feet with the grace of a dancer... or a predator.
He's wearing a dark jade cloak over a brocade vest and fine cotton shirt, over his chain shirt.... and he's scanning the crowd, looking not at faces, but at hands. Spinias' note said that one of the Ravens'd be here... Wearing a black leather glove... One... Of course, that's only several hundred hands to look at....
Slipping carefully through the crowd is a short, hardly noticeable, young man. He's probably not any taller than 5'5" on his tiptoes, hazel eyes seem to be searching for something, or possibly someone.
I'm sure she said she was going to be here, she was talking to that friend of hers, must be around somewhere... Geez people really don't protect their pockets
Without breaking stride his deft hands dart into a stranger's pocket almost without a conscious thought. Grasping for a few coins inside as the young man slips past looking for his favourite person. With a sigh he pushes a hand through his messy hair the short reddish brown strands seem to fall right back into place. With a grumble under his breath "'Pletely lost 'er... Well she must be around somewhere."
With a sigh Ben readjusts the weight of his large leather satchel hanging on his shoulder. Again. He was getting too carried away with the amount of stuff he refused to travel without. At this rate he'd need a backback soon.
The young man sighed again, and readjusted his bag strap over the shoulder pad of his knee-length coat once more. He peered over his shaded spectacles with a look of disdain, or perhaps gas, as he surveyed the growing crowd. He scratched irritably at his long sideburns. Another sign he was impatient. Seeing the vendors hawking their inferior wares, especially beverages, made him crankier. He momentarily wished that he had brought a keg of his most recent brew to sell. No. Not only would that prevent him from keeping an eye on his friend as he had promised, his parents would have made it a debacle. Or a nightmare. They refused to let him do anything without trying to turn a profit from it. Sometimes it was a curse to be the smartest one in the room. Or the park, in this case.
The young man stretched to his full height of just under 6', obviously looking around for someone. His slim frame and tailored clothes made him seem even taller. His short hair was slicked back, revealing the widows peak prominent in some Chelish families. His long sideburns met with a square jaw that should have been the attraction of several of the young ladies nearby. However his piercing gaze and pursed lips discouraged casual conversation from passers by.
"Where in the blazes could they be?!? They said to meet here." Ben grumbled aloud. He pulled out a small pocket flask, and deftly took a small swig. He shivered in pleasure as the liqueur burned it's way down his throat. Relaxing, he took another swig, and capped it with a small smile. Much better. He absent-mindedly began toying with the fastener of his leather satchel. He stopped himself with a deliberate act of will. There was no reason to drink that right now. Instead he tucked away his flask and pulled out a small, battered leather book and charcoal stick stub and made a note of the aftereffects and taste of the contents of his flask. Perhaps next time he would add a drop of essence of mint. Hang the stupid rules, and Thrune with them. If mint was what his beverage called for, mint it would get!
Thinking of Thrune reminded Ben why he agreed to be here in the first place. Now where WAS his,.. ah, ah hah! was that,...?!?
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Valexia Aulamaxa is not wearing clothes that are fitting for someone of her station in life. Instead of the fineries of nobility she has opted to wear bright colours in cheaper fabrics so that people can more easily recognize her in the crowd, her makeup done so that her pale skin does not contrast too much with her choice of dress. She looks upon the opera house, her full lips turning into a bit of a pout as she recalls how her opportunity there was snatched right out of her hands. I wonder how many of these people are protesting that they cannot see Valexia the Magnificent on that stage. She laughs to herself at the concept. If I keep thinking like that I'll start to believe it myself!
She stands relatively tall, able to peer over many of those gathered with her big, dark eyes to see whether there is anyone familiar about. She twirls a finger in her long black hair until it's good and tight and then yanks it lightly as she does her search. Upon spotting Benjamin, she raises a hand and starts over in his direction. "Oh, whatever happens today, I'm sure it will be interesting!" declares Valexia upon reaching her friend.
"Though I wonder what's going to happen? Maybe they'll be singing a protest song, something like..." She hums for a few moments as she tries to figure out a tune before inspiration hits and she shows her clean white teeth in a wide grin. She's never been known for thinking before acting.
"Put away the mints and put away the tea,
Cast from the closet embroidered finery!
Tuck away the wheat, mind you, very carefully,
'cause I'm moving to the top, it's a dog's life for me!
Chasing rats for meals, and pigeons for a fee,
Keep my master's portrait, for everyone to see!
Forget being noble, or my humanity,
'cause I'm moving to the top, it's a dog's life for me!
The west gate was always Dee's favourite, if she awoke early enough then watching the sun arise through it was a delight. Although more often than not she came at it from the other end, once a nights hard carousing was over sitting on the bench in the morning was a good way to recover and meditate.
However now the park was a setting for something a trifle more sinister, she could feel the undercurrent of disquiet. A butterflies flutter of nerves causes Dee to angle the brim of her oversized but fashionable sunhat, that conceals her raven tresses which would glisten with crimson highlights on a sunnier day. A hint at her family heritage, to go with the fair skin and irascible nature.
With a confident saunter through the grass; her sandals barely protecting her feet again the mornings precipitation that still clings to the green blades. However, her floaty sun dress is cut in the latest fashion and pattern so it sits against her mid-calf. The light colours of the garment are in stark contrast to the frills of which is in a black & red as a subtly mocking of their Chelaxian overlords.
A pie from one of the stalls in her gloved hand, the youthful noble is a bit startled by the singing that starts up. 'By the nails of Aroden, that sort of stuff isn't helpful. All it needs is a spark to set off everyone and I doubt Thrune will act in too much of a discrete manner; She thinks as she moves towards the singer unconsciously following the crowd. 'Then again if this gathering just registers our disgust with their presumptuous proclamations, then it'll be all good.'
She then realises the singer is Valexia, which of course it was, there's few people that can match the rising stars voice in full flight. Dee waves subtly her friend, brushing the crumbs from her dress with the other hand.
Ensis
The tall young man easily tops the crowd, giving him the vantage to scan faces... but not hands, unfortunately. Why didn't the contact wear a distinctive hat? Nothing for it but to mingle and examine gloves.
Berton
The quick dip is fruitful, and a surruptitious examination of the contents of the larcenous hand reveals 4 cp and a broken buckle that was probably being taken to be mended. It might be worth a little if fixed, but not very much. Still, it's nice-ish.
Benjamin
As the crowd grows, a few people jostle Benjamin and his satchel, reminding him that there are always louts with light fingers in a crowd.
Valexia
People nearby turn in pleased startlement at the sudden rise of a trained voice. As they parse the content of the verses, the faces of those who have turned to watch the performance brighten, though the aspiring diva, accustomed to measuring the temper of an audience, can see a few scowls sprinkled among them.
Deanna
It takes a bit of shoving to get through the crowd assembled around the singer, though it thins and begins to disperse when Valexia finishes and shows no promise of starting again immediately.
Ensis
Berton
Benjamin
Valexia
Deanna
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, like in Westcrown), anarchists (rule? what? getoutahere!), 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.
Note: if you haven't looked at the campaign info tab yet, please do. With the city is under martial law, some of your rolls may be modified because of ubiquitous guard presence. Roll normally; I'll modify as needed.
As Valexia's final notes fade away, Ben raises his eyebrows, suitably impressed. He extends his hands and gently taps them together in nearly-silent applause.
"Well done Val! Lovely! You have not lost your gift for improvisation I see." Ben complements the young diva as he spots Deanna approaching.
"And my favorite customer!" He smiles, accepting Deanna's hand and bending over it to greet her in proper fashion. He belatedly does the same to Valexia.
"Which reminds me! It's not a party without beverages for my lady friends." He unbuckles his satchel and pulls out a couple of flasks.
"For the singer and her equally lovely voice, a new mixture of honey and lemon. Ah! But THIS time the honey is honey Liqueur, and I've added a dash of red pepper and gensing, to clear your head and enhance the flavor." He hands Valexia the flask, and turns to Deanna.
"I am yet undeterred to find something worthy of you and your magnificent constitution lady. While I doubt this is my masterpiece, I certainly hope it is on the proper path!" He hands Deanna a small flask of unlabeled spirits.
"In the meantime, I get to enjoy trying out new recipes! So everyone wins!"
Ben seems to have a problem looking the ladies straight in the eyes, at least when there's more than one nearby. His gaze shifts to the crowd in general. His trademark pout of concentration turns into an unattractive frown.
"There seem to be, a more varied representation of groups here than I had believed. Or hoped. That could either be good,... or very, very bad." He says conversationally, pulling out his own flask.
As he chats with his friends, he keeps a wary eye out over the park, and an ear open to what passer-bys are saying,...
Perception (including +2 Bonus for being there to watch over his friends)
Ensis turns as he hears a new voice starting to sing, his face twisting in a wry smile as he catches the first words of the song... and then starts to recognize the singer. I don't know what's more absurd, the song, or the fact that it's all true... Still, well done, Valexia... dancing on the edge of irreverence without... quite... actually inciting anything..
He flashes a smile and quick wave of support, then turns back to the crowd, Given how much she loves a crowd, I imagine that it'll be pretty easy to find her after I've met up with the gloved man.... Of course, that assumes that Spinias was right....and, that he didn't just make up a story to get me away from his sister... He chuckles at that, ...I'm just glad that he's not figured out that he's a few months too late...
Bertom is pocketing his pilfered findings when his ears perk and his head snaps in the direction of the singing, he'd recognize that incredible voice anywhere, Valexia was over there. Being shorter than most of the people making up this crowd he couldn't actually see her yet. Most fans would probably find that vexing, Betrom instead found it horribly unacceptable, he had to put an end to this injustice of humanity as soon as possible. His eyes come to a wall of backs, and his fingers play lightly over the hilt of a dagger beneath his loose fitting coat as his eyes narrow at the back that is directly between himself and the singing woman. With a growl he refutes the notion of using the dagger to clear the path, and attempts to push through where he can see Valexia.
Valexia laughs as Ben gives her little song a compliment, "Well, if I had some backup, maybe it'd be even better! I submit that to the public, though, if they don't have a good song in mind for later at least there will be a fallback."
She takes the flask offered to her, nodding approval, "This sounds like it will be fantastic. Thank you, Ben! I think on a day like this, it's important to have a good drink." Valexia smiles towards Deanna and says, "But I guess you'd know that better than most! Hello, Dee, you're looking lovely today! Not that you weren't yesterday or won't be still tomorrow." She opens her drink and takes a sip out of it, eyes widening a bit as she nods approval towards Ben. "That goes down smooth, now doesn't it? I like this recipe."
Returning Valexia's smile "I'm not some old lush." she says taking the proffered flask from Ben; "I'm quite young actually. And you, my dear, that's a gorgeous dress - suits your colour marvellously." Dee returns the compliment with genuine warmth.
Tapping the toe of her sandals on the ground, Dee looks around the park; "So many different groups here, we'd best be careful. From the arrogant anarchists, to the demagogue democrats, to the parsimonious conservatives or the parochial partisans.... then there's..." Dee lilts her hat towards the Opera House and the line of armed militia. "I hope they aren't to make a statement about all this." She finishes with just a hint of uncertainty, despite her reputation for trouble and anarchy there's too many foolish innocents in the area for her liking.
'I should look out for whomever sent that letter, he said he knew my Uncle. That he'd be here today with a single glove. But better to find out the lay of the land, this could suddenly get a bit riotous.'
With practised ease she flips the stopper from the flask with one hand and takes a sniff; "Hmmm interesting... Rich, nutty, maybe a hint of aniseed and something else I cannot quite place?" The noble inclines her head, a trifle miffed that her practised senses cannot quite get the final ingredient and that Ben has once again won their frequent wager.
Benjamin
Ensis
Deanna
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 out 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 roughly equal in size.
The most wild-eyed (but smallest) group of agitators, calling for a complete overthrow of the government and total personal freedom, 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 down from time to time to scavenge the odd ort.
Ensis
Berton
Benjamin
Valexia
Deanna
Ensis sighs, More newcomers... and I don't think any of them are Spinius' contact either.... Maybe I should sneak back to go see Rosalia, just to spite him... He flushes a little at where that particular thought leads him, then turns his attention back to the crowd... very reluctantly... No... I need to find this contact... so he can tell me what's happened to Massimo... who just had to vanish the day after he suggested that he knew where Alba ended up...
He looks back to his friends, and the growing crowd around Valexia, wistfully -- though somewhat less wistfully than pushing away his earlier thoughts -- and starts looking again, chuckling as his thoughts take on the voice of one of his tutors, You can play with your friends after you do the work.
Ben Raises his flask in salute to Deanna's keen taste, and smiles at her frustration at not being able to identify the last ingredient. (Which is because he added TWO extra items for flavor. He has to cheat occasionally to stay ahead of the lady's exquisite taste buds.) He points a waggling finger at the shouting match between the would-be anarchists, and the supporters of the Lord Mayor in Absentinia.
"Thast,... <Hic> That's not helping. Fighting amongst ourselves is what Thrune wants." Ben notes, enjoying the beginning of his first buzz of the day.
"And rumor has it that the Lord Mayor is a secret Cayden-ite. No wonder I liked him! Who doesn't love a drink?" He repeats (again) what is possibly the worst kept secret in the City. If it is true. "Don't understand why anyone would want to replace order with chaos." Ben shakes his head in disbelief as he takes another sip of his flask, only to discover it's empty.
"Well, that can't be right." Ben mutters. He turns the flask upside down, and nothing comes out. "It's gone. Why is the drink always gone?" He pouts. Looking at the ladies, he blinks as he leans ever so slightly to one side.
"Ooooooh. THAT'S why!" He grins imbecilicly.
"Yep! That's a good batch! Need to make a note of that,..." He tucks away the flask and pulls out his battered leather book once more, making notations in some form of shorthand on the linen pages. Tucking it away he frowns at the troop on the other side of the green.
"If those were Scarzi, Scarnzi,.. whatever. I would say they were trying to fleece the crowd. But Varisians? Why are they here? This is supposed to be a protest, not a picnic. Oo, food sounds good about now. Be right back!"
Before the ladies can protest, Ben heads towards the nearest of the newly arrived stall-carts, purchases a bit of grilled meat on a stick for himself, (He is certain that protein will neutralize the effects of his beverage faster than starch.) and a couple of pies for the ladies. As he makes his way back to the two women, he wanders in and out of the milling groups, listening in on what they have to say.
He arrives back to where the two ladies are waiting, presents them their pies, and waves his stick like a ladies fan.
"OOooo my dear, you simply MUST know what I just heard!,..." He says in passable falsetto, grinning like a cat.
Bertom fights his way further through the crowd in as direct a line towards Valexia's singing as possible listening carefully as he moves.
Though he never does resort to stabbing anyone, some people do receive an irritated shove if they don't get out of the way quick enough. A final push puts him right in front of Valexia and the others.
Wow she's right there... I didn't expect to be so close, maybe I can... He looks around to see if there's an easy way to blend back into the crowd, but the hole he came through is already closed and it's pretty certain he's already been noticed. His eyes widen as he peers at Valexia "Errr ummm..." His mind is a total blank he can't even remember how to speak, maybe the group won't notice he's just awkwardly standing there.
Valexia continues sipping idly from her drink between tunes that she hums to herself, watching the crowd gather as time passes. She nods to Deanna and Ben, "Yes, more groups than I thought would be here as well. Which can be fun, however... These anarchists seem like they will be a pain, don't they? I love a bit of chaos as much as the next person, but they'll only hurt the cause. Someone should get them to settle down!" The diva giggles as Ben wanders about, watching his antics for a short bit. She then pauses for a moment with a finger over her lips as she considers her own statement. While Ben is off, she decides to take care of just such a problem. She smiles pleasantly to Bertom in passing, giving him a bit of a curtsy and a friendly laugh as she notices his staring, calling back to Deanna as she walks: "One moment, I just need to make sure this party does not get dull!"
She heads towards the anarchists, trying to put on a serious face for a second so that she can enjoy watching the protest as it goes on. She speaks to them, projecting her voice with her vocal training, "You're entitled to your opinions, but let's focus on what really matters here! Better to make progress incrementally than not at all, hm? By working against each other, we'll play into Thrune's hands. If you're just going to push your agenda and hurt the cause, I'd suggest you do it another day. Because if we cannot avoid infighting," Her face hardens a moment, "Then we are all going to be out of luck soon enough."
Slightly miffed by her failure to identify the flavour of the drink, Dee shakes her head at Ben's indiscreet declarations of the mayors religious affiliations. 'Surely that's another slight at me? He knows my family all think I worship Cayden, just because I like experiencing life and having the odd drink.... that's not what he's about at all.' Her train of thoughts take a pause at a station called 'numerous family arguments with hardliners'; 'Or so I've heard.'
As Valexia brings up the anarchists leading to her departure, Dee does have a wry smile that Ben's own concoctions seem to have gone to his head. Still holding the flask she watches the Varisians, her hips swaying in time to the rhythm causing her summer dress to swish softly.
The Harrowing deck does intrigue the young noble, for in these uncertain times any bit of foresight is valuable. But then many of the events do intrigue her as she keeps her eyes out on the developing protest.
When Ben returns with his hot gossip, to go along with the hot pies & kebab, Dee smiles sweetly for the man always found some obscure facts. Although she's still full from the earlier pie, she graciously accepts it & resolves to give it to someone who may need it more.
Thus, before she leans in to hear the juicy piece of gossip; Dee moves over to Bertom mistakenly thinking him a good friend of Valexia's since she curtsied to him (& unused to the Diva's fans). "Here you go." she says kindly, in a circumspect manner inviting him into the group.
The throng grows by the minute it seems, but none of the newcomers wear just one glove. It’s a weary hour circulating through the park, watching the entrances; and, of course, not all can be watched simultaneously.
But circulating, mingling, and close observation do pay off. You notice odd patterns in the movement of the crowd, some level of organization beyond the grouping of the factions. Yet when you try to investigate, the new gatherings dissolve and vanish before you arrive. Just friends meeting? Or something more? Either way, it’s strange and disturbing, maybe even alarming.
Like draws like, and it’s no surprise to Ben that the food peddlers are serving others like him - a bit tipsy already, when the noon bells have barely chimed (the Devil’s Bells don’t count, as skewed and choppy as their pattern is). As he pays for the pies, one nearby tippler complains loudly about the state of pubs these days. “Clenchjaw’s tavern has gone bad. I used to love drinking there; it was always a nice place to relax. Since the Night of Ashes, though, the place is crowded and talk about politics has exploded—as has the number of brawls. We got enough fighting on the streets these days. Whatever’s causing these brawls at Clenchjaw’s has ruined one of the last places we have to escape the violence. Just a matter of time before the new government shuts the place down, I guess.”
Just as he arrives and is handed a pie by the tall friend of Valexia’s, the diva is off again, preparing to confront the two groups facing off near the center of the park. As Bertom shoves through the crowd to follow, he nearly runs into two nobles - you can tell that’s what they are, despite their lack of embroidered threads - watching the line of guards in front of the Opera House. One curls his lip as he declares, “I hear that bodyguard of Thrune’s, that woman Nox, is half devil. She’s too ugly to be just human, that’s for sure!” His companion nods in agreement, and, through a gap in the crowd, Bertom can see the tall, ugly, straggle-haired woman in the center of the guard line, apparently in command.
Ready for trouble as Valexia confronts the wrangling factions, Deanna is perhaps disappointed to see that, though forceful and vociferous, the mood of the crowd is nowhere near ugly enough to be violent. Even Valexia’s provocative words fail to elicit so much as a raised fist.
Valexia
Valexia’s voice, strengthened and fine-tuned by years of training, slices through the shouting, which withers away. Both feuding groups turn to look and listen. The anarchists, by nature not terribly fond of structure and organization, begin debating among themselves regarding the legitimacy of Valexia’s arguments. Before long, they have dissipated into small, wrangling pairs and trios, wandering off into the crowd — or to a nearby pub.
The Thrune faction mutters darkly at the bard’s critical words. But as the anarchists drift off in confusion, they decide that the other organized factions are more dangerous to their cause than a lone voice, however loud. Soon, the Mayor’s supporters are haranguing the advocates of free and fair elections, who defend their position with spirit and vigor.
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.
Ensis
Berton
Benjamin
Valexia
Deanna
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 gardenia 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), anarchists (rule? what? getoutahere!), 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.
Bertom's eyes grow even wider when Valexia smiles at him and curtsies She looked right at me, she smiled at me, right at me!... she smiled at me and I'm just standing here, what's wrong with you? Move, say something!
"Ahh H-hello" he finally says and bows deeply as well as he can, though by this time Valexia is already moving on past him and may not have even noticed.
He looks towards Dee as if just seeing her for the first time when she offers him some pie which happens to smell rather delicious. "Oh umm thank you." She must be part of the entourage and she gave me this gift it looks very good... wait "D... does this mean I'm accepted into the group?"
Ban relates what he overheard to the ladies.
"It seems that Clenchjaw's Tavern,... YOU remember Clenchjaw's right m'lady?" Ben winks at Deanna before continuing. "Has become something of a hotspot for political 'discussion' and the resulting fisticuffs. Seems the locals believe it has become too strife-filled and can no longer serve as an escape from the local violence. They fear it shall be shut down soon."
Ben takes another bite of his probably-rodent-on-a-stick and chews thoughtfully.
"What concerns me is the fellow's choice of words. You are of course aware of my predilection for the written and spoken word. I am no broadsheet story detective, however I do find that most persons word choices, even those of the uneducated masses, reflect more than they realize. On a deep level, perhaps subconciously, this fellow believes that there is an outside influence affecting the behavior of those at Clenchjaw's tavern. Interesting, don't you think?" He asks the ladies, eyes wide and smiling only slightly maniacally.
Ben tilts his head as he looks at the even younger newcomer. He shrugs.
"Sure kid. Welcome to the world of Diobolique Entertainmoi Nefarious. What's your name?" He asks with a slight quirk of his mouth as he offers the youth a flask.
When the young man takes the flask, Ben pulls out his battered notebook and charcoal stick, ready to note the effects on his latest test subject.
As he waits for the young man to respond, or take a drink, his eyes scan the crowd. He can feel something about to happen. Like when he knows that he has a new formulae just right.
Valexia returns to her friends shortly after talking to the anarchists, gesturing back that way and she says, "Looks like the anarchists collapsed into chaos, and yet more arguments continue to spring up! And those Thrune loyalists, boy, do they look sour about this whole thing. Politics, am I right? I'm not sure I should talk to them as well, 'cause they seem more threatening than those other protestors. What do you all think?" She takes a drink from her flask and shakes her head, laughing to herself as if she just remembered a joke. Then she notices an addition to the group!
"My my, have you found a test subject, Ben? He's a head shorter than I am, so careful with your doses!" says Valexia, swirling her own flask in her hand, then addressing Bertom, "Are you a friend of Deanna's?" After all, why else would she have shared pie with him? "Well. Any friend of Dee's is a friend of mine!"
With her easy-going attitude, she smiles as Bertom joins them and ponders Ben's politics and gossip. "Clenchjaw's closing? I thought the curfew was bad enough, treating us like we're 10 again." she gasps aghast at another drinking establishment vanishing.
"That's just.... " Her eyes look down at Bertoms' hands making sure he isn't wearing just one glove like her potential contact. "...well I suppose that's why I'm here, to protest this new regime & their draconian laws. How about you guys?"
As the hour wears on, the mood of the crowd grows more tense and agitated, despite the dispersal of the anarchists. Even those with little skill at reading the crowd can feel a knot in their stomach.
Ben shivers slightly despite the sun being out.
"Do you guys feel a chill? The crowd is getting, tense." He observes as he pulls his long coat closed.
"Me?!" he asks inquisitively, turning back to Deanna. "I'm just here to keep an eye on YOU two. You both have uncommonly good common sense,..."
"And common sense isn't, believe me!" He adds in an aside to Bertom.
",...Buuut, I fear that without my intellectual influence, YOU two ladies may very well end up leading this little display into open rebellion! And I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Erm, I mean, my favorite clients." He adds hastily, rubbing his forehead.
With a cough he turns back to the youth still standing there.
"So lad, what do you think?" Ben points to the flask in the boy's hand.
"One of my own recipes. You can't find THAT at the local watering hole I assure you! Oh, and do sip it, don't guzzle." He warns with a wagging charcoal stick.
:)
Ensis feels himself tensing, There's a pattern here... something... He starts heading forward toward another group, Let's see if I can't figure out what they're up to while I check their hands for glo... No, they're dispersing... just like the last group... He shakes his head, There's a definite pattern, people slipping into the crowd for some reason... and while I can think of a few reasons, none of them are good. Could be agent provocateurs.... or agents of the Lord Mayor...
He stretches himself up to his full height, trying to see over the heads of the rest of the crowd, his amber eyes scanning.... And no sign of the one-gloved man... He sighs, then starts working his way through the crowd toward Benjamin and Valexia, I'd best warn them... especially if those vanishing strangers are provocateurs... or worse... I'd hate for her to get caught up in something... and to take the brewer down with her....
Ensis works his way over, catching only a small snippet of Benjamin's warning, nodding in agreement and adding his own, "...and the way there've been small groups disappearing into the crowd, something probably will happen..." He then ruins the serious warning with a laugh, "I suppose it's rude to jump into a coversation midstream, especially without first saying hello, but... I'm worried..."
He looks around carefully, pausing as his eyes land on Bertom. A flash of indecision crosses his face, I'd hate to think he's one of them... or, for that matter, to be getting paranoid and jumping at shadows... Still, I'd best be careful and try not to say too much... for once... "...especially since I was hoping to meet another... um, friend... that I just can't find in the crowd."
He shrugs, "...and as much as I think I'd rather stay with you lot, especially if Benjamin's handing out flasks... I've got to keep looking for him."
As you regard the impassive face of the opera house, you notice the curtain on one unshuttered window move. A shadowy figure appears to be looking out over the crowd, but retreats behind the curtain before you can react.
Ensis blinks, That's... well, that's probably not a good thing... He quickly scans the nearby crowd, then leans in closer and tries to pitch his voice so it won't echo too far, "I won't point, but it looks like we've got signs of life in the Opera House. Someone's peeking out from behind a curtain... and the dark, suspicious part of my mind can't help but think it's related to what I noticed earlier..... The main event is coming, and it has an audience of one..."
Ben gives an unabashed grin when Ensis arrives.
It is no secret among the companions that Ben has a bit of the hero-worship for the tall, agile swashbuckling warrior. After all, Ensis is the closest thing he has ever met to his idol, Caydean.
"Not to worry Ens, I have you covered! After all it isn't a party without Benjamin's Brews!" He tosses a large flask to the debonair dandy, who catches it easily.
"A little dark and nutty for my personal taste. But good flavour."
Seeing Ensis look as if he may wander back off, he interjects, "Well, whom are you looking for? Four eyes are better than two. And between us we have ten good eyeballs! Besides, I agree that something is about to happen. And I for one would prefer to be within the protective reach of your sword arm if 'IT' turns out to be bad!"
At Ensis's warning about the Opera House window, Ben turns to look without bothering to try and hide it.
"Huhn, Interesting. First you say mysterious knots of figures who disperse when you try to join them, and now an appearance from our mysterious 'host'. Well YOUR the expert on stage cues Valexia, what do you think? Is the curtain about to go up on our little drama?"
Valexia squints towards the Opera House at Ensis's words, furrowing her eyebrows slightly. "I can't see anything, but I will take your word for truth, En." Her eyes turn towards Ben and she brushes some of her dark hair out of her face as she considers the question. "Oh, I think things are going to get a bit more interesting, yes. Maybe if we can get those loyalists out of here, they won't cause us any problems should things become a little more... tense."
She rubs her hands together, looking towards them with a look of consideration on her face. "If someone can back me up, I would appreciate it sincerely." Without much more warning than that, she heads off in that direction, gesturing for Deanna to follow after her for support (and help her if she provokes them too much).
"You lot, what's the point of being here? Isn't your voice heard quite well enough any other day? Stand aside and let another voice be heard for once, in a peaceful sort of way. I think you'll find that if you push people enough, then you will find that they push back just as hard. And unless I'm mistaken, you're outnumbered at this event. Just a little advice from a friend, hm?" She says the last with a tense smile and an edge to her words.
Blinking at Ben Bertom's hand instinctively takes the flask handed to him, then he shakes his head getting a reign on his faculties somewhat again. "Bertom, umm people call me Bertom. What's in this?" He suspiciously eyes the flask.
When Valexia speaks to him his mind blanks again, but is somewhat quicker to recover Ok... don't mess this up she's actually talking to you. "I would be most honoured to be your friend Ms. Aulamaxa, I have heard so much about you." He takes a look over at the others gathered around "And your friends of course."
The examination of Bertom's hands shows he has a tastey looking pie and a flask, which presumably has some kind of questionable substance in it, but no gloves on either hand.
Bertom frowns at the look of indicision on Ensis' face when he looks towards him taking it in a way that it probably wasn't intended "What? I wuz invited, got just as much right to be here as you do."
When Valexia asks for someone to back her up he hops to help out. "Of course I will help you." He follows after his idol, to stand next to her and give support as she talks to the rowdies. He nods as she finishes her little speech. "Advice you'd best follow if you know what's good for you."
Ben raises an eyebrow at Bertom's question about the flask. Then remembers that the lad is a new test subject, erm, friend.
"Liquid Gold my young friend. Liquid Gold." Ben replies with a slight smirk.
It is likely not lost on Bertom that the minor nobleman is not that much older than he is.
Ben watches Bert follow Val over to the knot of loyalists, recognizing star-struck when he sees it. At the youth's firm declaration, Ben raises an eyebrow. He leans over towards Dee without taking his eyes off of the Opera starlet and her would-be bodyguard.
"Scary little lad, isn't he?" He asks Dee pleasantly.
Ben widens his gaze and his focus, watching all he can see of the park at one time. Then he narrows his focus bit by bit, noting knots of people, laughing or anger being displayed, something catches his attention, but he's not sure what, so he narrows his focus to that area, casually disregarding vendors, children, people talking but not looking around them,...
Ensis smiles at Benjamin, his eyes not matching his expression as he tries to decide just how much to say, An extra set of eyes would be useful... but at the same time, I don't want to draw too much attention and get myself arrested... or, worse, expose the contact before I can find him... Finally, he sighs, "Well... it's more a friend of a friend than an actual friend... Someone with information that I've been looking for and... an avid bird watcher, if you catch my meaning. A human man, average height. Should be wearing a single black glove on his right hand, and nothing on the left."
He looks around quickly, "As much as I'd like to help you defuse this situation, or at least try to reduce the potential fallout, Spinius assured me that he'd be here... and, at this point, I'm a little worried what might happen if they find him before I do."
"I wouldn't call him a lad. Not to his face.." Dee leans over and replies to Ben as he watches the crowd.
From around the shoulder of Valexia, she adjusts her hat and takes a sip of the flask, making sure that her Sarini signet ring is on show. For all the trouble that the youth gets in with her family, their reputation as devout and loyal to the Empire she find can be used to her advantage. That and the stories about their fiery over-reactions to mundane slights.
"You know, we can handle this crowd... nothing untowards should happen.." she drawls softly as the fumes from the liquor bring a warmth and confidence to her.
Dee takes note as Ennis seems to indicate he is looking for the same person she is; however with some difficulty the noble tries to hide her interest in the mono-gloved man but resolves to keep an eye on Ennis too.
Bert shakes his head at Ben's explanation of what the flask contains. Not sure what's up with this guy and the kid talk... maybe it's a jab cuz of my height well have it your way
As Bertom follows after Valexia he hands the untasted flask back to Ben. "Sorry gramps, I'll pass I like to keep my gold in my pocket not in my stomach."
For a brief moment Ben looks wounded. But his upper class training immediately kicks in and he accepts the unopened flask back with a nod.
Ben raises an eyebrow as Bertom walks away following Valexia.
"Gramps?!?" he asks no one.
He opens the returned flask and sniffs, then takes a sip. He shrugs and takes another swig.
"I thought it was good. Maybe it was something I said?"
"Naaaah,..."
Entire Party
As Valexia leads the way to the back of the crowd of Thrune supporters, followed by the rest of the party and several hangers-on in hope of another performance, the loyalists realize that they are now pincered between the group they were arguing with and apparent supporters opposite. While some continue yelling, the others take Valexia's point about being outnumbered. They begin to disperse, some wandering off alone, others dragging friends who still want to put on a good show in front of the new Mayor. Loyalist though they may be, they're citizens, not soldiers, and aren't willing to risk dying -- or even being bruised and bloodied -- for the cause.
Ensis, his warning delivered, moves away to look for his contact, accompanied by Dee. Though Deanna sees nothing, Ensis finally glimpses through (or over) the crowd a dark-haired, goateed young man hurrying into the far side of the park, smoothing back his rumpled hair with one gloved hand and one ungloved. The crowd is thick between them, and as Ensis and Dee begin shoving their way towards their contact, the crowd suddenly hushes and surges towards the Opera House, effectively jamming them in place.
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!”
At this new proclamation, many in the crowd begin shouting, "No, no!" A rising tide of anger and unrest sweeps the crowd.
Following in the wake of Ennis she guesses that he spots the fellow with the one glove by the squaring of her companions shoulders. Though it was just at that moment the 'new mayor' made his arrival; causing the crowd to squeeze together uncomfortably close.
Unused to standing so close to the proletariat, feeling a bit squished in against the unwashed masses with only the salty sea breeze keeping the smell away. She has to roll her eyes at the mayors entrance and his manner, so carefully calculated to incite action and hatred. Though as he finishes his proclamation, her voice joins in the chorus of astonished disagreement.
'Squassation? Squished between two rocks or something? Sounds horrid whatever it is.' she thinks whilst decrying;
Ensis stops dead as the shock of the Lord Mayor's wash over him, Is the man mad? Does he even understand what he's doing? Does he want to push Kintargo into open rebellion? He shakes his head and then starts pushing through the crowd, using his height to keep an eye on the contact.... and his grace... and a touch of acrobatic skill... to work his way through the crowd.