"Don't suppose you know anyone in there, or perhaps know of someone?
She responds to this question before she leaves. I do not know anyone in there on a personal or professional level, but I do know some names.
The Council of Order is the city's government, rules by three bashers voted in. One seat is in charge of the city's militia, and the current representative is Captain Artimis. Pelnis holds the second seat, and is in charge of the craftsmans' guilds. And Serafil holds the third seat, in charge of the religious bodies.
Soolam looks for any windows, or alternative entrances to the building.
Yes, there are windows a-plenty around the building.
Zan rubs her forehead like she's getting "that headache." She looks around for a moment, then holds up the book as if it's a familiar tome, takes on a very bored expression, and struts back and forth a few times, as if to demonstrate that looking like a Guvner - pretending that you belong - is perhaps an easier way in.
"That could work," Wyaph says with a shrug. "Not sure the whole ragtag bunch of us could march in like that, but perhaps. Orrrr... we all try going in and if they try to stop us, the rear guard tries distracting them, while those in front go with the back up plan - charge through while the rest cover your backs!"
One seat is in charge of the city's militia, and the current representative is Captain Artimis.
"Thank you for all your information, you've been very helpful! Take care in your travels," Duncan says as she departs.
"Not sure the whole ragtag bunch of us could march in like that, but perhaps."
"If we ragtag bunch claim we're set to meet this Captain Artimis under the pretense of joining the town militia, I couldn't see anyone being suspicious of that. I was once a captain of a company in the City Guard of Waterdeep, so that may give our story some plausibility."
A mildly amused and somewhat perplexed frown creased Aerin's fair features. "Well certainly we could charge in and let loose a tornado of distractions and then somehow hope to whirl over to the magic mansion and do the knocking and whistling routine...or, we could go to the receptionist and let her know we have a book that Heiron wants and ask if she can have him come out to get it."
He looked down at the cat-he-still-didn't-fully-trust. "He wishes the book, does he not?" To the others he added, "I am all for bringing the whirlwind, but in this place it seems that playing the gentle breeze brings rather less attention."
Soolam sneaks through a window, and tries to hide in the rafters and scope out the place. He focuses his psionic powers on finding anything that wasn't clear from the beginning.
"Allow me to try the direct and open approach first.", Zethaya looks around for a moment, before her appearance blurs momentarily, solidifying looking like a random passer-by. "In case they are trying to keep him at a distance from others, or indeed don't even know he's there, they don't need to recognize us when we come back to try something else."
Duncan watches in disbelief and amusment as the slight man crawls through the window of the building.
"As much as I like the idea Zethaya, it appears we may not have the time for that," he says, nodding in Soolam's direction.
Aerin sighed with audible annoyance as Soolam ran off to, essentially, break in without consulting the rest of the group. He looked at Zethaya, did a double take at her changed appearance, then slumped against a wall.
"Or we could present the book at the desk and ask him to come out..." he mumbled, looking from Jysson to the others. The air genasi slipped his flute from a side pouch again and played a low tune, though this time it carried the ominous tones of an approaching lightning storm. This would be just the time for the Hardheads to show up he thought to himself.
Seeing Soolam break into the Council or Order as Zethaya changes appearance, Wyaph exclaims, "Yes, glory goes to the bold! You are a fascinating group! I'm fortunate to have met you. Perhaps we should try taking the book inside. At worst, Aerin's idea will work and this person will just come get the book. At best, we can gloriously liberate Soolam!"
Zan points to Aerin, then points to her nose.
Zan points to Aerin, then points to her nose.
Wyaph looks around at the remaining group, "Any disagreements?"
Then with a mischievous grin asks, "Shall we all go in in case we need to go with our... back up plan?"
/end meta
Aerin smiles and nods, then with a brisk gesture changes his appearance to a drab, rules-stunted petitioner and prepares to follow Zethaya's lead.
As the evening is coming to a close, with Soolam keeping an eye and an ear out for trouble, the group watches a disguised Aerin and Zethaya enter the building.
The building itself is very orderly. The outside a measured color of brown, with an exact darker brown trim along the windows, doors, and gutters. Inside, the walls are a pale off-white with light tan trim along the baseboards. The tan trim perfectly matches the color of the desk.
The two enter the building about an hour before the office closes. Inside, there's a man standing behind a desk, shuffling paperwork, who seems to be the receptionist. He's wearing the same crisp uniform as everyone else in the room, except the modrons (who don't wear clothes). Behind the receptionist, the room is busy. Office staff are briskly walking, taking paperwork from one room to the next, or filing paperwork, or signing paperwork, or ordering others to do something with paperwork.
Seeing you enter, the receptionist says, "Welcome to the Council of Order. How may I be of assistance?
"Evenin'. We're lookin' for a... Heiron Lightglimmer?", Zethaya casts a glance at Aerin, before looking back at the receptionist. "Lifegiver! Yes that's the name. We're told we'd find 'im 'ere, 's that right?"
Aerin stood by with a rictus of a smile, doing all he could to refrain from striking himself in the forehead for failing to get the cat's input before going in. Untrustworthy as cats could be, this one knew Heiron and could probably have advised them on what would draw him out. Ah well, too late now; he hoped Zethaya could get the man to come out and they could get on with receiving their reward.
Zan folds her arms, tapping one finger rapidly. Not exactly the picture of patience.
Without looking up, the man sighs and says, Let me see your appointment permit."
Of course, what was I thinking, walking in here without a stack of paperwork... Zethaya thinks to herself as she looks at Aerin again and makes a show of patting down her illusory clothes, "Ah yes, a'course where's that thing now... in the interest a' time, I mean I know ye're closin' soon, could ye perhaps tell 'im we 'ave a book from a Mr Jysson, that 'e's been missin'. Also some good news on 'is... relations with a certain Council of Anarchy, is what they call 'emselves? 'm sure he'd wanna know."
Aerin learned forward and interjected, “We have the book that Mr. Jysson borrowed from Mr. Lifegiver, and which yesterday Mr. Livegiver requested the return thereof forthwith. As I am sure a person in your position is well aware, failure to produce said property, personal or otherwise, is a serious violation of Ordinance 42-84, sub-section theta prime, as it relates to loans, returns, and demands thereon. Now, if we could please return said book to its rightful lender—that would be Mr. H. Lifegiver—we can avoid any legal actions against any entity or entities that impeded the return of the rightful property in question. I know I certainly don’t want Mr. Jysson’s powerful staff of Celestia Barristers to have to get involved in this case, as the last such incident dragged out for nearly two millennia.”
The bard drew a breath and summed up. “So, if we could now return this book to its owner and avoid that all that bothersome—and perhaps even illegal—mess, I think all pertinent rules will have been followed properly.”
The man stammers a little as you speak of the anarchists. T-t-the council of anarchy? Y-yes. Go on ahead. Anything to stop them. He looks very pale after the conversation.
"Great! So uuuh, where do we find 'im?" Zethaya asks pointing both fingers in different directions, arms crossing in the process.
The man nervously points down the hallway in the direction you expected. Towards your left.
Soolam hops through the rafters towards the direction, scouting ahead for Zeth and Aerin.
Aerin favored the man with a nod and a tight smile to let him know that he had made the wise decision in avoiding the disaster of a legion of celestial lawyers tying him up until he wished he were in Limbo, and with a swirl of his cloak he turned on his heel to the left and breezed down the hallway as if he owned the place.
News of the Council of Anarchy seems to spread fast in the office. You see several people leave in a hurry from the building.
You make your way down the hallway to the third door on the left. Opening it up reveals the expected storage room. The room itself is large for a storage closet - about five feet wide and ten feet deep. But it is cluttered is a very organized fassion. There are stacks of paper, boxes of pens, vials of ink, empty ledgers, everything you could need for an office. Everything is labeled and in its proper place.
There are several cabinets in the room, but one of them is nearly as tall as a person. That seems like the obvious one to try.
Meanwhile, outside, the rest of you see a group of people, all dressed in black except one (obviously the leader), headed towards the Council of Order's building with a purpose. There are thirteen of them in total.
Thirteen people headed for the building. Soolam projects into Zeth's mind. Make this quick.
He reaches out to Zan, Stall them please. He then readies himself to assault the leader with his mind if they come into the building, aiming to knock out.
"Well they certainly stand out don't they? Shall we say hello?" Duncan says with a grin. He then starts walking in their direction, strapping his shield to his arm. He calls out to them "Greetings gentlefolk!"
"Looks like we're about to have company, let's make this quick, or things might get ugly.", as Zethaya's disguise dissolves, she begins knocking on the wall, counting to five, one step with each knock, and then closes out with a low whistle.
Zan rubs her face with her hand, comically drawing out her jowls with frustration. Then she cracks her neck and looks around to see who else is on the street besides the wicked thirteen.