"Perhaps, but none that I know about", the Suel answers.
He points down a street.
"My mother worked at the Velvet Cushion up the road. I never asked her if I had any brothers or sisters out there."
"Well, you're not missing much. Velvet Cushion?"
"It's a whorehouse a few blocks towards the center of the city."
"Oh, I didn't know. Guessing she wasn't a seamstress there?"
Tanith laughs at the Rennee's politeness and shakes his head.
"She was a whore. There's no shame to it. Sometimes people do what they have to survive. I've done my own share of things I'm not too proud about."
"When a weight is too great to bear rest well without a heavy heart. There is strength to be gained from the effort alone."
"I understand. I didn't say there was shame involved. My people have done things to survive as any others would. But I would also understand if you didn't want to talk about it."
"When I was a boy it bothered me some but now that I'm a man grown, it's just the past."
"There's not much to tell."
"Then we'll leave it at that. But since I talked about my dad. Do you know anything about yours?"
Tanith shakes his head again.
"My mother never spoke about him and I never thought to ask."
"I thought about it after she passed. He was probably some bard drunk to near-blindness and with more coin than luck, but I used to imagine that he'd been something greater - like a great warrior of some sort."
"But that was just a boy's fantasy."
Solaufyn tries to cheer him up. "Well, if it helps, there are plenty of stories about peasant-children who turn out to be hidden princes."
"Well I'm pretty sure you didn't get all that height from the gods. He was probably a big guy like you are."
Tanith grins again at his friend's words.
"There's nothing to help; I have good friends, my strength, and mighty Kord to show me the way. What more can a man ask from life?"
He looks down at torso as if seeing his own body for the first time, "I'd never thought about it that way before. My mother wasn't a large woman."
"Women and booze."
"Well there you go. Which means she probably couldn't walk after giving birth to you."
Tanith laughs again and claps the archer around the shoulders with one arm.
"Once you have the first three, the second two aren't hard to find."
"Fair enough." Flynt joins the Suel in laughter.
"Once you have the first three, the second two aren't hard to find."
The elf appears puzzled for a moment. "The first three? Children, ales, or women? I could see justification for any of those."
Tanith laughs almost to the point of falling over.
"Ale and women", he says wiping a tear from his eye. "But bastards fit in there too."
"Yep, Tanith has the right priorities."
Tanith stops to let Boris get some water from a trough.
"What about your parent Sol. You mentioned your mother taught you some of your spells. I assume she was a mage as well."
He seems surprised to be asked. "She is. An enchantress, actually. She taught me everything about the basics of magic, with my father's encouragement. He dabbled, as very many of us do, but he was primarily skilled in bow and blade. The rest, well... the rest is essentially self-taught."
"Self-taught and forged by war", Tanith answers. "We all were in a way."
"And the enchantment you wove into my cloak and the way you bolstered the magic within my belt", the Kordite says as he rubs the surface of the fighting girdle he'd looted from the bugbear champion. "Were those talents taught to you by your mother as well?"
"Were those talents taught to you by your mother as well?"
Solaufyn nods. "The basics were. I had always been quite good at painting, which led to being talented at making other things as well. I did not truly grasp the art of enchanting items until I was in Ulek with the Knights of Luna. For weeks, in preparation for their counterattack, I helped make magical gear for them. I still do lend my time to make items for them here and there."
He laughs. "Perhaps someday, Prince Melf himself will wear something I enchanted, though I'm sure he's more than talented enough to work the magics himself."
"Though your dad's influence shines through in these bracers you made me. They really help with the leverage when I pull back the string. Never thanked you for that. Thanks. Where did you learn that magical song you do? I've heard similar songs from when I was a kid from my kin, but I never figured out how they did it. Is it just more magic?" Flynt looks his bracers up and down to examine their quality.
Flynt looks his bracers up and down to examine their quality.
Solaufyn smiles. "Well, you're quite welcome, Flynt. He then points to the bracers. "I'll be honest, though. You should thank Mortifice just as much as myself. That one required both our efforts."
"The songs... he thinks for a moment. "I guess you could say there is some magic there. Arcane magic, at least the way I see it, is an art, and I guess some of that art manages to find its way into other things, in this case a song."
He chuckles. "Once again, it was my mother who taught me."
Tanith grins at seeing the elf open up.
"One thing I've always wanted to ask..."
"Elves aren't shy when it comes to getting into bed but there always seems to be so few of you. Why is that? Does living forever have its effects on fertility?"
"Thanks to you both then. Never thought of magic as an art. I just thought of it as something inherent in all life."
Why is that? Does living forever have its effects on fertility?"
Solaufyn looks a bit shocked. "Well..." he hesitates.
"In my time amongst humans, I have developed a theory of my own. I am not sure you want to hear of it, though. Maybe some other time. What I will say..."
"Why are there so many humans everywhere? Do you feel like you need to produce extra children, as if you were afraid of misplacing a few?"
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You leave Gate Square with its Temple of Fharlanghn behind and head west along Wall Street towards the Circus. This side street has fewer people on it, as most of the traffic from Javan Gate is heading north towards the central market on Qualtaine Square. The looming black basalt walls of Istivin on your left cast long shadows over the tired ground. The sense of foreboding over the city is strange, given the fact that it was spared destruction and remains the vibrant trade center of these reclaimed lands. Something about those dark walls, and the way the walls and towers seem to frown down upon you seems chilling.
A few minutes later you turn a corner and find yourself in a small square next to the enormous Circus. Its ancient dark-grey basalt walls reach up at least five stories, and its walls are hung with 20-foot banners that proclaim the names and rough likenesses of the gladiatorial champions: the Keeper (who wears a dark cloak that conceals all but his prominent nose), Baal the Brawler (a Flan man with tattoos, piercings, and purple hair), and Gorlund Foehammer (a dwarf with an organe mohawk). Other banners advertise a new event, which seems to pit fighters against monsters (a chimera is depicted), while others proclaim the return of chariot races in the near future.
At this hour of the morning there are few people around the Circus. A group of men and women sweep the cobbles around the arena, and a seemingly blind man dressed in a shabby tunic sits on a pedestal and "looks" up at the sky, mumbling to himself.
Tanith studies the poster advertising fighters combating a monster, this isn't how he remembered things.
The Kordite flags one of the workers down.
"The Keeper, Baal, Gorlund, what events are these men the champions of?"
"And what's the meaning of these?", he asks motioning to the posters. "Does the Circus host bloodsports now?"
"Looks like it. Not the first arena I've heard of to have them. Didn't think they did that here."
Solaufyn seems concerned. "You say it was not like this before, Tanith? This pit fighting is a bit disturbing, unless of course the monsters are in fact illusions. Which would be quite clever."
He thinks for a moment. "I sense several ways this could turn out. The monsters could be illusions, in which case, excellent. The monsters could be the product of summoning spells. But if they are genuine..."
He shudders. "I imagine a chimera is a rather costly pet to keep. This would tell us that the human competitors do not win very often. I imagine death awaits those who lose. I am having trouble understanding how humans could celebrate each other's brutal deaths."
"No, that's not right. I'm certain it's a costume or something."
Mortifice wanders over toward the blind man, hoping to get a better understanding of what he is muttering.
"It would have to be a pretty realistic costume. Can't mages turn into creatures like that?"
"Yes, the ability to transform into a creature like that is possible with transmutation magic," Solaufyn answers. "The forms are rather inefficient, however, especially for combat. To become a chimera requires just a bit more experience and study than I have achieved myself, actually."
"To be quite honest, an arcanist of that level of skill is better off doing other things with his time than pit fighting. It would also be much less risky to use summonings and illusions for this sort thing anyways; there's no chance of personal harm that way. What we have here is more likely to be an actual chimera, or of course, it could be an illusion placed on a lion or some other animal."
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Mortifice wanders over toward the blind man, hoping to get a better understanding of what he is muttering.
[dice=Perception]1d20+0
The man seems to be muttering gibberish to himself as he stares up at the sky. His eyes are milk-white with no pupils or iris showing, probably as a result of his blindness. As Mortifice approaches him, his head snaps toward the half-orc and he jumps off the pedestal, the glazed look on his face transformed into intense concentration. Grabbing the hem of Mort's clothing, the blind man inhales loudly then drops into a low whisper: "Beware. It is always watching."
His body then goes slack momentarily and then straightens up. He lets go of Mortifice's clothes and shakes his head as if trying to clear it. As if for the first time, his face turns towards the Mayaheinian. "Spare a copper for an old man?"
"It might be less risky, but it's less believable. But like you said, it might be an actual chimera."
Tanith watches the strange exchange and then tries again to flag down the workers sweeping the street.
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Tanith studies the poster advertising fighters combating a monster, this isn't how he remembered things.
The Kordite flags one of the workers down.
"The Keeper, Baal, Gorlund, what events are these men the champions of?"
"And what's the meaning of these?", he asks motioning to the posters. "Does the Circus host bloodsports now?"
The worker shrugs, "They the champions of the Circus. They best anyone who challenges them. Hasn't been much of a competition lately, though. Now that beasts be in the ring, though, it should get a bit more interesting!" The man gives Tanith a sadistic grin, imaging the prospect of a single person facing a mythical monster then goes back to his sweeping.
"When did that start?", Tanith demands. "Who does one talk to learn more about all this?"
The big Kordite looks up at the poster of the warriors battling a chimera again.
"I think I'd like to have some words with whoever is in charge."
"I'll go with you. If just to see a real chimera."
"We'll get to the bottom of this. I cannot believe the marquis would allow people to die for the entertainment of others."
Tanith shakes his head.
"To test one's strength in battle for a worthy cause is one thing but this... Mighty Kord would not approve."
Flynt nods his head. "Maybe he doesn't know. Or he doesn't care."
"Perhaps returning Istivin to normal after the war occupies his time", Tanith offers. "If we can't learn anything here we can try splitting up to cover more ground. I have some old friends I can ask."
"Beware. It is always watching."
Mortifice is taken aback by the suddenness of the man's actions and the mysteriousness of his words. He tries to maintain his composure though and does not yet attempt to remove the man's hands from him.
"Two copper, sir, if you can tell me: What is always watching?"
"If we can't learn anything here we can try splitting up to cover more ground. I have some old friends I can ask."
Solaufyn nods. "Well, I've been invited to see Marshall Karri Velthundle of the Sterish Cavalry, and I believe Mortifice wanted to head to the Church of Mayaheine? Perhaps either or both of them will know more about what's going on?
"Agreed. We can meet tonight and share what we've learned."
"Guess this is a good time to find the general of the Watch. I can't believe I just said that."
"I guess those meat pies can wait", Tanith says with lament.
"There's an inn not far from here. We can meet there tonight."