You have my dot.
Dot
In many parts of the Dims, the Grand Temple of Hearth blots out the light of Volcano. The stepped pyramid, made of gleaming obsidian and slabs of basalt, reaches far into the dead sky as if lifting its nose in contempt. Tonight, the temple is backlit a sinister red the color of fresh ifrit blood.
Far beneath the majestic, apathetic peaks of Volcano and the Grand Temple lies a tavern called the Plucked Vulture. The Vulture is constructed of cheap organic stone harvested from the Charcoal Desert. The lumpy pieces of crumbling granite are impossible to fit together properly, and the cold, whistling gusts of air from outside cause several patrons to curse the stingy barkeep. Upon these gray walls, the scores of garish feathers that pass for decor flutter back and forth in the unsteady breeze.
No one comes to the Vulture for warmth, however, as the cold fireplaces attest. They come for hard liquor. And, occasionally, other things.
From the crowded tables come bursts of raucous laughter, eruptions of foul smells, and bellows of drunken anger.
"No!" bellows the drunkard "But my sister has!"
The entire table burst out laughing, hands and tankers slamming on the rough-cut table and asses slamming on the floor as a few drunks fall off their stools. Wiping away tears, Odebie took a quick mouthful of what might have once been beer before turning and helping one of the men up.
Grey Father, this place is a hole. Seemed like every night there was a fight at the 'Vulture, or a knifing, or reports of some drug deal. Odebie had been nursing the same "beer" for four hours now, watching the crowd and waiting. Nothing had happened yet; everyone seemed to be in a good mood tonight. Or maybe it was just the hammer on his back calming things down.
Leaning in, Odebie looks around at the table.
"So there's a farming family out in the Steam Wastes..."
Fiordelise hovers near the door, how can Fiero like such a place?. She scans the crowds anxiously for her brother or someone she's seen him with.
Byron is sitting in a corner of the room, as far from any other elens as he can get.
Best to avoid contact don't want to catch anything or get my purse slit or that would interrupt my research and where is Giulia anyway? And why does she have a good source for nitric acid anway?
He fidgets as he looks around, trying to make sure no one is trying to sneak up on him. He spots Osric across the room, but, remembering what his fellow sylph has said about his investigation, does nothing to draw his attention. He wouldn't want to ruin whatever Osric was doing, after all.
Osric, sitting on a stool by the bar, nurses his coffee expecting a long night ahead of him. His clothes ruffle in the constant breeze that surrounds him. What's do we have to work with in this dead-end dive tonight. He scans the crowd assembled at the Vulture tonight.
He spies Odebie over at a raucous table of oread. Better steer clear of that one tonight. Law-elen is good to have if I find what I'm looking for, but I don't want him getting in the way before I do. Glad it'll be Od instead of some stranger.
Recognizing the lone elen in the corner looking a little nervous, Osric lets himself smirk. Byron's most likely here on business, hope it's above board. If not, perhaps it'll be enough of a distraction to let me slip into the storerooms undetected.
Then there's the ifrit by the door. She's too fancy for a place like this. Gotta keep an eye on her. His glance passes over her again. I know her from somewhere, I know I do.
As the well-dressed female ifrit crosses the room, you spot a man who must be her brother. The name eludes you for but a moment - Fierenzo. Not a bad kid, but tangled up with the wrong people.
"Yes yes, let us get to business before something happens so we can all be done with this," Byron says, breathlessly, glad to finally be making progress. "How much did you get and what's the price?"
Osric grunts, "Hmph!"
Keep yer nose clean Bronze, I don't need you tangled up in Od's nets.
He watches the ifrit siblings converge and grows concerned. Even if he's not involved in my investigation, the rest of his party looks the type.
He picks up his cup and slowly works his way closer to that group trying not to be noticed.
One table over, a large ifrit you've seen at the Vulture before interrupts your joke, "HA! Yeah! Maybe all you rock-eaters should just go back to the Wastes, huh?" You judge the muscular, dark-red man to be particularly drunk, as this comment makes no sense.
Huh? How... what? He's trying to goad a *guard*?! I hate drunks.
Odebie smiles at the man for a half-second before saying softly "Please don't interrupt." He then launches back into his joke, ignoring the drunkard.
Fiordelise starts moving before she even realises what she's doing. Part of her wants to scream at him, another wants to hit him the face...
She barely reigns herself in as she reaches the group.
"If you'll excuse me gentlemen, brother dearest has business to conduct today" she turns up her nose disdainfully, "...and so terribly needs to bathe first." the words drip with venom, almost daring someone to object.
In a distant corner of the room, the sound of shattering glass is heard even above the general drunken din. This is accompanied by uproarious laughter, as well as one man yelling, "Volc! Only thing cheaper than the booze here is the volc'n cups!"
Neither the the siblings nor Fierenzo's companions seem to take notice of you. Beyond their words, one thing stands out to you - the short, skinny companion has the labored, wheezing breathing pattern of a gasper.
One of your companions, Ahtuno, glares darkly at the back of the ifrit's head. You can see the muscles bunching at the side of his head as his jaw clenches. He places his hands on the table as if he is about to stand up.
Looking at Fierenzo, you are surprised that behind his drunkenness he seems...worried. Perhaps even scared. He does not meet your gaze.
Still telling his joke, Odebie leans over and puts a hand on Ahtuno's shoulder, gently pressing him back in his seat. He gives the other oread a soft shake of his head then locks eyes with the large ifrit, again shaking his head.
Fiordelise' eyes blaze Ragazza! I'll make him squeal like una piccola ragazza!
Her rage catches as she notices her brother's expression. Fiordelise instead takes a deep breath to steady her voice. "I think my brother has had enough."
"Yes yes, good to meet you," Byron replied, keeping to the minimum of pleasantries. "I do indeed have many experiments going on but I am constantly hindered by a lack of supplies."
Osric relaxes some. A lead. I'll have to keep an eye on this one.
He leans back and watches the rest of the crowd. All while making sure the gasper doesn't go too far without his notice.
At Fierenzo's table, the gasper speaks too quietly to be heard, but the body language of brother and sister make it clear he has made a threat of some kind.
Fiordelise leans in close to "Enzo" "Get out of here, spreco di spazio , go home and sober up.".
She turns back to Lorenzo. "How much do we owe - you can deal with me now, Signore"
Carefully, Osric drops a hand to his cane and fingers the latch at the head. There's trouble brewing, best be ready.
He keeps his coffee in his off hand and passes his glance between the possible brouhaha of the ifrits and the salvation of the oread lawman.
"Working for materials? Yes yes that would be acceptable assuming it's reasonable," Byron replied.
He fidgeted again, glancing around the room. This place made him nervous.
"Perhaps we might discuss this in a less volatile environment it's not good to mix volatile components without proper safety equipment yes?"
Lorenzo gives you a smug smile. "You ain't callin' the shots here, and you ain't interrupting our fun!" Oddly, no one seems to have reacted to this small bit of violence; everyone is absorbed in their own business.
As Fiordelise's and Odebie's tables reach the brink of violence, the obese ifrit speaking with Byron ducks under his chair with a piggish squeal. "Giulia! Do what I pay you fo' and keep those ashin' savages away from me!"
Damn fool.
Odebie stands up suddenly, glaring at everyone around him. "Sit back down everyone, unless you feel like getting thrown in the drunk tank. You," he gestures to the ifrit, "apologize or I doubt you'll make it out of here with all your teeth."
Fiordelise backs off slightly (5ft step back) and "I was willing to pay what was owed, but if you insist on fun - sinistram manum magus Cast mage Hand on a nearby drink, aiming to tip it over the larger brother - preferably aiming for his crotch.
Since I guess that will start combat
"Too late to avoid violence what an annoying interruption," Byron grumbled under his breath. "Perhaps best to avoid explosives but I don't have much else..."
He began to cautiously reach for one of the innumerable vials stuck in the various pouches and pockets on his outfit.
Sky forgive me.
As he sees two fights break out at once, Osric flings his drink at Lorenzo's face.
He steps forward, drawing his sword. The sheath falling to the floor with a clatter. He raises the blade to the larger elen. "I would think very hard about your next move my friend. Wouldn't want it to be your last.
Ahtuno clutches his hand to his chest, still on the ground. The rest of your companions are stunned, and look to you.
"But if I catch fire to the tavern's tables I'll probably have to pay the proprietor for damages and I can't really afford that and I'm not entirely certain violence is necessary..."
Odebie's face hardens. "The rest of you, go back to your drinks. Interfere and I'll have to arrest you as well."
With that, he steps around the table and draws his hammer, suddenly lunging forward and slamming the (non-pointed) head into the brutbreve player's stomach.
Oh, you really should have sat back down...
Fiordelise tips a near-full beer onto the older brother--Lazzaro--completely soaking his pants. Eyes popping, growling in an almost-comical way, he is about to reach for a long dagger on his belt, when...
Osric brandishes a much larger blade directly at him. Leaving the dagger sheathed, Lazzaro spreads his hands in a conciliatory gesture. Osric notes that his hands are still very close to the dagger.
From behind Osric, Lorenzo brandishes a dagger similar to his brother's. The skinny ofrit unsteadily points the blade toward Osric, momentarily distracted as he wipes hot coffee out of his eyes. "Maybe you should be thinkin' about last moves and all that, eh?"
Giulia and her hand crossbow ensure that the chaos that has erupted around Byron's table does not approach the cowering ifrit, who is still wedged under his chair.
Obedie swings the heavy hammer hard enough to make the air whistle, but pulls the blow at the last second to prevent it from being lethal. The muscular ifrit doubles over with a grunt of pain. A moment later, he noisily empties several beer's worth of liquid onto the floor, and collapses.
Link to map.
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Initiative Order:
Fiordelise - 14
Osric - 13
Byron - 8
Giulia - 7
Slimy Ifrits-3 (Brutbreve player is unconscious)
Odebie - 2
Fiordelise draws her sword, and tries to pluck the dagger from Lazzaro's belt while his hands are raised.
(awesome roll there Fi, really)
Byron sighed. "I wish you hadn't done that but now I think you'd better put that dagger away..."
He quickly slipped a vial out of his belt, dropped a pinch of powder in it, re-stoppered it, and threw it end-over-end behind Lorenzo.
With a quick flick of his sword, Osric lashes out attempting to remove the dagger from Lorenzo's hand.
Fiordelise attempts to grab Lazzaro's dagger, but the thug sways--either drunk, or quick--and her hand closes on empty air. Lazzaro notices that Osric's attention is on Lorenzo, and unsheathes his dagger. "You want it so Volc'n bad? Here!" His mouth is an "O" of surprise when his dagger glances off Fiordelise's mail, causing no harm whatsoever.
Osric's sword clashes hard on Lorenzo's dagger, but the wheezing ifrit barely manages to hold on to it. A split-second later, when Byron's bomb scorches his back, he loses his tenuous grip and the dagger clatters to the floor. A look of fear and hate crosses Lorenzo's face. His eyes flick to his brother, back to Osric, and he runs for the door.
Letting the disarmed ifrit run past him, Odebie walks up to Lazzaro's table, resting his hammer on it. He calls behind him, "If any of you have skill with the healing arts, please help Ahtuno. The Watch would appreciate it." Looking at everyone around the table, eyebrows raising as he recognizes Osric, "There's been enough trouble here tonight. All of you are leaving this bar, now, and going your separate ways."
"Sky! Od, you let the little gasper get away. He turns to retrieve his cane, keeping an eye on Lazzaro. "Fine, this one is all yours. He assaulted the young elen on the floor. I'm going after the little one."
Link to map.
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Initiative Order:
Fiordelise - 14
Osric - 13
Byron - 8
Giulia - 7
Slimy Ifrits-3 (Brutbreve player is unconscious)
Odebie - 2
Lazzaro, seeing his brother fleeing and a large oread guardsman frowning at him, throws his dagger to the floor with a scowl.
Fiordelise swipes at the air in front of Lazzaro with her sword "It is good that I do not wish to offend the watch straccio bagnato "
She then sheath's her sword and goes to see if she can aid this 'Ahtuno'.
Osric picks up his cane and sheathes his weapon. He then heads for the door after Lorenzo.
The remaining patrons of the Vulture comply with Odebie's command. The bright feathers on the wall dance and shiver in the wind as the badly-fitted door opens again and again. The barkeep, festooned in a particularly bright shade of yellow feathers, scowls at all of you in turn as he watches his profits for the night leak away like old beer on the floorboards.
Osric steps out of the Plucked Vulture and searches the street. Now where did the little trouble maker go?
Re-sheathing his hammer and not looking at the bartender. Odebie kneels next to Ahtuno and looks to Fiordelise. "Is there anything you can do to ease his pain?"
A small coating of fresh ashes, rapidly cooling in the chill, gives you one important fact about Lorenzo; he smokes the stuff. This is no dilletante. This is a man that will die, possibly in weeks, from his addiction.
Osric returns to the Vulture, he looks at Lazzaro and shakes his head. "He's long gone, he smoked this. He sets the soot stained vial on the table in front of Odebie.
With a look at Fiordelise he continues, "Whatever con these two were running on your brother, the little one isn't long for this world. Either he gets enough cash to feed his addiction for the short time until it kills him, or the withdrawal will take care him quicker."
He kneels down to help Fiorenzo stand. "Not that it's really any consolation for you, I'm sure" He looks the injured ifrits over to see if either of them are in need of further healing.
"While I'm sure you were here for your own reasons, thank you for your assistance." Fiordelise nods at the others as she checks on Ahtuno.
"If helping your investigations helps get my worthless brother out of trouble, feel free to call on me"