Byron had stumbled in, quite late, not long before this point. Now he shrugs.
"Good place for rare herbs. Bad place to live never went there myself. Just got products from merchants who trade with the gardeners."
Osric goes over to the ottoman and lifts the top. He rummages about for a bit and pulls out a rumpled leather jerkin and breeches. After a quick brush to check that the metal studs are well oiled and not rusted he presents it to Fiordelise. "I hope this will be suitable. Hopefully not too warm."
The four of you leave Osric's office, the smell of warm coffee only a fond memory as the salt-and-pepper snow nips at your ears and noses.
The Rug Market is mostly empty this early in the morning. A handful of elens poke their heads out of cheap tents as the day brightens. The wares that you do see consist of fake jewelry, half-rotten food, and good-luck charms that look even cheaper than the jewelry. An emaciated ifrit yells at Fiordelise, "Pretty lady needs a necklace, si? Nobody will know it is anything but gold!" This comment despite what he is holding is clearly made of copper. He smiles, his teeth reflecting what is presumably more 'real' gold.
Oven Avenue, and the surrounding streets, is home to bakeries and restaurants. Anything from cheap, tasteless bulk bread to delicately sugared rolls can be found around the Ovens. The smell of baking bread, fresh-squeezed juice, and sweet spices is nearly overwhelming. A pair of overweight oreads are juggling rocks of various types and sizes on a corner next to a dessert cart. Breath steaming in the cold, they are chanting in nonsense Oread as they throw chunks of granite and basalt between one another. There is a battered brown hat next to them with two coppers inside.
You reach the house that Osric recalls from his time interviewing Leoni. It is a solid single-story brick-and-wood building, located on the edge of Garden Street, still outside the Steams. The scent of lavender and lemons hangs in the snowy air.
Fiordelise thanks Osric and ducks out of the way (back room, or behind something to screen her from the others) and quickly changed into the armor, fortunately she'd not had a maid since being a young girl, so was adept at dressing and undressing herself quickly.
Osric steps forward, "Our pardon ma'am, but does Franco still reside here?"
In a shrill voice, she says, "And just who are you, to knock on a person's door and disturb--"
A calm baritone interrupts her. "Peace, sister. I see who it is. Why don't you run your errands a little early today?"
The woman's face contorts in hatred as she stares at the four of you, while in a restrained tone, she replies, "'Course, brother mine. Gimme the coin and I'll be outta yer hair in two cracks of a campfire."
The door closes. After a moment of muffled movement within the house, the wooden door creaks open. The pinch-faced woman smiles death at Osric, and walks away, hunched against the snow.
From within the house, the man's voice, presumably Leoni's, says, "I never forget a tolerable member of the legal profession. Do come in...Osric, yes?"
Seated comfortably in an overstuffed easy chair, an athletic male ifrit nods at you behind smoked-glass goggles. The trademark of the Misters, the goggles perform no function, but they are blinding to all but those blessed with the ability to see through smoke and steam.
A fire crackles merrily in a stone fireplace in the corner of the sitting room. The cold remains of a breakfast of oatmeal and cheap bread litter the rough pine table.
Leoni gestures expansively at the functional wooden stools and chairs that furnish the sitting room. "Sit! Make yourselves comfortable! To what do I owe the pleasure, detective? And who are your associates?"
"Thank you," Odebie says, though he stays standing. "My name is Odebie, of the Great Northern Tribe."
"Byron Cheme," Byron states, with a slight nod, as he takes one of the stools. He says nothing more for the moment, figuring his name tells his business well enough.
"Fi..." Fiordelise decides better of giving her full name and breaks off.
Osric pulls one of the chairs over and sits. "I'm glad that I am fondly remembered. Last night there was a dust up at the Plucked Vulture. Not exactly an unexpected event, to be sure, but one of the miscreants got away by smoking Gasp."
A look of sour distaste crawls over Osric's face as he continues. "The little weasel's partner claims he got it in the Steams, near Garden Street. Off of an elen named ... Lungs." He spits the name out like rotten meat.
"We don't exactly have an abundance of cash, but we would like your assistance in finding this elen."
Leoni steeples his fingers, his goggles peering through the gap between his hands. "Now detective, surely you know that the true currency of the Dims is not gold. What would you say to a favor owed - you..." his gaze shifts to Odebie, "and the guardsman?"
His hands shoot up in mock defense. "Nothing illegal, of course! Just...a favorable attitude. What do you say?"
Frowning, Odebie rubs his chin for a couple seconds. "You should be aware that I rarely spend time in the Steams. Still, as long as nothing illegal is involved, I can remember your name."
Fiordelise watches Osric and the man speak, she doesn't any reason to draw more attention to herself for the moment.
"If I did not hold you in favorable regard, we would not be here." Osric shrugs. "That said, as long as we are successful, I will provide you with a marker good for future engagement of my services."
Sigh, if I keep giving away free work, eventually I'll have to actually move into the Dims.
Leoni claps his hands together. "Eccellente!" He stands up and stretches elaborately. "Now, to be clear on standard Mister protocols. I will alert you to danger, but unless my own life is threatened I will not be getting involved in any fights. Likewise, I will not be talking to anyone for you - I am your eyes and ears, not your mouth, as it were."
He locks the front door as you all exit his house.
While Byron is not exactly wise, he knows enough to keep his mouth shut during negotiations.
Usually.
Here, at least, he has nothing to add, so there's not much temptation for him to speak. Instead he looks around, noting the different herbs grown here for later reference.
Osric watches the passers-by, trying to judge if they know anything. Anyone they greet he watches carefully for signs of deception.
+1 to detect lies
Fiordelise doesn't really know how to speak in the steams, but it appears that she's fallen into the role of face, so she'll take her cues from Osric and ask around for Lorenzo & lungs.
As you approach the Steams, the ashen snow thins, then disappears entirely. Slowly, the cold morning is replaced by a hot twilight that is neither night nor day. The suffocating steam devours everything more than twenty or thirty feet away, leaving you all adrift in a roiling gray sea. The only anchors to reality are the barren ground, your companions, and your guide.
Leoni moves with unerring confidence through the surreal landscape. Following Lazzaro's coerced directions, you head south of Garden Street. Flowers and blooms spill from pots, carts, windows, and even cracks in the street as vendors hawk roses, aloe, and lilac. What would surely be a riotous blur of color in normal peaklight is instead muted and somber in the gloom of the steam.
Through the muffling mist, Osric hears the distinct sound of a Gasper's labored breathing. The blue-purple undine, slightly deformed with signs of an ifrit ancestor, lies through his rotten teeth when questioned by Osric. "Just a cold, a heh. That's, you know, why I'm here. Steam's good for colds, right?"
Before Osric has a chance to 'persuade' the junkie, Fiordelise whispers a few gentle words--and passes a few coins--to the hapless undine. Grinning at the sight of free money, even such a small amount, he shrugs and points you to Fiore's Flowers as the corner he bought his last hit of Gasp. He runs off in the opposite direction, skipping awkwardly.
"Let's see what we can find at the flower shop. Everyone be ready for anything." Osric fingers the latch on his cane. Although with Odebie's hammer and Fiordelise's sword in plain sight, his obfuscation seems unwarranted. He steps forward and holds the door for his companions. "After you m'lady."
Byron hung in back, letting the others go first while he fingered a couple of the vials on his belt. He did keep an eye on the herbs around here, though--keeping an eye out for any that seemed unusual or out of place.
Fiordelise nods at Osric and enters the flower shop, consciously trying to keep her hands away from her sword.
She takes a good look around
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Stepping into Fiore's Flowers last, Odebie makes a show of wandering around, dipping his hand into various pots and tasting the soil with appreciative 'Mmms'.
Fiore's Flowers is, true to its name, full of flowers. Four wide, tall aisles showcase pots of both common and uncommon blooms, but nothing rare or exotic. The smell of soil and the multitude of plants combine into a strong, generic earthy odor.
A minute after you all enter the shop, a lovely young ifrit with curly orange-red hair greets you. Clasping her hands in front of her modest dress, she smiles and says, "Good morning to you gentlemen and lady, and what might I..." She trails off as she notices Odebie's uniform. She gives a small bow. "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" She seems more curious than nervous.
Exploring the shop, one flower sticks out to you - a scorpion orchid. Despite the name, it is not poisonous. Nor is it particularly beautiful, with its strange striped, drooping petals. One obscure use for it, however, is to intensify the high of Gasp.
Fiordelise examines some of the flowers. "You have a beautiful store here, signora. We are simply looking for a few people, and an elen we know as Lungs.".
Fiordelise watches for any flicker of reaction, though she's well aware she's not good at recognizing such things.
Byron glares at the scorpion orchid, then tries to cover it up as Fiordelise speaks.
The young elen purses her lips. "Umm, I can't say for sure about this Lorenzo...maybe. But Lungs?" She smiles and shakes her head. "I've never heard of anyone with a silly name like that." She starts to laugh, but sobers quickly when she sees the serious looks on your faces.
"What's this about? Should I get the owner from the store room?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you. Fiordelise, would you mind keeping the young lady company?" No sense letting the manager vanish into the mist.
The flower keeper nods and smiles again, and waves Fiordelise behind the counter and through a small door.
After poking around the aisles for a few minutes, the young woman perks up as she hears someone talking. As she goes around a wide bush, she says, "Scusi, Signora Toselli, but..." She trails off as she sees her boss is not alone.
Her companion is the one who directed you here: the blue-purple undine with rotten teeth.
Fiordelise smiles, "Ah, it appears you already know why we're here." Fiordelise casually lays her hand on the hilt of her sword, in case trouble breaks out.
Osric watches the women walk into the back of the shop. He turns to Leoni, "What can you tell us about this place? I know you are just here to be our eyes and ears in the Steam, but if you know something, we should hear it."
"Bhuel is féidir liom a rá leat go bhfuil siad ag fás magairlín scairp agus ní dóigh liom go bhfuil mé a insint duit cad a chiallaíonn," Byron interjects.
Leoni remains silent, stroking his chin, perhaps considering his response. A split-second after the implications of Byron's discovery become clear, the muffled sound of a shattering ceramic pot comes from behind the back door.
No sooner had the sound of the pot shattering echoed once than Odebie had rushed to the back door and flung it open, drawing his lucerne hammer along the way.
Byron hurried behind Obedie, pulling a vial out of his belt as he does.
Hearing trouble from the back, Osric heads to the door.
Odebie gets there first and flings it open. Osric follows and assesses the situation.
Fiordelise will spend her surprise round drawing her sword and moving to block the doorway (if there's a second door she'll move to that one, trusting her companions to come through the other).
Oh, right, initiative:
Yes, Fiordelise will sprint after him with nary a thought as to any danger he may be leading her to. She will shout out for the others as she does
Osric will close the distance between him and the undine. Covering more than half the space.
"Bạn có! Dừng lại! Bạn không thể nhận được ngay."
As Fiordelise comes upon the blue-purple undine in the storeroom, he immediately turns and runs off toward the back. In his haste, he knocks over a large ceramic pot, which shatters noisily. Fiordelise runs after.
The undine keeps running. After reaching the end of one of the aisle, he briefly turns west, then starts heading north again. Fiordelise continues to chase the undine, overtaking him after a few seconds.
Byron, Odebie, and Osric all react quickly to the sound of the pot shattering, and come through the door. Osric spots the undine running away through a gap between aisles, and runs after him.
Seeing the undine facing off with Fiordelise (and giving every appearance of being about to bolt past her), Osric races through the hothouse aiming to get to any back door before the undine.
Relaxing slightly, not seeing anyone with a weapon drawn, Odebie moves into the room more slowly. As he does, he talks to the flower girl. "My apologies for the commotion, we're all a little high-strung right now. I hope she wasn't the owner." He still has his weapon in hand, though he hasn't raised it at all and seems sedate.