Three other ifrit men, who currently have their backs to you, are smoking cigars, lounging in their chairs. Three young ifrit women are grouped slightly away from the men, talking quietly among themselves. You recognize Isabelle Tareasca, dressed in a blue silk gown, her hair pinned up in a crown of strawberry-and-chocolate curls.
Without looking at you, v'Manco says, "Gin and tonic, my dear," and heads over to where the men are seated.
Byron, you are in line for a vendor selling authentic Sylphan meat dishes, which include the stomach, liver, heart, and brain of various hooved animals. A short, stocky oread takes your order. "Wut'll it be then, eh?"
Did he just order me to get him a drink? #%&*$... fine, just through tonight Fi. Fiordelise' eyes blaze for a second, however since v'Manco doesn't even look at her...
She glances over at Isabella, a pang of jealousy hitting her. She always seemed to find this all so easy, also so composed, and so damnably immaculate. No this is all unfair, Isabella has always been a friend, we're not in competition
Fiordelise pours v'Manco his drink, Fierenzo taught her how to prepare a variety of drinks before she'd even left her teenage years (before he was too, come to think on it), so she knew the usual proportions of such things better than most.
She delivers the drink to v'Manco, being careful to not interrupt any conversation he may be involved in (though she quietly listen in, if they're saying anything interesting), before returning to pour herself something and then approaching the ladies.
"Isabella, such a pleasant surprise, it has been entirely too long since our last meetup." She keeps her tone delighted, while her voice is low enough not to draw attention from the nearby men-folk and respectfully nods to the two ladies, trying to place them.
"What would you recommend I'll admit I haven't had much actual Sylph cooking with how I've lived," Byron chattered, while trying to stay aware of anything unusual going on.
Isabella smiles at you, though something in her face seems a bit...strained. "What a lovely dress, Fi!" She nods left, then right, to the other two women, who have matching black hair and dark eyes. "This is Karisa, and Karina. I'm sure you've seen the v'Ricci sisters here and there." The two sisters tilt their heads to the side at the same time, like puppets controlled by one hand.
"So nice to meet you!"
"Yes, yes, so nice."
The vendor shrugs his broad shoulders with indifference. "Too long a line fer dilly-dallying, eh? Take this, come back fer some more if ya like it." He hands you a dark red slab on a stick which you identify as liver. The animal it came from is unclear.
"And a pleasure to meet you both," Fiordelise smiles, and lightly curtsies to the sisters before returning her attention to Isabella, "If only a mere dress meant I could compare to you Izzy, you light up anywhere you stand." Fiordelise is genuine in her admiration of Isabella, it always seemed everything was so effortless for her.
Fiordelise tries to call forth what she knows about the v'Ricci family, if anything.
Odebie crosses his arms. "I'm not here to see the game. Anything else?"
"Thank you sir I will," Byron babbles, taking the liver and stepping away.
He is immediately suspicious of the food. He sniffs at it surreptitiously, and takes the tiniest bite of it, chewing it thoughtfully as he tries to detect any sign of drugs.
As he chews, he walks in the direction of the street performers. It seems to him that it would be more difficult to pull someone from a seat in the arena than from the back of a group gathered around some performers.
You have seen the sisters out and about at a few functions before, but you have never been introduced.
Isabella smiles and preens at the compliment. "So, how did you snag Macario? All I heard from him was that finding you in some merdoso bar was like seeing a lily in a pig trough." She giggles softly.
Your brain clicks and whirs for a moment. This particular sulfurous additive is one of two parts of a binary compound - the result is a sedative which slowly dulls the senses and compels a highly suggestible state.
The second part of the compound is...
("Lemonade! Get your lemonade here!" You hear from a nearby stall.)
Lemon juice.
"I was trying to find someone, and I think I wandered a little too far from the 'safe' streets" volcano preserve me, if she finds out where I've been this morning "Macario arrived just in time as I fear a fight was about to break out and it may have escalated out of hand without his presence. I chose to accompany him here as a reward for his efforts" Fiordelise maintains a light-hearted, gossipy voice, hardly sounding like she'd been in danger recently.
As surreptitiously as he can manage, Byron glances around, hoping to see one of his allies... and some place to put the liver out of sight. Or perhaps... half of the liver. Best to look as if he'd eaten some. But first he needed backup. Osric would be best. Two sylphs would probably attract the attention they wanted to follow.
Slowly, so as not to cause alarm, Odebie reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the tickets the twitchy ifrit was carrying. The arena guard frowns deeply, as if disappointed. Walking away, he mutters, "Still keeping my eye on you. Bark head." Odebie is momentarily distracted, making sure the arena guard isn't giving him any more trouble.
Osric catches Byron's look and comes over to the small table, sipping his coffee with a sour expression. "Who puts lemon juice in coffee? That's no sylph tradition I've ever heard of."
In near-perfect unison, the v'Ricci sisters says, "Oh, Rinny's not that bad!" Isabella glances over her shoulder to see if any of the four men have heard anything, but v'Manco is in the middle of telling a loud and self-aggrandizing story.
Isabella turns back to you. "So how is your brother these days? Send him my best, won't you dear?"
"The kind of people who want to make sure Sylphs get the second part of a binary sedative so they must have someone watching for drowsy sylphs somewhere and do you think we can get Obedie without scaring them off I think probably not but he needs to know," Byron whispers intensely to Osric as he disposes of a portion of his liver-on-a-stick.
"Oh come now Isabella, surely we're not going spend all our time comparing the menfolk. I'd be more than happy to swap - but that would be most improper." Fiordelise laughs lightly. Fiordelise spares a glance over at Rinaldo.
Fierenzo is as he usually is, I think I've offended him, yet again. I'll have to find a way to make it up to him, but that's for later. For now I'm here to enjoy myself.
Osric smiles, as if you are having a genial conversation. "Going over to a town guardelen would be inadvisable. I wish Odebie would have dressed with more subtlety. We'll have to trust him to follow."
A bit more warmth in Izzy's smile now. "Fair enough. I could do with a little enjoyment myself." She waves over a sylph servant. The woman, middle-aged but still pretty, comes over with a tray of champagne and various oer d'oeuvres.
Isabella takes a glass of golden, fizzing champagne. She swats the food away with her free hand, red nail polish glinting. "Damn those look good, but I have a gown to fit into next week."
Making a point of looking various passerby up and down, Odebie keeps one eye on the other two as he walks around.
Fi's eyes narrow mischievously, "How about we skip on the Champagne and find something more interesting from the cabinet?"
"Pretend I gave you some of this," Byron whispers while holding up the 'half-eaten' liver, not quite catching Osric's attempts at acting nonchalant. "Oh and pretend to share some of that coffee with me."
He stands and stretches. "Well that was good though it is kind of strange to have lemon in the coffee." He yawns theatrically. "Though now I'm feeling kind of drowsy I guess I didn't have enough of that coffee so maybe I should get some more?"
He looks around, acting a bit dazed, as if not quite sure which way he should be going to actually accomplish that.
Isabella gives s playful frown, as if in deep thought. "Well, if you insist..." She walks by the sylph and puts the champagne back on the tray. In a loud whisper, Izzy says, "I happen to know Macario never goes without a hefty supply of Owl-Eye whiskey. Bottom shelf." She winks.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the sylph nonchalantly walking toward the box's exit.
As you stand up, Osric doesn't respond to your question. His eyes are roaming, perhaps searching for signs of pursuit or other illicit interest. He walks away from the vendors, toward the performers.
Can't really chase after her on little more than hunch. File away her face for later, maybe she'll turn up again. And I didn't really want to be drinking anything so strong... the things I do for friendship... Firodelise returns to the drinks cabinet and pours the two of them a shot of Owl-Eye.
Byron watches for a moment, then catches on, following Osric. He keeps an eye out for shady types watching them as best he can as he does so.
A loud oread barker dressed in a ridiculous red-and-white pin-stripe suit booms, "See an amazing relic, from the time of Sky! Only here, only tonight! Do not miss this chance! Come in - now!" He stands in front of a lemon-yellow tent covered with cheap-looking arcane symbols in peeling purple paint. The entryway is outlined in black, making it seem like the pupil of a giant yellow eye.
And, without a word, Osric goes in. The tent flap swooshes closed behind him.
Isabella grins, and says, "Bottoms up!" She drains the glass in one gulp, scrunches her face a little, and exhales. She nods. "There. Rinaldo will be much more tolerable now."
Isabella guides you to the seats, where the v'Ricci sisters are sitting with two men you do not recognize. Judging from their Temple Watch uniforms, they work with v'Manco, and were perhaps invited along as favored lackeys. Rinaldo has the same black skin and orange hair as the v'Ricci sisters - you realize from the earlier conversation that Rinaldo must be their brother. He is the only man not dressed in a guard's uniform; instead, he is wearing the puffed sleeves and lace cuffs that the nobility seem to be favoring this season.
v'Manco pats the seat next to him. Rinaldo looks up at you and says in a nasally drawl, "So this is the Fiordelise," he stretches out the middle of your name in an irritating way, "we've heard so much about. Tell me, why are you wasting your time with Macario?" He forces a highly affected laugh from his mouth, which sounds more like hiccups than laughter.
Seeing Osric enter, Odebie rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on." He watches for a moment to see if anyone other than slyphs are being let in.
Not one to be outdone, Fiordelise downs her own drink, before following Isabella back to the seats.
"Oh I'd hardly call it a waste of my time." Fiordelise says as warmly as she can as she sits beside Macario. "Besides, your own partner puts me to shame, surely." Fiordelise nods towards Isabella
Hurriedly Byron moves to follow Osric, slipping into the tent if no one stops him.
Byron enters the tent. Despite its cheap appearance, the tent is sturdy - the sounds of the crowd are shut out almost completely. The interior is silent, and the air is close and uncomfortable. There is no sign of Osric. In fact, the entire tent is empty, save for a small glass case approximately thirty feet away. The contents of the case are obscured by a swirling smoke trapped within. Blue flashes of light flicker erratically from within the smoke, like a miniature thunderstorm.
Among the Brightfield Bruisers, one of the players looks familiar. A very large, dark-red ifrit, easily standing a head taller than those around him. His bulging muscles squirm with veins and violence, even at this distance. It is Corde, the brutbreve player arrested at the Plucked Vulture, just last night.
Thirteen priests variously hobble, limp, and waddle onto the court behind the players. Twelve of the them bless and anoint the players, while the thirteenth begins the opening ceremonies. The head priest, surprisingly a sylph, conducts the prayers in a loud, reedy voice.
Fiordelise watches the game intently.
Byron hesitates a long moment. Clearly this was the 'artifact' spoken of. Somehow he doubted it was benign, whatever it was.
As carefully as he could, he peaked back out of the tent flap, hoping to see Obedie.
Catching Byron looking out through the entrance, Odebie nods to no-one and makes to walk inside.
Odebie receives a grimace from the barker, but no one stops him. Odebie and Byron are now both inside the tent.
Byron looks over the empty tent, then turns back to Obedie. As quietly as he can managed he tells the oread, "Osric came in here before me but I don't know where he's gone I suspect some sort of enchantment on the box in back but I don't dare to get close enough to inspect it unless maybe you have a rope you could tie to me but then if it's some sort of teleportation that won't work but that seems like high-powered magic to be available to someone like this..."
Letting the alchemist talk for a little while, Odebie takes a good look around.
He grabs Byron by the shoulder and points. "Trapdoor, be careful." Reaching out of the tent, he taps on the barker's shoulder and motions for him to come inside.
Suddenly, several of the players fall to the ground. One is vomiting; three are having seizures of some kind; Corde is clutching at his eyes and screaming.
Loud as a thunderclap, the whole arena yells in a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion. v'Manco is saying something and gesturing furiously, but it is impossible to hear him.
"A signal!" Byron hisses. He positions himself as far from the barker and the trap door as he can while pulling a bomb vial from his belt, ready to mix and throw.
Fiordelise backs away from the chairs (she doesn't want to be sat down if trouble breaks out) and then tries to gauge the crowd. Are they reacting to the players, are they poeple in the crowd with similar symptoms - does it look like they could riot or is it just 'mere' outrage?
Glaring daggers at the carnie, Odebie begins reaching for his hammer.
v'Manco grabs his two guard cronies and shoves them out in front of him. He draws his sword, and waves to you to follow besides him.
Fiordelise pauses to try and think for a moment and looks to Isabella, reluctant to leave without her friend.
If Isabella is going with v'Manco and his men, Fi will follow, if not she'll approach Isabella first.
Byron mixes the bomb in his hand. "I really need to find a nonlethal alternative this is far too destructive but if you'd like to surrender..." he rambles as he tosses the bomb past the barker, aiming to hit him only with the splash so as to avoid burning .
"That would be a good idea, yes." Sidestepping back from the barker, he slams the blunt end of his hammer into the man's side.
Snapping out of his reverie, the lanky ifrit drops his garrote and jumps back down the trapdoor in a clumsy sprint. He does not close the door behind him.
v'Manco and his cronies shove elens out of the way, and, where that does not suffice, threaten with their weapons. Considering the running, biting, pushing, screaming chaos around you, your group keeps a good pace. Around a corner, v'Manco leads you to a formidable steel door built into the stone wall. Motioning his lackeys to guard his back, he produces a key and ushers all of you in. He closes and double-bolts the door behind him, blocking out the sound of screams and the smell of smoke.
You find yourself in an opulent room, resembling a well-appointed drawing room in the Obsidian Mansions. Drinks, food, and cigars sit upon a hardwood table. There is even a small piano in the corner.
v'Manco breathes deeply, and lets out a small sigh. "Ah, much better."
This can only get worse...
Keeping his hammer in hand, Odebie trudges after the ifrit and jumps down the trapdoor.
"You have a safe room, at the arena?" Fi tries to keep her voice more amazed than accusatory.
Byron glances at the barker, then follows Odebie.
He looks before he leaps, however.
The ifrit hears you come down the trapdoor and looks back as he is running. His left foot slides on a slick stone, and he falls down, hard. He scrambles up, and tries to regain his speed.
An oily smirk plays at v'Manco's lips. He glances left, then right, and takes a step toward you. "Not...exactly. It is a room, and it is safe." He pauses for laughter at the play on words, but none is forthcoming. "I would not worry about the details. Enjoy some wine. Play a song, 'Bella!" He grins and sweeps his hand toward the piano, gleaming in the candlelight.
Walking toward another steel door on the far side of the room, v'Manco says, "I need to check on some business. I will return soon. Sit tight. Renno and Nerro will keep you safe." His tone suggests violence, not safety.
Charging forwards, Odebie does his best to snare the man's leg and keep him grounded.
His AC is at a -2 due to the charge.
"Piano was never my forte... still I can probably manage a tune if no-one else wants to. You may have to excuse a few missed notes however."
Fiordelise walks towards the Piano, mostly as an excuse to put some distance between herself and the men.
She will try and take in more details of the room as she walks, is it just for entertainment purposes, if so why the steel doors? Are there any other ways out, I presume no windows?
Seeing Odebie charge ahead, Byron hangs back slightly, drawing his dagger and trying to look dangerous. He's too low on bombs to want to throw more if he can help it.
Byron flanks the ifrit and points a dagger at him. The ifrit throws his dagger away and puts his hands at his side. "Okay, okay! I don't wanna die, okay? You're a guard, right? No need for any violence, right? Right?"