Varlis does so quickly and efficiently. He stuffs a rag in the man's mouth for now.
"We may get guests soon."
"I'll deal with that," Emerion declares, arriving late to the party, "bring him forward...the people need to see this.". Turning he darts back down the passageway to make a dramatic reappearance.
"Pilts is our prisoner!" he declares to the mob.
A mountainous man is peering through the doorway down the hall, but he steps back to let Emerion pass unhindered.
The crowd is still milling about in small knots. Everyone, even the ones leaving from the far side lifts their heads and turns toward Emerion at his announcement.
Heather joins Emerion on the Stage.."Once again people of Korvosa..Blackjack has prevailed against those who would have led you to ruin and woe..it only remains for the so called Emperor to be brought to Justice"
She whispers after that to her companion
"Tell them to go home and keep the peace.."
Emerion grabs the great-axe from one of his former foes and jumps up onto the platform with the guillotine.
"People of the Old City, the rulers of Korvosa may have chosen to ignore us, but that is no reason to turn upon one another! Pilts was a foolish demagogue, do not let his words turn you against one another. It is together that we have strength! Help your neighbours, stand together, show one another compassion and together we can triumph over this plague. Let's throw down this symbol of oppression, it's no better than the decadent trollop that sits on the Crimson Throne and we do not need such things to be the people of Korvosa, the greatest city in Varisia!"
Turning he jams the haft under the guillotine.
"Come on! Help me turn this monstrosity into the firewood that will serve us far better!"
More wondering smiles than not grace the faces of the crowd. "Blackjack" ripples back and forth like wavelets on the surface of the bay.
Varlis guards their play. He watches for any surprise attacks.
Heather follows up on Emerion's call as a glimmer of an idea begins to form in her mind.
"Aye let us burn this symbol of Galtian tragedy and show the world that Korvosans..not Varisians or Chelaxian's... but Korvosans need no outside influences to settle their rule.We have had enough of whores and charlatans..we have had enough of living on past glories..we have had enough of misrule.The time has come to seize our destiny and be..Korvosans"
Diplomacy
Diplomacy: Aid another?
The crowd erupts into cheers and throngs toward the stage. From behind you comes a deep voice. "Give me the ax. I help my friend make kindling from the Tall Knife." The man-mountain pushes off from the wall by the hall door toward Pilt's bedroom and advances toward Emerion with his left hand outstretched.
Emerion grins and hands over the axe, stepping back to give the man a clear swing.
"Be my guest," he urges.
The big man grabs the axe from Emerion, hefts it twice, then drives it down onto the bed of the guillotine which splits like a melon struck by a cleaver. The headpiece twists and falls like a tree. A few more blows and the Tall Knife is a useless pile or wooden chunks. He looks past Emerion to Heather for approval.
The crowd cheers.
Heather looks on with approval as the vaguely familiar man reduces the Tall Knife to kindling.She suddenly recalls who he is, the Bouncer she had sent away from Vendra's just before the fight broke out..she looks at him carefully..surely the charm had worn off by now it had been weeks since the incident at the perfumers
"Now my friends" She cries.."I know you have suffered under this blockade from the whore in the palace and her Hell-b$*!@es in the Maidens but there is a time for action and that is not quite yet.Blackjack has to ascertain the extent of the troubles here.Are any off you Clerks or record keepers?"
"Your Emperor was leading you to anarchy and hell knows where. You need someone strong and sensible to get things started back on the street to a better life. Varlis speaks a lot for him but perhaps the others are rubbing off on him.
He heads back inside to see Laori and Salvatore Scream. Listening quietly at the ajar door first to see if he can gather anything.
Then he enters and watches their body language.
[spoiler= Varlis] Scream is going on about his art, or more aptly, about how difficult it's become to create in the last few months. "... so easy. The themes, the images, blossomed in my mind unbidden. Sometimes I would sketch for days to get them down so I could begin real canvases. I couldn't keep up, and then it all stopped. No matter how hard I tried, my muse was silent ...."
Laori makes sympathetic noises. Just enough to let him know she's listening so that he keeps talking. Occasioanlly she steers him back to his early days. She asks about inspriation and how he felt when painting, what the work meant to him and what he was trying to say.
Scream is upset, pacing the room. It's unclear whether this oddly confessional outpouring is helping him. Vaus is leaning forward. She's obviously very interested.
Varlis looks over the pictures carefully avoiding eye contact and melting into the background so that the conversation may continue as if he isn't there.
He is waiting to find out what exactly Laori is after.
Heather's eyes fix on a woman who tentatively raises her hand.."You'll do..." she states firmly.."as long as you can write legibly and listen well..now I want you to start gathering details from people as to their losses since this..trouble began..just get the facts don't make any embellishments and then bring them to me and we'll see what can be done."
"Right" she says turning her attention back to the crowds.."was anyone a member of the city Milita?"
Two men step forward at Heather's question. Sturdy fellows with leather cuirasses, short swords and chain skirts. The big man also steps forward. "Me, Tomasso. I want to help."
Heather turns and looks at the big man..."Right Tomasso I'm putting you in charge of..him" She points to Pilts.."You gag him..he doesn't get to speak to anyone..got it?"
She turns back to the Militia men.."Now then there won't be anything official said about your being with that idiot over there..we have more important things to worry about..I want you to gather a few men and women you can trust and secure the area let everyone know the theater is..ah..under new management...and..your both promoted one grade on my say so..I'll clear it with the Field Marshal when I get back to her."
[ooc]Anyone looking at Heather will see she has this strange sort of light shining in her eyes..she's definitely in her element here.[ooc]
Varlis lets it carry on a while then steps forwards into the lamplight. He has stowed the bow and tries his best to smile.
"Scream why did "Emperor" Pilts have you, son? We have a few questions then you can finish and leave if you wish."
Heather turns and looks at the big man..."Right Tomasso I'm putting you in charge of..him" She points to Pilts.."You gag him..he doesn't get to speak to anyone..got it?"
She turns back to the Militia men.."Now then there won't be anything official said about your being with that idiot over there..we have more important things to worry about..I want you to gather a few men and women you can trust and secure the area let everyone know the theater is..ah..under new management...and..your both promoted one grade on my say so..I'll clear it with the Field Marshal when I get back to her."
The big man smiles and rips off Pilt's sleeves. He wads one up and pushes into the emperor's mouth until he begins to choke. He winds the other sleeve tourniquet-like until Pilt's teeth are bared in a permanent grin. Pilts gurgles harshly as he breathes.
"Yes, ma'am!" The two Guards snap a salute and move into the crowd to recruit help.
Varlis lets it carry on a while then steps forwards into the lamplight. He has stowed the bow and tries his best to smile.
"Scream why did "Emperor" Pilts have you, son? We have a few questions then you can finish and leave if you wish."
"Pilts always liked my work. My first shows were in the lobby of Excrables. He thought I would be his court artist, but wasn't happy with my work. He thought I was holding out on him because I can't paint the same way anymore. But I wasn't holding out. I want to paint like that again more than anything! It was scary, but it was the real me. Strong and certain."
Anguished hysteria tints the artist's voice.
Heather turns to Emerion and grins "Right then..that's got things started here does Blackjack want to address his adoring public?"
With a grin and a bow Emerion jumps back up onto the platform.
"Good people of Old Korvosa, the time has come for you to show your mettle, not in warfare but in humanity: Go to your homes, to your families. Care for the sick and infirm, ensure the hungry have food, and we will weather this storm! The Queen of Injustice will not send help, so we must help one another! For now, I bid you farewell!"
Heather rolls her eyes slightly "Well I was hoping for something a bit more..inspiring but it will have to do for now"
She looks over to where Tomasso has Pilts under control.."So what are we going to do with him? I for one don't relish being judge, jury and executioner..but there's not really a proper authority to hand him over to unless we go to the Arkonas"
"Besides I'm..drained and I need to rest up for a few hours"
The bright expectation that had lit their faces when Blackjack ascended the podium, fades slowly, but the crowd nods and begins to drift away.
The scribe and militia leaders look questioningly at the party as if to ask "What now?"
When Heather mentions Pilts, Tomasso lifts him from under the shoulder to show him off in case you've forgotten who he is.
Heather rolls her eyes slightly "Well I was hoping for something a bit more..inspiring ...
"May I look at your pictures, Scream?" frowns the warrior.
The big man and his fat fingers thumb through whatever he has painted here. He notices the chiaroscuro of colours and angry tones that the painter uses boldly.
Heather looks at her two Milita men.."I still need you to patrol the boundaries..make sure everyone knows Pilts is no longer in charge and as I said find some lads and lasses you can trust with your backs." she looks at the 'scribe' "and you go with them...if anyone wants to make a complaint about something then you write it down and bring them all to me at once..that way we can prioritise what needs to be done"
I really need to rest dear" Heather whispers to Emerion..
"Let's retire, then. I can't see the point of raising a rebellion - yet. Especially not with what amounts to an untrained mob. We need move ourselves out of the limelight. What do you want to do with Pilts?"
"well we can't just kill him out off hand..and I am loth to turn even him over to ..that woman.I suppose we could turn him over to the Arkonas they seem to be the only sort of legitimate authority round here apart from us."
"They certainly seem to have their own part of the Old City in order," Emerion mutters.
"Let's sleep on it..my head hurts..ripping the raw stuff of magic from the universe to form spells does that you know"
Varlis looks at the artists work and eventually comes back out. he quickly counts arrows and checks the feathers again.
"You coming or staying Scream? Laori? No I do not, Heather. Archery is much simpler."
Laori and Scream are perfectly willing to come. You guys still get a chat with Scream as part of the bargain with Laori. Scream will gather a few more things to take with him before you leave.
And there's Pilts, Tomasso, and the scribe and Guardsmen still hanging in the plot wind.
"Leave us for a moment Laori. I just need to ask him something private." Varlis waits until he can quietly chat with the artist. Then he asks the question that has been preying on his mind.
DM ONLY
Salvatore looks nervous at being left alone and the question does nothing to ease his demeanor. He sits awkwardly onto one of the gnome-sized beds and clutches the top sheet.
"Why do you want Neolandis?"
And the nation-builders .....?
DM:
Heather finds a bed, cleans it up using prestidigitation and sleeps.
Salvatore draws breath as sharply as he draws back, "Queen Ileosa does want him dead. She sent the Red Assasins after him. He was almost dead when he showed up at my door. I hid him and took care of him, but he wasn't getting better.
"I couldn't get help. He didn't want anything to know where he was. He kept talking about the Red Assasins -- the Mantis he called them. And he said the Guard and Maidens would kill him on sight. But he kept getting worse.
"One night I thought I saw someone following me up in the Shingles. I shook him, but he shook me too. So I went to Lord Arkona and he took Neolandis into his protection."
Nation-builders: So you're staying at Pilts? The nearest bedroom is Pilt's own -- not counting the two gnome-sized beds in the trophy hall.
Watches? And what will you do with Pilts?
n
Tomasso dumps Pilts into the room that recently held Salvatore. Leaving Pilts gagged and and bound in a corner, he appropriates a chair to and settles down to watch the emperor.
Istas, Emerion, and Varlis are left to take watches for the night. Istas volunteers for the first watch.
At the changing of the watch Heather's two Guardsmen return with about two dozen recruits. They quickly organize a watch for the night, leaving the whole party free to rest.
Next morning there's a sea of unwashed humanity waiting for you. The bleachers and playing field are full of people come to see who deposed Pilts Swastel, and what the new rulers will give them.
Joziah, Heather's scribe, informs you that a long list of petitioners awaits.
Jerry and Anne, Heather's guardsmen, lounge comfortably near a small table in the hall, awaiting orders. There's a plate of dried fruit on the table and they occasionally help themselves to a piece.
Tomasso is looking ragged and tired. He hasn't taken his eyes off Pilts all night.
Pilts is unhappy. He's tired, filthy, and very smelly. And he can't say a thing about it. His gag is still firmly in place.
Heather gives Pilts into the care of the guards and sends Tomasso off to sleep.
She looks out over the masses and takes a deep breath...
"Well..we started this and now..we'll have to finish it." she remarks to Emerion.."We can't just walk away from things anymore." she smiles at him.."I wonder if the first King of Korvosa felt the same way?"
"The first king probably expected what was coming. I certainly never envisaged being in charge of anything," Emerion replies. He has ditched the blackjack costume and mask for more familiar clothing, though he keeps the armour under his coat and shirt.
"Istas has gone to take care of things with Rowena, Desna bless her," he continues. "We can't keep Pilts like this forever, though I don't like the idea of killing him in cold blood...we could arrange a trial, I suppose." Emerion starts to pace.
"Who could be judge? Not us. We're his enemies. Same goes for the Arkonas." Emerion stops, and snaps his fingers. "Not the queen, we don't trust her."
"I have it! In Andoran they govern by each man having a vote....let's try him that way. We have a group of ordinary men and women hear the evidence, and vote him guilty or innocent. How does that sound?"
Joziah has set up four seats on the balcony where Pilts had his throne. There's an awkward moment when he finds out that Istas will not be attending, but the extraneous chair is bustled away and you are seated in state.
The rooftop playing field and bleachers hold a good sized crowd which grows as the morning progresses. A lot of people just want to see Pilts usurpers, to discover if their lot will be made better or worse by the new regime. A few comment on the disappearance of Blackjack.
The cases are mostly sad pleas for help of one sort or another, food, medicine, healing, money, jobs. Pilts has not laid in the kind of stores to relieve these people's plight. Most of his goods are dainties to amuse or pamper himself or reward his thugs.
A large minority are cases for justice; people want redress for wrongs done to them by neighbors or Pilts men. Most of these are one man's word against another's. Food stealing, other theft, a case of murder. They go on and on.
Each decision is greeted by jeers or cheers from the crowd. These grow louder throughout the morning. The people seem to take some satisfaction from the fact that there is a process at all.
By noon the line is longer than when you began. Two very unusual petitioners stand on the field in fornt of the balcony. A man and woman with an unmistakable family resemblance, dressed a little better and more cleanly than average. They are lightly armed. The crowd makes a little room for them, whether out of fear or respect, you will have to judge.
Joziah clears his throat before announcing the pair. "Phillipe and Nicola de Talavera. They run a clinic on the west end of Bridgefront. Pilts was never able to bring tem under his sway, by word or threat."
Stream 1
"Well we can certainly appoint a jury and do things by the law...but how do we ballot, with this crowd it might take all day and we cannot choose them ourselves if we want this to seem fair"
Stream 2
Heather tries to deal with each case on its merits attempting to resolve quarrels mend fences and find those from amongst the crowds who might help the hungry and sick.
The accusation of murder she treats very seriously and sets her new guard to collecting evidence.
As the de Talavera's approach she rises.
"Welcome Philip and Nicola to the..Peoples Tribunal of Old Korvosa.How may we help you?"