"They don't mind undead in there, do they?"
Kenan waits with Istas.
Survival:
As they go Heather explains softly to Istas "Emerion and I think Blackjack is his fencing Instructor..Vencarlo Orsini. He also taught Sabina..and the rapier wasn't the only sword of his she handled if you get my meaning..it ended badly for them when Ileosa appeared on the scene. so we check his house and the school and hope my dear sister hasn't sent guards or Grey Maidens ahead off us"
"P'haps not," smiles the healer to himself.
"Please wait here," Emerion asks the others a short way down the street, "it may be easier if I knock upon his door alone."
Approaching the door, Emerion knocks firmly.
As they go Heather explains softly to Istas "Emerion and I think Blackjack is his fencing Instructor..Vencarlo Orsini. He also taught Sabina..and the rapier wasn't the only sword of his she handled if you get my meaning..it ended badly for them when Ileosa appeared on the scene. so we check his house and the school and hope my dear sister hasn't sent guards or Grey Maidens ahead off us"
Istas frowns as Heather conveys her information, and refrains from asking more questions for the time being. Instead, she focuses on following along and attuning herself to the possible paths their future might take if her suspicions prove correct.
"Please wait here," Emerion asks the others a short way down the street, "It may be easier if I knock upon his door alone."
"Of course."
Istas stands back with Heather, her eyes scanning the street.
"So..." she declares while waiting, "We met Vencarlo at the Field Marshall's office, did we not? Isn't he the one who showed us where we could find Eel's End and Barvasi Devargo?"
"What makes Emerion and you so sure Vencarlo and Blackjack are one and the same?" she asks, "Korvosa is full of fighting schools. I have a friend, a fellow Shoanti, who joined one. Seems like any particular fighting style Emerion believes he saw on display, could just as easily be from any student who studied under such a teacher. If it were that easy to pick out such a swordsman, I would think someone would have deduced Blackjack's identity long before now. And, if no one saw Emerion with us in the crowd...and they knew he used a similar technique with his own blade...couldn't someone just as easily mistake him for Blackjack, too?"
heather has to smile.."Istas..Blackjack is a legend and hasn't appeared in..ohhh..more than 20 years..certainly not in my lifetime. He's the peoples hero a fighter against injustice and tyranny..plus Emerion practices with Vencarlo everyday. If he says it's him..it's him"
"Some say Blackjack is immortal..I prefer to think that the torch is passed from one hero to another to keep the dream of freedom alive"
"I don't know about keeping the dream of freedom alive," the Shoanti priestess replies, "But whoever he is, he certainly kept Trinia alive. Provided the Grey Maidens and the Korvosan Guard don't find them again. They'll be turning out every house and place of business between here and the Mastaba before long."
Heathers eyes gleam.."And so we get to redeem ourselves by getting her out and away..if Blackjack hasn't already done so off course..and if he has and my dear sister turns up mob handed..well we just tell her we identified the criminal and came to do our duty as good citizens, unfortunately, too late"
" You have no problem lying to my Sister have you Istas..because, I assure you,I don't"
"She's the commander of the Grey Maidens," Istas comments, her gaze focused on the empty streets while waiting for Emerion's return, "A group of wannabe warrior-women with no clue what one is really like. They wouldn't last a single day in the Cinderlands. And Sabina's assumption they somehow add to Korvosa's defense indicates to me she...and the queen...already lie to themselves."
"So what then, does it matter, if I too tell her a lie?" the priestess asks, turning to face Heather squarely, "She will either delude herself into believing it or see through any ruse we present her. Either way, it is her choice with regards to such lies that will determine her fate."
Jeorik: Dust accumulated over decades and moisture seeping in from above has created a thin layer of mud in places. You find traces of two sets of footprints down the left hand passage.
Everyone else: There is no answer to Emerion's knocking.
"No sign of him here," Emerion reports back to the others. "Let us check the school - there at least I can enter on legitimate business," he winks at Heather.
I wouldnt call all the Maidens wannabes Istas..many off them served in the Sable Company or the gaurd..they have experience..but there are many young women who have been drawn there I'll grant you. Ileosa can be very..persuasive when she wants to be.
The school too is dark. No sign of anyone from outside.
Istas continues following along as Emerion and Heather conduct their search for Vencarlo, remaining as observant as she can.
I wouldnt call all the Maidens wannabes Istas..many off them served in the Sable Company or the gaurd..they have experience..but there are many young women who have been drawn there I'll grant you. Ileosa can be very..persuasive when she wants to be.
"I've seen them," the priestess replies, "Encased in their heavy armor, like shiny beetles, and hiding behind the blank faceplates of their silvery helms. A daughter of the Skoan-Quah, Shriikiri-Quah, or especially the Shadde-Quah would absolutely quell these timid southlander Grey Maidens on the battlefield. Have no doubt about that."
Emerion opens the door himself and ushers them inside.
"His not being here is not so unlikely, all things considered," Emerion tells them. "If anyone asks, we can just say that we came here because I thought I recognised the style - let us not say we suspect any one person, but that we came to check the records of the school."
Emerion makes his way to the administration part of the school, but he isn't looking for records but for secret passages or hiding places ...
The school is organized around a single large room with smaller rooms along the south side of the building. The smaller rooms are: the cloak room into which the door opens, three locker rooms where students may change and store their gear, a small office, and a few store rooms.
The cloak room has pegs for coats and cloaks and built-in benches with drawers below them. A few odd garments have been left by students.
The large room is mostly open space. A few fencing dummies, a balance beam, and a raised fencing runway are the main furnishings. In the northeast corner is a collection of weights and a climbing rope hanging from the ceiling. Long shadows cross the floor from the western windows. Nothing unusual.
The office is locked but opens with the same key as the outer door.
"There's footprints going to the left," says Jeorik to those with him, "Let us proceed cautiously. Perhaps one of the maidens should stand here to ensure we have noone attack us from the rear."
Emerion will ensure there is nothing unusual in the office, and search it carefully, although he suspects Orsini's home is the more likely place for any hidden secrets.
"If you're wrong," Istas calls out, "How do you plan on explaining our presence and actions here to Vencarlo?" The priestess wanders the musty-smelling training hall while Emerion searches.
"I will tender an embarrassed apology ... besides, I am sure he will be happy to see Heather again," Emerion calls cheerfully. "In the end, I am hoping to preserve his interests, after all."
Heather stands in the darkened training hall her mind going back to the day she first came here tagging along as a 10 year old after her sister..
"It smells the same ever..funny how some things never change" she muses to no-one in particular
Kenan helps Emerion in the office.
"What we looking for?"
The healer also spends some time looking for any hidden passageways.
DM
"I don't know. But I'll know it when I see it."
Jeorik: The Maidens bristle, "Why stick one of us here? Whoever's sentry here will be wasting their time. Let one of the Guards do it." Which of course triggers the Guards' ire. "Why can't you just take orders and let us get on with it?"
Others: Vencarlo's filing system consists primarily of notes on small slips of paper jammed into a dozen folios -- and two chests of drawers filled with older folios. It's a chaotic mess. There's also a large ledger which is well organized showing income and expenditures for the school.
No sign of secret passages, hidden doors, etc.
Kenan:
"Nothing that wasn't here before," Emerion sets aside the folders, carefully ensuring that they are all in order as he found them. "I have no intention of breaking into his house, not without far better reason than we have. Perhaps I was wrong, or perhaps Sabrina knows less than I thought she might."
Emerion returns to the main room.
"That's a nice blade Kenan - how well does it fence?"
"That's a nice blade Kenan - how well does it fence?"
"Please..." Istas rolls her eyes with impatience, "We're wasting our time here. Are we really going to waste it further by sparring until your teacher comes back?"
The Shoanti priestess glances at Heather. "We've got better things to do," she tells her, "I'm going to check in on Father Corvin again. And perhaps later, we can look for Jeorik and see if he and the guards have learned anything further as to Trinia's fate."
She thumps her spear on the hardwood floor and prepares to leave.
"Watch for Devargo's thugs," she calls over her shoulder, "Barvasi is sure to seek his revenge again. His fate is now entwined with ours, courtesy of that flying lizard whose company you keep. Between that and your illness, you'd be wise to get yourself to bed. Perhaps Kenan can treat you..."
"You are correct, Istas," Emerion sighs. "Heather, we must see to both your illness and your safety. If my master is indeed ... involved, he is more than able to protect himself, and if others suspected they would be here by now."
Emerion starts locking up the office.
Istas pulls open the door to leave and nearly runs into a grey-haired man carrying a bare rapier. "Who'r you and wash you doin in my skoool?" asks an obviously drunk Vencarlo Orsini.
Jeorik patiently and diplomaticaly explains, "I assumed that while the job might be boring, it might also be the most potentially dangerous. Guarding the rear is a lonely but prestigious military tradition. Suit yourself, we will draw straws to see which gets it. Anyone have straws."
Inwardly Jeorik is quite pleased with the delay and thus has no difficulty in being cheerful in the face of such squabbling. He does, after all, want the girl to get away.
"Ah, Master Orsini," Emerion hastens over. "I met up with some friends at, ah-ha, today's rather interesting events, and one of them here had a most interesting blade - I had to see how it tested in practice, so we came here for a brief demonstration session - I do hope you can forgive my presumption," Emerion grins, "but, well, the school can always use more gifted students."
He sweeps the door open wide to allow Vencarlo to enter - and to let him see if there is anyone following the elderly swordsman in the street outside.
"Did you see, Master? There's a rumour around that when captured Trinia passed a test of truth when declaring her innocence, and lo and behold Blackjack himself shows up to rescue her at her execution! He had some impressive moves, I must say," Emerion chuckles.
"But I forget myself, may I introduce Keenan O'Flarna, Istas Wraithscar, and of course you must remember Heather Whiteraven."
"I'm not sure he can remember much of anyone in this state," Istas comments, withdrawing from the inebriated nobleman and then peering more closely at his mannerisms, "Though we've met before. The same night the Field Marshall asked us to retrieve some documents from Devargo Barvasi at Eel's End. Vencarlo was nice enough to show us the way..."
"As for Trinia," she adds, "I'm not sure the queen or the Grey Maidens bothered to ascertain the truth of the girl's innocence. The only one who administered such a test...was me. And, since no one summoned me to the castle to defend or explain the divination provided by Pharasma, it would appear an entirely different purpose motivated the decision to execute Trinia. I'm just happy fate allowed Blackjack to intervene."
"Ahh! 'Marion, that's all right then." The old gentleman waits through Emerion's introduction, then sweeps his hat from his head as part of a flowing bow. The bow is a bit too low and he has to step forward to keep his balance. "Ladies. Alwaas a plessure. An' Keenano. I'm always glad to meet a promising young blade."
"The Shabor girl innocent? And Blackjack himshelf rescued her? Shorry I missed tha'. I shtarted a shecond bottle after you left 'Merion. But where are my manners? Let me offer you all a glassh nex' door at my home."
Although his act is quite good, only Heather is fooled into thinking Orsini is drunk.
Emerion leans close as he offer's his mentor a hand.
"Master, you aren't half as good at acting as me," he says in a low voice that cannot carry far, "and while I'll swear on my family name you were getting drunk as a skunk this morning, if I could recognize Blackjack's style, well, there was another watcher who knows you well and she isn't that stupid. Besides, we knocked on the door earlier. But we are here to help, not hinder - I would trust these others with my life."
heather's lips set into a grim scowl at the state of Master Vencarlo.."he wasn't always like this" she whispers to Istas.."this is my dear sisters handiwork..if not directly then at least as a major factor in it"
Jeorik: No straws, but one of the Guards has a pair of dice. "Low roll stays?"
Guard 1
Guard 2
Maiden 1
Maiden 2
At the school:
Orsini takes Emerion's hand. "Courshe I'm not drunk. I'm never drunk. I'm jus' tired. Your knockin' musht have woke me. So how about a little sip and you can all tell me the tale?"
Emerion:
"Of course old friend, I have a good bottle on me right for this occasion, and there are glasses in the office if I am not mistaken," Emerion declares loudly. "After today, we could all do with a glass."
"Very well," says Jeorik, "Guardsman watch this passage. Though if you hear yelling, you can feel free to come running."
"Shall we continue now?"
"Very well," says Jeorik, "Guardsman watch this passage. Though if you hear yelling, you can feel free to come running."
"Shall we continue now?"
Crisis averted, everyone mollified, you continue down the passage. You reach a pit which blocks the way. The side are sheer and when you lokk down you can just see the tips of spikes breaking through the surface of some murky water. There is a 8' lever running along the wall in a recess on your side.
"Of course old friend, I have a good bottle on me right for this occasion, and there are glasses in the office if I am not mistaken," Emerion declares loudly. "After today, we could all do with a glass."
"Good." Orsini leads the way back to the office. He opens a head high cabinet and pulls down 5 glasses. "Let's see what you've brought then. And I am still anxious to hear your tale."
Emerion produces a bottle of fine wine (10 gp cost, I had it in my inventory!) and pours a taster for Orsini, presenting it as a waiter would do, although probably not with the broad grin on his face.
"Well it wasn't promising to be a good day, after that thrashing you gave me this morning," Emerion begins the tale, "and sure enough when we took ourselves up to the castle, the mood was sombre ..."
"Well, that's interesting. Anyone feel up to pulling the lever and seeing what it does?" I ask goodnaturedly, not overly anxious to hurry into trying it.
I wave them back for a moment from the edge of the pit and examine the story left by any footprints.
Survival:
Heather gives Istas a look that says 'just go along with this' before accepting a glass.
Kenan accepts the look that passes between the girls and also some wine. He takes a corner seat and listens to the byplay.
Istas takes the offered wine glass, but peers at it as if she doesn't trust its contents. She decidedly refrains from drinking while quietly listening.
"The crowd seemed divided - some had sympathy for the poor convict, and others beyed for blood," Emerion continues, getting into his role as storyteller and taking a sip of his wine. "The guards were thick as a forrest of spears, all of them grim-faced Grey Maidens. The Queen pronounced her judgement, the executioner appeared and all looked grim for the poor soul, when a figure swung down from the castle above, clad in black and masked like the night! Blackjack, hero of the people appeared and cast the guards into confusion.
"'Yes indeed, my queen! Let us usher in justice, but let that be justice for Korvosa, not this shambles you petulantly call a monarchy! Long live Korvosa! Down with the Queen!' he cried as the Grey Maidens and the Sable Comany guards rushed to apprehend him. They had scant chance, the crowd impeded them, and many tripped and fell headlong, while from no-where a net of shadowy webs of night barred the guards from reaching Blackjack, and a glowing sword of fire held back the headsman. All was confusion as the crowd were in turmoil, guards rushed hither and non, and amid it all, Blackjack slipped away into the castle with his freed prisoner!"
Emerion downs his glass with a flourish.
"You should have been there, it was quite a show."
Perform:
"Well, that's interesting. Anyone feel up to pulling the lever and seeing what it does?" I ask goodnaturedly, not overly anxious to hurry into trying it.
I wave them back for a moment from the edge of the pit and examine the story left by any footprints.
Survival: 1d20+8
The corridor here is about eight feet wide and in the area of the pit the stonework seems to fit smoother, leaving fewer handholds for climbing. The pit itself is about 15' long. Two metal plates hang on your side and the far side of the pit, apparently halves of a drop away draw bridge.
Traces in the dust-mud show that Blackjack and Trinia approached the pit at a very quick trot. Their footprints are also obscured in one place by a big smear, as if someone had fallen and slid along the flag floor.
"The crowd ... Grey Maidens ... Queen ... Blackjack, .. Grey Maidens and the Sable Comany guards rushed to apprehend him. They had scant chance, the crowd impeded them, and many tripped and fell headlong, while from no-where a net of shadowy webs of night barred the guards from reaching Blackjack, and a glowing sword of fire held back the headsman. All was confusion as the crowd were in turmoil, guards rushed hither and non, and amid it all, Blackjack slipped away into the castle with his freed prisoner!"
Emerion downs his glass with a flourish.
"You should have been there, it was quite a show."
Orsini listens, apparently captivated for he doesn't take even a sip while Emerion speaks.
"Blackjack in the city again after so long! It sounds quite a show. I wish I had been there to see it. The Queen must be livid, but -- "
"Speaking of the Queen, I'm sure her spite will range wide. Were she to find out who helped Blackjack by conjuring that web and sword, their fates might be quick and unpleasant for defying the throne. Even talking about the in the wrong tone could be cause for suspicion. I do thank you for the tale however."
Orsini tosses down his wine. " Hair of the dog. Thank you for that too." He gets to his feet. "You said Keenano had an interesting blade and might make a gifted student?" He turns to the street healer. "Well, sir, shall we see what you have?"
"Well, that's interesting. Anyone feel up to pulling the lever and seeing what it does?" I ask goodnaturedly, not overly anxious to hurry into trying it.
I wave them back for a moment from the edge of the pit and examine the story left by any footprints.
Survival: 1d20+8
The corridor here is about eight feet wide and in the area of the pit the stonework seems to fit smoother, leaving fewer handholds for climbing. The pit itself is about 15' long. Two metal plates hang on your side and the far side of the pit, apparently halves of a drop away draw bridge.
Traces in the dust-mud show that Blackjack and Trinia approached the pit at a very quick trot. Their footprints are also obscured in one place by a big smear, as if someone had fallen and slid along the flag floor.
Hard to tell. The smeared area on the floor begins about a foot from the edge and goes for about 7 feet. If they were shortening their pace to jump they would do it in the smeared area.
Perception or Survival DC 23: