Under the Thirteenth Revolutionary Council
Toilday, 28th Desnus, 4719
The bell just after sundown
Few common people Golarion tell time with any degree of accuracy; in Isarn, however, one of the few public services provided to the citizenry by the Revolutionary Council is moderately decent time services. The ropes of Le Temple Creux are pulled by the handful of dedicated ringers who took up residence in the bell-tower and have defended it against all comers; the two remaining bells are their gods, ringing them their religion, and they do so with the precision and fervor of the fanatic. How they know when an hour has passed is anybody's guess, but every hour upon the hour Emmanuel and Marie sing out, and once Le Creux rings, so do the bells of other churches.
Sunset comes late in Desnus, at almost eight in the evening, making for a short night out; curfew at eleven means those who intend on roistering a bar or two once it's dark have their work cut out for them. The same can not quite be said for the few scores of people who are wealthy enough to throw parties -- having to be indoors just means for them that the party is going to last until dawn. Of course, many a city guardsman has allowed himself to be paid off to overlook a curfew violation, and a few can be bribed to escort an individual home. For the most part, though, people settle in, watch the cookfire die down, and drift off to sleep once the sun departs.
For the most part.
Those who have more important things to do than get drunk among friends find themselves in pursuit of those tasks that bring them about; five such individuals, having received, glanced at, then disposed of a scrap of paper upon which were the letters 'HTN1B', make their way to an assortment of places, all within a block or two of La Scène, the residence of Isarn's final blade Madame Margaery, or within the same distance of The Plunging Blade on the other side of the Kantele. One enters a small stable, and never emerges; one, a chapel to pray. Another steps into the back of a booth selling honey and beeswax; a fourth finds his way through a barrister's reading room. The fifth, well, she helped set up these entrances, and more; she can cross the length and breadth of Isarn without emerging onto city streets until she's within half a block of her destination, so reaching the Haven is not an issue for her.
Within the space of the Haven, inside its many unused spaces and its few ones to which a use has been put, each of these people can relax; they are amongst companions, guarded by mystic protections and great densities of stone, protected from all but the most powerful divinations. Inside, there is what can only be termed a war room, a strategy-mapping table laid out on one side and a more intimate dinner table on the other. The map table does not have geography, however, but a more nebulous landscape -- that of the mind, of public opinion, of political leanings and potential, strengths and weaknesses, opportunities anticipated, opened, and past.
The dinner table is laid for a simple snack -- a bit of bread, cheese, a couple bottles of wine, the sort of thing one might share with friends while conversing. In one of the long-side seats is 'Count' Androk Jeggare, a middle-aged tiefling with a rough sort of handsomeness, quick hands, and one of the most ruthless, patient minds with which you have ever had the pleasure of dealing. When you arrive, he lifts a hand from slowly tearing thumbnail-sized pieces of bread from a loaf before him to gesture a welcome to you, and an invitation to sit; his normal reticence remains, and unless there is something in particular you need to discuss with him, he'll remain silent, waiting for all to arrive to offer the reason for his scrap-paper summons.
The Haven is the Safe House Jeggare gets for 'Former Noble'; Jeggare is himself somewhat higher level (8th, but will advance at half-rate at best for a good number of levels), but that's why the safe house protects anyone from being located by anything less powerful than the 8th level spell discern location.
Entry-wise, Lilli of course is the last one, but I figured the stable for Lucien (riding a horse taken from the fort's stables), the chapel for Dolorès, the storefront (from which Jeggare actually does sell honey and beeswax) for Garson (and did you actually mean for it to be 'Garçon'?), the barrister's reading-room for Jerome. There will be two or three entrances to the Haven made specifically for each of those four; as we go along, feel free to come up with another one or two.
Feel free to arrive, engage in conversation with either each other or Jeggare. Once everyone has posted in and settled down (feel free to interact extensively, though) I'll have Jeggare come around to the reason he's called you all there.
Welcome!!
The first guest to arrive is an unassuming woman dressed in casual clothing, a scarf around her neck and head putting most of her face in shadow without obscuring it completely. She nods respectfully in response to Mssr. Jeggare's welcome and chooses a seat that best provides a view of the entrance.
After pouring herself a glass of wine, she gazes nonchalantly towards the door, seeming perfectly content to enjoy the silence while taking the occasional sip and absentmindedly playing with a ring on her left hand.
Arriving with the promptitude that befits a military man Lucien enters and shares a nod with his fellow tiefling before heading to the table to make a plate of bread and cheese. That done he takes his seat opposite Jeggare and tucks in, eating neatly and efficiently. His pointed teeth tear through the bread much faster than Jeggare but he remains neat, not letting a single crumb fall onto his dark military coat. He isn't wearing any marks of rank or unit, that would be an act of almost criminal stupidity, but his whole outfit was military in cut.
In the slightly shadowed light of the Haven the dark lines across his face could just about be mistaken for a trick of the light, even the one across his left eye - which is split by a thin white scar.
After he has satisfied his immediate hunger he looks across the table to perhaps his most unusual companion, a self confessed criminal.
"How is business?" He asks.
Lilli gazes pensively at Lucien when he addresses her, pausing as she decides how to reply. This soldier is interesting. He asks of things which he might prefer not to know. I can never tell if he's being polite or is honestly curious. It's quite endearing. After a moment, she smiles gracefully at him and puts her wine down.
"All goes well. The market is currently in my favor, as local competition is down and there have been several lucrative ventures in the last few weeks. How are you faring, my friend?"
"Discipline is up. Fights are down. It could be worse." Lucien answers precisely. "Although my men are becoming restless. To sit in barracks complaining all day is not what they signed up for. They expected to march long distances, and complain!" He gives a quick smile, a flash of teeth which suddenly makes him look quite handsome, in a slightly dangerous fashion.
"Complaining is not optional - but most of them prefer a little more action." As he says this the tiefling flicks a pointed glance around the room.
The third tiefling in the room, although one who doesn't look the part, enters the room next. Wearing a charcoal suit, elegant but simple and businesslike under a traveling cloak of the same color, Jerome Lemaitre looks like a balding, aging vampire from the feuilleton novels. Firelight bounces off his eyes, coming out a shade more red than it ought to be, while he scans the room. "Madam Lily, Lieutenant Fesch, Count Jeggare." he addresses those present with a practiced smile and nod. "May your business be florid, your roads safe and your enemies careless."
With a sigh, the prosecutor removes his cloak and examines the wine bottles, lifting an eyebrow appreciatively before pouring himself half a glass and sitting close to Lilli.
The next to appear out of the gloom is a tall young woman, wrapped in simple fabrics that do little to insulate her slight frame from the chill of the catacombs. A shiver visibly runs through her as she offers a hand to Jeggare, demonstrating her familiarity with their tiefling host.
She offers no words of greeting, but inclines her head to her other companions as she pours herself a glass of wine. Even in the dim light, dark circles are clearly visible beneath her grey eyes, which flick distractedly around the room as she chooses a seat near to Jeggare. She leans heavily on the arm of the chair and closes her eyes, taking a moment to bask in the safety and relative quiet of the Haven.
Lilli smiles at Jerome as he enters and rises to formally offer her hand in greeting, then takes her seat and resumes her silent survey of her host and the other guests. The first real hint of emotion comes into her face when
Dolorès enters.
"My dear, I despise seeing you in this state. I know you have burdens to bear, as do we all, but every time we meet it seems like you are wasting away. Please rethink my offer to spend a day at the tea house. I cannot offer you salvation or a permanent solution to whatever ails you, but at least I can offer you a day of solace and safety; a day filled with warm food, a hot bath, some relaxing entertainment, and no one to bother you unless you wish it."
She studies the young woman with concern and then drops the subject, having ascertained that Dolores will probably ignore her or rebuff her offer.
Dolorès' eyes flutter open as she glances vaguely in Lilli's direction. "Perhaps I will," she murmurs in her soft, lilting voice. The offer is appealing, and her thanks are sincere, if ultimately empty. "If only I can find the time."
She sips the wine and fidgets with the worn, wooden symbol that hangs around her neck, recognizable as a crude carving in the shape of Iomedae's sword and sunburst, as she waits for the meeting to begin. Her eyes occasionally drift upwards, a subtle indication of the voices, audible only to the oracle, that whisper to her from the city above.
Garson entered the room in a pressing manner, stepping in sideways rather than walking in directly. His movements were brusque, his boots striding heavily like a soldier on the march, but his feet made not a sound as they touched the floor.
Garson's demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye when he gave a practiced pivot and casually tossed his cloak on a hook upon the wall. It was a maneuver that had taken quite some time to perfect, and if his host Jeggare held it in disfavor, he had never spoken against it.
"No one to bother you unless you wish it?" Garson asked in a glib manner as he took in the others already settled within the haven. "Mama, what you describe sounds like paradise."
Having spotted the snack tray, Garson snatched a morsel of
cheese and tossed it into his mouth. "Only the second day of the week, and folks are already at a scramble. With the onset of summer, we'll have mobs taking sides and beating each other with sticks if we don't guide them carefully."
Lilli watches the arrival of the final member, sighing quietly as he does his cloak toss.
Everyone has arrived. I wonder what our host has in store for us tonight?
She tops off her glass of wine and resumes playing with her ring while gazing at Jeggare expectantly.
Jerome shakes Lilli's hand when offered, his smile never faltering. Truth be told, he is actually enjoying himself, savoring the thrill of secrets being held and exchanged like cards in a deadly game of poker.
"Mother Dolorès, Mister Grey." he welcomes the two newcomers, again unfalteringly polite. "I always believed beating each other with sticks to be a favorite pastime of the masses, who are we to put an end to such a celebrated tradition?"
"Those who don't want to deal with the aftermath." Lucien retorts. "Hitting each other with sticks leads to anger and them taking it out on other people, thus we have violence, then civil unrest and thus a mob. One thing we must all be aware of is the danger of the mob."
He looks from one to the other, dark eyes wide in the dim light. "You all know this of course, even you Mr Lemaitre."
Lemaitre's wine swirls in the glass as his smile grows into a grin flashing sharp teeth. "Indubitably, Lieutenant. I was being bitterly facetious, perhaps sardonic. As things go, many of my cases came from violence exacerbated by the destructive impulses of the masses. The chaos of a mob is a wonderful way to commit a premeditated act of murder, pinning the blame on disgraceful chance. I can count maybe six self-made widows or widowers who took this route in the last decade."
The prosecutor smells and tastes the glass, relishing the luxurious bouquet. "It is generally safe to assume I'm using sarcasm when I speak, Lieutenant, and it's rarely helpful to be patronizing. You will understand why once, and if, you get to my age."
You would think that he had heard the old adage that sarcasm is the tool of a weak mind. I know the barrister is smarter than that, Is he trying to make others overconfident?
Lilli remains silent as usual. Although she has been dealing with this group for some time now, there is always more to learn of different peoples' strengths and weaknesses. Observing social interaction is the best way to learn, and knowledge is the best tool for manipulation.
I do enjoy their company, and I hope that I never need to work at cross purposes with this group. They are too useful as allies and 'friends'
The cheese was fairly good. There was no taste of mold at all, which was not always the case in Isarn, where things were not always the freshest, no matter how reputable the source. The others had already equipped themselves with a bit of wine, so Garson agreed to fortify himself as well.
Garson waved to Jerome to return his greeting as the half elf poured himself just over a splash of wine. Tonight's discussion might be a strong one, not that those of other night's weren't, but things had been building of late. Garson wanted to keep all of his mental faculties as sharp as they ever were.
It was good to see the city's strongest regulator of the law in a light mood. That was not always the case, and Garson sometimes wondered if thunder clouds could erupt directly from the man's knitted brows.
"Not surprisingly, we are all in agreement. We must carefully continue to massage the minds of the mobs even as we work to pluck at their heart strings. Otherwise, they will be exploding of their own accord, in ways that are typically poorly aimed."
Garson removed a small cushion from one of the chairs and helped himself to a seat before continuing. "They are stirring themselves already. Spring Fever has broken, but their heat remains. But rather than turned to love or lust, once again it is turned to conflict. One of the guards had to separate two customers who were ready to come to blows over a set of candle sticks. Gaudy little things that they were."
Garson glanced over at Lucien. "I am surprised that your men have not been called upon to begin patrolling the city streets."
"The Council has a high tolerance." Lucien replies, one hand drumming rhythmically on the table. "Some of the military units are little better than the crowds as well, so if you send certain men to stop a riot or looting they're more likely to join in. Some of the officers are too weak, often because they've bought their position without any experience. So yes, the Council is more likely to let it play out by itself - unless their immediate holdings are threatened. Then you can be sure we will be out in force."
His distaste of the situation is clear, as a consummate professional Lucien has a serious gripe over the dilettante officers with whom he works.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The host nods back to Lilli as she takes the seat at the end closest to him; he's fully aware of her entirely-justified paranoia, relatively minimal though it is, and leaves the end seat available to her as a specific concession. In her line of work, that quirk will some day save her life.
Lucien receives a nod -- or rather, a bow of the head -- in response; Jeggare waits, however, brushing aside small flakes of the boule he's tearing apart and eating, listening to the banter between soldier and gang boss as he waits for the others to show.
Lemaître receives the same sort of head-bow after his greeting; a wry smile curls onto his lips as the counsellor notices the better-than-usual vintage that's on the table tonight. Well, when one has the financial ability to develop the palate for such a thing, and moves among the sorts of circles Lemaître does, one would be a fool not to develop the knowledge necessary; sometimes a public recognition of such a thing can be as important as knowing who to bow to, and who to ignore.
With Dolorès, however, Jeggare will rise to greet her; a bow over her hand, a fatherly embrace, and he holds her chair for her to settle down. "The meditation room here remains ready for you, should you need its use," he adds in a murmur as he pushes her chair in. Aware of her extraordinary distractability, he makes a point of putting a half-loaf of food on her plate, as well as a palm-sized round of cheese. "Here, the hives have been rather bountiful of late," he adds, drawing closer to her a small crock of honey.
About then is when the muffled sounds of Garson's footsteps approaching can be heard. Jeggare will look towards the hallway through which the importer will enter, his eyebrows rising as the entry of the last of the group gives the quill-haired tiefling the sense of a forward-rushing shieldman -- or, considering the way he flourishes his cloak off, perhaps one of the city's several vigilantes. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, but he only returns to his seat, listening to the greetings and cross-chatter.
"Enough," he finally says, without the vibrance and charisma that most of the others present at the table can bring to bear, but with a sense of 'father hushing the children'. "Garson, while you and Lily both have the wherewithal to put out broadsheets and perhaps spread ideas, please do not either of you go off half-cocked; Citizen Goss still has the government, the merchant class, and the mob all in the palm of his hand, and we've yet to formulate a clear, concise plan for a strong, balanced, and most importantly just government with which to supplant the current one.
"Nor can the Army, or even a part of it --" and here Jeggare nods at Lucien "-- under the Lieutenant enter the city except under very specific orders, which we all know are restrictive in the extreme; keeping the peace at L'Esplanade des Invalides or whichever other market to which they are assigned is the furthest extent the City Guard will allow -- and even though their control of the city is lacking in many areas," and another nod is given, this time to 'Mama Lily', acknowledging her establishment of a modicum of control and stability over her small area in the Theater Quarter, "they still have their champions in the Senate and within the Revolutionary Council itself -- champions who won't allow the Army a whit more authority than they've been given." He gives a thin, flat smile, acknowledging the fact that that particular set of rules are going to have to be utterly shattered at some time in the future.
"A fair start we may have made, in developing our contacts and building our organizations, but there is much work to be done -- an important turning point which we now come to." Looking around the table, he meets each gaze as he comes to them -- 'Mama Lily' to his right, at one end of the table; Jerome to her right, then Lucien sharing the same long side of the table; Garson opposite Lily; and finally Dolorès, to Jeggare's left and sharing that long side of the table with him. "A copy of a document has come into my possession, by means better left unsaid, listing those upon whom the eyes of the Gray Gardeners have fallen -- those whom the Gardeners would recruit. There are seven names, three of whom they will draw into their clutches."
He pauses for a moment, then turns his head slightly sideways, looking not-quite-at Dolorès beside him. "Your name is on the list. If you are ready to dare it, this is our chance to ensure that you are one of the three selected -- by making at least four of the others ... unacceptable. Or unavailable."
Lilli remains impassive as the tiefling has his say, making no reaction other than an almost imperceptible smile of pride at his acknowledgement of her 'neighborhood'. Her eyes flash with interest as he reaches his point, and she leans forward to see the reaction of the young woman to Jeggare's left.
"If Dolorès is willing to take this step, it may be what we need to move all of this forward. It does place quite a bit of pressure on our friend so I am only in support of it if she is completely sure." Looking around the table to gauge the others' thoughts, her gaze stops on Jeggare. "It is a bold move. I believe we have the ability to get it done, but I have a question. Making candidates unavailable is easy enough but may draw undue attention, and I must confess I do not have enough knowledge of the Gardeners to understand what might make a candidate unacceptable."
Lucien nods in acknowledgement to Lilli. "Who are the other candidates? To deal with four of them we must be extremely careful - one accident might be co-incidence, but to remove four will require planning in the extreme."
Dolorès stills, and for the first time since she entered the room, her eyes seem to come into focus as she glances at the others seated around the table. She swallows hard, a complicated mix of emotions on her face. Only a fool would not fear the task ahead of her, but she must be careful not to let it consume her; her fellow conspirators, the souls in the Final Blades, and Pharasma herself are all depending on her.
She draws a long breath, taking a moment to adjust to the gravity of the announcement, and lowers her head in an almost imperceptible nod. "I'm ready," she says, quietly but clearly enough for all to hear. "This is what I've been preparing for all this time; I will see it through."
The words hang in the air for a moment before she continues. "I pray that making these other candidates unacceptable is enough. Is there something I can do to ensure the Gardeners find me especially... attractive?
Jerome steeples his hands. For the first time, the smirk vanishes from his face, replaced by a deep focus.
"It will be suspicious no matter what we do: one or two deaths may be accidents, any more will point at us. A third we can discredit, a fourth I can stick in a gruesome legal case, which at the very least should make them look deeply unfit for the Gardeners. But those are just speculations, until we can tailor plans specifically to the targets. Would you mind sharing their names with us, old friend?"
Lilli nods at Dolorès's declaration, then pulls our her journal to reference once they receive the names. "Even though a couple deaths might be accidents, I think we should aim for making potential targets seem unfit and making Dolorès here the most suitable. Murder is sometimes necessary but should be seen as the last resort. Not only is it unsavory, but someone who was on the Gardener's short list may have talents or connections that we can take advantage of in the future if we were to...befriend them in some way. That potential is gone if we simply kill them off."
Pushing to his feet, Jeggare replies, "Good questions, all. I have the answers ... one moment." If any seem to be moving to rise, he gestures them back to their seats, stepping around behind 'Mama Lily' to step over to the plotting table. The seizure of its contents would certainly get him a visit to a final blade, though long habit has kept references to each of you -- and to many others -- minimized to initials; undoubtedly the current regime would have a field day with it anyhow, and blood would flow like water. You have each added your own information to the strings found therein, strengthening some, weakening others, changing the face of the conspiracy with your own thoughts and observations.
After a moment he returns, stepping between Jerome and Lucien to set down the sheet he's gained. "Upon Oathday, Sarenth the Fifth: Chantelle Pascal, by Frère Charbon; Dolorès Durante, by Sœur Argent; Étienne Joubert, by Sœur Cendre; Maël Lambert, by Frère Nickel; Piter Soucy, by Sœur Glauque; Thibault Belmont, by Frère Ardoise; Yvette Bonfils, by Frère Cadet." All will undoubtedly notice that the names of 'Sister This' and 'Brother That' are all either terms for a shade of gray, or of something that has that coloration.
"Oathday next -- so we have basically a week to make four of them ... unpalatable. As to how, well -- that depends on what their inductor is looking for." He taps the paper, then steps back, to head back around to his seat. "As everyone in Galt knows, the Gray Gardeners share appellations. What most are not aware of is that those who share such names are notably different not only in talent and duty, but size and shape. For example, I believe the Frère Cadet this refers to is a man of middling height, something of a paunch, and who always has the smell of onions about him; from comments I have overheard, he tends to the greedy and the lecherous, so Yvette Bonfils -- whomever she is -- might be turned down should she prove to be either austere or prim -- or both."
Everyone can roll three times; you can use either KS: Local or KS: Religion as you like. For now, I'll give out information as rolls have revealed.
Maël Lambert
Lambert is what passes for a 'public defender' of late. Any trial whose penalty would include execution by final blade has public counsellors at each table -- you and your acquaintances for the prosecution, Lambert and his cronies for the defense. The public defenders are well-known inside the prosecutorial offices for being both lazy and prone to an exceeding amount of bribery; Lambert, for all that he mouths the ideals of the Revolution and equal representation before the law, is one of the worst of the bunch, barely making an argument for those who can't offer him sufficient money to make him put forth an effort, but conjuring up great thunder and intricate logic for those who can pour coins into his pocket.
He is said to be a devotee of Calistria.
Étienne Joubert, 'The Wolf of Heaven'
Joubert is a nasty piece of scum; claiming to be a paladin of Ragathiel, he was kicked out of the Caydogs three years ago for excessive violence. He has since gathered a small entourage of fifteen or twenty like-minded blood-drunk thugs who basically bounce from territory to territory, 'avenging' crimes they see take place in front of them, but then taking the spoils for themselves as 'payment due the righteous'.
Lilli looks up, eyes flashing and lip curling with disgust when one of the names is read aloud. "I do not need my notes for at least one of these candidates. Étienne Joubert is well known to me as someone I have my people watch for to keep him out of my territory. He is a piece of work disgusting enough to make me rethink the merits of just killing these people." She sighs and stands to pace the room while composing herself.
Almost unconsciously, her hips begin to sway and her hands make subtle gestures as she moves; every change of direction involves an elegant yet tasteful spin. The overall effect causes her to seem even more graceful than usual. "Joubert and his details are for later; let me see what else I might know of this list first" she whispers to herself.
Lucien sits quietly, trying to organise his thoughts. He has never cared for the Grey Gardeners, as a thief he preferred to avoid them and since joining the army they have come to represent much of what makes Galt the anarchic place it is today.
None the less, the silence is helpful, and with the information Jeggare has provided Lucien begins to piece together his thoughts into a new and more useful pattern.
Dolorès stares straight ahead while she listens, trying to organize her thoughts around the chorus of ghosts. Though she has had several years of practice, thinking around the voices continues to prove difficult for her, and her eyebrows draw together slightly as she concentrates.
"Ah, Monsieur Lambert. A pathetic, corrupt excuse for a lawyer. It would be my pleasure to rid the legal system of such a worm."
Jerome goes over the list, racking his brain for anything he ever heard about the Gardeners mentioned therein.
Garson had paid close attention to the list of names, trying to latch on to any information that he might know about them. He found it was hard to focus when Lily's hips were moving in such manner.
Garson decided that speaking out would help clear his head. "I have a few funds set aside for any needed bribery for this mission. I doubt it would work on the candidates directly, but it could loosen some lips in regards to their activities. Word could then be spread of their indiscretions, or they could be blackmailed with it."
Sœur Glauque:
Unfortunately, the only one on the list with which Dolorès is familiar is 'Sister Sinister', and not particularly familiar at all. Of average height, the woman behind this particular Gray Gardener mask seems more morose and fatalistic than most others, though you have glimpsed one peculiarity of her. During a mob scene some two or three years ago, you noticed her standing by (as Gray Gardeners in uniform are wont to do) with a pad of paper the size of a hand; she seemed to be sketching or some such thing, but what exactly it was you've no idea.
Piter Soucy may need to learn to stand by and let things happen, instead of taking action.
Piter Soucy
A dwarf of particularly grim nature, Soucy (his name is a Galtan interpretation of his family's name, which has a meaning akin to 'life bending without breaking') is known to you as ... not a foe, but rather an opponent -- or perhaps an alternative -- to the significant number of Calistrians in the town. A militant follower of Dranngvit, the dwarven goddess of debts and vengeance, Soucy is well-known for being ... well, kind of a thug for hire in the 'dirty deeds done dirt cheap' fashion. Specifically, he will collect what his (paying) client is owed, so long as that client has irrefutable proof of being owed. His work thus revolves around contract enforcement, whether that's from a merchant, a loan shark, or a spurned spouse; he cannot be bribed.
Sœur Argent
The Gray Gardener that is supposed to recruit Dolorès is, you know for certain, a shapely, chatty woman who talks not-quite-incessantly to anyone around her -- her fellow Gray Gardeners, bystandards close-by, even the victims of the guillotine she's escorting to their death. By her sense of humor and certain word choices, you strongly suspect she is a priestess of Calistria you are acquainted with by the name of Ellen Montaigne, a woman of cynical outlook and particularly biting turn of phrase. If she is to decide whether or not Dolorès is to be inducted, your compatriot may need to become more ... personable, lively, and open. Or at least apparently open.
Unfortunately, Maël Lambert is the only one you recognize. More unfortunately, your book repository is 'KS: Local'-based, not 'KS: Religion', as you rolled. For these purposes, however, you can apply half its bonus (+1) to your rolls, but only in regards to those likely to have something written about them, i.e. those being recruited. If you choose to do this, make it the first thing you do when the group goes their seperate ways, and I can give you the additional information about the religious proclivities of one of the named targets.
Chantelle Pascal, 'Deadeye's Judgement'
An elven archer, Pascal was once a scout for the Army, but the failures of the various military Councils caused her to finally leave when her time was up. Adrift in Isarn's environs, she came to be linked to the members of Le Commune by one manner or another, and has made something of a name for herself as a leader -- and trainer -- of the 'Young Deadeyes', the group of archers who keep watch over Le Commune from Deadeye's Perch. It's rumored that she has a particular mad-on for those of destructive bent, picking those with particular zeal out of the several mobs that have threatened Le Commune over the last year and a half.
Yvette Bonfils
Yvette is a comely young female lieutenant in the Army, and a bit of a trouble spot; a known warpriest, she claims to be beholden to Desna but has attitudes that are more becoming of a follower of Milani. Her troop is heavy infantry, and while her selection of morningstars for them might just be part of the practicality of fighting in close-quarters and with a shield wall, it leads to more uncertainty regarding her patron; the morningstar is Milani's favored weapon.
That said, she is a good officer, and her troops are one of the few other bright spots in the Army nearest Isarn; of late, however, she has shown some amount of irritation when it comes to following orders in regards to the continual unrest in the city. Her discipline continues to hold, but whether or not that will remain true is an open question.
Sœur Cendre
Tall and thin, Cendre gives off a sense of a governess who has seen too much silliness today, thank you very much. She appears to take her duties quite seriously, bringing a certain amount of gravity and decorum to any event which she attends. Garson knows little more about her, but as she is meant to be the decision-maker for Étienne Joubert, 'The Wolf of Heaven' might need to show that he can show self-control, not just righteous fury.
Frère Ardoise
'Brother Ardoise' is smallfolk -- gnome or halfling, though he's slim for a halfling, or perhaps some other small race, rare though others are in Galt -- and does not, from what you've heard, make a lot of waves. His main observable habit is that of minor legerdemain; mostly he toys with a coin, silver from the rumors, rolling it across his knuckles, flipping it in the air, causing it to appear and disappear. It is said that if he's the man (gnome, halfling, or whatever) on the rope during an execution, he toys with the executed by flipping the coin and making them guess heads or tails; if they get it right, they live for another flip. It is also said that he leaves the coin in the victim's mouth to help the family pay for the burial.
Thibault Belmont may need to prove a sense of humor and acknowledgement of a certain randomness to life.
Thibault Belmont
Speaking of whom ... Belmont is one of those of Isarn who is particularly well-off. This is not because he started out that way, but because he has worked hard, invested wisely, and given cleverly to those who live around him. A few people think he must follow a money-making god -- Abadar for wealth and Cayden Cailean for luck are both mentioned, though the former seems most likely -- but if he is favored of one of them he hasn't ever admitted to it.
Jeggare's gaze shifts to Lilli as she rises and dances -- subtly, but it's still a dance -- as she moves about the room; one corner of his lips rises, for he has a similar habit when he's trying to think: he too likes to walk, but they tend to be long, and are sometimes circuitous. He's done his walking for this, though, and instead resumes tearing apart his bread and eating small bites, glancing at each of the others as they share the names amongst themselves.
Garson earns a nod at his offer of bribe money, though he responds by saying, "I agree, I doubt the candidates would be willing to be bribed. As conversation starters, though ..." He nods again. "There's definitely potential there."
"I know some of the candidates." Lucien offers when no-one else seems to be speaking up further. "Pascal is a former scout - she works for the Commune now. Training their archers. She likes violent ones - probably not subtle enough for the Gardeners. Or easy to dispose of." He gives a laconic shrug, his shoulders rolling in a way that shouldn't be possible.
"Lieutenant Bonfils is a good officer, heavy infantry and she keeps her men well disciplined. She claims to follow Desna, but suspicion is that she's a Milanite. It hasn't effected her unit discipline - yet. They're a good force - best in the city, but she doesn't like riot duty. That's an easy weak spot - set up a riot that she'll refuse to put down. That will get her sent away at least - although her men are loyal, so she'll keep her head I imagine. Might be an opportunity if my men are ready to step in - prove my loyalty to the cause."
"What about," He pauses to check the paper, his tail sneaking over the tabletop to tweak it in his direction. "Frere Chabon and Frere Cadet? What would they look for?"
As Lucien begins to speak, Lilli snaps out of her almost trance-like pacing and returns to her seat. "Our host mentioned Frère Cadet earlier. I know nothing of Frère Charbon, but I do know Sœur Argent. She is quite talkative, and a bit sardonic. I am almost positive that she is a Calistrian priestess named Ellen Montaigne. If our Dolorès is going to impress this woman then she will need seem much more lively and open, even garrulous, for the time being." She sneaks a quick glance at Dolorès, wondering if the morose seeming young woman will be able to manage such a feat.
"The others that I know of are two-fold. I mentioned Mssr. Joubert already. He is a straightforward thug. He and his gang have no specific territory and roam the city pretending to avenge crimes, but all they actually do is beat down the supposed criminals and then keep any coin or property themselves as 'payment' for their efforts instead of returning it." She pauses as she flips to a blank page of her journal and begins jotting down a few notes. "He is the worst kind of criminal; the type without even a modicum of honor; he was once a Caydog but was kicked out for excessive violence."
"Piter Soucy works with similar situations but is a more reliable sort. He's a dwarven follower of Dranngvit who collects debts for paying clients. As long as they can prove that they are owed a debt or have had a contract reneged on, he will rectify the situation." She looks up at Garson with a sly smile. "He is among those that will not be able to be bribed"
"The others I have no knowledge of, but I do have an alternate idea for the Yvette Bonfils and Frère Cadet duo." She gestures towards Lucien and looks around at the group. "Mssr. Fesch's idea may work, but also might not work in our favor. The Gardeners work alongside the mob so her attitude might upset the Army but also endear her to her recruiter. Perhaps if Frère Cadet is as lecherous as our host has mentioned, we could find a way to convince him to visit my establishment. Once he is there I have...methods of getting into his head and could just change his mind about the young Lieutenant, convincing him that she is not a good recruit." She finishes up with a smile, appearing seductive but somehow predatory at the same time.
"That might be the better method." Lucien concedes. "While she would likely be sent away from the capital for refusing orders I suppose that would not prevent the Gardeners attempting to recruit her anyway. Regardless I would like to avoid her being harmed, she is a good officer and we need people like that in the army. Without discipline it is no better than the mob we all abhor and Bonfils has instilled discipline in her men. She is worth keeping in play I think. Pascal however would be little loss."
Dolorès stares apprehensively at Lilli as the woman describes the Grey Gardener assigned to recruit her, and then at the list on the table. She is well aware of her reticent and somewhat morose personality, but hasn't come this far to let it hold her back. As if to prove to herself, and to the others, that she is capable, she looks up carefully and... makes a joke. "No matter. I'll simply say whatever is on my mind." She presses a hand to her temple, closing her eyes. "Death, immurement, eternal suffering."
She smiles to herself and brushes a hand over the name on the paper; Sœur Glauque. "I know her," she says softly. "She does not appreciate hasty judgement. Perhaps Piter Soucy can be prodded into a rash decision."
Her eyes wander the room as she wonders aloud, "what was she drawing?"
Relieved that Dolorès seems up to the challenge, Lilli returns to looking at the other pairings. "I have a detailed plan developing as we speak for Frère Cadet which will take advantage of both his greed and his lechery while leaving Lieutenant Bonfils completely undisturbed. That way we do no damage to the reputation or health of a potentially valuable Army officer." Pointing at Étienne Joubert's name she continues "For this one I had the idea of faking a robbery to entice him to react, then when he is accidentally killed in the resulting reclamation effort..."
She shakes her head tentatively, "That might be too overt a move at this stage, so any other ideas would be welcome."
Garson downed his portion of wine in one swallow and brought the glass to rest with a great rushing motion of his hand. "Yes. By the gods!" He responded to the joke made by Dolorès. "I am cheered to the rafters!"
Garson's voice became less theatrical and much less sardonic as he looked to his normally reserved companion. "I know you have the heart for it. I can give you a few acting lessons, if you would like. And Oh, Yes, Indeed. What WAS she drawing?"
Garson rubbed his palms together as he thought about what the others had said, and the information he knew first hand. "Sœur Cendre is a prim woman. She always bears the manner of one who has exceeded their tolerance for foolishness. She frowns on the illogical and the improper."
His voice took on a tone of sharp disdain and he looked as if he could spit outright. "Étienne Joubert is the so called 'Wolf of Heaven', but he is truly more a cur from hell. Baiting him into rash, foolish behavior is a sound strategy against him. In fact, that may be a sound strategy against most of the candidates."
Garson's voice returned to normal as he continued to discuss what he knew concerning the Grey Gardners and their candidates. "Frère Ardoise, you know him. He is the short one, with the coin. He likes to man the executioner's rope and play his game with fate. Arrogant and internally chaotic. If Thibault Belmont can be shown too inflexible to take a chance, Ardoise would likely turn his eyes away from him as a proper candidate."
Jerome shifts in his chairs, taking mental notes of the various details being thrown around. He rubs his chin as his mind goes through possibilities.
"I'm decently good with contracts. If we want to pit Soucy and Joubert against one another, I could draft a paradoxical contract that would put the latter at fault no matter what he did, then call the former to enforce it. There should be a good chance that bloodshed will ensue, and we may be rid of two birds with one stone."
He takes another sip of wine before adding a note. "Some.. restricted alchemical concoctions may make Dolores look more cheery and sociable than her usual self. Harlot sweets, perhaps?"
Jeggare gives Lemaitre a raised eyebrow. "I ... might not go quite so far as to have Dolores take some concoction; I know the damage they can do." Looking to the mesmeric oracle next to him, he says quietly, "I am confident that she will impress her ... judge ... in what manner she must. Which," he warns Dolores, "is undoubtedly going to include an execution. Considering your relatively well-known devotion to Iomedae and her ideals, your real test will come when you are brought forward to execute someone convicted in a court of law. I suspect -- instinct, nothing more -- that the one they bring forward for you will be ... wrongly convicted. Innocent, at least of the charges for which they've been convicted."
He lifts his fingers to rattle them through his quill-like hair, then says with some amount of abstraction, "Here's another thought. Do we want to consider what kind of associations Dolores might create inside the Gardeners? Perhaps send along with her a person or two with whom she can make some amount of common cause? Form an alliance early on?"
Lilli shoots a sidelong glance at Jeggare "An intriguing idea. For example, this Pascal is well respected in a safe community where she works to protect against the mob. That might be a worthwhile ally if we helped facilitate her entry to the Gardeners as well." She muses for a short while, tapping her fingers on the desk. "If we liked Bonfils as a potential friend as well, I could modify my plan to convince Cadet to select her instead of skipping her."
"Bonfils' value lies in being an army officer. If she joins the gardeners then she gives up her command and her men. I'd prefer to have her in the army, if things go well kindred spirits in command may be useful." Lucien points out. "Pascal may be valuable. Soucy and his sense of contract and justice may be suitable."
Lilli stops looking through the list and looks around the table a bit frustrated. "OK. Before we waste the evening going around in circles, we have an opportunity here. Let's get this figured out." She begins going through the list, annotating each candidate by elevating a finger. "First, Dolorès. That's a given, and she will do what she can to convince Sœur Argent of her value. Secondly, Chantelle Pascal. I will lure Frère Charbon in and convince him that she is a good candidate as well. That will give Dolorès a potential ally in the Gardeners."
She gestures at the rest of the list impatiently. "Jerome here has a good plan for Joubert and Soucy that will pit them against each other and take one or possibly both out of the equation. Beyond that we have nothing." She returns to counting them out on her hand. "Lambert, the public defender...we need a plan for him. Same thing for Belmont the Abadarian and Bonfils the lieutenant. All three of these need to be made less attractive to their recruiters so that we can ensure that Dolorès and Pascal are among the four picked. Who has an idea to help us out with these three?" She looks meaningfully at the conspirators who have not yet volunteered their services in the night's discussion.
After a minute of silence she calms down and lowers her hand. "If my services are needed for one of these others I am more than willing to help on two fronts, but we need to identify what we are doing before we run out of time for action."
Jeggare breaks off a chunk of the cheese he's served, climbing to his feet again and steps over to the other side of the room; reaching under the table there, he produces a small crate and starts digging through the straw filling it, saying, "Lily, you might be interested in this."
From within the straw he begins to extract several small statuettes, two to three inches in height; these he places on the table beside the crate. "One of my orphans has a knack for whittling; I had him make up a few figurines of various sizes. Not good enough to sell, of course," he concedes, looking at one piece critically, "but good enough to use down here, to help keep things ... distinct. And concrete," he adds, glancing Dolorès' way, knowing well how she does better with physical things instead of those that are completely based on thought.
"So let's see. There are some labels over on that side of the table; should be ink and a pen. How about this one for Dolorès, and this one's small enough to be Frère Ardoise ..." He continues to 'name' the figures until there's one for each of the fourteen. "Now I had some heavier cardstock ... ah!!" Out of a basket he extracts a bundle of slips, each one nicely stiff but only perhaps the width and length of a hand in size. "Come, the rest of you -- let's put together notes on these, shall we?"
Presuming the group comes over to the table, there is ink and pens enough for three people to write their notes at once, and now each of the crude figures can be labeled with initials -- 'DD' for Dolorès Durante, for example, 'FA' for Frère Ardoise, and so on -- to move about. "Much easier," Jeggare says judiciously. "Now, let me see. Hm. Let us set several notes for these, shall we? Some of them are going to have more than one; put them on the upper left corner. The first is ... 'R', for Recruit." He bends forward and jots an 'R' on the upper-left corner of the card for Dolorès. "Then we have 'T' for Track; those are the ones like Madame Pascal and Lieutenant Bonfils, that we may want to keep track of, and which we do not -- yet, anyhow -- wish harm.
"Let Harm be the next one -- 'H'. Those like Étienne Joubert or Piter Soucy, who we might put into harm's way, but without needing them to be killed. 'K' can be another, for obvious reasons, and for those we've noticed are ... especially vile, such as Frère Ardoise and Maël Lambert. Otherwise ... hm. 'D', for Disable. Politically, socially, temporarily, whatever, but ones to whom we do not yet see a need to do true harm." He taps the tail of the pen against the opposite thumb, then bends down to put an 'H' on the card he's made for Frère Cadet.
"And an 'I' for 'Information'," Jeggare adds as he puts that on Cadet's card, "as in 'we need some'. Or more. Granted, we could put an 'I' on everyone's card save our Dolorès, but keep in mind our limitations." As an afterthought, he makes a card for both Frère Charbon and Frère Nickel, adding an 'I' to each of them.
Looking at the gathering of figures, he picks up that of Dolorès and Chantelle Pascal and puts them together. "So. I should remind you all that three are to be selected, not four -- three, of which we have tentatively decided two. Bonfils," he takes her figure and sets it aside, "we want to stay out -- though Lieutenant, you might put a 'T' on hers, that we might keep an eye on her for the future. For making her unpalatable ... hm. I think perhaps ... arranging for Cadet to be excessively indulged and thus unable to report might work as well. I am leery of enchantments, when regular overconsumption might well do the trick; the problem is we wouldn't know, one way or the other, until the day of the event. And while I'm not thrilled at using a falsified contract to pit two of our targets against each other, I'm willing to see it tried, if we do it in the next day or two." He pauses, frowning. "I wonder if Soucy might be able to be roused against Lambert.
"Jerome," he asks, stepping back around the 'war table' to go back to the dinner table to take a bite and a sip of wine -- there are notably no places for glasses or plates near the 'war table' -- "aren't the defenders supposed to, I don't know, actually defend? To the best of their ability? Is it not in their contract, or oath, or what-have-you? If you can find some widow or such, whose loved one was poorly defended by Lambert, to go to Soucy begging for vengeance ... ?"
Jerome sighs and his shoulders sags as he has to think of the sorry state of the legal system. "Sadly, mere incompetence is not commonly seen as a breach of contract. Performing poorly can't be legally considered a breach of contract, as there is no way other than magical interrogation to prove that someone didn't do their best. The grieving widow would most likely be dismissed as not seeing things clearly, especially if his deity is as strict and stubborn as dwarves are known to be. Not without evidence, at least."
The humanoid tiefling sits more straight on his chair and taps on the card related to the disgusting public defender. "We seem to have a good amount of non-violent, or reasonably bloodless plans for several other candidates, we can simply dispose of Lambert and there should be a minimum of suspicion cast upon us. If we lure him to Madam Lily's establishment to discuss a business proposition, we'll have a good chance to stab him repeatedly in the back. Then there are numerous ways to dispose of a body, or frame someone else. We could even leave the corpse, appropriately doctored, in somebody's house."
He puts back the card and then voices another thought that formed in his mind. "The execution intrigues me. Lieutenant Fesch, is it possible that you could appeal to Bonfils' sense of justice and righteousness so that she'd refuse to murder someone whose guilt is not beyond doubt? I may even find, or manufacture, evidence of their innocence, as much as someone can be innocent in Isarn."
Dolorès looks pained by Jeggare's implication of a 'test'. Of course, she has known for some time that to discover the secrets of the Final Blades, she will have to use them, however much it reviles her. His suspicion that it will consist of an unjustified execution is all too familiar to her, and to hear it spoken aloud is only a confirmation of the fears that keep her awake at night just as effectively as the voices.
She measures her breathing, calming her nerves and watching intently as Jeggare pulls out the statuettes and begins to arrange them. The moral implications of the conspiracy's goals and the methods necessary to achieve them have already been talked to death, and she has long since resigned herself to her role; it is yet another burden that Pharasma has placed on her, though a particularly heavy one.
Reaching across the table, she grasps the whittled figurine used to represent Pascal and turns it gently over in her hands, grateful for the solidity it provides. "It would be... comforting, at the least, to know that not all of my fellows are against me on principle. We must learn more about Frère Charbon." She places the figure carefully back on the table.
"I suppose it's best if I keep my distance from all this and focus on endearing myself to Sœur Argent." She frowns, never pleased with the idea of her comrades risking themselves to carry out plans without her, but aware of the necessity. "If I fall under even the slightest suspicion of sabotaging the other candidates, this is over before it begins."
Lucien nods to Jeggare as he moves to the war table and provides figures, having the figures is helpful for him as well as Dolores. He isn't much of a reader, not like Alix - she's the intellectual.
Jerome's idea has his tail twitching. "Will everyone have to execute someone? From what I know of Bonfils that would go hard against her, especially if the crime is, or appears to be, revolutionary in nature. If the gardeners are more nuanced however... I'll certainly try to make her acquaintance - not necessarily something I can do quickly though."
He remains at the war table staring, as his tail twitches figures back and forth. "Dolores and Pascal. Lambert and Joubert to be disposed of - they're scum that Galt does not need, and if we remove them permenantly then the rest of the job becomes simpler. I could face Joubert in a fight if it comes to it - a crude method but it should do the job as long as I don't actually provoke him. Either way we need eyes on him and I can't get my men into the city. Lambert - poison perhaps? He must have enemies."
The four figures are now in two separate pairs, leaving three clustered together. "The Abadarian, the Lieutenant and the Debt Collector. I think Bonfils will pass their test, but I will sound her out. I think Soucy is the best recruit - if he takes contracts then he can be bought." Soucy's figure slides into the group with Pascal and Dolores.
"Two to die, one to talk to and then a banker - he doesn't seem like he'll be chosen." Lucien looks up. "It's not a complicated plan - less to go wrong."
There is a malicious twinkle in Jerome's eyes and grin, one that doesn't bode well for his disgraceful colleague. "I'm thinking that we could indeed hide Lambert's murdered body at Joubert's place, possibly after we create evidence of a pact within the two. Then, either the guards come and take the despicable enforcer away -Lieutenant Fesch, this would be a job for you, and I will make sure he stays locked up-, or we can even send Soucy to get some misdirected revenge."
Garson nodded his head as he took in what the others were bringing together. "Yes, indeed. Dolorès must be seen without blemish in all of this. She can't be caught in any light that might cast suspicion in her direction."
His mind tossing about, Garson found himself in need of something to date his m physically, lest he give in to some undesired impulse. So he moved to pour himself a larger glass of wine. He would have to remember to bring a few bottles of his own to the next meeting to share with the others, and help replenish the stores of Jeggare.
Garson would likely Nurse the drink rather than drink most of it. If he did continue to imbibe, however, he was certain that he had developed enough fortitude not to allow it to impair either his actions or his judgement.
Without even considering the prop further, Garson set the glass down and rubbed his hands together again as he thought. "I am rather fond of the idea of Joubert being framed for the murder of Lambert. It is a tidy little plan, if it can be executed without a hitch."
"Very well. So we need someone to do the murder and someone else to frame him. Monsieur Lemaitre, you seem keen on the second task. Could Mama deal with the first?" The soldier asks, his striped face turning to look at Lily.
Lilli takes her time thinking about the possibility of taking Lambert out. "I think that could be done. We would have to be careful about it as I would not want that being associated with my men or even happening in my neighborhood." She stares pensively at the figures on the table. "Based on what I know of Joubert's activities, I can probably take a group and manufacture an encounter with Lambert some evening and make it look like it was done by Joubert and his gang, as long as it was done somewhere in the city outside of the Theater District." She takes a small sip of her wine. "Yes. I believe it can be done. So it seems that I will be persuading Cadet that Bonfils is not a good candidate, and also taking care of Lambert? The first is easy, the second will need a bit of planning if it is to be put on Joubert."
Jerome's smile has a sharklike quality. "I have ways to deceive, my dear Madam. A bit of misdirection, a proper disguise, and voila, the guards will discover a fresh corpse in Monsieur Joubert's quarters. It just takes a simple switch."