Olenna had packed up almost everything that she thought she might need in her handy haversack, trusting the extradimensional pockets to keep her belongings safe. Before she left her home, she had set some small alerting signals that she could check in her return to see if anyone had broken in. Hairs on the thresholds of the doors and windows that would bar no resistance to entry but that would betray anyone who thought they were being sneaky. A light dusting of cooking flour to capture footprints. No traps. Just things that she would know to look for when she got back.
She also uses some of her new alchemical dyes to change her hair color, muting the fiery red to a chestnut brunette. She taps her new brooch as well: her ears round out and the rest of her facial features (especially her eyes) taken on distinctly less elven features. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she still looks mostly like Olenna, but...human. She could almost be her cousin Jada Bromathan.
While waiting for evening, Olenna tries to engage some of the party in a game of Imperial Conquest, mostly to pass the time. "I'm new to the game, but I think I have a handle on the rules," she says. "And it's not just idle either. Yes, the goal is to win, but there are cooperative elements as well. I think this might help us to coordinate our efforts more effectively. Anyone care to join me?"
Up to four people can play a game of imperial conquest, which generally takes 1–2 hours (4d20+20 minutes). At the end of an uninterrupted game, each player attempts a DC 20 Intelligence check, with success granting tactical insights. For the next 8 hours, any character who succeeded at the Intelligence check gains a +1 bonus to AC against attacks of opportunity; when two players who succeeded at the Intelligence check flank the same enemy during this time, the bonus on attack rolls from flanking increases by 1.
Olenna's first time playing the game feels invigorating, and her mind feels practically on fire. She can foresee this becoming something she wants to engage with regularly. She only hopes that the others are finding it half as enjoyable (and enlightening) as she does.
Mags looks oddly at the game but sits as suggested, and tries, but there are a lot of 'Whys' about the rules, about simplification of reality. Too many to sit well with the shaman.
"Is it over? Mud-hair?" she tries the name out, not liking it, shaking her head. Muddy flame hair doesn't sound right either. Hmmm...
Yaziyah declines Olenna's offer; the name of the game did not appeal to her in the slightest, given her people's history. Instead, she packs up all her necessities in her handy haversack, including as much plague cure as she can fit inside, and leaves the city through Northgate, eastwards across the bridge. She is dressed and equipped for a long journey, with sturdy walking boots, bedroll and blanket, several weeks' worth of rations and a plump waterskin. The image that she is trying to plant into any observer's mind is that she, like many others, is leaving Korvosa behind and going elsewhere; perhaps rejoining her people in the Cinderlands.
Once sunset approaches and she is alone on the road, she leaves the road and circles back towards Trail's End, where she searches discreetly for someone to take her and the others across the river.
Once they step off the skiff, the Shoanti spends a few moments to take in the state of things, scowling fiercely. The queen had condemned all these people to death, cut off from food supplies beyond what they could fish from the Jeggare and the sea, with little access to medicine or temples. Her anger threatening to boil over, she motions curtly to the others and begins to lead them through the narrow streets in the direction of the community center.
A young human girl slips her pack on her normal sized back on her normal height length. A eager worry in her eyes look over her friends before the settle on the wall. A frown... her hands pulls a pin out of her black hair, then the young woman becomes Mags. Taller, stronger, and more orcish.
"You need this more than me" she hands the once pin, now floppy hat of disguise.
After handing off her hat, Mags tries to listen to the city, this portion now separated by violence.
"Ar-kon-as-eses... again" Magda says once she's done talking to the city. She tells the others about what she's heard "Smells like when a puff tough 'protects' you by not beating you up." she shurgs "But we've heard of them before, haven't we. Ones of thems the one that kissed the guard into selling people as meat. And the bird noses used one of their old places to do their bad things."
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Historically, the Arkonas have been involved in most of the criminal enterprises in the city for the last two hundred years. Recently, however, they have paid for the razing of their properties that were formerly used for crime, and replacement with dense tenement blocks of housing for the poorer members of Korvosa society.
One of the wizards mentions that for further information about the Arkonas, one might want to visit a records office, a library, or a seedier tavern, however, they are known to have been dangerous in the past, and do not care much for people snooping into their business.
Olenna's Knowledge: House Arkona is one of the most powerful noble families in Korvosa. It is known that they got most of their wealth through the shipping trade with Vudra, but like many noble houses there’s rumors of a connection to the criminal element of the city. "House Arkona used to own this warehouse--still might. Shippers: import, export. Do you know what that door's probably made of?"
The majority of the containers are empty. In the southwest corner of the bay stand a number of empty cages and crates for transporting animals, many bearing the names and origins of the exotic creatures once held within, names such as “Three Breaths Viper— Mwangi Expanse,” “Emperor Cobra (Eggs)—Vudra,” and “Toad Shrew—uncharted island. With some effort and time, one could gather up the expensive Vudran imports that are here, seemingly abandoned and unowned, for a little bit of money.
Olenna's eyes widen as Mags brings up the Arkonas. She remembered hearing about the scandal with All the World's Meat but hadn't realized that an Arkona had been involved. She closes her eyes a moment to regain her composure. "House Arkona has their estate here in Old Korvosa," she recalls. "And yes, the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden used to be one of their shipping warehouses."
She wouldn't be surprised if they had organized some sort of a protection racket in the interim. They could be a potent source of information and a thorn in their sides--the two weren't mutually exclusive. So much depended on how much truth there was to rumors that they had turned over a new leaf and were earnestly seeking to help people, or just inventing new ways to cover up for their enterprises.
They were a complicated bunch. Olenna has little doubt that her own family had engaged with criminal enterprises during Korvosa's history. It was the noble way: to commit crimes in such a way that you paid a fine and no time.
"What exactly did the city tell you about them, Magda?"
Yaziyah clears her throat. "There are no good rich people. The Arkonas have their sins, but they have helped the people in Old Korvosa more than the other nobles and the crown put together." She waves a hand. "I'm not defending them, mind you. They are probably just taking care of their turf. I would be very curious what they think of this quarantine, and how they are dealing with it."
Olenna winces slightly. She agreed with Yazi, in a way, but to hear it put so bluntly, especially having come from wealth, stung in a way that she hadn't expected.
"We could try to organize a meeting with them," Olenna offers. "To find out."
Vera joins Olenna in a game of Imperial Conquest!
It turns out she's pretty bad at strategy games. "That was really confusing. Do real wars work like this? I wonder if Miss Cressida would be any good at this game."
* * *
"Perhaps we should meet the Arkonas? If we can meet them discretely and not draw attention. I wonder what the cards say about that."
To Olenna's surprise, she had thoroughly dominated in the game of Imperial Conquest. For her exhaustion, Magda had also seemingly done better than Vera. Olenna chuckles lightly at Vera's question. "I hope real wars don't work like this," she muses. "But if they did, I'm sure that Cressida would be a fearsome general."
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Marcus can't help but overhear the women playing the game. After watching a game in silence he steps forward and pulls up a chair, sitting down with his face deep in thought...
...and thoroughly eviscerates the board with ruthless efficiency. Every move seemed to have tendrils that branched out to multiple plans, advancing his own conquest while stifling the competition. By the end he grunts in approval. "Pretty realistic. Game maker must have carried steel in their time. Couple oddities but they're easy to grasp."
Olenna finds Marcus quite the capable opponent/collaborator in Imperial Conquest. Observing the moves that he makes, she begins to get an even better sense of how he thinks. It's the sort of thing that she thinks might translate into direct action on the field of battle. "You're quite the tactician," she observes after a weary and remarkably close game.
The party is not really bothered as they travel, but as they go, they spot a flock of incongruously happy children in an alley that sing a strange little rhyme as they gather around something in the middle of the street and sing, “Headless, headless, that’s what you’ll be, brand-new dolls in the Emp’ror’s cemet’ry! Choppy, choppy, chop, the tall knife calls, waitin’ for the day for Korvosa to fall.” One of the children has fashioned a crude guillotine from sticks and pegs, and the children are using it to behead a collection of dolls.
Olenna knows too much of nursery rhymes to think this an innocent little ditty. Most such rhymes she had ever heard hewed close to some amount of truth, however absurd or macabre. Putting lyrics to a jaunty tune and spinning some rhymes could get children to repeat things that they never even thought about, never considered the meaning.
And if they had watched the world around them crumble like their city had? There was even less reason to scrutinize.
She approaches the children the way a patient mother would--roundabout, waiting in the distance to observe the play play out.
Magda smiles at the happy children, since moments of such can be few and far between. The song and act don't bother her, she even finds herself humming the tune slightly, until they get to her city's fall.
She sees not-flame hair move toward and not toward them, seeing she sees the same, then turns her eyes, ears, and nose to looking for anything else out of place, the quality of the kids clothes, if they are clean, anyone else hiding or watching, or a glassy-ness in their eyes or a smell that screams not supposed to be there.
Marcus doesn't look happy about the new children's rhyme, but he doesn't look particularly interested in intervening either. He does pause for his companions though, letting them do what they deem best.
The children seem to be playing nicely, if a little morbidly. At some point one kid says ”I snuck into the palace and saw the tall knife!” but another says, ”nuh uh, you didn’t. You’re a scary cat! You’d be afraid of the little killer!” The first one looks indignant and says, ”no, I’m bigger than him! I’m real big. Mom says I’m gonna be as big as a horse if I keep eating the way I do.” The second kid seems to take this in stride and says, ”oh okay, well, I wouldn’t go there because I’m a scaried of them. “ They get back to playing their games and chatting with the other kids, but the rest of what they are saying is typical kid bravado and fanciful notions.
The little killer...
The tall knife...
Well it certainly sounds like a small headsman has taken up residence somewhere apparent enough to inspire these children in their morbid game. Perhaps they were carrying out whatever passed for "justice" in Old Korvosa since the island was quarantined.
It seemed to provide some sort of lead to follow up on. The children likely didn't know anything concrete, and Olenna didn't want to bother them. But it sounded disturbingly like Galtan politics.
She returns to the others after her observations. "We should keep our eye out for a guillotine in town. Someone seems to have taken a page from the Queen's book. But let's hurry on."
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Like Marcus, Yaziyah lets Olenna and Magda check on the children, tapping her foot at the waste of time. She was itching to see what had become of the community center, if it was even still there, what had happened to her people, was everyone alive, was anyone hurt, and what of those Red Mantis, was anyone... She realizes that her thoughts were starting to sound like how Magda talked, a rushing stream, and with an effort she takes a deep breath and tries to channel it to one thing at a time.
"Right. A guillotine." Was that the Queen's doing? Were her agents here? Perhaps the quarantine was a cover for the real goal, whatever that was, and damn it all she's doing it again, just thoughts darting through her head like a flock of startled birds that can't settle and can't fly away.
"Let's go."
It’s not much longer before they reach Yaziyah’s community center. She moves to open the door, but finds it locked. From the second floor window, there’s noise, and quiet cursing in Shoanti, with the obvious sound of movement inside. Very shortly, the door unlocks and opens, and the two largest shoanti that she knows are standing inside with large clubs. The caretaker is inside with a pair of handaxes, and he beckons everyone to come inside, ”come on! The streets are not safe. Come, come.” The party hustles inside and they breathe a sigh of relief as the two large shoanti move to unlock and bar the door.
The majordomo breathes a sigh of relief, ”spirits protect us Yazi. Thank them all - you’re back.” He puts down the handaxes and collapses into a nearby chair. The two large shoanti, Doya and Niyol, seem to relax as well.
The majordomo says, weariness exuding from him like a stench, ”forgive my language, but this has been a solly slop week. We barely know what’s going on - and now we’re stuck here, in this f%!~ing city, with Chels breathing down our neck.” He looks up, ”you have to get these people off the island, Yazi.”
Putting a hand on Jhonas's shoulder, Yaziyah tries to calm the man down. "We're here now. We can update everyone about what's happening in the rest of the city, but first - has anyone been sniffing around here? Asking questions? Watching the place?"
She looks to the others, still talking to the majordomo. "Others must be trying to get out as well. Do you know how they do it?"
He shakes his head, though the gesture doesn’t really mean ‘no’, to the questions, ”once we heard news of the assassins, we brought the Varisians inside, closed each entrance, and boarded up the ones that we couldn’t guard. We haven’t been outside in days, though the house drakes have gotten to us somehow and gave us updates.” He thinks, ”there were a few people that tried to get in, but they looked like random toughs, testing the lock. As for ways off the island - we wouldn’t know. We can head over to the north docks and see if we can get a skiff. Anything can be bought with enough coin, right? We don’t really even know how the island is being guarded, though.”
Olenna looks around the community center, marveling at what was over here in Old Korvosa--this sanctuary for the non-Chelish. She sometimes didn't give sufficient credit to the Shoanti for their ingenuity and prowess--clearly to her detriment. She takes up a position near one of the windows, observing back through to see if anyone had followed them. She didn't need to interpose herself into these proceedings. Let Yazi handle this and call on her if she needed anything.
"You did good. They burned all the wooden bridges and are guarding Mainshore Bridge, towards Jeggare Circle. We can try a skiff, yes, but we need to have a plan for them after that." The Shoanti looks at the others, but mainly at Vera. "Is there somewhere outside the city that would be safe - safer, for them?"
She gestures at Jhonas. "We don't need to go to the docks, just send a couple of people to ask around. They should stay together for safety."
Following along with the party, Vera is rather delighted to see that there are still children playing. Playing was much better than suffering, and it seemed to suggest that whatever chaos had impacted the island was not inescapable. If they were playing a game about executions, it surely had to be just some copying of things they'd seen. Like the Queen's guillotine. Though the scene had descended into chaos, were the doctors and supporting grey maidens not sentenced to death? And perhaps executed?
Approaching the community center, Vera looks with concern as Yazi talks of escape. "Fleeing is definitely dangerous. The Grey Maidens likely have the authority to kill any who attempt to flee. Somewhere outside the city that's safer, hm..." Vera considers whether she knew of anything reasonable.
She shares anything she can think of.
The center is still standing, the people inside still living, so a worry at least for now is lifted in Mag's heart. As the others talk, she moves around checking on people and chickens alike, and keeping an eye out through windows and over fences to see if anyone is watching the center.
Olenna hears Yazi's question about safety outside of the city. She takes a vial from her bandolier that looks (and smells) distinctly like coffee. Lukewarm rather than hot, and unpleasantly gritty, but it would do the trick. She downs this in one go and her eyes dilate to take in more information and improve her processing speed.
She also asks for one of the casters--probably Magda--to conjure some water in an empty container. Into this she drops a golden liquid that works swiftly to turn the water into mead.
She dips her now-empty vial into the barrel of mead and drinks it as well. As long as she was careful, the occasional, moderate indulgence in things like this shouldn't set her back. There was no need to worry Enzo.
With her mind clear and enhanced, she thinks deeply about a safer place to move these people who were clearly still in danger.
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Magda hears and sees less than is typical, though more than most would. She knows the sounds and smells remind her a lot of the weeks of anarchy after the king died.
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"Outside the city would be safer," Olennna concurs after a hypercognizant moment. "But this is probably the best we've got until then." She considers how much detail to include and decides that evidence could be provided for the conclusion if it was asked for, but that it would be mostly a burden if it was offered unasked. "Our best bet would be to protect the community center from scrying. Counter-divinations, abjurations, glamers. Like this Sylvan Hideaway. Vera might be able to do something similar with some parchment and either a marble and a mirror or some powdered corn and a rope."
If Olenna ever got to meet Valmallos, the Answering Rite, she would have questions about the bizarreness of certain spell components.
"Any reliable teleportation is probably beyond our ken. And most invisibility glamers have too many counters, limitations, or downsides to effectively move this many people as long and far as we need."
She sighs. "Much depends on how adamant our enemies are about finding those under our protection and what our resources are to keep them hidden. I think it best to use our own divinations to learn more directly, and then to solve the current crisis quickly so that we have better options to get out of the city than trying to sneak a caravan out."
It would take a long time to set up a spy network and smuggle people out of the city bit by bit, but that was another option if this was going to go on for a long time.
Yaziyah sighs. "There is nothing I can do to protect from scrying. I do not think it is a good idea to split up the ones who need protecting, as once outside the city they would be easy targets. On the other hand, the fisher boats we may use to try and get them out are small and cannot hold many people."
She rubs a hand over her brow, then massages the bridge of her nose as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I say we take the fight to them. Find these assassins and make sure they are no longer a threat."
Mag's returns with a basket of eggs and a small jar of honey. "It smells like a barrel stuffed to it rim, right before tinder sparks it into a Woooph" she looks around, rethinking "Out there, in the streets, not in here"
Then she starts to set up to cook a little honey eggs. Even though she wasn't in the room when flame hair and Yazi were talking she pipes in like she had been. "Quick and done, is best." she listens and nods to something "But backup for when another rat wiggles out once we thought done was done is best."
"I was thinking about that water-breathing potion you offered to me earlier. If we can get enough for us and for them we can try to walk them along the bottom of the river to the north shore and take it from there." Yaziyah rolls her shoulders, one leg jittery as the Shoanti is clearly on edge. "They'll probably be looking for boats trying to cross, but I doubt they have eyes in the river itself."
Marcus seems to be following along with the gist of the conversation, but is clearly lost on the particulars. He is looking to the women in the group to figure out the magical strategy, for it's far outside his expertise.
"Well...finding them, there's always the old fashioned way. Asking nicely, or asking less nicely." He suggests.
"I know how to scry, and could try to scout out places from afar. But not sure I've learned the art of stopping scrying. Ugh. We should be ready to make a run for it, but until we have a clear path out or are forced out, sure seems risky to try to leave."
"Oh? It's transmutation magic, very much in your wheelhouse, Vera. We might even be able to find a scroll. But ah..." Olenna turns to Jhonas. "I know it's not comfortable, but if things are stable here, this might be the best that we can do until we eliminate the threats." She shrugs. "Should we try to find Vencarlo Orsini as planned? I think it prudent to continue gathering allies to our cause before we go after these assassins."
"I could check his school, while you all plan, eat, and things." she suggests, knowing like that all do she's the most likely to be able to make it through the streets and back without notice. "Unless there is already bubbling and such, then it would be best to mob, loud and all." the wall is an entire mob in her mind, at least in noise levels.
The eggs are done in no time, which she scoops out on some day old bread she brought with her in her magic pack. A trough of sweet fluffiness that she gives one for each kids.
Then her big eyes turn to her friends tilting her head, not to listen to things others can't hear, but to them.
A tinge of motherly concern wells up in Olenna's throat at the idea of Magda going out again on her own. She shakes her head and tries not to just blurt out "no." "If we need to scout, I trust you to do that. But we should avoid being caught alone. We'll go together."
Magpie nods, considering and accepting in her mind. "I'll clean up the cooking mess, then, Ready, yes?" The half-orc shaman goes to scrub the pan she used on the eggs. Leaving it til they get back is out of the question. The pan hates being dirty, just as much as it loves honey. Mags strokes the rim with a slight smile before taking a brush to it.
Vera interjects as there's a plan to scout. "No no, I'll clean. You have more important things to do. Go on!"
It probably helps that Vera knows a bit of magic, as she gathers dishes and they seemingly start to clean themselves.
Magda relinquishes the pan, since she knows once Vera has declared something the streets would have to buckle before she'd give in. And the pan likes her better, which Mags understands completely. She grins at her friend, wide and happy, then moves to the door... but then stops. Turning to flame hair "Wait, you wanted to do go all of us, right..." her lips move as if she is considering that, they are a THEY not a she and them, so she works her lips, chews on them a bit, then says "I'll check the next few blocks, then come back, then all of us'll go, Kay?"
She likes flame hair, not as much as Yazi of course, in the ways of suricate mamahood, but where one is good, two is better. Mags sighs just slightly, suddenly and painfully remembering her real mother. She leaves quickly to mask the wrenching sorrow that tries to bury her.
Yaziyah nods at Magda. "Scout the immediate surroundings, then we all go." She claps Jhonas on the shoulder, firmly but not hard enough to bowl the smaller man over. "I hope we won't be long. We'll send a message when we can."
The party gathers their things and secures the community center after checking to see if there are any assassins lurking in the shingles, and bids Jhonas and the witnesses goodbye, with strict instructions about how to stay safe. The party then starts to make their way west, towards the “Fort Korvosa” ward, which doesn’t seem to have any smoke currently emanating from it, beyond those from the homes and businesses - a stark contrast with the rest of the district.
Magda breaks off and melts into the background of the city, though there aren’t many people wandering around on the street, she naturally looks like something that belongs, so much that the party, trying to track her as she goes, has trouble - even when they know what they’re looking for.
There are five thugs waiting for something about two blocks from the wall that marks the entrance to the Fort Korvosa ward. They’re obviously looking to ambush the party, they haven’t seen Magda. Four are well hidden but one seems like he’s ready to “step out and converse” when the PCs round the corner.
"A hand in front." Mags' voice appears next to Yazi, showing her standing there again "Four fingers hiding, one thumb looking like he wants to jabber." the half orc points to where they are. "Good stickers and fancy steel, but not half as good as you and the wall."
"Talk, fight, or avoid them all?"
Olenna doesn't quite catch Magda's meaning at first but comes around quickly. Her training as a Lamplighter kicks in. Whether they were looking specifically for these five, or just any possible marks, they would be causing trouble. She didn't want to expose anyone else to that kind of trouble. She also didn't want to draw unnecessary attention and had no authority to do anything legal anymore.
"If we can scare them off, all the better. I can be...persuasive. So, talk to start, knowing that a fight might be inevitable. If we're voting."
Magda nods, she'd be happy to just ghost by as she does for most things, but "Might be a reason they are all posty. Talking might find it."
Marcus steps up with Olenna. "I'll come with you."
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The party rounds the corner and the main tough approaches. Marcus can see the well-hidden thugs nearby as they emerge smoothly, and approach in a wide semicircle - “cutting off” the retreat, though they are well-armed for rabble the difference is stark between the party and this group of burly men.
Said burly men don’t seem to notice.
The main one leers at Vera and makes a smooching face, then turns to Marcus, ”well, well, newcomers to the Isle - as it stands now - the Kingdom of Pilts. Didn’t you ‘ear? The island isn’t safe. We’re quarantined - cut off. Did you get permission to roam around like fops? Shoanti and Varisians and… is that a pair of half breeds!?” He laughs, and the others join in, ”pretty for your race I guess - I’m sure someone would want you three at least.”
He points at the three ‘relatively’ charismatic women in the group, then turns to Marcus ”name your price - they can’t be worth much. I guess the young ones, you know - if you catch my meaning.” He grins at Marcus.
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Magda is taken aback "He... he wants to buy us?" the incredulous tone thick. Then turned corrosive and sharp, like a rusty blade "BUY US..." the young half orc, a street kid, forced to steal, beaten and threatened, brutalized by fear and hate, all horrible but... this.
Suddenly SHE IS ANGRY.
Not just for her past, for the affront, but for the very idea that others, more desperate might -MIGHT- decide to sell their friend, their daughter...
The air about her seem to ripple.
Stepping forward, to the thug, then she turns around and looks at Marcus discounting the filth. "I need your help. Please." something about her manner, not cocking her head, not listening to anything, It is obvious to those who knew her, this was not the city asking, it was Magda, just Mags, the eighteen year old girl "They cannot be allowed to ask ANYONE that question ever again."
She could ask this of Yazi, who she respects more than any other woman in the universe, or Vera who she loves more than anyone ever, or even flame hair whose brain and caring stunned her time and again.
But she asked the wall. She knew the wall, could count on the wall to understand why this was important,. That moment she threw a cobblestone at him, solidified her trust in him.
In this moment, she needs Him.