Maca finally breaks her silence.
"Well, you've got a tattoo shop, and it's starting to get known. Probably it wouldn't look to weird to go oout for... ingredients? Or maybe to a tattoo fair, to get new ideas. Or to check a tattoo master for further training." Scratching her chin, Maca lets her wild and crazy idea fly even higher. "If we slightly comment we're going somewhere right in the opposite direction we're truly heading, that would help us cover our tracks."
She tries to stay silent for some seconds, letting the others think about it, but she can't.
"On the other hand, if we let our absence be known, the shop could suffer some pillage..."
Yhrrilka thinks a moment. "Isn't Janderhoff out that way? Torsten could say he's on Secret Dwarven Business."
"Aye. A good cover story, that. Though...Macaria, yer people still around? Seems to me that disgusin' the lass as a Varisian and puttin' her in the caravan would be a right good way of keepin' her safe. Nobody tracks where yer people go, aye?" He said, having been hit by 'divine inspiration.'
Yhrrilka suddenly looks like she's remembered a fairly unpleasant truth.
"I... um... Will there be horses involved with this trip?"
Ril goes through the clothes that Vencarlo mentioned he had handy to use as a disguise. "Exactly how much do we have to work with here, are you running a fencing academy or a clothier's shop?" After she considers for a moment how he might have happened into this much womens' clothing, she leans into Trinia and whispers, "Try and wash this stuff before you wear it. Like, a lot."
"My people come and go... Is hard to say where they are or for how long. But I can always try. Give me a pair of hours."
Maca leaves, not wanting to accept company if offered. She states it's easier if no stranger seems to be looking for them.
Yhrrilka calls out after her friend, "Okay, please be safe Macaria!" After which she goes back to trying to sort through the clothes lying around to make a workable disguise for Trinia.
You find a to conceal Trinia's most distinctive feature - her blond hair. Aside from that, some baggy clothes disguise her slim figure, and a set of tall heels adjust her height. She'll be able to avoid detection from casual observers and should be able to make it past the guards with only minor assistance .
Walking over to Trinia, Torsten said "Lass. So we're gonna get ye out of here. Can disguise ye and hope to sneak ye out. There's another option, but it's up to ye. See me tattoos?" He asked, motioning in general to his entire body. "These tattoos are designed to bring out the magic within me. It's very personalized. Now, I think that it might be possible to do somethin' similar with ye. Ril here has brought back some new ink. I think that with it I can give ye some Varisian tattoos. Make ye really look the part. And with that ink, I might be able to change the colors of yer eyes. Between the outfit, eye color and tattoos, it should get ye past inspection. 'course, there's a risk whenever magic is involved. And I've never done this kind of tattoos on anyone besides meself. So it be completely up to ye if this is somethin' ye'll go for. Tattoos be permanent, and it be yer body."
Once safely back at the shop, Torsten had Trinia lie down on the table with strict orders not to move. He fought the urge to blush as it was necessary for her to be down to her undergarments. He'd normally have no clothes on the subject, but even in such a situation he couldn't bring himself to do anything so improper. How could he live it down! Or even keep his hands steady. Now, it would be necessary. But that was what Ril was for. He'd leave for that part. Once again he gave thanks to the Gods for her being in his life.
The first step of the process was to map out her inner ley lines. Most wizards knwe of ley lines as being channels of raw magical energy with psychic impressions that stores ambient energy absorbed from its surroundings. Torsten had long theorized that every person had ley lines, from which energy was absorbed and the person grew in power. He thought of these as being 'levels' where the stronger the ley lines in a person was, the higher 'level' they could reach. It didn't matter if a person was the most uneducated of fighters. It was purely a natural occurrence, and it explained why there were people of legend who could do what no normal man was capable of and survive injuries that a commoner would have imploded from. He had developed his tattoos to strengthen his own ley lines, so that his skin might be as tough as armor and his fists as powerful as hammers. In his mind, this was no different than the ways that sorcerers pulled magic into their spellbooks or the way monks developed their 'qi.' He just had his own method of doing so. Therefore, for this to work on Trinia, they had to first know the location of her ley lines and to understand their strength. The absolute worst thing they could do was make tattoos which caused her ley lines to draw in too much power. Such a thing could very well be fatal.
Unfortunately, this would require marking her entire body, following the lines as they went. It started with the heart and went from there, spiraling out through the body. He trusted Ril enough in her craft to handle much of this. She had to do it right, because of propriety Torsten couldn't handle it. And if he had to do it alone, avoiding the areas covered by garments, well...it could very well lead to disaster. So that wasn't an option either.
Once the ley lines were mapped, then came the hard part. As if though the first part wasn't hard enough. The actual tattoo had to be crafted. This was going to be difficult, as the tattoo itself had to look Varisian. But within them, it had to have the actual runes to make the change needed. In this he had a plan. He would incorporate the dwarven runes into the Varisian tattoos. This meant taking the time to inscribe the runes and then having another tattoo surrounding it. He had already taken the time to sketch out the plan so that the runes would appear to be part of the greater whole. It had taken all of his creativity to pull it off, but he was satisfied with the results. It was important that the runes go along the ley lines. The rest of the tattoos would go outside of it.
This was, in many ways, the ultimate test of their combined skills. It represented not only a challenge of their technical skills as artists, but also as practitioners of magic. He was confident that if they pulled it off, then it would give them invaluable experience on the crafting of other, more specialized tattoos. Not ones like what he had, which merely brought out one's innate strength and resilience. It was possible, he mused, to even slow down the rate at which one aged! To walk on water! To...do many a miracle which was not relevant to what was before them. This was the first step in a long process. And it required their undivided attention.
He looked to Ril and took a deep breath. "Ye ready, lass?"
Yhrrilka does her best to be reassuring with Trinia, and to a lesser extent, with Torsten, too. If she thinks it'll help (versus unnerving her more), she holds her hand, explains what Torsten is doing/about to do, and anything else she thinks might help to keep her calm. "Trinia, we're going to start using the needle now. It'll hurt a little, but if it was so bad, well Torsten and I wouldn't have our day jobs, now would we?" She gives that one a quick grin, with a nod and a wink. "So many of my people get tattoos to show that they could, that they weren't afraid of that. I bet you can show just how tough you are, can't you?"
When it's her time to start doing the needle work, Ril pauses, holding the needle in front of her. "Shelyn," she says in a soft voice, "I often invoke your name before my work to help find the beauty others seek. Today, please help me keep what beauty is here, just change it a little. Your will be done." As she leans down over Trinia, she can almost feel the surprised expression. Without looking up she says to Torsten, "Don't look at me in that tone of voice. I always pray to Shelyn before this work; there isn't a tattoo I've done in this city where I didn't."
With that, she set to work. Of course Torsten had to work in Dwarvish, she thought to herself as she tried to divine the meaning of what he was doing. Why make it easy on me?
As it turns out, Trinia appears to have a little innate magic of her own. This greatly simplifies your job, as the amount of power needed to activate her ley lines is lessened. In other words, much less ink and space is needed. You're just finishing up when Macaria returns with the caravan's answer....
After a brief eternity, Ril and Torsten have finished their work. Yhrrilka takes it as a good sign there was no point at which Trinia burst into flames, or erupted in agonizing wails. Just one or two times when she flinched or grimaced a little worse than before.
She shared a quick glance with Torsten of great relief at a moment when Trinia wasn't looking. She was sure that, like her, the dwarf had wanted to spend a little time studying the contents of that book before trying to do anything in it. Yhrrilka had great faith in their ability, but this was a stressful time to rely on beginner's luck. She thought back to the first time she'd done the sacred tattoos by herself. Chief Mahja had just stood back as she worked on Zohruk. When it was finished, the Chief came over to her. Placing her hand on Ril's shoulder, she'd smiled and said, "It's one thing to know you can do it, it's another to do it." Yhrrilka had been so proud.
We did it, she mouths silently to Torsten. Turning back to Trinia, she says, "See, not so bad, right? You did great. I bet you could sit for the lakeside scene the girl is drawing up," Ril smiles. She's glad she sent Sage back to Dawnflower House; no point in getting her mixed up in any of this. "It's not like your mother wouldn't recognize you, but we just needed you different enough to not raise suspicion. Now, the next part," Ril gazes at the door expectantly, "That is up to Macaria…"
Maca can't help but smile when she walsk slowly into the camp. Kids playing around happily, an occasional woman singing while doing her chores, men commenting on who got the best piece during the hunt... All as she remembers, all as if no time has passed.
She's received with cheerful greetings, pats on the back and some wine and bread. She's been a respected member of the group for years, after all, with ties rivalring those of family, and if there's one thing a Varisian knows is how to respect their own family.
After telling some stories about her deeds and listening to the news the Varisians bear, Macaria puts her serious face. "Cosmin, listen... you know I wouldn't ask you if I didn't feel it was truly necessary." Cosmin could be considered Maca's cousin, and cousins have strong ties between Varisians. "There's someone I need out of Korvosa as soon as possible. Can you help with that?"
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Maca comes back a pair of hours later, with good news.
"They'll help."
At Macaria's news, Ril breathes another sigh of relief. "That's great news. I'll have to find some way to thank them.
Now I have just one more thing to do..."
Yhrrilka walks out into the street. Kneeling down, she places her palm against a paving stone, and whispers, "Talk to me, Korvosa..."
Surprisingly, North Bridge appears to be the current safest route out of the city. The demolishing of the Great Tower is unpopular, so the majority of the Gray Maidens are there making sure a protest doesn't turn violent. This means you'll only have to worry about guards at the city gate.
When they arrive at the caravan, Yhrrilka addresses the driver of the lead wagon. "Thank you for your assistance. We will be leaving the city today via the North Bridge, heading southeast. Once we are out of sight of Korvosa, we will cirlce around and head for the town of Harse. Sound good?" She turns to their disguised passenger. "Are you ready, 'Esme'?"
There's only a single guard at North Bridge, but she appears alert and is checking everyone who wants to leave the city.
”They got ye workin’ alone?” Torsten said to the guard. He was wearing a simple outfit, with plain brown pants, a gray shirt-sleeved shirt, and leather boots. The numerous tattoos were plainly visible. ”Me friend and I-“ He motioned at Ril ”-are with them.” he motioned at the caravan. ”There be any thin’ ye’re lookin’ for? We’d like to get on our way, but nay rush. Can see that ye be right busy, workin’ this gate alone.” He finished in a friendly tone.
At Torsten's motion to her, Yhrrilka gives the woman a noncommittal nod, not avoiding her, but not adding anything to the conversation unless the guard addresses her.
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The guard glances at the multiple carts in the caravan, shrugs, and waves you through. There's no blond hair in sight, and your apparent lack of concern is enough for her. Gate duty is rather boring work, and you don't seem suspicious enough to be interesting.
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Caravan is a relatively slow method of travel, and you only make it as far as Trots before needing to stop for the night. As the hours pass by, it becomes clear that you're safe. Nobody's following you or trying to track you down.
Yhrrilka spends a few days working with her new materials, and in turn, finds that in addition to the properties of the inks, she has a newfound ability with her craft. She finds that if she lets her magic flow into her, the inks and needles respond almost more to her will than her hands. It's still a bit of a learning curve, but it helps make a few otherwise messy mistakes come out cleaner than she could've hoped for.
After a few days of this, one morning she turns to Sage. "Get the drawings, it is time." Waiting until a moment when neither of them is working with a customer, Ril pulls a chair up in front of Torsten. "My friend, I need your help. Your professional help. I want to start doing some more tattoos of my Caravan signs. I have decided on the next one I want to put on, the Newlyweds."
She rolls out a sheet of paper onto the table. On it are a man and a woman embracing, tastefully covered by some strategically swirling scarves. You can't get a clear look at either face, but you're reasonably sure they're supposed to be Ril and Zoh. She takes a second sheet and lays it over the first; on this second sheet is the actual star constellation of the Newlyweds.
"The idea is, one layer of the tattoo will be the stars, and a second layer will be the picture, and the inks will shift, so sometimes the stars shine out, sometimes it's the picture." She looks at the picture, her face tightening into a scowl. "I think it's doable, I want your opinion, though. For me, the problem is the location of the tattoo. This will go right down the middle of my back, and even with my newfound skills, I can't really work on myself like that. Sage isn't up to the task. What do you think?"
It was a good thing that Torsten was skilled in his craft, because following their return to the city, he was not focused on the day to day aspect of his work. Whenever possible he left it to Ril to handle the clientele, not caring about what coin he lost out on. Truth be told, they had earned enough gold 'on the side' to last the shop for many a month. What mattered to him was study.
The thing was, the two of them had succeeded in drawing out the magic of someone else! It was a breakthrough, as far as he was concerned. Granted, it wasn't perfect. He had to use his own power to amplify it, and that bothered him. Because there was so much potential in what they had done. Potential for the business. Potential for the craft. Potential for what he could do to himself. For it had given him the idea...what if instead of drawing power from within, his tattoos could draw power from without? From the land itself? If he was right, then he could slow down aging, by taking vitality from the ground one was walking on and the air that one breathed in. The week went by with Torsten spending every spare moment he had making notes, writing plans, scrapping said plans, and starting over again, and again, and again. He was, afterall, an artist, and this was his passion. He knew that it was possible to do this, but given the nature of tattoos, there would only be one shot. So, what he had to do was 'measure ten thousand times, ink once.'
Torsten's preoccupied with planning the tattoo of a lifetime but still manages to serve a few customers and help Ril with her own project. There's still a lot of work to be done with this theoretical anti-aging tattoo, but you're beginning to piece together how it might be accomplished. Ley lines might work with your individual tattoos, but something with a more permanent effect needs a consistent power source. The unicorn tattoo is for a repeat client: one of that Jalento noble's friends. She's just returned from visiting the Lord-Mayor's Menagerie in Magnimar and wanted the creature's likeness as a memento.
Yhrrilka seems to have a bit of a knack for using her new inks. The fire ink is particularly popular amongst teenagers wanting to show how tough they are. Nobody wants a permanent fire tattoo, but temporary ones are somewhat tolerable. Sage asks if she can have a couple days off. One of her friends at the orphanage caught a nasty cold, and she wants to be there for moral support. While her help around the shop will be missed, Mister Quackers can be a bit distracting at times, so the absence will be a good opportunity for you and Torsten to work on your back piece. It's doable but will be very complicated.
Korvosan Information
- Queen Ileosa has appointed a new seneschal: a bloatmage from Kaer Maga named Togomor.
- The Great Tower continues to be dismantled. It turns out that FOUR statues will be constructed with the stone. They'll be erected in Endrin Square, Eodred's Square, Jeggare Circle, and South Shore Square.
- A sinister-looking ship refused inspection as it sailed into the river. When it neared North Bridge and still failed to make its intentions known, the watch fired upon and destroyed it. Rumor says it was full of pirates from Riddleport hoping to sneak into the heart of the city!
Loot
A day after you return from Harse, you receive a bag of gold from Vencarlo. Apparently you overpaid for your fencing lessons. *wink*
When Yhrrilka starts having to deal with the "stupid thrill-seeking kids", (some of whom are her own age, but are nonetheless kids to her), she starts adapting her business practices. One of them punked out on getting the tattoo, then tried to stiff her on the bill. He rapidly learned it's a bad idea to try hiding from a diviner. Since then, any time she thinks it's going to be one of those affairs, she makes it clear that she gets paid up front, no refunds, no backtalk. She also makes them get an actual design, refusing several appeals to just daub some on a hand. "You will respect the art, or get out of my shop," she tells one or two of them, pointing at the door and glowering.
May the gods give me the strength to deal with this, Yhrrilka thinks to herself on more than one occasion. At least Sage is not here to see such awful behavior. That said, she certainly misses the girl, even if her pet can be a little on the loud side at times. Still, she thinks to herself in a moment in between customers, at least with Mister Kryakva away, the place is quiet enough to get a little rest, Ril thinks, as she sits down for a moment. With nothing else to occupy her, her mind begins to wander...
The bag of gold that came in snapped Torsten back to the present. That, and a client who actually had something that was worth tattooing. For the first time a dwarf came into the shop. And not just any dwarf. But a Cleric of Torag! It was easy to tell from the white and purple robes and the prayer book that he carried. He had come asking for a tattoo which would function as a holy symbol. It was to go on his face, so that no matter where he was or what he was doing he would carry an icon of their God on him. The cleric had come prepared, bringing with him expensive inks and a blessed needle to make it. To say that Torsten was flattered was an understatement. He took the dwarf into the back, declared that he would have no visitors or interruptions lest he start breaking bones, and put his heart and soul into the tattoo. When he finished, even he had to say that it was a masterpiece. A work of art that anyone would be proud of. Though his own pride was tempered by the feeling that it was not purely his hand which had made it, but rather the God of craftsmanship had taken a role in it.
When finished he felt that his head was clearer than it had been in days. With a grin on his face he aproached Ril. "Oi! Lass!" He boomed. "Daydreamin, eh? Ye look to be a million miles away!" He said, happily. "What's on yer mind?"
It might strike some people as odd that the roof of a temple would be the most contested spot in the city. But this was the Temple of Abadar, and under this roof were the vaults of the biggest bank in Korvosa. So naturally, there were always people ready to try and break in. Fortunately, there were always people ready to stop them, too.
Tonight, it's the Wolfpack's turn to try. And fail... the young woman thought to herself. She'd arrived before they'd had a chance to breach the building, but now they were spreading out in a circle around her, like their namesakes. Her gray leather armor shone almost white in the moonlight; she hoped it would be enough against their knives and swords. She pushed a strand of blond hair out of her face as she went back-to-back with the other person who'd shown up to stop this.
The Darkwing Dove finally spoke. "C'mon, Blackjack," she said. "Let's get dange-"
Ril almost fell out of her chair as Torsten snapped the young woman back to reality. So he's finally done with his client, she thought, scowling as she came back from her daydream. "What's on my mind, you red-haired ubiytsa, is that you never gave me an answer about helping me with my tattoo of the Newlyweds." She tried (with only middling success) to hide her bruised pride at not getting an answer; she knew Torsten had been very preoccupied with researching some of the theories in the book they'd found, but it stung a bit to be left hanging on an answer like that.
"So, do you think you can do it?"
”Oh! Oh.” Torsten said, his face going from surprise to embarrassment. ”I’m sorry, lass. Me head hasn’t been here. Was so focused on meself that...well, aye. Of course I can help with it. Back tattoos are hard to do on oneself. Would be an honor to help with yers.”
A visible amount of tension drains away from Yhrrilka as Torsten agrees to help. Smiling broadly, she says, "Spasibo za pomoshch, my friend," and exhales a deep breath.
Ril's face goes serious for a moment. "You know, Torsten, this will be the first time I've ever had a tattoo done by someone that wasn't a Burning Sun. Most of what I've got already was done by Chief Mahja. So, you know, no pressure or anything," she finishes with a grin.
"Do you want to start fresh first thing tomorrow, or begin now?"
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"Now." Torsten said. He hung the 'closed' sign up on the shop and got ready, a look of grim determination on his face. He had been honored by a priest of Torag in making a holy symbol, and now he was being honored by working on his sister. He paused. Sister? He didn't know when he had started thinking of her like that. It was almost enough to make him smile. A half-orc from Belkzen, being thought of as family by a dwarf? His father would have eaten his hat if he knew. But it fit. He got to work.
Torsten fell into the zone as he walked, inscribing the ink with practiced ease and sure hands. Once more he moved as with a purpose, surely and confidently making a masterpiece that he would be hard pressed to repeat. It was the type of art that was unique, and once made couldn't be replicated, even by the artist who made it.
For her part, when Yhrrilka first lies down on the bench, she's so tense Torsten might as well be trying to tattoo a boulder. Ril actually flinches the first time Torsten touches her back, which causes her face to go dark green with embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbles, and is glad she doesn't have to look him in the eye at that moment.
Yhrrilka Embersoul, what in the Hells is wrong with you? She chides herself as she takes a deep breath and tries to settle down. You've done this before. Just because he's not Aghash Odreth…
As she was about to finish the thought, it collided with a memory from about five years earlier.
"...don't make him not family."
Ril turned to Zohruk. The two of them had managed to slip away and spend some time up on the rocks at Axe-Face Bluff. Yhrrilka liked to lay out on the rocks up there, "communing with the sun" as she called it. Zohruk liked to go, mostly because it was where Ril was.
"It's 'doesn't'. In Taldan, you'd say 'Just because he's not blood, that doesn't make him not family.'" She frowned, trying to sort that out. Chief Mahja had insisted that the two of them learn Taldan, but she wasn't sure if she had the sentence right, or had merely made it less wrong.
"Yeah, well I don't care," Zoh said. The conversation had drifted to the topic of family, and how both of them considered Haazek to be their cousin, even though neither was related to him by blood, and yet they didn't think of each other as kin.
He picked up a small rock, turning it over in his hands as he spoke. "Family doesn't have to be blood, Ril. I mean, when my folks died, Nosk and Szula took me in, and you better believe they're family to me. Same with Haazek." Ril got herself up onto her elbows from the lying down position she'd been in , thinking about it.
"Same with me," Ril replied. When she saw Zoh's alarmed look, she rolled her eyes and said, "Same with me and Haazek, you bolvan!"
Ril forced herself back into the present; the rest of that memory was not something for this moment. As she lay there, she noted Torsten's masterful technique with the needle. She found she was relaxed now, as if Chief Mahja herself was doing the work.
I am Yhrrilka Embersoul, she thought to herself. At the command of my goddess, I have stayed fierce and true. At the command of my chief, I have left my family in Belkzen. Despite pain and loss, I have found family in Korvosa, and through it all…
"...I am the scars that shape me," she whispers to herself, a small smile on her face.
*=*=*=*=*
When it's done, she looks in the mirror. Yhrrilka watches her new tattoo first appear as the twinkling lights of the stars and the line art of the constellation, then it shifts to the embracing couple. Despite the pain that goes all the way down her back, she's exhilarated to see the results of their efforts.
Finally looking away from the tattoo, Ril beams a smile at Torsten. "Spasibo," she says as she tucks in her shirt. Looking out the window, she then notes, "Damn,we were at that quite a while, nyet? Dinner on me, what do you say? Some place that serves seafood; I'm dying to finally try reefclaw. Oh, and remind me to bring back some bread for Mister Kryakva. Even if Sage isn't back tomorrow, I'll walk it over there."
"Aye. Dinner it is." Torsten said, pleased with the result and pleased that she appreciate dit. "Never had reefclaw, meself. Let's give it a try." As the two of them left the shop and began walking through the tumultuous streets of Korvosa, he asked "So, what were ye daydreamin' about back there?"
"So, what were ye daydreamin' about back there?"
Ril lets out a small gasp, and this time when she blushes it's there for Torsten and anyone else on the street to see. Clearly mortified, she stammers, "I - uh, I mean it's - you were supposed to forget about that while you were working on my back!" She keeps walking, her face clearly conflicted over saying any more. "I don't… it's…" She breathes deeply and starts over. "I'll tell you, but you will. Not. Flip out on me, okay? Because it's just daydreaming; I wouldn't do anything crazy." She pauses, then adds, "Not too crazy." Another pause. "Okay fine, at least not that crazy." After another deep breath, Yhrrilka continues in a low voice, very embarrassed. "I was dreaming about being someone. You know, someone like Blackjack. I call her the Darkwing Dove." She grimaces, her embarrassment over admitting this out loud matched only by her fear that Torsten's going to blow up over this after what happened the day of the Queen's failed execution of Trinia.
"Hmm." Torsten said. He really didn't understand the appeal of being a masked hero. It sounded very human to him. Flights of pointless fancy and romanticizing. His own people had descriptive names. He was of Clan Runeforger, because his Clan forged runes. It was a mark of pride shared by all within it to show off their craftsmanship. If a dwarf did something of great significance, he could earn his own description. It was how Clan names happened, after-all. But to make up a name to hide your identity? To do so with a costume to hide one's identity, while at the same time increasing one's fame? That was so very, very human. It reminded him of that crazy wizard. "Super Man" he called himself. All because he knew some spells that let him fly, increase his strength, and shoot lasers out of his eyes. The idiot even wore underwear outside of his pants as part of his costume. Ridiculous. Especially as the fool didn't even wear a mask and thought that his colorful getup would protect his identity. To think that some humans looked up to him made it all the worse. He decided that the name and costume was just something in her blood and there was no point passing judgement on it, even if it wasn't something that he'd ever do. Not without a copious amount of alcohol and lots of gold on the line, at least.
After thinking about it he said "There's nothing wrong with doin' the right thing. Problem is, what is right? I'm of a mind to think that what separates civilization from barbarism is laws. Laws that everyone agrees upon and which bind everyone. It's when we give up the right to use violence, so that we don't have to use violence, that there be civilization. Blackjack? He worries me. Because he represents a breakdown of that agreement. Of the failure of civilization, where the people nay longer trust the government to have a monopoly on violence. Is he right? I don't know. But if he is right, then it is bad news for the city and everyone in it, because it means that civilization has failed. That...that make sense?" He finished, wondering if his train of thought was logical.
Yhrrilka listened as Torsten explained his view of the matter. She understood where he was coming from, and yet felt there was more to it than that.
"Torsten, I've lived both ways, and I'm not sure that civilized society is any better or any worse than 'barbarism'. It works great, right up until it doesn't. Hell, we've both seen laws fail, not just us, but people like poor 'Esme'."
They walk a little while longer, then she speaks again. "Did you know - No, you wouldn't, I doubt Zohruk said anything to you - when you finally told us Gadren Lamm was trying to shake you down, and we said we'd help, Zoh and I actually went to the Guard?" Her voice only choked up once in recalling the incident. Not bad, Ril, she thinks to herself. "Zoh, he uh, he had his doubts. But I made him go. I tried to have hope, maybe they could do something." She shakes her head, grimacing bitterly. "Useless. The man we talked to was either too lazy, too scared, or too crooked. The whole time we tried to get him to help, I could feel his eyes on me, Torsten. I swear, it was like he wanted an excuse to get rid of Zoh so he could take me somewhere and have his neryashlivyy way with me." She turns her head and spits, trying to dispel the image from her mind.
"Laws are good, and if they serve good, the good of the people, then that's great. If they don't, well, you get Blackjack. Maybe you're right; Blackjack may be a sign that something is wrong, or broken in Korvosa. But if it is, I will strongly disagree if you say he's the cause of it. If anything, he is a response to it."
Yhrrilka smiles at her friend. "But don't worry, Torsten. As long as he's around, the Darkwing Dove will only have adventures up here," she taps the back of her head, not too far from her Sun Mark tattoo. "I.. I am not clever enough to do that sort of thing without the sort of, what do you call it, the sort of 'cover' that Marshal Kroft was able to give us, you know? Sooner or later, I'd set half of Korvosa on fire. Prooooobably by accident." She grins mischievously at that last bit.
Torsten listened, the humor washing over him. Yhrrilka had raised some good points. At length he said "Something is wrong with this city." A serious look was on his face. "Can feel it, aye? That this isn't goin' to get better? Me pa told me, that when workin' mines, ye take a canary down with ye. If it dies, then it means that the air is bad down there and it's time to get out. Been thinkin'...Blackjack comin' out? He may well be the canary. Thing is, this be me home, aye? So even if logic says that its time to get out, I can't do that." With a shake of his head he said "But let's focus on the reefclaw tonight. Tomorrow's problems belong to tomorrow."
"It's my home too, Torsten," Yhrrilka replies. "But I can't allow myself to believe that it won't get better. I can't believe there's no hope, okay? I know you think them foolish, Torsten, but stories like those of Blackjack, I feel like they give people hope. Hope can come from many places. It can come from an okay-looking-for-a-roshka man who drinks the Elixir of Acavna. It can come from a woman who comes home and decides to open an orphanage. And it can come from a pair of artists who are too stubborn to let a fire destroy them," she turns again to Torsten, smiling at him. "But you're right, our worries will keep until tomorrow." She faces forward again, with a slight spring in her step. After a moment, she sings softly to herself, a few lines from a song she heard in a tavern once.
"If the future's looking dark, we're the ones that have to shine.
If there's no one in control, we're the ones who draw the line.
Though we live in trying times, we're the ones who have to try.
And though we know that time has wings, we're the ones who have to fly…"
Sage still hasn't returned to the shop. Word comes from the Dawnflower House that she caught her friend's sickness, and it's since spread among the orphans. Pretty much all of them are ill now, and the symptoms seem to be getting worse. You've been noticing an increasing number of Korvosa's citizens have seemed unwell, to be honest, but you've been too busy working on Yhrrilka's back piece to pay much attention.
Crushed by the news of sickness running through the orphanage, Yhrrilka sulks around for a while. Eventually, screwing up her courage, she says, "I'd like to go the orphanage, see if there's anything I can do to help."
"Can't think of anythin' I could do besides can't the plague as well. But..." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It's important to her. Should at least show me face to give some moral support. I'll go with ye."
Ril seems relieved. "Thanks. We should see if Macaria is free; maybe she can help as well."
After a brief detour to find Macaria, they head for Dawnflower House.
Macaria's spent the last couple weeks putting the finishing touches on Korvosa's newest orphanage. When you visit, you find it full of children. Many are sick, and the vast majority of Macaria's time and resources are occupied in curing them. If there's something serious, she'll help if she's able, but her priority are the orphans under her own care.
The Dawnflower House is facing a similar situation - except the staff's ability to magically cure illness is very limited. They're only able to assist a bare handful of children each day, so by the time they've seen everyone, somebody's been re-exposed, and the cycle begins anew.