"What other addresses did you deliver to?" Valtyra asks with a tone of alarm slipping into her voice.
Telias spends a moment to think for a second rubbing his bare chin thoughtfully as he considered his options.
Sighing before lolling hid head to stare at Valtyra, "It's on the map beautiful. Marked with a three."
Imron Gauthfallow is an older human who was an up an coming name about a year ago, known for his paintings of other worlds and fantastical creatures.
Cairm Hald is a half orc known for their paintings of impressively lifelike portraits.
Rucne Draako a who is fairly new to the area and making a name for herself in violins and their fantastical appearance.
Gabrielle nods.
At least we got somethin' to go on now.
"Assuming Darius isn't lying that leaves us imron Gauthfallow and Cairm Hald. Not exactly renowned mages but artists that might have some sort of connected motive. Their is a potion shop on that street and a lovely woman with very delicated and skilled hands for rafting violens."
The paladin shifts on their feet, which makes Darius move with them due to the manacles. Still staring down the road they say, "If you have any more questions ask them. If not Im putting this idiot in a cell."
"In light of not much evidence shall we talk to the miss of the house and see if she has a connection with one of our aforementioned fellows? Otherwise wlwe can simply do this the acholastic way and start harassing them in alphabetical order."
Before he is taken away, Gabrielle will lean down to Darius.
Know that this was your scales balancing out. Unfortunately, you caught many people in the collateral. You must strive to do better, lest you again tip the scales to this point again.
There are many faces peaking out of windows from the houses along Burgundy Wine Terrace. Across the street there is a man standing in the doorway watching you all. And there are two people watching you from the first level of Eleazonna Gertwright's home.
Darius leans away from Gabrielle and frowns, "I think about it."
The gnome gives a sharp pull on the manacles. Not looking back at all of you but still clearly speaking to you, "Best of luck. You can contact me though the Vault, do so if you figure all of this out or if you think you are unable to. I will not be available to you tonight though."
Seeing as no one was around to stop him Telias did as Telias does and simply knocked on the door of the house heedless of the violence, floating portraits and men being dragged off in chains.
The faces vanish from the windows and the curtains are pulled close when Telias turns towards the house. A older woman in a sleeping robe with a jacket over that opens the door a few inches. Meeting his gaze with a tired look in her eyes, "This is the Gertwright Manor and Sir it is rather late. I do not know what sort of mischief you and the Vault are into but bothering old women in the night is quiet rude."
Looking past Telias, "The guarden is going to be livid when he gets here in the mornin."
"My apologies lady for the late night visit without even the barest courtesy of wine and song but I must tell you that we've managed to avert a great tragedy today. That is the event of your own murder. Thankfully the weapon has been disabled for the moment and the poor fool sent to deliver it has been apprehended for questioning." Telias says gesturing back towards the group and floating painting.
"Howerv I'm afraid the mastermind of this dastardly plot remains at large and while we have some hints as to our suspect it would help us greatly if we may speak with you for hut a moment as to acquire as to why someone would want to see you, Asheron and Belfor quite decidedly expired."
Valtyra steps up behind Telias, nodding along as he relates the most recent events, lending credibility to his tale.
The woman in the doorway sucks in a sharp breath and you can hear another voice behind her, ” Asheron and Belfor... expired?”
Another hand opens the door. An older human woman, dressed similarly to the first, now holds the door wide open. ”I haven’t spoken to them in sometime. And I.. we are all art critics. That might make the foolish seek to do us harm.”
Fidgeting with her jacket sleeves, ”Love will you put a kettle on?” She is glared at but first woman walks into the house.
”If you want to talk come in. There is enough gossip to be had with you fighting on my lawn. I am Eleazonna Gertwright.” She stands with the door held open and an arm extended inwards.
"Thank you, Madam Gertwright, we're truly sorry for the hour." Valtyra says as she enters.
"Uh, y'all want me to just stay out here or set this on fire or...?" the floating painting calls out as the group heads inside.
"Oh just bring it inside and stuff it into a bag or something." Telias remarks absently to the invisible floating painting and stepping inside.
Madam Gertwright waves a hand dismissively, "Apparently you lot saved me from being murdered. A late hour can be dealt with."
She is walking to the left, away from the noise and murmuring you can hear to the right. A large and clearly well lived in sitting room. Dark green couches, pale wooden floors, and bookshelves filled with little trinkets collected in a long life. The focal point of the room is a massive marble fireplace and Madam Gertwright sits on the wooden bench infront of the hearth.
Gesturing for you all to take a seat, "If you wouldn't mind I would like an explanation. And why my life and apparently Asheron and Belfor are in danger? I assume you have already stopped the threats to the two of them."
Valtyra's expression becomes one of sorrow as she thinks of the events that started the night, finally having time to focus on the loss of her friend. "We were able to stop the attack on Belfor, just as we dis the one planned for you, but...the night started with... discovering Asheron's body. The things conjured up by the painting he was delivered...it was brutal."
The painting floats to the door seemingly, then taking some time to reorient so it doesn’t actually hit anything before coming into the sitting room where it is gently placed in an unused corner. ”Wonder if we can just toss it in a fireplace?” Sithe asks as she’s heard walking over to a chair, following by the slight creaking and impression being made on the cushion as she takes a seat.
Nodding, "I had.." Tears start to roll down her cheeks and steal her voice. A kettle begins to whistle in another room.
Covering her face with both hands before pulling a handkerchief out of the pocket of her jacket. Wiping away the tears and rather quickly composing herself. Staring at the wrapped painting hovering over her couch, "I suppose I don't get to know what that is? And I assume the sender is unknown?" And you are sure it was me?
"Oh it's a magical painting that would erupt with some horrific creature that would tear you limb from limb and ruin the parlor if it were revealed. Quite harmless so long as the paper remains which is why we will NOT be throwing it into the fire here. The deliverer was caught on your doorstep about to gift you with what would have been a fairly good depiction if the original we found was any indicator. For roughly a moment I imagine. As to who sent it that's what we're trying to figure out. The hapless delivery man had a list and had the forethought to consider who is mysterious patron was. Have you angered anyone on Sandalwood Ln. madame?"
Madam Gertwright stares at Telias with a horrified expression. There is the sound of porcelain rattling. Behind you is other elderly woman, holding a tray with cups and a kettle. She looks pale and moves quickly to set down the tray before sitting next to Eleazonna and holds her hands.
Eleazonna takes a steadying breath, "It's possible. If three of these paintings were sent out it could be any number of people. The three of us are.. were well known art critics. If they went after the three of us then its likely the offence is an old one."
Telias considers his list of names for moment as silence fell upon the room once more. As things started to click into place je shrugeed and asked.
"Does the name Imron Gauthfellow hold any meaning to you? Overly critical or perhaps wronged him in some way? I don't need to tell you it is our intention to make sure this would be assassin ends his carnage tonight. So honesty in this case could quite literally save yourself and others."
Sighing and rubbing her partners hand, "I have been an art critic for years, its my job to wrong people. But I remember Mister Gauthfellow. A he was a charlatan who used shock value as a crutch. He leaned on magic to enhance fantastical subject matter."
Pausing a moment, clearly lost in thought, "I haven't seen his work featured anywhere this year. He forced his way into the spotlight a few years ago. And now lots of young artists think they can make their way to fame by painting what they think other worlds are like and by tying to add lit of magic to their art. And it all is just lacking."
"Clearly his failure to turn that fleeting fame into real acclaim and prestige has led him to bitterly lash out at those he thinks have wronged him." Valtyra says somberly.
Both women nod. Gertwright sighs tiredly, "I don't know but its possible. If he was able to set up this evenings trio of murders then you should be careful. I'm just glad to be alive."
Getting up Telias politely bows and makes gestures towards the door. "Then I suppose we'll have to pay the chap a visit! Maybe his absence is simply a matter of working on a piece to put his critics to rest. Or maybe it's in a far more sinister sense. Either way I'm quite curious. I do thank you for your time madame. Good evening."
"We're happy that we were able to help keep you that way...and we're very sorry for your loss." Valtyra says, taking a moment to clasp each woman's hand in consolation before preparing to leave.
Both women nod and rise together. "Thank you."
Madam Gertwright opens the door. The lamp light makes the drying blood hard to spot from here but she seems focused on it.
While her partner is lost in thought the other woman speaks up, "If you don't mind I would like to know who tried do this. I want to see them swing and piss on their grave."
Sighing, "Lizzy you aren't pissing on any graves."
Pushing her inside and stopping in the open door, "I would like to know who wanted me dead though."
"I promise you, I'll personally let you know as soon as we do for sure." Valtyra replies, a hint of a smile rising from the banter between the couple.
Nodding and then shutting the door. The night air is pleasant and there don't seem to be any more people looking through windows anymore.
"So anyone have a preference of where to check out next, or would you all rather call it a night and resume this in the morning now that no one seems in immediate danger?" Valtyra asks the others.
”I’m a night owl, I can keep going and going. Till that hateful searing abomination rises anyway.” the unseen Duergar responds.
Last night was a lot. Asheron Coyl is dead. Belfor Vittanis and Eleazonna Gertwright were saved from the same fate. And the Gentleman, Darius Finch, isn;t going to be getting to his normal mischief since he spent the night behind bars.
Gauthfallow Manor stands out from a lot of the other homes. Instead of fences there is a 10ft tall stone wall topped with spikes. A massive black iron gate is the only break in the wall. A plaque near the front gate reads "Imron Gauthfollow, Retired."
Beyond the gate is the manor, though it looks more like a small keep amid the artisans and merchants of the Ivy District. Sturdy masonry rises to crenellations and merlons surrounding a flat roof. Unlike the walls surrounding the manor there are no creeping vines only pristine grass.
[ooc]Perception checks
As they stand outside, Valtyra's keen eye takes in the impressive, albeit intimidating sight of the Manor and it's grounds.
Glinting upnearth the vines there is plaque saying "Beware of dog." You don't hear any noise to indicate a dog. The dark road is quiet and there are no lights on in the Gauthfallow Manor or in any of the nearby houses.
perception.
Resuming her state of non-existence Sithe tags along to the newest manor. "So we hop over or do we check for secret entrances and stuff?"
Just on the other side of the gate is a stone path with an chest high iron fence flanking the path. Covered in sweet smelling jasmin and roses. and there is a small iron box with a little plaque that says "Checked Daily" All in all not a very welcoming site.
Noting the little iron box, and more than a little concerned by the silence, given the dog warning, Valtyra goes over to check if the box had recently been checked for any contents.
The box is empty, not letters or notes to be found.
"Quite a nice place if I say so myself. Could use a lot more lighting but who am I to judge the tastes of another bachelor." Without further warning Telias hammers on the door. "Mr. Gurthfallow! Mr. Guethfallow! My name is Professor Markan of the Absalom Univeristy! I apologize for the late calling but the matter could not wait! It seems your work has produced an incredible effect on the art world and I wished to pass on some good news!"
Oh the way it was worded i assumed we were pat itm Im just yelling obnoxiously then.
[Though Telias is loud there is no seeming responce. No lights and no barking. out of respect for the audacity to holler late at night the wind is still.
"I suppose we should see if we can find our own way in...to make sure all si safe, of course." Valtyra suggests.
Nodding even though she was invisible, something she found she did all the time no matter how much she tried to break the habit, Sithe wandered off to see about less intrusive ways everyone could get in, they weren't all Duergars after all.
Unfortunately she has trouble remembering where her own hands and feet are half the time.
Invisible enough you might not know where you are at times. But Sithe opts for a quieter approach to yelling though the fence, which considering the house is not getting any attention. The gate has a lock that can be picked and the stone wall can be scaled if you are carful og the spikes at the top.
Eventually the group will hear a familiar crass voice call out to them, from right beside them. "Right, I got nothing, either someone picks the lock or y'all shimmy your fine well toned bottoms over the fence... mind the pokey bits at the top."