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It is a good view.
Alone at the top, an aged tengu with grey plumage and a "beard" of stringy... feathers... scratches his chin (the space just below his beak), blinking his eyes slowly and poised in a meditative criss-cross of legs, perched atop a branch that overhangs a nearby... salon?...
Several people mill about below - adventurously dressed types - looking as lost as our hermetic hero feels, having surely forgotten how he got here: First to this country, second to this city, third to this specific locale. At least, in the conventional way of thinking about travel, direction, and destination.
Indeed, the Geometric Map assembled with a Piecemail-Protractor and Cobbled-Compass had, according to his Mystic Calculations, had brought him to exactly this Point in Space, and unlike a fool, he had double and treble -checked his work, confident in his facility with the nuances of theoretical-to-practical application. For, although he had no intentions of publishing, Old Crow at Mountain's Top had contributed greatly to the scientific art, even if only he had ever shared the fruits of his labor with himself - some hapless hope that his own mortality would be less-longer-lived than the gifts he had decided to, well, (there is no other way to say it!), 'come down the mountain' to give to the world.
After some extended refinement of course. I mean... a salon?... for the first time in his long life, a tinge of doubt rears!
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Hoping not to attract any negative attention, a halfling woman shuffles down the streets looking for a salon.
"It's great to finally have an assignment, but why Galt of all places?"
Although Aroha is normally glad to meet people, the nation of Galt leaves her somewhat nervous. Having grown up in Andoran, she knows all too well the cautionary tales of the revolutionary nation. Looking around, she spots what looks to be the salon and makes her way to just outside the entrance.
"Right, this must be the spot." She looks around, "There should be others around here, right? Maybe they're inside already?"
Further searching the street, Aroha turns her head to the sky, hazeled jade eyes landing on an aged Tengu sitting atop a branch overhead. He seems to be caught up in deep thought.
"Surely, he must be one of them," Aroha muses. With a moment's hesitation, Aroha sets aside her mistrust and waves her hand to the sky, calling for the Tengu,
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The paralysis of years of solitude inuring his inattention to the spoken word, Old Crow at Mountain's Top progresses rapidly through three rough stages of reactivity:
The first, in hearing only the animal sounds projected from one embodied being to another - reducing the phrase "Hello There" to little more than a barking vocalization aimed in his general direction. The second, turning his head 180 degrees naturally backwards to observe towards the vicinity on his alterior side, presuming possibly that said bark was intended to frighten a creature behind him. The third, more complex, and equally layered reaction, unfolding as first the realization that having a body means others being able to see, and therefore address, one's subject, with equal freedom as one's imagination, deprived of social interaction for decades, would have the free reign in it's own pursuits - the second that another such person (as other embodied minds are called) might have purpose as to make intentional contact, and that such contact may actually be directed at him - the third that the very words used ("Hello There") are sounds that can be represented by their written counterparts in the common language (a not insubstantial number of books being written in this language) as a way to communicate a simple, non-binding salutation. That. The creature directly below may simply be making an open and warm (and safe!) gesture of particular social custom!
Indeed.
And so, though to onlookers, the sequence of reactions telegraphs as an awkward pause, a turning of head and back, a sideways tilt and look of puzzlement, finally, with some decided resolve, an open spread of wings - and separating of hand-feathers - mimicking with similar equipment the gestural reply - our hermetic hero manages to choke out, in a voice that hasn't been projected beyond mere inches in what seems like an age - responds with it's mirrored "Hello There!" - and - - jumps down from the treebranch, and stands before the strange creature, a curious expression on his old face, wondering what could possibly happen next!
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A woman of medium height with olive skin approaches the group.
"Well met, " she hails them, her voice slightly musical (). "I was told to meet some people here. I'm assuming you are they? Shanti is my name. I am a doctor by trade but I have been known to take on various assignments."
Shanti's dress is relatively loose-fitting and she doesn't seem to be carrying much, though it's easy to see that she moves gracefully, as if her movements flow.
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A hooded Varisian man moves through the alleys. A smile crosses his face as he spots a few potential marks caught up in a discussion and clearly distracted. He moves closer, when he happens to look up--locking eyes with a tengu.
Caught.
He pulls back his hood, revealing a series of blue-tinted tattoos on his face and neck before flashing a smile to the feathered man a smile. He then approaches the others to make a formal introduction, as if it had been his intention all along.
"Greetings," he says with a bow, offering a hand to both Aroha and Shanti. "The name is Costolian Milotti and I am an acquisition specialist."
With not the least bit of apology in his voice, he adds, "Sorry, gents. I'd extend a handshake, but I have only the two hands on--well--hand. And each has already offered to this fine pair of ladies."
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Locking eyes with the varisian hood - and knowing not the gravity of the social moment, merely that of the post-ceding jump - Old Crow at Mountain's Top lands squarely in front of the now-four other human(iod)s, squatly and with a stance that more-than-firmly roots him to the ground.
Indeed, despite his age and light-boned physiology, the tengu seems rather well-built, lacking not in any physical characteristic, at once strong and spry and sturdy. Reluctant to speak, instead our hermetic hero merely stares with some intensity in the order of which these strange personalities arrived below the treeperch - first at Aroha who had kindly greeted him, then at Shanti having no useful answer to her question, next at Maximas having successfully answered his question with an acrobatic maneuver, finally at Costolian while trying to parce what was meant by a "handshake" (perhaps some performance of unknown origin?).
he parrots with a low squaky voice, this time a little louder, the intonation as similar to that which he has already observed, and having forgotten either his name or the custom of announcing it - and probably both - stands around some more, waiting for the next thing to happen!
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Although she is caught somewhat off guard from the Tengu jumping down and the sudden arrival of three new companions, Aroha gives a broad smile and cups Costolian's outstretched hand, giving it a modest yet firm shake.
"Greetings to you too. I'm Aroha." With that, she releases her grip on Costolian and turns so that she is facing both he and Shanti. "Before joining the society, I was a guard back in Andoran. Now, I'm trying to help around." Suddenly remembering the other two, Aroha quickly pivots, shifting to Old Crow at Mountain's Top and Maximus, still smiling but somewhat inquisitive.
"Are you two with us as well? I don't believe I got your names."
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A man with jet black hair wearing an all-black robe approaches the other as they make a little chat. Maybe he can stay here for a while after fighting some nasty flaming creatures and mosquitoes somewhere.
”Severus. Would you mind me joining you. I am looking for something to do for some gold pieces. Or maybe you can point me somewhere to get such gold pieces,” he asks them.
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You each find yourselves in Isarn, the capital of Galt, outside an inn that caters to travelers. A sign outside originally read “Travelers, Travelers!” but somebody painted “BEWARE” in red, changing the message to “Travelers, Beware: Travelers!” A young halfling, stands by the entrance, desperately trying to hand some sort of envelope to people entering or exiting the inn. He quickly spots your group an begins flagging you down.
“You, there! A minute of your time? I can pay—I need your help. Rather, my uncle does. I’m Shance Hattenpock, and my uncle Trinsky is a talented sculptor. Unfortunately, he has fallen victim to the endless political scheming that plagues Galt. Someone framed him for art forgery, casting him into disgrace, no doubt to advance their own station. There’s a salon tonight, at an art gallery of sorts. Many artists will be there, trying to impress Asrennia Vaville, the hostess. I’m certain one of them framed my uncle, but I’ve been uninvited. Will you attend the salon and help expose the truth to restore my uncle’s name?”
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"You had me at 'pay', Sir," Costolian. "And, I agree that framing someone is an egregious crime! One should not be held accountable for the infractions other than those that they've actually committed--and, I would hope, not even then!"
"I assume there will be some fine food and plenty of rich folk sporting their valuables at this salon, then? If so, then I will see to it that your wishes are attended to with relish," assures the rogue.
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"What is your uncle accused of doing?"
"My uncle is a bit of a reclusive artist and Asrennia Vaville is a wealthy, influential bureaucrat in Isarn, Galt’s capital, who fancies herself as an art critic. Well, she decreed that my Uncle was a fraud and, by extension, casting him into disgrace and poverty. He hasn’t ventured out in public for weeks now."
"Sure, I will attend. What would you want us to do? I mean, how would we help you to expose what is true?"
Shance hands Severus an envelope containing an invitation to the salon, which starts in less than an hour. It includes directions to Asrennia Vaville’s gallery, a short distance from the inn. "You shouldn't have much of a problem fitting in. Asrennia Vaville is part of a group of wealthy bureaucrats who believe that having guests from a variety of professions and backgrounds is a sign of the host’s sophistication. Please learn who is conspiring against my Uncle and try to clear his name. Play the part of socialites and artists asking around about the scandal."
"I assume there will be some fine food and plenty of rich folk sporting their valuables at this salon, then?
"There should be plenty of food and drink. No shortage when it comes to events such as these."
Severus Snape knows that the bored socialites who typically attend these events need little goading to start spilling what they know, but they’re experts at gossiping without specifically calling someone out. Furthermore, it’s a well-known secret that Asrennia Vaville has terrible taste in art, but no one dares tell her, given her influence.
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"Oh," Aroha exclaims, taken aback by the sudden appearance of another companion and the young halfling, "Of course I'll help as well. I've a little training in dealing with civil cases, so I should be able to help clear his name after some investigation."
"His uncle needs help and all you two can think of is the payment?"
Aroha nods in agreement, "Shanti 's right, if his uncle has been wrongly accused, it's only right that we help out." She rustles through her pockets, which are audibly light, "Payments good and well, but helping out should be our first priority."
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The estate that Asrennia Vaville has converted from asylum to art gallery is only a 15-minute walk from the inn where you met Shance. The bleak building with barred windows stands in stark contrast to the ostentatious outfits of the several dozen guests making their way into the venue.
Asrennia Vaville herself stands at the entrance. With a simple smile or disappointed frown, she indicates who is welcome and who must go, and no one seems willing to defy or question her decisions.
As you approach she smiles and holds her hand out to gather your invitations. “Newcomers are always welcome at the gallery of Asrennia Vaville. Please, come in, and enjoy the displays. The theme of the night is one of contrast between civilization and nature—you simply must tell me what you think. Enjoy your evening.”
Inside dozens of socialites mill about nearby as they move from exhibit to exhibit in each of the wings.
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Still getting used to the spoken word - having only conversed with himself for such a long time! - Old Crow's neck wheels back and forth at the exchanges of conversation from his more socially inclined... companions... as indeed, the overcrowding leads him to feel as if back in a crowded nest surrounded by a large shell - too hot, too wet, too cramped!
However, not unlike the rogue or wizard, but quite unlike the monk and champion, it is the prospect of payment that keeps his attentions engaged - the immediate departure, too, across town clearing his temporary social claustrophobia completely, he follows along somewhat middling the pack, clanging his jangily staff against the ground to punctuate his walk.
Feeling the cool air with his feathers, our hermetic hero does some Mental Calculations to ensure that he is still within the Domain of his previous Geometries, and upon arrival, nearly hopes the host would frown upon seeing him, finding a strange creeping fear about yet entering an even more crowded venue.
Crossing his th finger for luck, he holds his breath as he enters - following right behind Maximas and staying close!
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Severus raises an eyebrow when Maximas draws his adze. "Uhmm, we are here to socialize, not to fight. Keep it low for now." He then follows them at the nearest gallery as they enter the place.
Severus begins to scan the area that is filled with sundry people and different paitings. "Maybe we can check the paintings here and the names of the artists, perhaps?"
"Or maybe others can interact with people here. Sure, others love to gossip, maybe we can find clues from them."
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A collection of paintings depicts a variety of forest scenes, most of which include animals or game trails. An older beaurocrat human male stands here looking over the paintings. He seems to be reminiscing. "Oh, I miss the days of hunting on my parent's land. Hunted down three bears, two antelope, and five mountain goats. Always meant to bag that lion."
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Severus approaches the man and gives him a bow. "Good day, sir. Such a nice gathering we have here, isn't it? I am new here, and I have not known much the host. But she is very welcoming, I may say, specially for new visitors like me. Severus, by the way." he says and offers a hand for a handshake. He also looks at the paintings the man is looking. "Ah, good memories are excellent to recall at this place. You seem to be well-built when you were younger, hearing you hunted down three bears, did you say? That's impressive." Severus tries his best to connect with the man. "If you don't mind me asking, good sir, who is this host? Has she been holding this exhibit many times?"
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"Three", "Two", "Five"...
Old Crow scrawls out some runes in the air, trying to make sense of the man's story in the Grand Scope of All Things Inscribed within the Fabric of Reality!
...sequential operative axiomata... 3+2+5=10... 3-2-5=-4... 3x2x5=30... (3)/(2)/(5)=0.3...
Then he speaks! "Ten more beasts shall you slay, but four so-chased shall elude your menace, this all in the next thirty years, with a thirty percent chance of dying by the claws of the lion you seek..."
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The man shifts his wine glass to his other hand as he reaches out to shake Severus' hand. "Apexi Fulminoir." He nods at the hunts. "Used to be impressive. Was quite formidable in my younger years. Not so much anymore I'm afraid." He looks to the entrance. "Ah yes, I see you met the host Asrennia. She holds these about once or twice a year."
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While the others are speaking with Apexi Fulminoir in the Painting Gallery Shanti breaks off and heads off to the Herbalism Exhibit to see what is going on over there. Rotating around and around a vocal, self-absorbed man seems to be dramatically starting and stopping a carousel. "These sketches are supposed to be conveying scientific knowledge. They lack accuracy!"
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Shanti heads to the Herbalism exhibit [...]
Seeing Shanti split off from the rest, Aroha realizes that it might be best to head to another room as well.
"Well, this is a social gathering, so there shouldn't be any worry of getting into a fight. Shanti should be able to handle her own, so I'll go over to that room and see if I can find anyone willing to talk."
With that, Aroha heads toward the Sculpture Gallery, confident that her companions will be able to uncover anything pertinent in the other rooms.
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The eccentric man swivels around "Ah, you mean these new Baltaram sketches?" He flips through the portfolio.
★ -- ★ -- ★ -- ★
Aroha branches off from the rest of the group and heads off towards the Sculpture exhibit. This garden of sculptures is made up entirely of
animals wearing current fashion trends from various regions around the Inner Sea.
Two sisters wearing matching large wigs discuss the sculptures in hushed tones. "What nation do you think this is from?"
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Upon overhearing the sisters, Aroha takes a closer look at the statues. Checking them up and down, she hopes to recall as much as she can about any creatures she recognizes in the hopes that such knowledge might help begin a rapport with these wig-wearing whisper sisters.
"Hmm... I wonder if I've learned of these anywhere before."
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Realizing that the two ladies have left him, Costolian wonders around. He soon spots Aroha in the Sculpture Gallery.
"Looks like, of our party, it is only you and me," he says to the woman. He again offers a hand to her.
As he does so, he considers the sculpture, its likely make, and those places where he thinks he could fence such statues.
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Costolian and Ahora listen to the two sisters as they take note of the sculpture. "This is one of Baltaram’s works, titled “Magnimar Bushytail,”
You realize that there are no squirrels of this type anywhere near Magnimar.
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At Costolian's offer, Aroha gives a whispering giggle and places her fingertips onto his hand, "Really, there's no need to be such a gentleman in the middle of our research." With that, she pushes his hand back to himself softly and lets go, redirecting her attention back to the statues.
"A most interesting specimen, so life-like," Costolian notes. "Perhaps, too much so."
Although she doesn't recognize the particular breed of squirrel, Aroha can't help but agree with Costolian. "Indeed," she remarks. "Very life-like indeed. You could say that the rendition is almost of a magical nature."
Aroha then approaches the sisters, finally striking a conversation, "Hello ladies," she begins. "You two seem well informed, and I must say your fashion is wonderfully complementary. I don't suppose you could teach me more about Baltaram? I'm woefully uninformed in the arts, you see."
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The Darrageau sisters flush at the mention of Baltaram. They whisper intently to one another and move off through the gallery, rapidly drawing the attention of others who want in on the gossip.
The only exhibit not yet visited has been the Mechanical exhibit as the group begins to circle around the guests and galleries.
In this exhibit, a series of clockwork devices represent numerous elements of nature, such as the cycles of the sun and moon and the movements of other heavenly bodies.
A small female gnome who wears work clothes as loudly colored as her hair, takes notes on everything she sees in the mechanical exhibit while trying to keep out of the way of the rich socialites and bureaucrats surrounding her.
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The Darrageau sisters flush at the mention of Baltaram. They whisper intently to one another and move off through the gallery, rapidly drawing the attention of others who want in on the gossip.
The only exhibit not yet visited has been the Mechanical exhibit [...]
Believing it to be fruitless to further pursue information from the sisters, Aroha turns to Costolian. "You can try your luck with these laides, but I don't think I'll be able to get much more out of them." Aroha then makes her way down the hall to the Mechanical exhibit. "Unfortunate," she thinks. "Gossips can make good informants, but it seems those two are only interested in keeping an audience."
A small female gnome who wears work clothes as loudly colored as her hair, takes notes on everything she sees in the mechanical exhibit while trying to keep out of the way of the rich socialites and bureaucrats surrounding her.
Upon seeing the wary gnome, Aroha advances casually toward her, hoping not to spook her. Once she is near her, Aroha gives a light smile and a short wave, speaking, "Hello there, friend! Pardon my interruption, but you seem ever so studious. Could you spare a moment of your time? I'm not quite sure I understand the mechanisms of this exhibit, but it's all rather fascinating, and you appear to be very well studied."
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Not sure what to do, Severus begins to wander also, and finds Aroha talking to a gnome in the mechanical exhibit.
”Hello, there. Severus,” he introduces, ”Do you know something about the talented sculptor named Trinsky?” he asks straightforwardly. ”Heard he is a great guy, expecting to find his works here, but it seems there is none.”
Hero Point:
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Shanti takes a look at all the wonderful paintings as she continues to look over and muse the wondrous hunts. Shanti begins to get a closer look at the brush strokes between the various paintings.
★ -- ★ -- ★ -- ★
Aroha and Severus startle the small gnome as she was completely absorbed into her notes. "Oh, yes, I can spare a moment or two I think." She happily explains some of the inner workings of gears and sprockets. Upon being asked about Trinsky the gnome grows quite pensive, then quietly taps a drawing in her notebook—a perfect sketch of one of the clockwork devices nearby, a gearbox that represents the solar system. Its creator, of course, is Baltaram!