| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Westcrown has always had its dark corners.
Even in its glorious days of centuries past, the quiet alleyways of the former City of Nine Stars had shadows that light never touched. These shadows were a haven for many—the downtrodden, the furtive, the criminal and dangerous. They offered shelter from the sun in the hateful summer months; shelter from the biting winter cold; shelter from those who hunted the desperate and defiant. But even when the shadows grew long, there was a semblance of dignity and pride in those they cloaked—an understanding that even the greatest achievements can happen in the darkest places.
In the modern day, the City of Twilight—especially in the wake of the ascension of the devilbound House of Thrune—is little more than a backwater. Monuments to the endless potential of humanity lie strewn about Westcrown, marred by the passage of time and the apathy of its populace. The once proud architecture of centuries past, renowned for its beauty and longevity, now crumbles from neglect and abuse—only to be replaced with styles more appropriate to the devilish tastes of Cheliax’s new noble families.
A scant forty years ago, the shadows of Westcrown ceased to be hospitable. Beasts of wisp and shade stalk Westcrown’s alleys after the sunset, and the harm caused by them has chased the smallfolk of the City of Twilight indoors. Rumours abound of what could be responsible for them… some claim that they’re here at the behest of the House of Thrune, imposing their will in their absence. Others claim that Nidalese insurgents are responsible for their presence, sent to sow discord in preparation for an invasion.
Others still claim that they’re agents of a supposedly-long defunct organization of criminals, and their purpose is to clear the board and settle old scores to that they may claim Westcrown for themselves.
Whatever the reason, the House of Thrune has abandoned Westcrown—and especially its people—to their fate. If anything is to change for the people, then it will have to come from within…
————————————
Wealday, 7th of Sarenith, 4709 AR
Today is a humid and muggy day--but, fortunately, there's a strong breeze coming in off of the Bay of Westcrown. The sun is shining through a smattering of grey clouds.
Partway through your workday, the sound of your door opening cuts through the listless air.
Today, you have a visitor to the shrine: a young man with pale skin, red hair and a pair of nubby horns is standing at the foot of the shrine’s statue of Pharasma.
There’s been reports of pickpockets being arrested and interrogated, only to find their masters long gone. Couple that with the current problem of shadow monsters after dark, and there’s too many coincidences. There’s something bigger behind them.
There’s a knock at the door of your office.
Sitting at the bar next to you is a recent acquaintance: a Pathfinder by the name of Aelia Ghontasavos. Her dark shoulder-length hair is matted from the humidity in the air. She’s been trying to make progress on reopening the old Pathfinder Lodge of Delvehaven, with no luck.
The heat of Westcrown doesn't bother the tiefling, thanks to her fiendish heritage , but the muggy humidity always annoys her. Makes her hair frizzy and makes it harder to write on the page without leaving streaks.
She carefully puts her quill down after wiping the ink from it and, one hand on her belt-dagger, slides out of her seat to investigate the sound of the opening door.
"Hello? Is someone there?"
Being that she's at her day job she's not in armor; what kind of scribe wears armor? Instead she's in her bulky jacket (completely inappropriate to the weather, but it's not like she's going to overheat).
It used to bother Faithe that she felt so comfortable with the darkness, she could only assume it was connected to her early childhood, the dark place of black and grey she could barely recall. When she stepped into shadows it was as if the darkness embraced her, let her merge with it, it felt like...home?
While one would expect someone so weak to the harsh light from above to stay heavily clothed with no skin to be seen, Faithe did not. In fact, she revealed quite a lot of her skin to let the wind blow over her to cool her because in addition to too bright the daytime was too hot as well. Fortunately, in these shadows this was an easily manageable problem.
As usual her place in the shadow caused Faithe's body to easily meld into the dim space it was hard to spot her there if you weren't actively looking for someone and even then, is what hard to tell exactly where she was. So it was that Faithe was in one of her usual places as she watched over the shrine and saw the tiefling approach. Well, she thought he was a tiefling at least, he certainly looked the part. While she wasn't exactly trying to hide she wasn't making her presence obvious either as she watched the man stand before the shrine.
After giving him a few minutes Faithe, with her deep black cloak and hood pulled around her and the scythe slung across her back behind her, Faithe decided to speak up, "Welcome to the Shrine of Pharasma, is there anything I can do to aid you?"
"So tell me again about this Delvehaven? What are the issues with reopening it? I dont really understand the crowns issue with pathfinders i think you are all fine folk in fact it hink i mentioned this last night...I think my father was one... or was associated with the pathfinders...is there anything i can do to help?
Can never be too careful these days
”Oh! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t, um, I—“ She stammers. ”I was told that this is an… illumination shop?”
”AH! Er, hello!” He forces a smile onto his face as his eyes struggle to stay on yours. ”Are you the priestess on duty here?” He stumbles through his words.
She seems to be waiting for the door to open.
She chugs a draft of her drink.
She smiles as the door opens. "Greetings. My name is Selene--I've been told you're someone who handles missing persons cases?" She extends her hand for a handshake.
A connection... man that would be nice. She was cute. had seemed well a little intersted in 'getting to know' him the other night, but that might have been the whiskey talking as well.Still he meant it. most of the good gambling was done at night.... a day trip to some crusty offiicials office to aske questions woudlnt hurt him.
"Ah... yes, yes, I do illuminations," says Kalindrah. "Also copying, accounts, calligraphy, and general scribing. Did you have a specific task in mind?"
"Indeed I do, Selene. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Raffia." she replies reaching out to shake the other woman's hand and inviting her in.
"Who can I help you find?" she asks, leading her guest over to a chair.
Faithe gestured towards the city proper and said, "Priestess Hellina is in town taking care of some tasks." Staying in the shadowed place Faithe gestured towards the tiefling and asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"
She fumbles in her pockets before producing what looks like a rolled up piece of parchment. "I, um, I have a letter here that needs to be sent off to the Umberto estate--and, the thing is, they're the sort of 'new money' family that insists on everything they have being, well..." She shrugs. "...ostentatious."
"I have to ask--do you charge a specific rate for such commissions? Or is there a price to be negotiated?"
He looks back to you. "...does... does this place offer sanctuary?" He asks, his voice beginning to tremble.
"Are you familiar with the name Arael the Swordbearer, perchance?"
"...actually, that might not be a bad idea." She sets her mug down and smooths out a wrinkle in her violet, star-embroidered blouse. "Heaven knows I've made enough of an ass of myself about this; you might just look like some other guy with no Pathfinder connections."
Faithe gestured for the tiefling to come further into the shrine and asked him, "I expect the Priestess to be back shortly so please relax as much as you can."{/b]
Looking back the way the tiefling had come Faithe asked, [b]"Should we be expecting someone coming after you"
Raffia considers the name, her quick mind cycling through a myriad of information and references.
Kalindrah goes over a few options, doing her best to try to figure out exactly what kind of copy would work best within the prospective client's budget.
"Would there be much of a difference in pricing between vellum and parchment?"
Arael the Swordbearer is a half-elven man, a newly-minted priest of Iomedae. He's developed a reputation of being something of a firebrand within the church of The Inheritor, being outspoken about the lamentable state of Westcrown--especially about how no one seems to be doing anything to change things for the better.
The young man nervously swallows and steps forward, into the shadow of Pharasma's statue. "...I don't know--I'm trying to... I'm trying to stay hidden."
"I don't want to be a burglar anymore--I'm trying to go into an honest trade now." He shakes his head. "My uncle Jacovo has offered to take me in, but... I'm afraid that if I take him up on it, Palaveen will hear--"
He starts to hyperventilate.
Her expression shifts to a more business-like frown. ”Yes, Arael is something of a troublemaker—at first, his sermons were good for rallying the smallfolk against the cursed darkness plaguing Westcrown.”
”Then, his diatribes began criticizing how Mayor Arvanxi is handling—or, rather, not handling—Westcrown’s sorry state. The shadow curse was a bad enough problem by itself, but lately there’s been an increase in violent crime throughout the city—and neither the Mayor nor the Dottari or even Citadel Rivad are doing anything about it.”
"well no sense in burning daylight... where is this office you mentioned where i can speak about getting access?
He asked 'accidently' putting his hand atop hers as he went to stand up
"What sort of budget are you looking at? I can provide some options to fit your pricing."
"Has something happened to this Arael, or someone else you're concerned for?"
"As to my budget, I--"
Before the young woman can finish her sentence, the shadows in the room seem to deepen, and a chill passes through the air. Amaya's face pales and she glances about, her hands beginning to wring together.
"...thank you." He sighs, sitting down at the small end table in the corner. "I... um, I'm Mercutio."
”And since Arael is not known for being polite with his critiques, well…” She sighs.
”I will be blunt—I think Arael is in danger. I need you to find him before disaster strikes him."
"What do you say we meet up at Vizio's when you're done there? It's a little place nearby--a lot quieter than this place."
Once she sat down and took a sip of the tea Faithe asked, "So what, exactly, has brought you here Mercutio?"
He gave her his best smile, the one he waved for a chump betting all his coin when Acesy had the nuts and he didnt realize it ...yet.
"I'll shall upon you at this Vizio's in a few hours i would imagine."
He rose to his feet proffering a little half bow before he made his way to the door only pausing right before it to cast a simple cantrip protecting his night accostemed eyes from the suns evil morning glare. By the time the spell wore off his eyesight would be adhusted to it. He made his way to the Rego Scripa only pausing to ask for direct well directions if he missed the ivy.
A soft, whispering hiss follows the two of you as you step outside. Though the sun shines in the sky, the surrounding street feels a little bit darker...
...especially in the alley next to your shop.
”…I, um…” He starts, staring into his cup. ”…it’s a long story.”
”I’ve lived in Westcrown all my life, but everyone who isn’t immediate family sees me as either someone to be avoided or a threat to be warded off. I’ve had to sneak about in the shadows and steal from those who could afford to lose it ever since I saw my eleventh winter.” Mercutio blinks and takes a sip of his cup, still reluctant to meet your eyes. ”Couldn’t even get work on the docks—not even the dangerous jobs.”
”Palaveen was… he’s the man who recruited me into his gang.” He sighs. ”He had me do some simple burglary jobs—nothing too big. Then he started having me target more…er, more normal folks. People who barely had enough to begin with.”
You eventually find the ivy-covered building after questioning a couple of people—it’s as stately as a two-story red brick building that hasn’t seen a professional gardener in a long time can be. Withering green and brown ivy entwines itself on the building’s eastern face, with some vines straying across the yellow brick steps leading up to the building’s weathered oaken doors.
You notice that most people seem to be avoiding this place—you’re one of perhaps three souls in the building’s immediate vicinity.
Tiefling were not evil by nature, they may have some tendencies in that direction but that didn't make them do bad things. If anything did that it was the fact that society forced them into situations where they had little choice if they wanted to live. Faithe had a few people treat her similarly after mistaking her for a tiefling. She knew she wasn't one but she still wasn't quite sure what she was, only that everywhere was too bright and too hot for her tastes!
"So," Faithe said, "you have come here hoping for sanctuary from Palaveen." She sipped her tea as she considered her response, Faithe wanted to help him but she was unsure how much help they could be in keeping him hidden from Palaveen. Finally she decided, "For now, at least, you can stay here. I do not know how well we can keep you hidden here, how safe you will be, there is not much to this chapel. Once priestess Hellina returns maybe she will have a better idea of how to help."
"Well this is a promising start."
He mutteredglancing about again not even hiding his inspection of the other nearby souls just in case. He half thought about summoning some water for the ivy but shrugged and instead made his way to the door.
--only to suddenly stop for a moment, staring into the alley.
In that unnatural bank of blackness, there's a pair of eyes staring back.
They're orange.
It's at this moment a loud call comes from outside the shrine.
"MERCUTIO! We know you're here somewhere! Come on out!"
The tiefling's face blanches. "...oh no... oh no, they've found me already?!"
Seated behind the desk is an officious-looking man with greying hair, a lining of grey stubble and a pair of filthy-looking eyeglasses adorning his face. His soft yellow garb looks well-cleaned, but obviously suffering from the day's humid air. "If you're here to protest the opening of Baleria's Bordello of Beauties, the petition for its closure is right there." He grumbles, pointing a gnarled finger (without even looking up from his work) at a long, yellowed piece of parchment with a list of signatures on it.
He quipped giving his best smile.
"I am a scholar trained under the wizard Seldarine from the north, he once brought up a book on exotic fauna locat43ed within the Old Delvehaven building. I was told this was the place to acquire a permit to enter?"
He asked simply smiling innocently.
"Get behind me. If whatever that is attacks, run."
"on the contrary... is there a counter petition for it. I would like to see one in every district..."
"There isn't one, sir. Besides, the proper permits for a zoning project of that size would take years to be processed--" The man behind the desk starts before looking up at you.
"--oh. That was a joke." He says, blinking in surprise.
"I am a scholar trained under the wizard Seldarine from the north, he once brought up a book on exotic fauna locat43ed within the Old Delvehaven building. I was told this was the place to acquire a permit to enter?"
"Yes, this would be the place to make the proper inquiries." The clerk responds, his eyes darkening at the mention of Delvehaven. "You aren't the first person to have asked that question. The Pathfinder Society of Absalom has made multiple requests to reopen Delvehaven and to re-establish its Wiscrani branch."
The eyes focus on you in turn.
They tilt at an angle, as if studying you.
They blink.
Then they vanish, and the shadow goes with them.
The alley brightens considerably.
She grabbed her scythe and headed towards the door and, when she arrived, Faithe had the scythe in hand as she made sure the door was locked. Once she was done with that Faithe stood to on the side the door would open towards, making sure to stay clear of where it would swing, and waited to see if the thugs would try to break into the shrine.
She absentmindedly pats her pocket. "...by the Inheritor... what has this city come to, that shadows can... do that even by day?"
"...Roak, are you sure this is where you saw him? There's nobody here." A softer voice says.
"Trave, I know I did. Mercutio's never been that good at covering his tracks--he's here." A harsher voice responds.
"Roak, it's a damn cemetery. Nobody comes here unless they're grieving or writing weird poetry."
"Just shut up and look around. Mercutio's here."
"Ugh. Fine. I'll... I'll see if the shrine's open."
There's the sound of footsteps coming up to the doors, followed by the door rattling as it's tugged on.
"Locked."
He said trying to disassociate himself from the pathfinders even if he did find them an okay sort most of the time.