DM Vord's page

Greetings PbP Friends!

It's been over a month now that I've been struggling with what to do about this game, and PbP in general for that matter. Most of the burden (and blame) is on me for not having the consistency of communication here, so I offer my apologies as well as an explanation, and then also a decision point on what to do here.

Besides the very persistent RL realities of a job that has taken more of a mental toll on my creativity than I care to admit (or feel is healthy), I have as of June taken on a workout/gym regimen with my older daughter (5 days a week). The workouts and those health benefits have been very positive, but has diminished my bandwidth for creative writing. As we got to the end of the pretty-cool Gale conversation and conclusion of that second investigative thread, I suddenly found I had little bounce to move to the next major piece, with its encounters and combats and other logistical RP elements that had to be developed.

Part of that boils down to not really knowing who I was writing for. I admit that Xynen suddenly dropping off was more of a blow to the dynamic than I had thought. That, and Isaac dropping off completely over the last Gale conversation was a blow to me as well. Being down to only four players and characters (even if I DMPC'd Anneca to make it five) just doesn't seem viable, even to finish out the rest of the module. Yet I don't have the gumption to try and do a whole new recruiting round as I've done several times for this game in the past...which leads me to feeling rather trapped on the whole thing.

So in the past month I've been waiting mentally for a spark or something to change or provide some insight on how to move forward, but that hasn't happened. That is, of course, unfair to the remaining players to be wondering what the heck is going on with this! That's why I'd like to apologize for this past month of inactivity, as the reasons for it shouldn't be excuses.

As for what to do next...unfortunately I still believe that by dwindling down to four players and characters, there's just not enough PbP posting frequency to adequately carry the game forward, not to mention the severe adjustment to combat/skill challenge scenarios. Zeitgeist is a GREAT campaign BUT its mystery/intrigue/noir elements are tough to keep consistent in a slow PbP medium, and The Dying Skyseer is even tougher as its an elaborate murder mystery with intrigue elements. I'd hate to kill the campaign before "the big whodunnit reveal" but I'm not sure there's the capacity to carry it forward, as you're about 65% through the module.

I've learned enough though to never say never: if all four surviving players want to post their thoughts and decisions on whether to move forward or not, I'll ultimately orient myself to the desires of the players. So I invite everyone remaining to put forward what may be a final discussion on this game, and just let me know what you think on it.

Vord

"It could," answers Gale to Fethryth, "but that shall not be by my doing. Once the winds are called by a feather-bearer and a message spoken to it for another attuned feather-bearer, it will travel immediately - though it travels only as fast as a light wind travels and no faster, taking three hours or so to travel the full extent of its range."

"I agree as well," says Gale promptly, "and it should be noted that the disclosure of my crafted enchantments unto you bear no small risk to me as well, as you may easily discern for yourselves. I shall have to take the risk of trust to you five then, and risk to hope. For Nilasa."

Gale pulls forth from her small belt pouch an object that seems larger than the aperture she drew it from, though its shape and diameter is rather hard to fathom: six exquisite golden feathers spin in tiny eddies and currents in what can only be described as an invisible orb of winds, roughly the size of a ball used in a game of scrapper's pitch. In fascinating fashion, the wind sorceress holds forth the 'ball' of winds out towards the constables and then abruptly withdraws her hands from it, demonstrating that it seems to hover on its own and does not succumb to rudimentary physics. Gale deftly plucks a single golden feather from the wind orb and whispers to it, leaving five feathers left swirling within the sphere.

"This is my Messenger Wind, of which I have crafted only a very few in my time of freedom upon Lanjyr. You may store the wind away for security, though as you can see it is not readily apparent from a distance; you may also leave it suspended in a location, as it will not fall. Simply remove a feather and speak your name to it, and it shall attune itself to you. Once in a given day each bearer of a feather may call the winds and speak a message to it, whereupon it will fly to its intended recipient who also bears such a feather. The range of this is ten leagues or roughly thirty miles between the feather bearers, so it would cover your needs in Flint and well beyond its borders. Thus you can speak a message to me and safely send it as you wish, and I can do the same unto you, but the messages spoken are otherwise your own and beyond interception or observation...unless an attuned feather is taken by another that is. If you wish to attune a feather once bestowed, simply return it to the Messenger Wind when not in use and withdraw it again by its new owner."

Gale turns then back to regard Fethryth a moment, finally giving her a nod as she parses through her words. "I do agree with you, Fethryth Teldanona, that the arrival of some man at the point of Nilasa's fall seems too likely to be mere coincidence. If this Doctor Wolfgang does work for Lorcan Kell or has done a deal with him, then I fear any chance of recovery of these documents is now gone. Perhaps chaotic coincidence is all we can hope for now in this."

To Jesselle she now turns, and with a slight smile Gale nods graciously to her at the words of sharing information and a token given in clear affection that was lost. "Your kindness and sincerity is well taken, Jesselle Wesmere, and I thank you. Though your family is well-entrenched in the industry that the traditionalists and I abhor, I do not hold you accountable for it. As for the further sharing of information..."

It seems then that Gale muses another choice in her mind, and then nods to herself as if making her mind up on it. "I have given you one gift this day," she says while pointing to Emerson and the small book, "freely given for you to prove for yourselves what I only know. Would you be willing to accept another gift then from me, one that would allow you to more freely communicate with me in the future as well as to yourselves as you pursue your hunt for justice?"

"Yes, I was going to test that peculiarity with the Crisillyiri wands myself - the Family said the cache belonged to a military collection and were enchanted so that they could be...how did they put it...easily 'shown off' to visiting nobles and religious hierarchs. Possible once per lunar cycle, or so they said."

Gale taps her chin in thought and shows a wry smile. "I suppose I should be very put out with you for spoiling that shipment. Then again, you saved the life of Renard Woodsman and his love Morena, so I know you are not in Lorcan Kell's pocket. The wand cache was in no small part to arm my cadres against the recent encroachments by his guild into the Cloudwood, to counter the malice of firedust, pistol and musket."

"Know that Lorcan Kell's reach goes well beyond Parity Lake since last Winter, seeping now into both Bosum Strand and most of the Nettles and threatening the farmsteads of the eastern Cloudwood, his power and wealth grown fat as of late." Sighing, she adds, "In part this is why I agreed to Nilasa's initiative to entreat with the Family and risk the rather costly deal with them, for though I would not trust the Family I believed I could rely on their desire to deal with a common enemy in Kell. I fear Nilasa was too trusting in her own right on this - in the Wareyes and her Docker connections - that the plan became compromised and came to ruin."

"What...after Nilasa was impaled on the fence in front of the consulate? As if that was their predetermined meeting place?" Swirling around to stare at Fethryth, the eladrin woman's eyes flare in anger and she clearly scoffs at Fethryth's suggestion, though a moment later it appears that Gale is trying to control her anger and sound more reasonable. "No. I am sure there were no others. Nilasa went over her plan in full with me, and I trusted both her judgment and her dedication to that plan. And I am not the kind of woman to give my trust often or easily."

Gale begins to pace once again by the water's edge, thinking through the possibilities of the Danoran files being out in the wild. "If Nilasa had survived and I had gained these documents, I would have used them to target those most responsible for this conspiracy, showing them no mercy. That, and I would have informed my allies in the Docker movement and certain traditionalist scribes of the conspiracy, so that the truth would be exposed to the people. Now, that is no longer possible by me...but you still may succeed where I have not, and find this evidence that Nilasa died for. Nevard asked me to trust you, and so I shall, though I am not normally inclined to do so."

"Constables, there is a conspiracy afoot. The Danorans are involved, as are industrialists in this city, and some third force beyond the Bleak Gate, though I cannot fathom how they manage it. They’ve already killed to protect their secrets. We need to find out what their true goal is."

"No," answers Gale with a slightly-surprised look, "I assumed she did not make it out of the consulate with anything intact...I had no one else in my cadres in the vicinity of the heist. Only later on that night of the 1st of Summer did I fly directly above the consulate to discern if the taint of the Bleak was present from her murder, using the divination incantation that I have now given to you: the presence of that energy was strong there that night, and trailed off into various areas of North Shore and into Parity Lake before I lost it."

Gale pauses in thought then, thinking through the revelation of Emerson's statement to her. "If Nilasa actually did emerge with evidence from the consulate, it must be found! Nilasa also had a momento of mine, a pendant of a golden canary on a golden chain, warded with protective magic and which bestowed a brief degree of flight to be used in dire need. It makes me ill to think this was taken by some ignorant passerby or common street-thief who has no idea what he actually possesses."

”As I said, Jesselle Wesmere, I never saw anything moving beyond my guide Ellik in my brief time beyond the Bleak Gate, just the voices of the living and the echoes of active industry. Ellik had warded me against those fell shades, spectres and ghouls who would have smelled my living blood and hunted me, but just the same we avoided treading where I could have perhaps spied something out – he warned me that more than my life was at stake, that my very spirit could be captured and consumed by some black essence he would not name, like fell nightmares captured by a witch-ball, and so I erred on the side of great caution. Perhaps I should have been bolder, but I did not know what I did not know.”

Gale shrugs regrettably and says simply to Emerson, ”I know not of these automatons or constructs you speak of, Emerson Hill, though that is certainly the way of the Danorans and their Cursed masters. I have never been to Axis Island, but those that I have known which have gone near its shores have said it is a terrible and twisted place, where the realities of the Waking break down, held in check only by the iron and gold of the Ancients. It would not surprise me of what you may have encountered there.”

”Of proof, I can only give you the means to discern it for yourselves.” Gale produces a tiny vellum book from her belt and offers it to the constables, to no one in particular but rather the first that would step forward and take it.

”Contained in the book are arcane formulas, prayers of the Old Faith and poetry of the possible, variations on the mastering of a spell that will detect various energies which intrude into the Waking Realm, be it the Dreaming, the Bleaking or perhaps even other realms of possibility and understanding. I now bequeath it to you to study and master for yourselves.” Gale pauses and smiles at the irony of her next statement. ”Unfortunately, it only works if one has directly touched or been affected by the otherworld in question…as such it’s worthless to most people. Still, I have been beyond the Bleak Gate during the Black Moon…and I believe from speaking with Nevard that so did you when you went atop Cauldron Hill, or at least you touched the Veil of the Bleak Gate.”

Once a constable takes the offered book, she nods and begins to pace about in troubled thought. ”After the Black Moon with Ellik, I began my own hunt for proof upon our side of the Waking. I’ve flown across this city, trying to find sources of the taint. Of course in some places the stink of it bleeds through naturally – Cauldron Hill especially - but I’ve discerned and followed trails that lie beyond the Hill’s warding line – trails that mimicked the voices and lights that seemed to traverse along Stanfield Canal, Parity Lake and up through the Nettles.” Gale then exhales a heavy sigh and throws up a hand. ”I found a strong source at the Danoran Consulate, and I tracked threads of it across three districts before I lost it each time, at times clinging to factories, or in the foyers of rich businessmen or their lackeys. Kane Westman for one, which is why I went after him directly, but he seemed too obtuse and befuddled to be a conspirator…and in any event ill-favor nearly brought that ‘meeting’ out-of-hand. So I relented for a time, until Nilasa bade me to let her try her plan at the consulate with her Danoran milksop of a guard wrapped around her finger, and I too-eagerly agreed to it, which led to her death.”

updating later tonight - Gale gift incoming!

Gale seems somewhat perturbed at the reaction of the constables in this unique foray into the Bleak Gate, yet shrugs and continues her story matter-of-factly. "There is activity in that mirror image of Flint, in the pale grey world of the Bleaking. Not much, but there should be none, beyond spectre or shadow or shade. I myself never saw anyone other than my guide, but Ellik swears he had seen living men pass in places where the living do not tread, which is why he sought me to understand it for myself. Most of the buildings are hollow, like abandoned shells of dead sea creatures in the deep. But there are no echoes, and no wind blows, so you can hear footsteps from miles away – the footsteps of the living. And in the distant gloom I saw torches and lanterns, lights that the denizens of that world would never need or use. Their path ran along the Stanfield Canal, to the still analogue of Parity Lake, and then up toward the Nettles and Cauldron Hill. I did not have the time to get close, but I heard the churning of machines there, and saw smoke and steam drifting into the starless sky. Upon Cauldron Hill! This is no grim reflection of the Waking realm, for as you know there are no factories and no industry to speak of up in the Nettles."

Gale points a hand to the west in the direction of Cauldron Hill. "They are working, assembling something, hidden right where we can’t see it, on the other side of the Bleak Gate. Ellik said he first became aware of something amiss with the first rumblings and quakes in late Spring, knowing somehow that they originated in the shadowy world of the Bleaking. Not long thereafter I sent Nilasa on her mission, she found the truth, and they killed her for it. I am furious at her murderers, but Nevard has made me realize that this conflict is larger than my selfish desire for revenge now. I cannot root this out alone."

"Unfortunately, I cannot return to the Bleak Gate, nor show you what I saw there. The same alignment with Nem will not repeat for decades, and I have not yet found another way into that world, though there must be a way that it is being done by these others. But I do have indirect proof of my own...and I am willing to share the means by which to obtain this proof for yourselves."

"Do I know of a Doctor Wolf...whom do you mean?" Gale looks quizzically at Jesselle then, almost in confusion. "No. No I do not recognize that name whatsoever - is he the one you suspect killed Nilasa?"

Seeing the declining nods from the constables that Recklinghausen is not the murderer, Gale shrugs and says, "No matter. In terms of your question about what the Danorans are involved in, Emerson Hill, I have assumed their involvement in many corrupt dealings of so-called "industry" and the ruination of the Land in Flint with their machines for the factories and railways here. After Aodhan's peace declaration and the resolution of Ethelyn's Rebellion in early Spring, I assumed the Danoran Consulate would be much more active in meddling in Flint politics. I assumed correctly, and their comings and goings have increased tenfold - mostly to industrialists and financiers in North Shore and the Ayres."

"Then the burnings of factories started. I was blamed for it of course, as prior attempts last year to sabotage factory machinery or the moored boats that carry their production was part of my efforts. But I had no doings with these arsons, nor the deaths of the working poor that were caught up in it. These fires also seemed very...selective to me somehow...seemingly random but with a pattern just out of understanding - particularly as most of these factories were not put out of commission permanently, and restored to production after a relatively short period of time. Which means wealth and power was involved. But I could not give it much attention, as my cadres and I were continually harassed by your Constabulary team throughout Spring, with the treacherous Kaea Than'dil trying to lead them to my "doorstep" as it were."

"Then, shortly before the Black Moon in Spring, an opportunity came to me unexpectedly. I have a contact - a courier to the Unseen Court who lets me call him Ellik. He's a rather eerie creature, dwelling in shadows and capricious in his way as most fey are, but is loyal to the Court and has a fondness for the Pact and the Land which has sustained upon Risur since Kelland's time. He and I share the concerns of the blight upon the Land by the Malice-born and their Danoran puppets encroaching upon Risur, for it affects the Dreaming as much as it affects the Waking realm. When the Black Moon - the Dreamer's Moon aligned with Nem - when it occurred, Ellik was able to take me with him into the Bleak Gate, something normally only possible upon death as you know. He wanted me to see something that disturbed him greatly there. And so I went on that night. I will spare you the details of that journey's emotional toll upon me, but during the few hours that night when I traveled there, I discovered something."

Gale looks upon Fethryth's abrupt remarks with what can only be described as bemusement, shrugging and smiling slightly as if taking in a joke she did not expect. "And here are the cutting words and harsh tone of what I expected would be uttered from Gemma Atherton's lips, only to have them said by none other than Fethryth Teldanona the Skyseer, Nevard's chosen favorite."

She levels her azure eyes squarely upon Fethryth then, a slight edge to her voice that cannot help but make Fethryth somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of a full-blooded eladrin. "No doubt you assume by my heritage that I would see you as inferior or servile, a siwan'est caste that should show deference to those of the Elfaivar, hmm? Should I know what enclave you were born and raised from then, to better understand the level of your disrespect? Alas I cannot claim the haughty heights, for I was reared in a Danoran elite plantation in the Yerasol, and for four score of my short century upon this world I was raised as a slave, for tortuous pleasure and sport. A trophy, to be displayed and traded by elites who are so rich that simple gold or treasure no longer holds their interest. A brood mare..." At this Gale clenches her hands and the winds seem to rise about them all, her eyes flaring briefly and her jaw set in anger. Then it dissipates. "But I did slay the slavers, and gained my freedom, and came here to Risur to start anew. Whatever you think you know of me, you do not."

"As for the Vekeshi 'idiots' and their Pact upon Gemma Atherton..." Gale shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. "The Vekeshi cell here in Flint are led by their Old Stag, and he has tried to court me from time to time, desiring my abilities to aid in their pursuits. Yet just like the Unseen, though we share some of the same friends in both the Waking and the Dreaming, their ways are not my ways. I am no Seedist, and do not seek to enslave myself in cultish mysticism or be a willing pawn for the Unseen Court. Though they might make bloodoath of vengeance if I was ever laid low, they would not amend their activities merely from my words."

Gale pauses then to coolly regard Gemma and looks at her up and down. "I am aware of you being marked, Gemma Atherton. I am aware you executed - some say murdered - Sorkana Dell upon the fall of Ethelyn Lesterman at Axis Island. A great sacrilege to survivors of old Elvaivar, the Seedists and the Vekeshi no doubt. Yet that news came back to Risur with...surprising speed I thought...given the participants were localized to your Constabulary, the Navy and the Army. As far as I know, the Old Stag did not formally declare a blood-vengeance pact against you, but again their ways are not my ways and they often stray into fickleness and contrariness in honor of their fey masters."

Not a problem - in general I am eager for those of you who can post to take the opportunity to truly ask any questions you would like to know from her perspective. Gale's meeting with the constables is essentially the boon for completing that particular investigation thread, and so some questions you have may very well be answered if in her purview.

Please review the 'Summary of Clues' in the campaign header if you haven't done so recently, just to refresh yourselves on the journey you've come so far in this adventure!

Despite Gale's proclamation for truthful candor, it seems to surprise her that Gemma has gone first and said what was on her mind. There's a slight flicker of vehemence in Gale's vividly blue eyes as Gemma speaks, followed by a clouded look of brief confusion, almost as if Gale is carrying on some internal struggle of emotion or internal dialogue within. This all passes in a few moments, the eladrin woman gaining full composure of her calm and assured demeanor once again.

At Gemma's last words regarding Nilasa, the eladrin sorceress actually nods to her in a respectful display of agreement. "Your surname is Atherton, correct? I have heard of you, and truth be told I did not expect your sympathy in this matter. Your words are well stated, for I too desire justice for Nilasa Hume, so that she may have comfort in the Heavens beyond the Bleaking."

To all the constables she says, "And on the matter of Ethelyn Lesterman and her rebellion this past Spring, let me be forthcoming: I was neither aware nor involved in her plot of fratricide against her brother the King. Nor the attempt to sink his ungainly blight of ill-conceived industry upon the waters." Gale stops then to give a slight shrug and smirk, adding, "That is not to say that if she had rallied the people of Risur successfully and brought the struggle to liberate Flint from the choke of industry's influence, I would not have lent my cause to hers. But Ethelyn did not...despite one from her retinue who sought me out to join her cause shortly after the failed assassination attempt. In this request I did not accept, despite some in my own cadres that were eager to rush to the call for revolt. I am stained by blood and death, it is true, but fire and treachery are not my tools."

Gale seems to slightly blanch at Jesselle's mention of the Sight, though she nods gravely and replies to her. "I was not aware this was what you did...Nevard did not disclose it to me...and so I do understand what you mean in terms of your risk atop Cauldron Hill. Know then that you, surely more than the others, will understand the shadowed threat I speak of beyond the Gate in the realm of the Bleaking."

She waves her hand then and adds, "I have no further questions for you, though I am seeking to invoke your aid before we are finished, along with the means at my disposal to freely give to you should you be up to the measure of it. Yet it seems premature to ask this now, before you and your compatriots here have fully delved into what you seek from me. Trust is, of course, hard to come by in these times." Gale nods her head at the rest of the constables, even to Gemma. "Please then for now, ask anything of what you will from me and I shall answer truthfully...anything I decide I shall not answer I will tell you so, but I will neither lie nor deceive you in what I speak."

"You spoke to her? Magically with spells of divination?" Gale nods her head appreciatively to Jesselle and says, "I should not be surprised that you already suspect near the truth of what Nilasa was up to, that the rumors of her death in the taverns about a 'foiled burglary' for trinkets was nothing but a lie by the cursed Danorans and their allies to conceal the dark truth they attempt to hide from me. I am also hopeful that you still understand the Danorans are the enemy to The Land and its people, despite the so-called 'peace treaty' from the decrepit King Aodhan, and the Cursed whore he chooses to bed to seal his infernal bargain with them! He gives them open reign now to spread their foul filth across the Land with impunity, and they have killed by lovely Nilasa!"

Gale's eyes seem to glint briefly an even brighter shade of blue as she speaks in rising anger with one fist clenched; it seems a gust of wind rises noticeably around them and whips ripples across the calmer surface of the river waters, though it could just be imagined. Gale takes a steady breath then and calms herself almost immediately. "I apologize for my outburst constables," she says, "for the loss is still keenly felt. Indirectly I am responsible for Nilasa's murder, for I urged her to take the hunt for truth to the Danoran Embassy, believing she could manage it by herself with her stealth and guile over my...more direct methods. She was confident and I was in haste, after what I had personally seen upon the night of the Dreamer's Moon back in mid-Spring, called the Black Moon by the Skyseers due to its alignment with Nem. I needed to prove what I had seen that night, and Nilasa was confident with her gullible Danoran contact that she could win it for me. But she was laid low, the Danoran secrets surely secured or destroyed once they realized her aim. Now I must deal with that stain upon my spirit, with vengeance upon her murderers a small but hopeful comfort to me."

"Nilasa's mission was to find and steal any documents that would prove their involvement in the conspiracy I know them to be involved in, along with many industrialist filth of the city that have been lured or coerced by them...and a third allied party I cannot yet discern - a darker force that relishes the shadows and death, traveling where most cannot or dare not walk while living."

Gale seems pleasantly bemused at Emerson's last statement, though she seems to defer to Jesselle as the ranking member to address in response. "Indeed. I was hopeful for a true and peaceful exchange, though I am not often afforded the luxury of hope. An interesting day for me."

With that, she nimbly steps off the ground and flies across the span of the rushing river as if it were nothing at all for her to do so, and soon she finds herself just paces away from the five constables on their side of the river. Gale briefly nods in respect to both Jesselle and Fethryth, giving Emerson and Anneca more perfunctory nod; as for Gemma she ignores her seemingly altogether.

"As it turns out, I greatly desire to speak with you Constables as well, for if nothing else there are matters that threaten innocents and peaceful folk of Flint - even if our motives are quite different, and despite our differences and recent conflicts with one another."

She briefly scans them with her blue eyes and says, "Strange as I thought there would be six of you, but no matter. As they say, you have called this meeting, so it is only customary that you should begin with your questions. I presume you wish to speak of the tragic loss of my dear one, the adopted grandniece to my dear friend Nevard. You wish to know more of Nilasa."

So I was on a vacation with the family this past week to Nova Scotia, and have just gotten back into the routine of things. In the interests of getting you all some juicy talk-time with Gale, I've moved things along a bit to get you there with your magical canary.

With the five constables safely enclosed in the carriage, they all cannot help but turn their attention to the yellow canary, avidly flapping about its makeshift cage and alternating between periods of singing with bursts of irritating screeching.

What's clear after a couple of minutes is that the bird is not relenting in its fervor. Also, the carriage remains unmoved from the carriage lot outside of Cippiano's Coffee with their ruffled young driver unsure of what to do. "Um...constables...where are we going to? I'd sure like to be away from here unless your business says we have to stay..."

For the constables, the die was pretty much cast the afternoon before when they decided to conceal the magical wind-message and the conjured canary from their boss, in direct contravention to Lady Saxby's express orders. Now they must finish what they started, granted in fair respects to them by virtue of helping Skyseer Nevard Sechim. Not to Chief Inspectress Saxby, nor the esteemed "Dauntless" team nor anyone on it. So they do the only thing they can do to see it through...

...they open the cage.

Almost at once the enchanted canary shoots out of the cage and then out a small window in the carriage before they can catch it again; for a long moment the five of them feel that they have just let it escape for nothing. Until they hear a distinct warbling sweet song in the distance ahead of them, bright and energetic and sing-songy in the manner of birds in springtime. Driver Lenn tells them from up on the driver's bench that the now-freed canary is circling ahead of them to the north along Yearling Street back towards the main junction of East Stray, and after quick agreement the constables order him to follow it. Soon, they find themselves rolling from Yearling Street to the Bank Street thoroughfare that brings them back towards Central District. They have no choice but to follow at this point.

6 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Midday (half-past twelve o’ clock)
Bridal Veil (some miles east of the Ranger's Turnpike), The Cloudwood

For nearly two hours the constables and their driver follow their canary companion: first through the southern route of Edgewall Way along the southernmost wall of Central, passing over the Flint-Bole Railway and very near to Jesselle's house by just a couple of blocks. Though there are a couple of times where congestion or turns cause Lenn to lose sight of the bird, the canary always seems to come back to find them, swirling around in the air before flying off again to its unknown destination. If any should notice the oddity of a yellow canary being followed by an R.H.C. marked carriage, there is nothing to do about it at this point.

The first hour gets them finally clear of Central and Eastside Districts and firmly onto the Ranger's Turnpike heading southeast out of Flint. Familiar to them by now, the constables have taken this route twice in the past days to meet with Nevard Sechim at his southern henge camp, and for a while it seems they may very well be heading back to the same route that they took twice before. Yet the canary turns along a well-packed dirt trail a good mile or so before that henge route up into the Cloudwood, leading this time due east towards the Cloudwood Mountains that border the eastern Flint farmlands. For the second hour they travel east as best as they can tell, the road seemingly good and on level ground for most of their journey. Only after another league of travel to they start to wind and meander north by northeast, the trail heading up into the nearer mountains after passing by a peaceful Cloudwood hamlet or two, the trail bordering a brisk stream coming down from higher elevations.

It is Fethryth that perhaps guesses their destination first, as this route is known to her as a roundabout way to get to rural friendly folk that she knows in the Cloudwood District closer to the farmlands. Up the lush hills and beside wild berry bushes, always following the stream which becomes more wild and brisk in its course. Then they see it: a three-hundred foot waterfall cascading off of a granite cliff, wildflowers wreathing the cliffs and over the few boulders that hang up near the falls' edge. There is a wide spot here to park the carriage, the spot actually posted with a rural sign in Primordial listed as the Bridal Veil, known to Jesselle and other Flint locals as a rather romantic locale mentioned in traditionalist folk poetry and the site of several famous weddings. The pool of water looks fresh and inviting, with fish circling about idly within.

The canary does not stop here, but chirps and circles up over a stone-step stair path that ascends up one side of the falls to the very top. With Driver Lenn staying with the carriage, the five constables exit and begin their climb up the stone steps to gain the falls' heights some three-hundred feet up. Fortunately, the path looks well-maintained here and far enough away from the mist of the falls to not be too slippery.

As they make the heights they find the stream is more like a mountain river some eighty feet across, the flora even more lush with wildflowers, ferns and ivy than what is seen below. Hummingbirds flit about up here sampling the various flowers. The canary however pays these birds no mind and after the five constables are present it chirps and flies off across the river towards the other bank. Which is odd, as for once the constables can find no way to cross the river without wings or a swift boat.

Yet before they have to decide how they are going to cross over, someone emerges from the treeline on the opposite shore of the waterfall. A lithe woman with deep black hair and piercing blue eyes, dressed in a light blue silken gown that would be somewhat scandalous to wear by most Risuri women. Lacking shoes, she stretches forth her hand and the canary disappears immediately upon touching it. It's hard to tell from this distance, but she seems to have a slight smile play across her lips, though her stance is wary and ready to move upon the slightest hint of provocation.

"I am Gale. And you are the Constables of Risur and friend to dear Nevard...though I expected six in number...the same six that defeated Lord Asrabey in combat and took Duchess Ethelyn alive upon Axis Island. As well as other actions of repute, whether for good or ill." The eladrin woman nods her head graciously. "I welcome you to my domain, and thank you for heeding the terms of my request. That is, unless your intention is not to talk with me truly? I should like to think that is not the case...but the Kingsmen are smart and capable adversaries, even if most are ignorant of the ways of the wild. What then is your intention, now that we stand face-to-face?"

6 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Morning (quarter-after ten o’ clock)
Cippiano’s Coffee House, Healers Street, The Stray River District (East Bank)

As the five constables leave Cippano's private table, the door is opened for them by one of the burly but well-dressed bravuras with a curt nod, with another more wiry-looking man smiling and leading them out through the dining rooms and hallways to the bustling sounds and rich smells of the front serving rooms. Cippiano's niece can be seen outside on a busy patio speaking amicably with a table of well-dressed merchants. Two youthful serving women in white aprons approach to hand you your cloaks and hats that were left in the cloak room, and the door is opened for you on your way out.

Outside in the waiting area for the horses and carriages, your own rather inexperienced carriage driver, Lenn, is off the carriage and clearly showing signs of distress; he seems intent on approaching the coffeehouse but is being blocked by two muscular Family bravuras who clearly had no intention of your driver interrupting the ongoing meeting. Once the five of you approach however, the two men smile and give a nodding tug to their caps and walk off as if simply on a stroll around the lot, with your driver sputtering and flummoxed at the ordeal, even as he runs up to you.

"Well I never in all my...sodded stiff-armed brutish - YEAH I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU PAIR!" Lenn almost seems comical in his angry shouting at the two Family men who simply shrug their shoulders and seem completely unconcerned about him, walking on as if nothing at all had happened. It takes Lenn a moment to get his composure back as he straightens his uniform, but he finally does so and says to them in a voice that's probably louder than what it needs to be under the circumstances.

"Constable sirs, that caged pet bird of yours just started chirping and squawking and carrying on all fits like! Just a'thrashin about as if he was gonna get eaten by a cat or some such! Just a few minutes ago now, and not a peep in all the time before you were gone while I was waterin' the horses! So I was gonna come to you straightaway, but then those lackabouts wouldn't let me pass!"

Inside the carriage, the constables can clearly see the golden canary bird is chirping madly and fluttering around its makeshift cage in a manner that seems almost manic, as if suddenly finding itself captured after being sedate for the prior night and all morning...

"Quid pro quo...you are learned then in the old language of the Sacred Crisillyir Empire before the Victory and the Great Malice, Constable Summers, yes? I understand your meaning, though surely you must know that nothing of real value is free. Matters of law and of patronage are two very different concepts, yet both involve transactions of a sort. As does fealty...and honor. Sadly, I am no scholar to debate such things as would occur at the Pardwright. You may do as you wish."

"Constable Wesmere, a pleasure of course," answers Morgan Cippiano graciously with a nod to Jesselle at her courtesy, followed by a similar nod to Emerson. "I have other business to attend to, but you are always welcome here, as you are in the shop of Miccini in the North Shore. I wish you all health and success in your pursuit of justice for Nilasa Hume."

"Wish all you might, but Soliogn's bands will want their vendetta for the loss of all of their sunken treasure and nothing to show for it. The Family has made it clear the loss was not due to its own carelessness, and Nilasa Hume cannot be blamed for obvious reasons."

"For those of you that are open-minded enough to see where our mutual interests may be served, know that you need but ask if it is reasonable. The Stray and Pine Island will be welcome to you, of course. Should you ever need services for...shall we say...recovered curiosities with discretion, seek a very talented cobbler for the North Shore elite who goes by the name of Dozy Miccini, as you are now known to him."

Prestige Rating with The Family is now rank 2, and reflected in the Campaign Info Tab

There is a clear flash of irritation across Cippiano's face as Gemma voices her strong opinions, though the stylish Crisillyiri man recovers quickly with a sip of his coffee, and only replies in a mild and measured tone. "My apologies, Constable Atherton, for the choice of words concerning Blander and Danisca Wareye. I had not heard the contest between you was so...bitter...in nature. Would it please you then to know that, upon their eventual release from the Flint Governatorial Prison – in late Summer or so I am told, as charges beyond public disturbance, resistance of arrest and destruction of property are their only published crimes – that the Cloudwood brigands are almost certain to hunt them down? Soliogn's bands are quite 'put out' with them as the Risuri might say! Yet they are a resourceful pair, so it may not go as the traditionalists expect." Cippiano shrugs his shoulders as if to say it doesn't matter to him one way or another. "Hmm…I suppose you may consider that fair justice, Constable Atherton, in similar fashion to executing a true eladrin woman of Ethelyn Lesterman’s rebels in the Spring insurrection. Not that I mind this of course – your solution to the she-demons of the accursed Eladrin menace is most direct, though I do not think it meets the criteria of honor as you put it, no?”

Morgan Cippiano smiles and nods graciously to the rest. ”Each of you may view the value of The Family’s benevolence towards you differently, and this is understandable. The offer of goodwill and assistance is extended to you six regardless. We will take no hand either way in the fate of the Wareyes, unless you ask it otherwise. As to the release of Captain Amda Banda and his crew of the Grifoni…and too the incarceration of Deorn Feldman…we simply ask that you take no further actions in these lawful proceedings, and let magisterial matters run their due course.”

"Oh...I personally did not do such a thing, Constable Teldanona, for of course I am but an entrepreneurial restaurateur, and that would be unseemly." Morgan Cippiano shrugs his shoulders in a display that he's obviously putting on a front in what he himself represents.

However, Fethryth can discern no deception or lies on his next statement. "It is true however that The Family has...shall we say...kept vigilant here and there on the well-being of Constable Teldanona as she makes her way home. As well as former Constable Muhnee, and others." He leans forward intently and adds, "Would it surprise you to know that others not affiliated with The Family have been making inquiries to your comings and goings in The Stray District, Constable Teldanona? To several of you in fact, at least for those of you residing in Central and Eastside? I respectfully recommend you need not be concerned about The Family, but in other parties that seem to be intent upon what all of your routines and patterns are. Your identified man was there to watch for the watchers."

Turning to Emerson Hill, Cippiano says with a grand sigh, "It is true the Wareye couple caused some...mischief and disruption...in the smuggling rendezvous that you six intercepted. It is true some would see this as betrayal. Then again, rumors are that the small couple put up quite a fight against the R.H.C. in Pine Island, so the locals say. Quite spirited they are! I like their boldness and flair for theatrics. In any event, the Family now regards its affairs in the facilitation of Crysillyiri curiosities to Nilasa Hume, her cause and her patron as being in gross error, despite the monetary gains. Support of Gale or the so-called Risuri traditionalists will not happen again, that I can assure you."

"Of course, of course." Morgan Cippiano inclines his head respectfully at Jesselle, both in her words and her approval of her breakfast. "However if I am not mistaken, the Constabulary has...shall we say...at times bent the rigid inflexibility of the law in order to protect your land and save its people from threats against them, both within and without? Am I not correct in that you operate with...greater latitude and discretion than your more limited local constabularies, watches and sheriffs?"

"In any event, please understand that The Family is not so naive to attempt to entreat with the Royal Homeland Constabulary itself, for we both know that would neither be tolerated nor desired by either party. Rather, The Family wishes to entreat with the six of you specifically, because of your effectiveness, your honor, your accomplishments."

Morgan Cippiano spreads his hands wide at the table, smiling grandly. "My friends, it is hard to speak about generalities and abstract matters, I know, in terms of the help that The Family extends its hand to you on. So let me be specific. Your investigation into the unfortunate circumstances of Nilasa Hume's death, for example. Aside from the simple fact that her demise led you to her...efforts...of smuggled artifacts for the benefit of the cursed Elfaivaran terrorist, Gale Soliogn, you are...not satisfied with the Danoran accounting of her untimely death, no?"

"Perhaps The Family can help in this regard, to assist you in uncovering the truth that others seek to hide. Perhaps The Family can also aid in leniency for those that have...shall we say...crossed swords with you during your investigation, and are now devoid of protection as a result of it - the Wareye couple, for example?"

"Are they not divine? I am pleased. The coffee too is to your liking, Constable Hill?" Morgan Cippiano smiles amiably as he takes the time to pour more coffee from an exquisitely decorative press into his cup, with a healthy addition of sugar to boot. "In my homeland, coffee has long been disregarded - said to be uncultured or too Danoran or a nouveau fancy of Nalaam - the viewpoints of those who stagnate and cannot embrace change. What a marvelous thing they miss! I am working to rectify that view, amongst other matters."

"Now then, where were we? Ah yes. As Constable Teldanona or Constable Summers may put it most succinctly, what is 'the point' of this attention by The Family? Perhaps you think this recent business of the regrettable smuggling incident of Crisillyiri enchanted 'artifacts' three nights ago places you as adversaries to The Family now? Perhaps you expected a vendetta to occur? I assure you it is not so. Quite the contrary. It was not lost upon their leadership, for example, that you did not take lives in your raid upon the bayou wharf, nor upon Captain Amda Banda's ship and crew. That alone suggests you are honorable...and that you are not in Lorcan Kell's pocket as so many so-called 'officers' of Flint's districts happen to be these days."

Morgan Cippiano leans back once again in his fine chair to regard the constables a moment, and then says, "You see, honor matters to The Family. You are all honorable, and therefore can be dealt with honorably. We can help you where we are able, where and if you wish it so, to further your affairs in protecting your King and the Land from harm. Is that not a direct-enough offer then to consider?"

Despite Gemma's smirk the genteel man who seems to at least represent The Family leans forward earnestly. "Lorcan Kell is wholly Risuri, it is true. Yet he cares nothing for his countrymen and comrades, aside perhaps from those that are directly under his employ...and I suspect not even then. He actively works to move all criminal activities under his direct control, having accomplished so in two Districts of Flint and well-positioned in three more. With rapidity I might add, as he has powerful support."

Morgan Cippiano nods satisfactorily and inclines his head towards Anneca, replying, "That is well said, constable. As it refers to each of you, the King's treacherous sister came to my mind as well, for obvious reasons. Still, she tried to kill you on the King's new flagship in addition to her brother, and so the motive to stop her could have been about vendetta, but I see now there are more...ah...noble causes that drive you."

He leans back in his chair with a quirky smile that does not touch his eyes. "And what about Lorcan Kell? A Risuri man, who in some "informal" circles I am connected to proclaims his so-called 'protection' and influence is about keeping Risuri matters to the Risuri...even if he only means one man in particular."

Cippiano nods then to Jesselle and answers her. "In reference to your question, madame Constable, it is true that...ah...the interests that I am affiliated with have come to know the six of you - you five plus Constable Utegg who is not here - and do hold you with both respect and regard. You know the name of The Family, and they know you. And they wish to reach a mutual...how would you put it...ah yes...an accord, an accommodation with the six of you. Based on the principles of respect, duty...and strength, of course."

"Other shoe to drop..." muses Morgan Cippiano, who takes Fethryth's brusqueness in stride and seems interested in the turn-of-phrase she uses. "Yes, ah I shall have to remember that one. As for the other question..."

Cippiano shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his coffee as he considers it, his eyes scanning quickly to each of them as if weighing his options before his next words. "Very well. I start my second question with the foreknowledge that all of you are, in fact, not only 'Constables' of your good King Aodhan Lesterman, loyal and true to him, but also to your homeland of Risur as well, and therefore its citizens. So I ask you, constables, in the interests of fair dealings and in no way intended to mock or slight you - do you then consider all Risuri-born more worthy or loyal than any of those hailing from other lands? Aside from Danor I presume, does the birthright of being Risuri inherently carry more trust, more honor, than any persons who hail from Ber, Crisillyr or Drakr?"

That's okay Feth, as we're just trying to get back into the swing of things and I'm trying to get more consistent here.

Since we have this dialogue going with Morgan Cippiano, I'll work to get a post in every night this week as long as we keep the conversation going.

As seats are taken and requests for drinks and breakfast given, Morgan Cippiano adds in his own request for bold coffee that matches Emerson’s, and gives a nodding wave to Miri for it. While a multitude of pastries comes in quickly by way of several servers with trays, Cippiano seems to mostly ignore Jesselle’s question and instead makes comment about the hot summer and the news of the morning dailies, or the gossip of the recent tremors in the city and what that may mean. Certainly if nothing else, the man seems to enjoy proprieties and seemingly is in no rush to get on to the business at hand.

Miri comes back with a tray of teas and coffees for Emerson, Jesselle and her uncle, as well as three small decanters of chilled water that she sets in front of Anneca, Gemma and Fethryth. ”Thank you Miri…I do not impose upon your lack of thirst, constables, but it is unseemly in my people’s customs to not at least offer drink to you…you may partake or not as is your preference. That will be all, Miri.”

”Yes, Uncle,” says the young woman who smiles and curtsies to Cippiano, but who upon the way out snaps her fingers and ensures the other servers finish up and exit quickly before she does. Upon her departure, only two men are visible standing just outside the door as she closes it. Interestingly, it seems that Morgan Cippiano has chosen to leave himself alone in meeting with all five constables of Risur.

”There now. Please, eat, eat! My hospitality is no meager measure, and I wish to know if anything is not to your satisfaction. For you see, I am a man who always strives to improve, and one must hear the truth of things if one is to progress.” Morgan Cippiano takes a hearty sip of his coffee and follows it up with a hearty bite of something from the tray that looks like a tart with honey dolloped atop it, before finally addressing Jesselle’s question.

”How can the Royal Homeland Constabulary be of service, you ask me? An interesting question…yes…most interesting. Yet I think it may be the wrong question for us to start with. Instead, I should like to ask you two questions, though I fear one of them may get us ‘off on the wrong foot’ as I hear it is said here. So my other question is simply this – how can Morgan Cippiano be of service to you, the six constables that have gained both my attention and deepest respect?”

Hi Everyone - no worries here, but had family visiting as well as multiple school awards functions going on this past week. I'll be in my monthly table campaign all day tomorrow, but should have better consistency going forward here.

6 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Morning (quarter-till ten o’ clock)
Cippiano’s Coffee House, Healers Street, The Stray River District (East Bank)

As the five constables disembark from their carriage in front of Cippiano’s Coffee House and head towards the entrance, they certainly know they are not doing so inconspicuously. Indeed, they do not have to wait long for a receiving party to emerge from the main entrance to greet them…though it is not at all what they might have expected.

A young woman with long lustrous black hair in braids and a fine but serviceable white skirt and more colorful crimson blouse emerges from the entrance, having just taken off a slightly stained white apron which is still in her hands. The young woman is pretty and appears no more than in her late teens. Coming out with her are two even younger children – a boy of around twelve and a girl of under ten, looking grumpy as if being told to do some work that they’d rather not do. It is clear, however, that the young woman of naming age has had practice in greeting people, and does so with a practiced air about her that one might expect of a more savvy and older barmaid at one of the Bosum Strand taverns.

”I greet you, worthy constables, on behalf of my uncle,” says the woman with an accent that marks her instantly as Crisillyiri-born. ”Would you follow me and come inside? My cousins will take your coats and hats if it pleases you. A table has already been prepared for you and warm pastries have just come from the ovens. This way, if you please.”

While the younger children take any offered hats, coats or scarves with a grudging smile and proceed to place them in a coat room just off the foyer entrance, the five of you follow the young lady inside the coffee house. The buzz of conversation and sounds of laughter and merry talk is more pronounced inside, with a large room just off the foyer that holds a counter not unlike a bar counter at a tavern, but awash in mugs and cups of teas and coffee instead of ale and beer. Many patrons line up at the bar counter and drink various coffee brews both hot and cold, while more are found at the various small tables that seem ready to burst outside onto a nearby patio onto Healer’s Street, with white-aproned young men and women bustling about serving them. The smell of pastries, breads and various types of jams and honey fills the air, and it is no mistake that Cippiano’s Coffee House is a popular destination for the craftsmen and families that reside or work in the Stray’s East Bank.

Though only a single story, the place has several hallways and adjacent rooms jutting off of the main front serving room, making the place a haven for various nooks and quieter rooms – oddly reminding Emerson of the Thinking Man’s Tavern in that respect. Their guide smiles and gestures to one such hallway, where they proceed a short distance into a fine dining room that is currently filled with stacked plates and mugs, with several aproned men and women cleaning them even as more come out from a nearby hot kitchen area. It is here that the five constables see what they would think of as more burly guard-types or even bravuras – two muscled men leaning by a door opposite the kitchens and clearly not interested in helping to clean crockery. At the party’s approach they simply nod to the young woman and open the door for them to pass by, their looks at the constable seeming respectful though alert. Beyond the door is a small hallway with fine wooden paneling and opening into another smaller dining room that seems more opulent than the one preceding it – the decorative wood and painted murals on the upper walls and beamed ceiling giving it the feel of a fine dining house somewhere off the Theatre Ward in Central.

Three or four fine wooden tables are set here, but it is clear one is meant for them by being dressed in fine white linens and bearing eatingware of actual polished silver, with glasses and decanters of crystal laid out. The table can easily seat a full dozen, leaving ample room for the constables to sort out where they would each like to sit. Except for the head of the table, which is occupied by a stylish balding man in his forties with cropped brown hair and an angular face with a pronounced chin, dressed in a fine linen grey shirt and trousers with a brown vest. He currently sips from a mug of coffee as they enter the room, and though he does not stand at their approach he greets them with the utmost warmth and courtesy in an unmistakable Crisillyiri accent, the likes of which remind them of just two nights ago when they captured Captain Amba Banda and his crew on the Li Grifoni Grinyande.

”Ah! Good, good. I am so very pleased you have honored my invitation, constables. And on time too, at least for a proper breakfast in the mid-morning. This pleases me…yes sit – sit anywhere you would like at my table, for you are my honored guests after all, and I offer my full hospitality to you at this time, in the Crisillyiri custom, of course. Yes and please tell Miri here what you would like in terms of coffee or tea, and it shall be gotten from the front for you. Only the finest, here at my coffee house.”

6 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Morning (approximately half-past eight o’ clock)
First Floor Briefing Room, R.H.C. HQ Building, Flint Branch Compound

For the first time in three days, the morning briefing has returned to a more normal affair, with the five constables for once taking a back row to Constables Dane, Coin and Utegg, who are hot on the trail of the failed arsonist attempt at Heward Sechim’s factory and the revelations of the dragonborn brothers. Constables Rayne and LeMont are still visibly absent from the briefing room once again, with Inspector Delft only briefly mentioning their progression of the Vekeshi case as “promising” – much to the chagrin of Gemma who cannot determine anything more than that.

Of course, it is not lost upon the five constables on the Hume case that if they had been forthcoming on the mysterious wind and canary that came to them in the prior afternoon, the briefing room would be abuzz with activity on readying for a showdown with Gale. But they kept it a secret unto themselves, with no one else on the Constabulary the wiser for it and assuming the initial contact by Gale had not happened as of yet…and may not happen at all.

For now, the five constables are told to follow any minor leads they may have outstanding, including the Family connection, even as they wait to hear from Gale, Lorcan Kell or perhaps even the good Doctor von Recklinghausen himself.

6 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Morning (quarter-till ten o’ clock)
Cippiano’s Coffee House, Healers Street, The Stray River District (East Bank)
All Five Constables (Anneca, Emerson, Fethryth, Gemma and Jesselle)

An hour later finds the five constables in a carriage well outside of Flint Branch and Central District, down at the forked junction of Yearling Street and Healers Street near the southern edge of the Stray’s East Bank, with the broad tree canopies of the road stretching away to their south in a rough parallel of the Stray River as it marks the western edge of the Cloudwood. Here the Stray almost feels like a smaller Risuri town or hamlet, the trees and river obscuring their proximity to the vast metropolis of Flint to either side along the Flint Bay.

The carriage is driven this morning by an unknown younger man named Lenn who seems to be one of the newer drivers of Flint Branch, as Sully had the day off this day. The young driver looks bored and not particularly attentive, though even he noted the odd spectacle of Emerson Hill bringing along a canary in a makeshift metal cage for the trip. So far the bright canary sits contentedly in its cage, occasionally chirping or making brief hops along its perch but otherwise showing nothing noteworthy.

Before them is what appears to be a well-kept one story building of some size, with a fair bustle of activity along Healers Street by craftsman and other common citizens who seem keen on getting a good mug of Yerasol coffee and a fresh pastry. Cippiano’s Coffee House has its doors open with good smells and the babble of patrons within, even as a separate cart on the busier Yearling Street corner sells coffee and simple pastries to those who would stop by on the road. A small group of patrons sip strong coffee and sit on simple oak benches outside the coffee house to one side, reading new dailies from a hawker selling them just up Healers Street, with some patrons playing simple games of stones on small wooden tables.

A quick review of their handwritten invitations marks this as the place for their meeting. That the place is both well-kept and prosperous is perhaps not surprising to the constables, but the air of civility and lack of lookouts or thugs seems out-of-place with what they were expecting here.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
223 East River Street, Stray River District (East Bank)
Fethryth Teldanona

Mayor Robinson gives a slight musing grin at both Fethryth and then Willem before answering, "Hmmm...I do enjoy a good crisp cider or spiced wine as any, but I gather I may just be an impediment to you two if you start talking war stories. That, and my attendance at any one establishment may show an undue favoritism over their competitors that I would rather avoid, at least outside of festival. I therefore respectfully pass on the invitation for now."

"Well speakin' fer myself, that'd be just fine Fethryth, just fine and dandy!" He grins at her while giving a slight check and correction of his hat. "I know you're on case though...and even I can read between the lines of the dailies to know you've been in the thick of it since I left ya. As it turns out, I got me a trip planned in the next week to check on the family ranch and see about bringing some new studs from the farm to a couple of choice plantation owners that actually know a thing or two about horses. I should be back in a week though, and I'll see then about that drink."

The Mayor smiles in appreciation, though she looks to Willem as if to politely suggest they should continue their walk along the main thoroughfare. "Indeed so. Constable Teldanona, please consider my office open to you should you need any assistance from the Stray District, formal or otherwise. I have heard from one of my colleagues on the Mayoral Council recently of the good works of the Constabulary, whose opinion and friendship I hold in high regard. That is to say Mayor Reed MacBannin. Certainly any who gain Reed's respect can also count on my support, even if the Stray District is less influential or prominent than many of the other districts of Flint."

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
912 Larimer Lane, Central District
Jesselle Wesmere

"Oh I know you don't make policy at the Constabulary," snaps Jada irritably at her, even as she finishes her water and waves a hand for Jesselle to magically provide another round of it. "And I'm truly glad you made it down from Cauldron Hill both alive and with your mind intact. And I know you weren't on the Ragman case...but just so you know that it seemed to me and those of us in the know that any so-called attention by the Constabulary to actually cracking the identity or whereabouts of the Ragman seemed to be just a fancy bit of powder and smoke with no fire - just more doublespeak to prop up Gohins and divert attention from these awful butcherings and the fires and the beatings and all of it in Parity. Disgusting. Someone has to stand up for the oppressed people of Parity Lake...even the Dockers with all their talk and mockery and pretending to rise up, well even they don't seem interested much in the plight of Parity folk as they get gutted and flayed in smog-choked alleys there."

Jesselle refills Jada's water and calmly listens to her tirade, as it's certainly nothing she hasn't heard before from her longtime friend. Also certain is that Jada's passion for the plight of the working family is strong, as is her sense of justice and fairness. After all, it's what makes her good as a scribe of one of the better dailies of the city. Still, it seems to Jesselle that Jada has spent more time out later and later following leads and gathering information, sometimes not coming in until near dawn even as Jesselle is getting ready to leave for Flint Branch. She worries about her impassioned friend, hoping and trusting she will not stray too far into unintended peril and get herself into trouble.

"Ahh...I'll just stop running around the festival pole with my same old ribbons then. I'm glad you're okay Jess, really I am. Maybe just send me a note next time?" Jada finishes her second cup of water and gives a quick yawn and tired stretch. "I'm beat, and have to go check up on something later, before that pompous blowhard "Inspector" Reginald Filby holds yet another morning briefing where he describes no actual progress on the case - just the name "Reginald" sets my teeth on edge - some of the 'boots say he's one of the smartest police detectives in all of Flint, but for all that he's just another bloated gasbag. I'll see you in the morning Jess."

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
12B Canton Street, Bosum Strand District
Emerson Hill

The letter is sealed in the classic fashion with a seal of wax, bearing an insignia Emerson doesn't really recognize. Once he opens the letter however, he understands both the sender and its significance:

To the Esteemed Master Constable Emerson Hill,

Chamberlain Russel Fox of the House of Goodson

"Well now, a wedding is it? And the son of Guy Goodson no less! Look who's noticed by the ranks of high society eh? Well then Master Hill, I'll leave you to it then." Ruari tips his cap and leaves Emerson to his musings, with the bright yellow canary chirping occasionally on his kitchen table in the background.

I'm trying to get the 6 Summer morning group scene up for you all, but just having a bit of constraint with both daughters being in a school musical production that finally closes out late tonight. So in the meantime you have the individual evening scenes to run as little or as much as you would like.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
On the Road to Malmesbury, Eastside District
Gemma Atherton

"Oh yeah? How about that...he's one of those Beran minotaurs right? That is interesting...not something us 'rank-and-file' soldiers are likely to see, unless I transfer to Honor Guard detail for the Constabulary or Torfield Palace."

Jeffrey flashes his friendly and assured smile, though Gemma can sense a bit of melancholy persists about him that cannot be shaken. He makes a good show of it though and chats about current events, such as the recent tremors and the prospects for an upcoming peace treaty with Danor mixed with a very odd royal wedding. Finally, they round the last turn to Malmesbury Road and stop in sight of her flat.

"I'd ask to come in and say hello to Bliss, but as it turns out I need to get on over to the docks and meet up with some fellows coming in from Battalion on short leave - I'm on this dayshift post though for another fortnight so another day then? I'm sure there's a place you'd care to frequent even if it's not a dance hall eh?"

With a last eager grin and a salute to Gemma, Jeffrey Wescott heads back down Malmesbury Road and says behind him, "See ya around Rigs!"

********************
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

As Gemma heads to the open door to her second-story flat, she marks the two Risuri Army soldiers from Flint Branch that make up her security detail - both in local laborer's garb and in separate locations but within sight of one another and of the residence itself. Other passersby don't seem to pay them any attention, but its clear to Gemma that the standard two-man watch as mandated by ACI Delft is still in effect. They both mark her as she approaches the downstairs entrance to the building, but do not nod or give any signals to her that would suggest an issue.

Glad to see you as well Feth! Yeah a friend of Cromlich and mine unfortunately got the first one for my birthday, so that's how that addiction started. I'm glad the third one isn't out until September. My wife and teenage daughters pretty much enjoy watching me play so they can laugh when I get Lara killed and "help" with the puzzles and what-not. Good times!

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
223 East River Street, Stray River District (East Bank)
Fethryth Teldanona

"Well I'll be poleaxed and flummoxed - HEY FETHRYTH!" Willem Muhnee grins widely and waves his arms eagerly in return, much to the surprise of his "lady" and the guard detail behind her. He looks much more relaxed in his preferred rural trousers and vest with a non-matching kerchief tied around his neck. By contrast, Mayor Chrystine Robinson is much more fashion-forward, though she clearly knows how to dress modestly for her working-class family district and doesn't overdo it like many in Central or North Shore would.

Muhnee steps forward with the usual gait and step of his familiar riding boots and shakes Fethryth's hand firmly, clearly having no ill-feelings towards her after three days of resigning his constabulary commission. "I'll be! Comin' back from Flint Branch are ya? It's good to see ya, truly it is!" Willem turns back and beckons over the Mayor of Stray to join him eagerly. "Chrystine! Come say hello to one of the very best I served with - Fethryth Teldanona - I served with her in the capital and though she wasn't on the Coaltongue she was there on Axis Island when we took down the traitor Duchess. Fethryth, this is Chry...well this is Mayor Robinson of this here district."

Fethryth can see the mayor has a much more calculating and guarded posture, what with citizen passersby watching the entire exchange going on and Willem somewhat botching a proper introduction. At his friendly and honest insistence however, Chrystine Robinson dons a smile and steps forward gracefully after giving a cue to her two bodyguards to stay where they are.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Constable Teldanona." Though she is a petite blond-haired and handsome woman who clearly has no military or martial bearing, when she shakes hands with Fethryth it is noticed her grip is strong and her hands show some evidence of hard work in her youth, perhaps farming or a manual trade. "Willem has many fine stories of those he served with...though recent events on him have been unfortunate, I'm gladdened he still has friends among those he served and fought with."

While the visible and vocal exchange takes place, Fethryth positions herself to see that the suspicious Family bravura up the street takes notice as well. To the best of her observations it doesn't seem to faze him one way or the other, and after a few moments of watching the impromptu meeting at the intersection he casually joins the street traffic going the opposite direction, fading into the normal hustle and bustle.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
12B Canton Street, Bosum Strand District
Emerson Hill

Ruari muses the question for a moment and quips back, "I guess it's fine if you wanted to know if the air in some of those Parity factories was turning sour. Not much of a pet though...if I get complaints that they're being woken up by bird screeches and all that, I'm gonna have to ask you to move it out. Right? Right. And yes I want some of that honey in the tea, as you make it yours too bitter usually."

Ruari starts sipping his offered tea and thinks back to Emerson's question about Vastra. "Vastra's always into trouble of some sort, though she's usually quick enough to not get caught in a churn. But the Dockers of Gibbs' group are stirring up some sort of rally later on this night over the Parity business. Fires...Ragman killings...tremors...I don't know but it seems the heat and haze of Summer just brings out the worst in folks every year before now...guess this year's no different, even if we're in a new century now."

"So do I have to come outright and ask who'd you get a fancy uppity-type letter from? I thought you're stepping out with Talyssa Dane - you're not dipping into the cauldron with two ladles on some wench in a fancy dress now are ya?"

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
On the Road to Malmesbury, Eastside District
Gemma Atherton

Jeffrey smiles vaguely and shrugs his shoulders, his boyish smile and ease of response one of the reasons he was able to often get into degrees of mischief and not seriously have to account for them the way other cadets did. Not that he didn't spend time cleaning latrines or peeling potatoes for the kitchens for something particularly stupid or not well-thought out...usually in cases where he didn't rely on Gemma's acumen or reasoning before engaging in some pursuit.

"Oh aye, gates are guarded and no Great Hunt ridin' through the arches against us. Nor Dragons or Titans or Danoran clockworks for that matter." Jeffrey shrugs again and offers an answer she didn't quite expect as they walk. "Actually, there's not much to say about Spring and Ethelyn's Rebellion for me...my transfer request to First Army, Second Corps Rangers was denied right before Shale fell, and since intelligence thought Flint was the likely target for the Rebels after they took the fleet and most of Second Army, well, I ended up standing watch on a lot of Flint walls and digging trenches at likely beach landing points until the surrender was called after Axis."

There's a slight look in her academy friend's eye that suggests that stung a bit, try as he might though to couch it in a degree of nonchalant humor. "Eh well, I didn't decide to muck it with the Marines eh? Could've been worse I suppose to have been in Second Army in Shale when over half the companies mutinied - a few of our old squad that went off to Second Army were gutted in their bunks if they didn't join the rebels, so it always could be worse. At least I got to see Sebs all riled up and chewing iron with me, waitin' for an invasion of Flint that never happened."

Truth be told, Gemma figured her friend would've made first lieutenant by now, and it was a bit surprising that he didn't make the transfer that he put his mind to, and that he had to sit out on the largest action seen since the end of the last Yerasol War. That "Sebs" Sebastian Lockwood also didn't make it out of what was considered second-rate Flint duty also surprised her, though she didn't mind his career ambitions dashed in the slightest.

"Really Rigs, don't get that long face a'goin' for me now, will ya?" He smiles and clasps her on the shoulder as they turn another street corner. "Actually, things may be turning up for me soon enough here in Flint...I've met a few good connections here 'n there in the officer's halls who know a thing or two about getting noticed and proving one's mettle - not quite as good as proving it in the field of battle, but with the King and the Danoran Treaty now, no reason to hang one's hat on a Fifth War anytime soon." Jeffrey winks and adds, "And let's face it, we can't all win commissions in the Constabulary, now can we?"

"So how is Bliss? Dinner parties you say? Hmmm...gotta be honest Rigs that you in a proper dress and playing at dinner parties would scare me more than facing down The Voice of Rot in a bayou swamp during maneuvers in the peak of Summer!"

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
912 Larimer Lane, Central District
Jesselle Wesmere

"Hmmm..." grumbles Jada audibly, her face stern and her arms set across her chest in a typical display of Jada-like displeasure. She waggles a finger at her cup and says something that she often says to Jesselle, even though Jada knows the answer already. "Can't you conjure a proper ale or stout sometime, instead of chilling water?" Still, Jada drinks the offered water down well enough - cold water was still something not to be panned in Flint's heat of Summer.

"Wait...what did you say? When you say you were on Cauldron Hill, you mean MacBannin's manor right? I mean, not actually up atop Cauldron Hill?" Jada looks incredulously at her friend for an answer...and when she receives it her eyes widen and she shudders involuntarily. "Bleaking bloody balls Jesselle! What in the Land would the R.H.C. demand of you to go atop...I mean with your sight in that cursed place...you could've been driven mad...or worse up there! I've heard plenty of stories in my time and it's not all fishwives' tales and prattle for the back-pages, not all mindless prattle-gossip! Some of that is real...why I scribed a story once where Battalion Academy had three unannounced fatalities in as many years training up there!"

Welcome back Vord! I will get on over to the Gameplay and see what is in store for each of us. I may not get to things until tomorrow, but I will be thinking on it. Good to have you back!

Thanks and good to be back! I have to do an all-day thing with one of my daughters, but I'll be looking to get the next group scene written this weekend.

So to share tidbits of so-called "wisdom" that I learned while out on my unexpected hiatus:
* When having writer's block, playing Tomb Raider on the Playstation doesn't get you back to writing...
* When having writer's block, playing *anything* on the Playstation doesn't get you back to writing...
* Twitch can drain hours and hours of your evenings if you're not careful...
* There are only so many character builds you can spec out in HeroLab for the campaign you play in...

Greetings All,

Well it's been far too long, and though I've been thinking about the game for a long time now it was something that got away from me pretty badly in terms of zest for writing and getting through a bad bout of writer's block. Work hasn't been a lot of "fun" either, but I do feel I'm in a better place to not let that torque me and disrupt writing and playing the game anymore.

So the good news is that I'm eager to write and get the game going again...but of course the hiatus has been unexpected and severe - I wouldn't presume to assume that everyone is ready to go. I have a good notion of how to move things forward for the next day of 6 Summer and get some long-awaited meetings going! That being said, tonight I posted a series of individual posting options for each character - sort of a "check-in" for each player back to the game as well as to offer an individual opportunity for expression before we get rolling with more group-play. You can run these with me as little or as much as you'd like, with no hard requirements that I'm looking for, other than to have fun with them and feel out your dusted-off characters a bit.

So the postimg site I've been using for pictures and maps looks like it changed a bit and broke all the prior url links, which is irritating. I've fixed the ones on the main Campaign Info Tab, and will provide a new link to all the prior round-by-round combat maps we have accumulated over the course of the game.

Cheers!
Vord

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
12B Canton Street, Bosum Strand District
Emerson Hill

Emerson finds the prospects of a long walk home across Central and into the Strand fairly unappealing, and therefore spends the better part of a crown to get him to the Musing Way between his flat and the Thinking Man’s Tavern. With a bird literally in his coat pocket and no Tobias Utegg this time who usually shares the journey with him into the Strand, the limping constable makes his way home to his rented abode on Canton. It’s not long after he returns to his flat and starts rummaging around for something that could service as a canary cage that there’s a knock at his door. Answering it, he finds his landlord Ruari Kingston has come to call on him with news of interest.

”Haven’t seen ya in a few days Emerson, so I figured I should come and check on ya. Hey now, did ya hear about that attempted factory fire over in Parity? Vastra came by earlier to tell you about it, and told me about it, and said there was some sort of ruckus and guns and explosions and all of that. Good thing I got my business small and tucked away right here in the Strand eh? Vastra said she’d catch up with you later after some “business” or some nonsense she was attending to. Oh, and here’s a letter that was delivered to you earlier today by some fancy toadie-type that must have come from North Shore by the looks of him.”

Ruari hands him a fine parchment letter with fine script and slightly perfumed, before shrugging and continuing on. ”Anyhow, I wanted to see if you still needed to borrow my short-handled cutting shears for that barrel-work you were…uh…uh Emerson did you know you have a bird rummaging around in there on your dining table?”

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
On the Road to Malmesbury, Eastside District
Gemma Atherton

Gemma makes her way east towards the Nettles Gate along the old wall that formally separates Central District from both Eastside and The Nettles, walking briefly up Providence Street and then over a less carriage-choked thoroughfare to bring her past Barker’s Way and her favorite Gaslight Eatery, though on this evening she has little appetite to stop by for a spell. Not without her sister at least. As she presses on past the open Nettles Gate and into Eastside proper, a familiar friendly voice calls out to her, though one not heard in some time.

”Gemma! Hey Cadet Atherton! Stand and be counted!” It is none other than her Battalion classmate and friend Jeffrey Wescott, now a properly commissioned lieutenant in the Risuri Army, as she would have been had she not applied immediately upon graduation as a “prospective” to the Constabulary. Jeffrey can be seen coming down from up on the wall and in uniform, eager to greet her.

”Well well! Look at you…ahh I suppose I should say Constable Atherton now, shouldn’t I? And that certainly outranks a junior-grade Leftenant such as myself.” He gives her a jaunty salute with that assured smile she always threatened to slap off him, but in truth never really minded – that smile as opposed to fists seemed to get him out of more trouble when they were cadets at Battalion Academy.

Having just gotten done with his gate duty on a rotation of the city’s watchhouses for the Summer, he asks to walk her home at least part of the way if she’ll let him, as he has no pressing business but a bunk and an early reveille. He asks her why she never comes anymore to any of the pubs or dance halls in West Central that cater to the officers, and says that several of the lads and ladies of their old practice platoon still ask about her and would love to catch up sometime. ”You live around here Gemma?” asks Jeffrey incredulously as they head towards Malmesbury Road. ”I mean it’s fine here in this part of Eastside, don’t take offense now, but it’s mostly craftsman families and trade shops and wagons and…I mean not a lot to do this far out here, is there? If you’re under forty I mean.”

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
912 Larimer Lane, Central District
Jesselle Wesmere

Jesselle takes a private carriage home to her abode on Larimer Lane, absently watching the last day-train rumble on by towards King’s Station from outside the city, probably from Bole. Though this part of Central is not exactly scenic or grand as areas farther north or west, it’s close to the southern wall and within easy distance of Providence Street which can get her quickly to more interesting places should she choose it. Of course on this eve she has little interest than getting home, what with the grueling events of Cauldron Hill, the arson attempt and forcing of Valando’s spirit throwing her a fair bit off. Even without the subterfuge of meeting an eladrin sorceress that has been declared a public fugitive of the Realm.

Unfortunately, upon entering the doors she finds her friend and roommate Jada to be in no relaxing mood. ”There you are! What’s going on at the R.H.C. that you haven’t been home really in…what…two days now? Did you know that your so-called bosses have called off the search for The Ragman and now that filthy Mayor Gohins is following suit? What kind of justice do the poor of Parity deserve, by being locked in nothing less than indentured servitude in the factories…and then butchered by a crazed monster outside on the streets?”

Jada seems to be particularly keyed up tonight, with her early-morning deadline on her latest story of The Ragman murders for the Risur Review taking something of a toll. That Jada criticizes Jesselle for being out at odd hours though is fairly hypocritical, as Jesselle is often the one at home in the evening hours with her friend Jada out-and-about many nights on various leads for her scribing. Some of it where it concerns the finer eateries and taverns aren’t so bad for Jesselle to worry about her, but lately Jada has been out to seemingly less-savory places and coming back later than what is expected even for her, causing Jesselle to worry about her friend putting herself into reckless danger for the sake of the scribes.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
223 East River Street, Stray River District (East Bank)
Fethryth Teldanona

Fethryth finally gains the junction of Banks Street and East River Street, finally in sight of the Stray River and the main bridge that separates East Bank from West Bank in the district. Along the way through Central Fethryth continues to ponder the meanings of her visions from the afternoon, as well as wondering what Nevard may be learning in his own visions from their ordeal up on Cauldron Hill. That Heward occasionally drops into her thoughts is something she can’t quite sort out yet, trying then to focus on all that has come from this investigation, and what may come tomorrow.

She is about to turn the corner and make her way up towards her abode, when she notices two things of interest along the well-traveled thoroughfares of families and couples out for an evening stroll. Coming her direction in what seems like relaxed and amiable conversation are Stray Mayor Robinson and now-former Constable Willem Muhnee, with two bored-looking guards trailing on a respectful distance behind them both. It seems that the Mayor has made a decision to make their acquaintance public, which at least bodes well for Willem in his choice and everything that he had lost in his career. Willem hasn’t spotted Fethryth yet, so she still has time to turn the corner and avoid a greeting if she wishes.

The other oddity is up East River Street towards the direction of her home – a man idles lazily by a signpost at the first junction up the way, with a tunic and hood-style hat that looks oddly familiar to the attire the Family toughs wore that she fought up beyond Pine Island at the smuggler’s docks in the bayou. A pair of local laborers who pass by seem to acknowledge him deferentially, who in turn gives them a brief nod but continues to monitor other passersby as if looking for someone in particular.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Early Evening
6 Amelia Court, Central District
Anneca Summers

Anneca makes her way to what is now her home on the cul-de-sac of Amelia Court, though in some ways it still feels as if she’s just house-sitting for Makala Fileccia to return one day. That Anneca doesn’t really care about her upper-class neighbors…or the upper-class, or neighbors of any kind for that matter, doesn’t endear her much to the benefits of Central District living that most in the city would kill for. Even when Serena Taflis and Kaea Than’dil come by every so often to check upon her and try to draw her out for a bit of sociable fun, the townhome of the former R.H.C. spy seems lacking and uninviting. Yet for all of its lack of charm instilled by its current owner, the one thing that is not lackluster are its defensive wardings. Anneca meticulously checks them for any signs of disturbance or tampering before she secures herself within for the night.

Several letters await her at the receiving table in the foyer, which because of the past two days and nights she really didn’t have time to attend to. Most have to do with records of upkeep on the townhouse or goods and services rendered over the past fortnight, though one letter stands out from all the others: a fine hand-written letter from the financier and her onetime employer Logan Milsup, inquiring as to her health and well-being. The letter goes on to state that he always enjoyed her candor and though he knew she had made the esteemed ranks of the Constabulary in the prior year, he had only recently become aware that she resided where she did in Central. Logan raises the prospects of inviting her to tea or even dinner if she would be so inclined, and that a return missive can find him at his longtime home…which he quips is still intact as of the writing of this letter.

DM Note: The individual evening threads are optional for each character, with their progression and length entirely dependent on what each player would like to do with it. If inclined to do so, please post with either a header or a spoiler, while we continue to move the group scene along into Summer 6th.

5 Summer, 500 A.O.V. – Late-Afternoon
R.H.C. Flint Branch, Central District
All Five Constables (Anneca, Emerson, Fethryth, Gemma and Jesselle)

Despite the commotion that both the magical canary and Gale’s “gust of whispering wind” made in reaching them, for now it seems that Delft and everyone else in the R.H.C. is none the wiser for it. Other than the dismissed concerns of a couple of Risuri honor guards that is. They speak to the canary on their desire to alter the meeting to a sooner time somewhere on the following day of the 6th, to which the bird chirps a couple of times absently and hops around the table. Whether the change of time is heard or not, it is the best that the constables can do under the circumstances.

Collecting their gear and heading off under the bustle of the approaching nightshift watch changes, Emerson and Gemma attend to “smuggling” the yellow canary out of the Flint Branch Compound, made easier by the fact that the canary does relatively nothing to resist or protest their actions. They’re not even sure the bird is, in fact, alive. If not, they have to concede it’s a marvelous piece of magic to sustain such a conjuration – perhaps something to ask Gale on the following day if they actually manage to pull off the long-anticipated meeting and meet her face-to-face.

*************************************

A fresh-faced and somewhat young but handsome sergeant salutes you perfunctorily at the side gate and lets the five of you out onto Gladson Way, bypassing the longer line of workers and researchers that must be reviewed and noted as they leave by way of the main gate. Outside the walls on the street, a few family-members of the workers wait patiently to greet their loved ones, with a few hawkers standing around selling copies of afternoon “gossip” dailies along with the occasional vendor selling food or offering to shine shoes. A few small private carriages are lined up down the Way for those needing rides in Central that do not wish to walk. It is along Gladson Way that most of you part company, with some making their way to their living quarters in Central, Eastside, Stray River or Bosum Strand. After a grueling set of days and nights disrupting what could be called a “normal” routine from the R.H.C., the constables find their trips home to be something of an oddity.

Hi Gang,

I’ve been under some stress and deadlines at work, though I’ll have time to post tonight. Apologies for the delay but in a way I’m glad, as you all had a good chance to talk about what you wanted to do and what matters to your characters.

So the little bird has heard your desire to meet Gale in the morning on the 6th, after potentially a trek to Cippianos towards the way out of town. I will work to post towards that and advance us.

I had originally thought to do some evening 5th separate scenes with each character in the off duty lives....but with Tobias AWOL and current scenes seeming a bit long in the tooth, I think I’ll do that another time and get you all moving to the 6th.

chirp..

The yellow canary hops on the breakroom table, looking remarkably calm for being a canary trapped inside a building and surrounded by people. It seems to look around and regard each person in the room or as they enter.

chirp...