Sarrus Twynn's page

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Sarrus looks on with quiet contempt. Gods of all makings were welcome in the Kaer Maga--that was sort of the point of the city, if it had any at all--but he really preferred it when they kept their ranting and raving in its place.

"They're wearing the symbol of the Inheritor," Sarrus whispers to Agnis, "But her crusaders don't usually come through the city, let alone kick over the downtrodden of the Warren. Something feels off about them... but they're also not trying to kill us, so that's something."

Sarrus keeps a fair distance from the rest of his group so as to avoid catching to much attention. It was a consequence of his unmistakable garb, a blessing in getting around the city... but troubling when the watchful eyes of some unknown agents were on them. It was one thing to deal with the common thugs and crooks of Kaer Maga, but a sinking feeling told him the players behind Corrin's murder were anything but common.

His attempt at laying low vanishes as all eyes dart to the crusading display at the heart of the Warren. He takes a few moments to gauge the speaker, wondering if it was just a common thief playing a part in some deceased priest's vestments, then sidles up alongside Agnis at the edge of the crowd. He crosses his arms, watching and waiting to see what else the zealot had to share.

Know(religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
SenseMotive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Sarrus stands, laying a hand on the blade at his belt. He leaves no illusions as to his intent, hoping at least a few of them recognize the signs of his office and know better than to pick a fight with a Duskwarden and his companions.

"Whether we were or weren't, it's none of your business, friend. I suggest you keep your eyes to yourself in this city, lest you lose them for good."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Sarrus scratches idly at his beard, considering their options. "Traveling outside of the city may well be more dangerous than staying here, depending on who we're dealing with. It's easy to hide another body somewhere in a city of strangers... less so traveling down the cliff towards Magnimar. Taking the Darklight Path would cut the travel time significantly, but that brings its own troubles. It could be wiser to choose a fight where we have the advantage, striking while they think Ursula's running scared."

"Agreed. Given the state of what happened in my absence, I'd wager just about anywhere is safer than here." Sarrus turns, his watchman's eyes once more peering into the dark corners of the city of strangers. The walls kept the city cast in gloom, even when the day shone over the Storval Plateau beyond. "And there's no telling who else might be watching. Scared off one man, but this city has more eyes and ears than it does rats."

Sarrus comes rushing back, sliding to a stop as he frantically shouts to his allies. He held his everburning torch low, its heatless flame flickering in the windless streets of the walled city. Watchful eyes peered into the dark corners of the street, looking for enemies that may or may not have been there.

"Sorry for disappearing, but as soon as we broke through the door, a figure took off running--I'd thought he'd been watching us, so I followed him, then some robed figure came out of Ursala's, threw a dagger at me, and chased off after the other fellow into some alleyway, and then I lost-" He stops, finally looking into bloody chaos left in Ursala's room. "Nevermind. What in the hells did I miss?"

Sarrus may or may not have misplaced this game. I can neither confirm nor deny any guilt.

I'm willing to hop back in if you'll still have me, but it looks like I missed out on some action!

"It's a shop, right? Well, we're just a motley group of patrons as far as anyone should be concerned. I don't see anything out of the ordinary... At least no dead bodies or serial killers. It's late... but it's Kaer Maga. Nothing is unheard of. So in we go?"

Sarrus offers a single knock on the door before testing the door to see if it was open.

If it is, he'll head on in and say the following. Otherwise he'll just sort of call it through the door.

"Hello? Anyone home? Hate to barge in at this hour, but we've got some business that needs to be addressed as soon as possible."

Sarrus stands beside the door with Aralee, his everburning torch in hand as his decidedly less dwarven eyes scan the darkness for any signs of trouble. He rests a hand on his blade, ready to be the first through if something was wrong... or be the first in even if everything was normal. Having a Duskwarden come knocking tended to get people's attention, even if was often the wrong sort of attention.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

"Aye," Sarrus murmurs to Agnis's comment. "Seen plenty of men lose their heart for the Undercity the second they see it proper. People think because they've kicked about their old second cellars they know what's there." He pauses. "They don't. But it's this sort of crap."

He shrugs, laughing it off. Mostly. The life of a Duskwarden wasn't all the glamor it seemed to have up in Kaer Maga proper. And Sarrus had only just gotten his feet wet down there. As awful as Corrin's death was, at least it was underneath the ancient ceiling of his walled city, not beneath it.

"But yeah. Help is definitely appreciated. Fresh eyes from fresh places for a city full of all sorts of strangers. I don't suppose either of you have frequented the Velvet Image recently?"

"You make it sound as though outright war would hit Kaer Maga's streets. That hasn't happened in generations. Cutpurses, cutthroats, and cut-worse around every corner? That's just life in this city." Sarrus chuckles, but it's a matter-of-fact sort of amusement rather than actual pleasure. The city he loved so much wasn't exactly a friendly place. It was a city of strangers, after all, and most strangers couldn't be trusted as far as you could throw 'em. "More pressingly, a dead student laid out on display for all to see sounds rather familiar. Sounds like the sort of thing you should have told us about right off the bat. Sounds like you're trying to hide more than you're letting on."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Sarrus muses over the name Ursula and this Seedling Class, trying to remember if his wandering about the Oriat and Kaer Maga has already put him in touch with some of them. He'd met so many people in the City of Strangers, but how to keep them all straight?

Knowledge(local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

"A school of bards without rivalry is like an academy of swordsmen sworn off dueling. Someone targeting Corrin for her successes--and leaving her in such a spectacle for us all to see--seems an act worthy of a tragedy. Maybe whoever did this couldn't upstage a living Corrin, but saw a means of using her to achieve fame of their own." A chill ran down the man's spine. "It's like the grim markings of territory we see down in the Undercity. Right before we seal off that tunnel. This one's just marking the stage as its own... right before we hunt him down."

Sarrus grimaces, looking over the picture beside the Headmasters. More questions than answers, as had been the theme for the night. "Do you have any idea who the erased figure may be? Or who the others in the portrait are? This might not be an isolated incident, and could well be a vengeance years in the making. If that's the case, than Corrin may not be an isolated incident."

"I agree, I doubt Corrin would remove herself from her own portraiture. My gut says it's her peers, as Zaliana says, but we should confirm with the Headmaster before jumping to any conclusions."

"May I?" Sarrus asks, pointing at the folio. He takes the pages from Zaliana, trying not to disturb their order or form, and pages through the works. "Eh, it's a long shot, but--maybe some of our dead diva's cryptic words are referenced in here? If I was a bard, I'd probably go out singing, too."

He flips through the works, reading them and searching for any references to the 'house of old and gold, bone, etc.' or 'watchers, courts, cloisters, etc.' or the coiterie of flowers.

Taking 20 on whatever to page through the thing. Linguistics?

The locket, though, he hadn't the slightest clue what to do with. Six what? Why was it humming? Another mystery atop mysteries. A part of him regretted leaving the simple task of the Duskwarden for this--in the Undercity, matters of life and death were simple. Dangerous, but simple. This was a tapestry of cryptic clues that all wove together into a whole lot of nothing.

Hopefully they'd find something here to give them more direction than aimlessly searching the deceased's belongings...

Sarrus would probably be a poor good cop. If we're playing "Good Cop, Mindreading Cop, PoursAcidOnYourFace Cop," then Sarrus would be a more suitable choice. On an unrelated note, can anyone disable locks? I've got Disable Device but no lockpick set.

"There's a number of different poisons that can accomplish such an effect," Sarrus replies as he pokes through the room's contents. He can hear echoes of his old lessons running through his head, but he tries his best to keep his answers simple. "And it could be accomplished in any number of ways. A simple paralytic would work, but it could also be a dozen other poisons that sap muscle strength or slow your nerves. And there's as many delivery vectors as there are poisons themselves." Sarrus hated poison. He agreed with Agnis wholehearted--it was the coward's weapon. But his studies of alchemy wouldn't have been even halfway complete without a half-dozen lessons on the wretched stuff.

"Perhaps this was our poison," Sarrus finishes with a shake of his head. Picking up the broken glass vial, he sets it aside on Corrin's desk as he searches the rest of her belongings. The variety of gifts she displayed from admirers only made him feel worse about the whole affair. Not even the locals from Ankar-Te would be admiring her in her current state. "Huh," he mutters as he gets to the drawers. "Wonder why she'd keep the drawers locked up. Are the performers in the habit of stealing from one another?"

Sarrus will also briefly summarize the rest of his mundane findings with the group, so you can all feel free to look at that last spoiler of his.

Before heading into the back of the theater, Sarrus looks grimly upon his fellow investigators. "I think she may have been poisoned. Some kind of numbing agent to keep her still--or unconscious, if the gods are at all kind--for whatever this was."

Later...

The chaos of the dressing rooms was nothing Sarrus was unaccustomed to. His own apartment was in a perpetual state of disorder and perfect order wasn't exactly necessary for the Duskwardens, either. He starts at one end of the room and starts looking over anything of even remote interest, figuring there was nothing to lose.

Taking 20 on Perception, if possible, for a 28 total.

Zaliana's inquiry made Sarrus regret abandoning his more academic pursuits to chase that nagging spirit of adventure. Perhaps if he'd only learned a little more, he'd have been able to identify exactly what had happened. "I have some knowledge of the body... but mostly just old lessons, not practical knowledge. What happened to Corrin is... probably well beyond my skill." He kneels beside Corrin, then slowly lifts the veil he'd placed over her.

It still made him uneasy. "At the very least, I should be able to tell if whatever happened was alchemical in nature. Poisons or the like."

Alchemy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25
Knowledge(Nature?): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Before leaving Corrin's side, Sarrus will take one of the vials he has available and take a small sample of her blood. The act feels like his worst desecration yet--and he was racking them up rather quickly--but he couldn't deny that there were people all across Kaer Maga that did... things... with blood. If they hit a wall, then perhaps they could always find help from one of them.

He sincerely wished it wouldn't come to that.

Taking a deep breath, he covers Corrin back up and stands.

"So. Dressing rooms, then?"

Is Zaliana alright? I'm assuming that between the four of us we stopped whatever it was?

Sarrus scowls at the headmaster's remark. "I wasn't aware we were suspects in the first place." He looks Corrin's broken body straddled in his arms, and for a moment, he considers a rather violent return of her corpse at the man's feet. Fortunately, Common sense and his general concern for the poor woman's soul win out.

He sets Corrin's body down gently against the wall, a good dozen feet from where she'd previously been affixed. He glances up at the headmaster, slowly draws the sword from his belt, and makes a great show of chopping a sizable chunk from one of the stage's curtains. He lays the fabric over Corrin, then silently returns to stand beside the rest of the group.

"Bastard!" Sarrus hesitates for only a moment before he connects the mention of 'veins' to the body on the wall. He charges up to start (rather indelicately) pulling the deceased diva from her mounting on the wall. He gasps between frantic breaths as he tries to undo the trapped corpse and the gruesome spectacle Corrin had become. Wherever she was, he hoped she understood. Poor girl. "Whoever did this- plans to kill- anyone tracking him! Wasn't enough to kill just her..."

Strength: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

"More riddles," Sarrus grumbled. He was no stranger to people talking around the truth, but damned if it didn't annoy him all the same.

Does this house of old and gold and hands and doors fit the description of something I know?
Know(local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Apparently not!

The whole scene was deeply unnerving, but Sarrus didn't want to let that show through his Duskwarden exterior. They were trained for this sort of thing--even if one or two of them did crack under the pressure once a month or so. Instead, Sarrus kept his eyes to the crowd, knowing that any of them could have been the watchers in the row.

"Courts and cloisters," he murmurs aloud. "Could be she was targeted by one of the monks of the Oriat. For whatever reason." This wasn't really helping them find a place to start. If anything, it only made things more complicated. "We need a decent piece of information to go off. Something that isn't a riddle wrapped in an enigma. Any ideas how to make it-er, her give us that?"

Absolutely. Who better to talk to the dead than the (probable) best one at making stuff dead?

"'Who killed you' seems the obvious choice, though I doubt we'll be fortunate enough to get a straight answer." Sarrus shrugged at his own suggestion. He'd tried to wrap his head around magic more than once, and always ended up more confused than when he'd started. Alchemy was just simpler, a science he could understand. "Maybe what she remembers just before she bit it?"

Pfft, aren't all Kaer Magans basically family? :)

The headmaster's blatant discrimination was grating on Sarrus' nerves, even as he tried to keep his attention elsewhere. Almost everyone in Kaer Maga had some particular group they took issue with, either because they'd stolen the shirt off their back a dozen years back or because they just seemed to have a nicer life than you. But Headmaster Giovee had no excuse to be hating on Varisians. Not only was Sarrus' great uncle a Varisian, but he'd be damned if they didn't have some of the finest songs on the planet. He lays a friendly hand on Zaliana's shoulder, shaking his head. "Just let it lie, friend. Even surrounded by strangers some people cling to their flawed logic."

Sarrus keeps to the side while Vinnick completes the ritual and begins the questioning. Best for him not to interfere in magical affairs.

Know(local) to see what I know about an Angeline at the Lyceum.
Know(local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

While all eyes are on Vinnick and his magic, Sarrus knew enough to keep his eyes on the crowd. Magic was flashy and fancy, sure, but anyone worth their salt had seen a few spells cast. Sarrus himself had seen this one cast once. On a fellow Duskwarden, way down in a tunnel past the Halflight Path. The answers weren't pretty. They sealed that tunnel later that day, against Sarrus' wishes to go in and avenge his brother in arms.

The real trick with people, though, was to see who reacted strange. Speaking with the dead was a good way to find answers. So was following those that didn't want you speaking with the dead. He keeps quiet, but close, with an eye to the crowd.

Perception to look for anything out of the ordinary and Sense Motive to gauge how the people still here are reacting to Vinnick's talking to Corrin.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Welp. At least half of that worked, maybe.

"Heh, that makes what-" Sarrus takes another quick glance around the room, marking off all the onlookers that were simply there to gawk or the mourners that had little intent of doing more than cry senseless tears. "-Five of us. Have to admit, it's a better turnout than I'd expected from this city. I half thought I'd have been the only sap with a sense of justice and a love of music. Nice to see I was wrong."

Satisfied with his cursory inspection of the room, Sarrus makes his way to the stage and joins Halastus the armored giant and Zaliana the singer beside the grim spectacle that was once Corrine. "The name's Sarrus Twynn, protector of the dark places beneath this strange city. A pleasure to make your acquaintances," he adds with a playful bow. He only realized afterward that the gesture seemed somehow irreverent in front of Corrine, but what was done was done.

Sarrus can brew up a couple of potions as needed, but like Halastus he's not much of a healer or caster. His use of alchemy (and all the goodies that come with it) is more about the utility and flexibility it provides--which is a pretty handy thing to have in and under Kaer Maga, he's found. It's also left him a lot more educated than your average fighter, with skills aplenty.

When it comes to fighting, he'll be right up there standing shoulder to shoulder with the paladin and barbarian. And, when we inevitably find ourselves in the shadiest corners in, above, or below Kaer Maga, he's got an uncanny knack with torches. Just part of the job :)

For once, Sarrus was actually sleeping at night. The life of a Duskwarden seldom matched the cycles of the sun, and with most of Kaer Maga proper tucked safe and sound between the walls of a bigger damned wall, he ended up just catching a few winks whenever he could.

But, as fate would have it, that wasn't going to be the case. One of his two roommates--the smaller of the two, but with a voice that certainly belied his size--came bursting in full of spit and hellfire. Mortimus had practically jumped onto the table to tell his story about what had happened to Corrin Delery. Sarrus himself was only half awake for the story, but the grim details woke him up right fast. It sounded like the sort of awfulness you only found deep down the Halflight Path, when someone had fallen off the beaten track and poked the wrong beehive.

Except that this wasn't just some braindead Chel trader trying to make a trip to the slavemarkets of Kaer Maga, but one of their own. He didn't get down to the performances at the Lyceum as often as he'd have liked, but he sure did like Corrin's voice. She had a gift. A gift that was, apparently, now splattered across the stage like when one of the twice-born got loose and decided to have a snack.

Leaving his buddy Mortimus to scamper about sharing the news, Sarrus grabbed his blades, strapped his bandoleer across his chest, and threw on his warden's coat. The Lyceum awaited, and someone had to play at justice. Gods knew Kaer Maga wouldn't do a damned thing on its own.

As he neared the building, Sarrus hears the booming voice of the fire-headed man he'd seen walking in front of him echo through the fine acoustics. He raises an eyebrow, then slips through the door behind him to find an old wizard-type poking about.

At least he wasn't the only one with a moral compass the sense to do something about it. The thought brought a smirk to his lips. He follows the advice of the hotheaded one and steps to the side, leaning against the wall and surveying the scene. One thing was for sure... Mortimus hadn't been lying.

"Agreed," he says with a sly grin, "but busting through doors like that's liable to do as much damage to you and the door as it is the old folks on the other side. I take it you're also here to mourn our Corrin?"

Nice to meet everyone!

I present Sarrus Twynn, a Duskwarden of Kaer Maga, for review.

With a mix of alchemy and steel, he protects the city from threats below... and, occasionally, from within.

@FMC - I sent you a PM regarding a 3pp I'd like to use. Nothing huge or game changing.