Thisbe Cormorant's page

Thisbe was fixated on the Milanite meeting Gabrielle had mentioned when she wound her way between the revelers in The Promise of Coin and the Honey Pot. Why would the Milanites be meeting?, she wondered. With Pauline's rescue on the line, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what the Milanites were up in arms about. She would have to see if she could find the meeting tonight. Hopefully Little Boy would stay in line long enough for her to check it out before making it back to him and Chauvin.

She quickly made her way to Anton, knowing he would be waiting for her. If she could wrap up her business with him for the day, perhaps there would still be enough time to take care of the other tasks on her plate.

Putting on her best arrogant facade, she lobbed the day's takings atop Florimond's ledger, ignoring his glare.

"Not to worry, boss. Got a good sized sack for you today. Just needed to lay some groundwork in finding Chauvin this morning,"Thisbe said coolly, picking at her nails with a bored expression. "No news yet, but I've got a lot of irons in the fire. We'll get him and your gold back for you soon."

Thisbe eyed the two men from underneath her cap, hoping they bought her story and she'd be able to move on with her unfinished business this evening with little ado.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1d8 + 10 ⇒ (9) + (1) + 10 = 20
Bluff: 1d20 + 1d8 + 13 ⇒ (16) + (2) + 13 = 31

Thisbe bit her tongue when her first instinct was to tell Gabrielle off. She'd had enough of this day and answering questions was grating on her. Gabrielle was always kind to her, though, so she swallowed her pride and paused, plastering on the best smile she could muster.

"Gabrielle, everything's fine. Just running behind today. Any updates for me?"

Thisbe was hoping to distract the spotter from pushing about the late hour by breaking into their routine. She needed to get back to Little Boy and Chauvin as soon as she could complete the route and drop off the day's earnings at the Honey Pot.

"Are you so bored on this merde assignment that you're keeping my time, Tarynne? I know you're after Fat Man, but I expected you to have more ambition than keeping tabs on his route," Thisbe said coolly.

For reasons Thisbe had yet to explain, Tarynne had always seen her as competition. Ever since she got her team she's hassled her at this checkpoint. The routine was getting monotonous.

"Little Boy was pissing me off. I ditched him. And the only schedule I'm late by is mine. It's okay not to know that. I know you lot abide by someone else's clock. Now, if you don't mind, I need to finish my route," Thisbe said as she made to move past Tarynne and on to her next stop.

Bluff: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (8) + 13 + (4) = 25

Thisbe grasped Michelet's hand and returned his warm smile. "Thank you, comrade. Us underlings need to stick together, eh? I'll find you at the Honey Pot later on."

With a parting tip of her cap, she turned on her heel and let out a slow sigh as she sauntered off towards the safehouse. She was glad to have Michelet's assistance in finding out more about jaune and the mysterious Jerome, but she wondered what he would ask of her in return.

Thisbe needed to instruct Little Boy keep watch of Chauvin and the junkie while she quickly ran down their route for collections. A special job from the boss didn't mean her daily takings wouldn't be expected. She was hoping she could check in at the old furniture shop to see what the Cerulean Council had found out about rescuing Pauline. Thisbe kicked the dirt in frustration at her own lack of progress on that part, not wanting to give ground to the other members. She preferred to be the one most in-the-know. But her work with them would have to wait.

Once Thisbe reached the safehouse, she nodded to Little Boy. "Thanks for your help back there. You should probably work on your delivery, though. I'm headed off to do our rounds. I'll come back tonight to relieve you with some gold to put in your pocket. Don't leave them alone. I need eyes on them until I get back."

Thisbe peered at Michelet under her cap with chagrin, attempting to look as though she were confiding something in earnest. "I have to ask you to do me a favor, Michelet. Don't report that you saw Chauvin for me? It's only that once the Boss hears, he's going to expect results and I need a couple of more days to figure out what the deal is with this Jerome guy. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'll owe you one."

Thisbe hoped Michelet would help her negate the complication of having to explain herself to the Boss before she was ready. She knew he'd be looking for his gold, yet also needed to focus on freeing Pauline and her work with the Cerulean Council. If he got wind that she already had Chauvin, he'd either commandeer her time to find the gold, or consider her not finding it in the first place a failure. And Thisbe would not fail.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (20) + 13 + (8) = 41

Thisbe knew better than give Michelet too much information. She'd prefer to keep Chauvin's decadent spending out of the bosses ears for know. She needed to get more information on Jérôme first and come up with a plan to get the money back. If Michelet reports seeing her drag Chauvin from the warehouse district, the boss would be expecting his gold back immediately. She needed to convince Michelet not to report seeing them today.

"Have you ever tried to solve a problem and ended up with a bigger mess than you started with, Michelet?" Thisbe asked conversationally, watching the three stumble their way up the street. "Seems like we've got a competitor in the Warehouse District, slinging jaune to pesh customers. We were tailed, then I found out the guy running the game goes by Jérôme. You heard of him?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (3) + 13 + (3) = 19

With relieved sigh after having narrowly avoided the patrol, Thisbe glanced at Little Boy and considered him a moment. After their little chat this morning, it was a pleasant surprise to see Little Boy step up to the plate with this messy Chauvin affair. Perhaps he wasn't a complete waste of space after all.

Thisbe met Little Boy's gaze and gave a small nod to signal that she'd let him do the talking this time.

Thisbe nodded to the North at Little Boy's comment. "We'll cross at Michelet's. I didn't survive this long taking unnecessary risks."

Thisbe took a closer look at Chauvin, attempting to assess his relative awareness. If she needed to knock him out again, she would, but would prefer to keep him walking as long as he could. The whole morning was starting to wear on her and this grunt work was starting to get on her nerves. The last thing she needed was to lug around dead weight for the afternoon.

She was careful to also keep an eye on the junkie. She didn't think she'd lose him, especially after he'd nearly pissed himself out of fear of her, but she wanted to be ready to give chase if he tried to run.

"Let's get a move on."

Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (5) + 10 + (7) = 22

Thisbe rubbed her temples in frustration. Nothing about this has been easy and she'd begun to consider that she may have bit off more than she could chew. But Little Boy made a good point. "All right, we'll go with your plan. We need to keep our profile low as we drag him around, though. Let's get moving."

Thisbe glared at the junkie as she spoke, "You will follow us. If you run, I will catch you. You really won't enjoy that."

With that, Thisbe threw one of Chauvin's arms over her shoulder and lifted him up as though he were a friend who'd gone overboard and needed help home. She instructed Little Boy to take his other side. "Lead the way."

Thisbe, thinking she could perhaps use the junkie as a costume to take Chauvin's finger and carry him to the Sisters, took another look at the junkie to try to assess his ability. She sighed inwardly, fairly certain his body would be too weak to assist Little Boy in the manual labor. And, I'd have to take 3 baths to get the ick off that one. She shook her head, changing her mind. But she would have to do something with him.

"Forget it. You're going to find your way to the Honey Pot. I'll need you later and might have a bit of coin for you if you do as I say. Go there and wait for me. Tell Gunther I sent you and said to keep you busy. If I don't find you there tonight, I will hunt you down and kill you. Try me." Thisbe said then turned to Little Boy.

"We're going to need to come back when it gets dark. We need to drag him to the Sisters, but I don't want him to wake up until we do. Stay here and make sure he stays asleep. I'll be back at sundown. You got any problems with that? She said the last in a sharp tone to remind him of having his head smashed against a table just this morning.

With that, she decided to strike out to quickly make the rounds on her route for the day. Boss would still expect to see a take today, even with her special duties. She left the warehouse as stealthily as she could, her head down and still dirty from her previous attempts at disguising herself.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (13) + 10 + (3) = 26 For the search of Chauvin's body

With a frustrated grunt, Thisbe turned away from the junkie and knelt beside the incapacitated Chauvin. She looked first for the ring, to see if he'd sold that too in his pesh binge. Taking a finger from this oaf was a small punishment compared to the hassle she would have to go through to recover his losses. What a waste! Chauvin had spent small fortune that could have done a lot of good in this city. Hell, even if he hadn't wronged the Boss, she'd still have done it to get that much closer to getting access to the books. What's one finger when it comes to the plight of an entire city?

That being said, she had some scruples and planned on taking his finger somewhere near the Sisters of Everbloom, then she'd anonymously leave him with a small donation. They would be able to stop the bleeding and ensure he'd heal without infection. However, she couldn't drag him through the streets of the Foreign Quarter bleeding out. She'd need to move him first.

After her thorough inspection of Chauvin's personal belongings, she turned to Little Boy, "We're done here. We need to get Chauvin to the Sisters, but we need to be quiet about it. We don't want Jerome to know we're coming."

With this, she turned to the junkie once more. "I need to borrow your body."

Oh, I thought Thisbe would reappear once she grabbed him!

Thisbe directed her voice towards Little Boy. "Tie up Chauvin. We're going to have to take him with us if he doesn't wake up."

"Where can I find Jerome?" Thisbe barked. Her task was very clear. Bring back the money. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she came back empty handed before her deadline.

Thisbe rubs the space between her eyes in a show of irritation and disgust before slapping his face with her open hand. "I asked you not to waste my time and you give me piss and lies? Do you want to die? I have two more of you I can burn through, so I'd suggest taking me seriously. Tell me what I need to know. The next blow from me will be much, much harder."

"There! That wasn't so hard was it? Why don't you have a seat? We need to have a little chat." Thisbe says as she pushes the junkie to the ground.

"You see, I'm feeling irritated and impatient. I've wasted my morning tracking you worthless lot through this forsaken district. Yet as annoyed as I am, I'm not entirely without scruples, so I'll give you one chance to answer a few questions. And, if you don't waste my time, I'll let you go on your merry way to continue your pathetic life. But, if you do... well, I'll leave that to your imagination," Thisbe paused a moment, boring her calm stare into the junkie before continuing. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me exactly what you and Gregorie have been up to? Where did you get the drugs? Where's the rest of the money?"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (20) + 13 + (4) = 37
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (6) + 10 + (3) = 19 To discern the junkie's story

After she gets the junkie's story, she turns to Gregorie, who she roughly shakes and slaps, attempting to wake him from his drug-induced stupor.

Thisbe, thinking she may need to question one of the other junkies, whips her rapier towards the nearest attempting to flee, yet keeps from attacking. Do you have a deathwish? I said stay put!

She quickly lunges after the fleeing man and attempts to grab him.

Thisbe eyes the junkie that flees, knowing that Little Boy is down the way, and let him pass. She wonders if he'd kill him, but the fleeting thought is unimportant as she held the man wearing Gregorie's coat on point. Merde, this better be Chauvin. With a rough movement, she grabs the back collar of the coat and roughly turns the man to face her, keeping her sword level with his throat.

The square noted works!

After sizing up the junkies, Thisbe takes out two of her extracts and quickly downs them, becoming invisible and focusing her ability to scrutinize Gregorie.

With ghost-like steps and her rapier unsheathed at her side, Thisbe maneuvers herself into the office, her nose wrinkled at the disgusting smell within. Thisbe silently put herself just at Gregorie's back, her rapier leveled at the nape of his neck.

In a viciously low voice, Thisbe growls as she slightly poked Gregorie, "Make a move and you'll see just how smoothly my sword goes through your neck."

Stealth: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (11) + 14 = 25
Intimidate: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 13 + (3) + 5 = 28

Thisbe takes her invisibility and focused scrutiny extract. Focused scrutiny gives her a +5 to intimidate.

Vivid memories find their way into Thisbe's thoughts as she strolls through the Warehouse District looking for any signs of Chauvin. She was younger then, stalking the streets in search of her mother, wondering if this time she would find her dead. A panicky, sick feeling crawled up Thisbe's spine as she quickly forced the memory from her mind. I need to find Chauvin and get the hell out of this district.

At Little Boy's insistence, she followed with light steps to the warehouse on the east end. Thisbe paused once she could make out the voice from inside, sidling up to peek through the broken glass. She gave a quick hand signal to Little Boy: Going in. Keep lookout. She kept low as she crept into the warehouse, looking for good cover so she can hear and see the two men.

Stealth: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24

Thisbe nodded at the dealer, "Merde, I thought I was due for some better luck. Thanks anyway, camarade."

Thisbe turned as though she were going to leave, then turned back as though she'd just remembered something. She decided to scrape as much as she could from this dealer, even if it might out her. She'd gotten enough leads to work on from him, but she needed to get on with her day. "Hey, where's Jérôme at these days? Is he still near the north apartments? I ain't been on that side in awhile"

Thisbe shook her head, her hands in her pockets. She wasn't going to let him get away, one way or another, but would prefer things not to get bloody. She thought of him as though he were a frightened dog needing a gentle approach.

"No, no! Sorry camarade, didn't meant to come off like that. Just heard there was a guy shelling out some coin and wanted to see if I could get in on it. I ain't got no interest in yours. Swear it!"

Thisbe quickly made a hand signal to Little Boy, who she assumed was watching from the building across the alley. Hold, be ready to grab him if he runs. She kept her distance from the dealer, hoping the extra space would make him feel less skittish.

"Do you know where he might be? I got to unload mine today or the boss will be on my ass. Seems like he might be my only hope."

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (17) + 10 + (6) = 33

It took some effort for Thisbe not to grimace when the man's stench hit her. She slowed her advance until she was a foot or so away from the man, keeping her arms open to seem nonthreatening. Judging by the man's intoxicated state, she assumed he'd made some money today. Enough to spend on getting high himself at any rate. She decided to attempt to lead him to talking about Gregorié without directly asking. A subtle approach would be necessary to avoid him getting skittish. She decided to pose as a dealer herself.

Thisbe gives the man a small smile and nods, "Just looking to shoot merde, friend. Been mindlessly wandering for a bit, but no one's biting today. I'd say you've had a successful day by the looks of you, though..."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 13 + (6) + 5 = 38
Bluff: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (11) + 13 + (1) = 25

Thisbe considered the scene for a moment. It would be better for the dealer to give up information on Gregorié willingly. Less messy. Yet, if by some strange virtue the dealer can't be swayed to give up his customer, I might be required to use my more convincing skills.

Thisbe nodded, making a decision, and proposed it to Little Boy, "Okay, here's the plan. I'll go chat up revendeur de pesh and see if I can get anything out of him. You go through the warehouse across from him, prepared to exit the door in the alley, in case I need you to assist should his answers not be as forthcoming as I desire. Let's avoid killing him. If it comes down that, try to get him in a hold so I can use more effective methods to convince him to give up information. Got it?"

Once Thisbe was assured that Little Boy understood the plan, she gave him a few minutes of a head start so he could make his way into the warehouse and ready at the alley door. She downed her extract of Focused Scrutiny and shook out a bit of the dirt she'd used to disguise herself before, wanting to appear a little more dangerous than an average pesh-head. After giving Little Boy ample time, she made her way into the alley.

After feeling as though she'd lost her tail, Thisbe dipped inside one of the less populated buildings to take stock and regroup. She hadn't considered taking precautions in the district as it's widely known as being dilapidated and she'd never heard of anyone other than drogués in the area. Still, it was naive to assume she could walk in broad daylight without being noticed. I could kick myself for being so careless, she thought, it won't happen again.

"We'll need to change up our appearance before we head back out. I'd prefer not to have to leave and come back. The longer we wait, the more of Anton's take will be spent on pesh," Thisbe said, looking Little Boy over, "Luckily for you, there's not much you'll need to look the part of le défoncé."

Thisbe mussed up her hair and disheveled her clothing, even smearing dirt on herself. She didn't have to work hard to appear as careless about her appearance in her old clerks clothing, tattered and torn and patched as it was. She watched as Little Boy did the same and assisted him in making adjustments as she saw fit.

Disguise: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (5) = 28

"We can't go comb every building in the district. Let's ask around, see if anyone's had eyes on him."

Diplomacy: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (6) = 29

With that, Thisbe headed out to canvass the area and see if she could track down their mark.

Thisbe slowed her normally brisk pace to a near crawl and fiddled with her pack, pulling out a canteen of water and taking a swig before passing it to Little Boy. She carefully eyed the rooftops while not making any overt glances that would tip off their tail. Thisbe attempted to take note of the their clothing, size and appearance, as best she could make out from the distance.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (19) + 10 + (2) = 31
Bluff: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (13) + 13 + (5) = 31

As she did so, she casually alerted Little Boy, "Merde! Don't look, but we've got a tail on the rooftops. Keep a slow pace with me. They might expose themselves. We'll wind through the District and see if we can lose them. If not, we'll need to create some sort of diversion to shake them off. Stay alert and follow me."

After ensuring Little Boy was in on the plan, she lead through the District at a casual pace, as though they were merely taking in the sights of the dilapidated neighborhood. She kept to the busier streets and alleys, winding her way through without keeping to any sort of pattern. Thisbe chose paths that had particularly rough looking rooftops, or uneven heights, that might require the tail to work a bit harder to climb.

Thisbe glared at Little Boy as he described his wasted evening and bored her stare into him with silent intensity well after he'd finished, attempting to make him as uncomfortable as possible before she spoke.

"I am not sure what in my demeanor has convinced you that I am someone who will tolerate disrespect," Thisbe said in a quiet yet forceful tone. In a lightening fast movement she grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table. With one hand she pressed his face into the wood and continued her scolding, in a tone barely more audible than a whisper, and held him there.

"Perhaps it is my fault. After all, I'm rarely a woman of direct action, seeing words as a better avenue for achieving my goals than brute force. Yet, it's obvious to me now that you not only lack sense, but the most basic grasp of language. So let me say this in words even your pea-sized brain can comprehend," Thisbe paused and raised her voice into a vicious growl, "If you disrespect me again, I will tear out your tongue and shove it down your throat."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (14) + 13 + (5) = 32

Returning to her normally composed demeanor, Thisbe released Little Boy and stood, gathering her things. "So, it sounds like we're headed to the Warehouse District prior to our usual rounds. Let's go."

Thisbe made notes of the stock, particularly the pre-revolutionary bottles. She sketched out quick diagrams of the bottle shapes, labels and coloring of the liquid within and asked Gunther questions about the particular nuances of their packaging. The knowledge of what the 4424 could possibly look like would be useful to Thisbe's plan of possibly replacing the bottle with a look-a-like. When she was done, she nodded to Gunther in good spirits and gave him another gold piece for his time and efforts.

"Much appreciated, monsieur. This has been truly educational and clearly your skills are very underused in your current position."

Afterwards, she moved away from the bar and found her usual table where she reviewed her notes while waiting for Little Boy to arrive. When he finally stumbled in, she wasn't surprised to find him hungover, yet her mood soured at being made to wait.

"You're late," Thisbe said harshly, "You had better have news on our mark for me."

Thisbe nods with a friendly grin to Gunther's description of the rare vintages while she tastes and notes the new selection of liquors.

"You know, Gunther, as intrigued as I am to taste the finer vintages, your explanation has convinced me that to do so would be a waste! I'd only have a mere sip to spit out and would have ruined a whole bottle," Thisbe drummed her fingers on the bar thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could only show me the bottles and describe them for me? I'd hate to miss adding them to my notes. I know it would be a hassle for you, but I'd be delighted to compensate you for your time, of course. Let's see your very best!"

Thisbe waited for Gunther to respond, noting his expression and attempting to identify where these might be stored and if there were a lock, or other mechanism needed to access the store.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (20) + 10 + (5) = 35

"Thank you," she said, looking at the display before her. She continued with a rueful grin, "I've never considered the understanding of the alcohol trade to be useful as I don't have a taste for the stuff. Yet many of my charges are in the trade, so it's become... professionally necessary."

Thisbe began her research by pulling out some paper and taking records of the different vintages, their bottles and coloring, and finally the different scents of each. She swirled a small sip of each in her mouth and rolled it over her tongue before spitting it out into the empty glass. All the while Thisbe peppered the bartender with questions about their different properties and popularity. She asked him about the Galtan regions the alcohol was crafted in, and who distributes it. As he responded to her questions, she acted as though she were very impressed by his knowledge of the craft.

"You are clearly an expert in your field! I feel I'd be missing out on a deeper understanding if I didn't have you guide me through your more rare vintages." She said while laying two gold pieces on the table.

Diplomacy: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (4) = 27

I'm down with Hangouts! I'd be OK with Discord, but don't use it so am more comfortable with Hangouts.

Thisbe would definitely be one to use ciphers. That's an excellent idea. *goes to research ciphers*

A few moments after Claudine headed back into The Promise, Thisbe followed. She considered what goal Claudine might have in playing the foil to Anton. He wasn’t a likeable character, so he could have easily crossed her in dozens of ways. She would have to investigate Claudine further prior to bringing her into any Council affairs. And, she needed a plan on where to get the 250 gold retainer. She could use the Council’s allowance, yet with the plan only semi-formed, she wasn’t sure what else she might need the funds for. Thisbe was hoping she could manage to give the lot to the Scarlet Hand’s work.

Still deep in thought, Thisbe made her way to the bar at the Honey Pot and hailed the bartender. “I’d like a tasting pour of each of your best liquors and wines. Please also provide the bottles for examination. Oh, and an empty glass.”

After her meeting with Brochard, she intended to better her knowledge of fine liquor in the case she need to buy her way into a mark’s regards with drink again. And, if she could manage to get the information without raising any flags, she’d ask about the vintage from 4424.

Thisbe listened to Claudine intently before countering her offer. She eyed Claudine with shrewdness, seeing her enthusiasm for the opportunity to lie to Anton. Thisbe was intensely curious about the gnome and her brother, yet that curiosity wouldn’t be quelled in this conversation. She decided to give Claudine a shot.

“I will pay your full retainer, but I require a 25% discount on your services for my first job. As a test, of sorts, to ensure you meet my standards. Do we have a deal?”

Thisbe nodded vaguely as Claudine opened her bid for negotiation. She wasn’t at all convinced that she needed Claudine, much preferring to keep her circle small and out of the pockets of the city’s parasites. However, Claudine did offer a valuable service that could be used for her work with the Council. Any edge could be useful in saving the Sister and who knew what would come after that.

Thisbe kept a close eye on Claudine as she spoke, minding her mannerisms and inflections, to study whether she was giving Thisbe her best offer, or inflating her prices. She also was looking for any clues to whether Claudine was lying about her relationship with Anton. If she were his pawn, it would be easy for her to take the 250 gold, sell her story to Anton, then Thisbe would find herself on the wrong end of a knife one night.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (17) + 13 + (4) = 34

“It sounds like you’re concerned about your relationship to Anton, which leads me to wonder exactly what that relationship might be. How do I know you aren’t going to take my coin and sell my story to him after we meet?” Thisbe spoke calmly, picking dirt from under her nails as though she could take or leave Claudine's offer. And, really, she felt that she could. “I have little assurance that your partnership with him doesn’t include spying on me and you’re certainly aware that his coffers run deeper than mine.”

Thisbe paused a moment and clasped her hands in front of her. “As you say, I am prudent. Minimizing risk would be a requirement to my accepting a deal. What solutions do you propose to solve this problem?”

Thisbe had to work a moment to keep the excitement from her face. If there was one thing Thisbe understood, it was value and the exchange of coin. For Claudine to have thrived and found an independent place working with the Vice she'd have to have been worth her weight in gold. Thisbe respected Claudine's ingenuity and she felt a certain kinship to the woman.

Of course, respect and kinship never made deals on their own. She expected she'd have to pay generously for the woman's time and discretion. However, Thisbe was a shrewd negotiator and she intended to make the most out of whatever Claudine required in payment.

"I've never aimed to be liked. Only efficient." Thisbe replied with a thin smile while she sipped her water. "Tell me, what is your going rate? Anton has given me a weighty task and I would be remiss not to explore all avenues."

Thisbe took note of the early birds at the Honey Pot, clamoring to get at the day’s worm. It wasn’t long ago that she herself was sitting in that booth, strategizing with her team lead, before she was assigned a team of her own. She made an effort to study the faces in the room and familiarize herself with the teams, in case they feel emboldened enough to stray into her territories.

Although she wasn’t at all surprised to find Little Boy had yet to arrive this early in the morning, Thisbe considered the benefit of arriving earlier than her charges. She hoped it put them on edge, knowing that she was waiting for them when they arrived. And, it also gave her a window to ensure they didn’t start hitting the bottle too early in the day.

Upon noticing Claudine behind her, it occurred to her that she might have information on Brochard that could come in handy. It was also possible she could give her a few leads on Gregorie Chauvin. While she didn’t yet know Claudine, she seemed like a serious woman, someone that perhaps mirrored Thisbe’s own professionalism. You had to be a rough kind of woman to associate yourself with the Vice. She would have to be cautious in giving her too much information, though.

Thisbe slid into the seat next to Claudine at the bar and placed a couple of silver pieces in front of her. “May I offer a drink for a moment of your time, Claudine?”

With a cursory nod, Thisbe dipped inside past Ramon and wound her way through the dark halls of the West wing. Number 8 was situated at the far end, neighbors to the back alley where she’d once found a dead body, and number 7, an empty flat like her own. The last tenant of number 7 was an old woman, Diesl, who had lived there since before Thisbe was born. She died a couple months back from an overdose. Intentional, probably. Thisbe found dozens of waxy papers that with the sticky, black stains of pesh in her bedroom. The same sold by a few Vice dealers she knows.

The lock clicked open and Thisbe stepped inside her flat, quickly started a fire in her hearth and put a kettle on. The rooms she’d called home since she could remember were small; a living area, washroom and bedroom with a pantry and closet for storage. One of the first things she had done when she started working for the Vice was to pay rents for her home, years in advance. Nothing makes you over-prepare like hunger and the threat of living on the streets of the Foreign Quarter.

She’d never thought to leave since her Mother died, yet she didn’t have much to leave behind. The only thing that her Mother didn’t sell was also the only thing that hung in decoration in Thisbe’s living room: a painted wood rose, encircled by thorns. Otherwise Thisbe’s place was completely unadorned. Everything in her space had a purpose. No more and no less than what she needed to survive. A bed lay on the floor in the bedroom with a simple cover. Books, on mathematical theory, history and politics, line the bottom of the walls. A wooden desk sat in the corner near a small window, sturdily built, yet worn, with a single matching chair. Although sparse, the flat was meticulously clean. It hardly looked like anyone lived there.

After changing into a simple tunic, Thisbe sat down and prepared a cup of tea, a blend of chamomile and rosehip, then recorded her days’ take in a ledger she kept locked away in her desk. Thisbe believed nothing was more imperative than data and her ledger was a diligent exercise in measuring every potential piece of it available to her. From who was on shift as spotters, to the description of the lone gentleman day-drinking at Crank’s place, to the number of employees at The Free Drinker: no detail was left out. Separately, another ledger kept notes on her funds for distribution by the Scarlet Hand. Seeing the paltry sum, she hoped the next few days would be more profitable. She also took a moment to stow away the funds provided by the Council, feeling a weight lift that she would no longer be carrying that much coin around on her person.

Once she finished her tea, she made a silent prayer in front of the ornament to Milani then slept until dawn.

In the morning, Thisbe prepared the extracts she’d used the previous day, expecting she might need them in her tasks. After eating a breakfast of grey tea, hardboiled eggs, cheese and bread, Thisbe geared up, hoping to catch Little Boy at the Honey Pot to see if he’d made headway into finding Gregorie Chauvin, and headed out into the early morning sun.

With slight disappoinment, Thisbe bowed her head slightly to Brochard's request. She knew the bottle would be hard to get and it wouldn't be easy to sneak around a place so familiar with her face. She didn't expect his allegiance to come easy, however. Nothing of value ever came easy. However, Thisbe was a bit impressed that the man didn't seem at all shaken, seeing as her piece of parchment could have easily been poison, or a dagger in his throat.

"I'll bid you adieu, Monsieur. Until we meet again." Thisbe said as she stepped back into the shadows, waiting for Brochard to depart prior to rearranging her disguise.

From here, Thisbe concludes that she's done all she could for the day and heads to her apartment at the Cider Vault in the Foreign Quarter, keeping her head down and staying to the shadows.

Disguise: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (8) = 31
Stealth: 10 + 14 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 14 + (7) = 31

Thisbe takes the bottle back and in a swift motion, appears to take a sip, though the yellow liquid doesn't pass her lips. She feigns a cough and grimace, thumping her chest with one hand as she passes the bottle back in the other.

"What even is this bile? You keep it. Consider it a rose... a peace offering, if you will." She found it strange that she wasn't able to get a read on Noelle. That typically isn't a problem for her. Thisbe briefly considered whether or not she underestimated the Caydog leader, yet she was too far in to back out now. Could he be mentioning Anton because he knows who I am, or is he just trying to throw me off? Thisbe stepped forward with her hands empty, hoping her appearance of trust would keep Noelle at ease while simultaneously projecting an air of confidence, if not arrogance.

"Anton, you say? Old is right. If I were a betting woman, and I'm not, I'd say he might be up for retirement soon." She waited a moment to see his reaction before continuing. "You've been in the game a long time Noelle, enough to know that purity of party is more than a misnomer, it's a myth. Sometimes in this city, you got to shift your allegiances, your principles, to get a job done. I've got a job to do that you can help me with and, perhaps, I can help you in return, if you're amenable to such an arrangement? Before we begin, I'd hope I can trust you to keep a secret. That's the only way this works... for the both of us, I assume."

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (15) + 10 + (5) = 30 To take a fake swig of the liquor

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 13 + (5) + 5 = 29

Thisbe knew there'd be a downside to her abstinence. Apparently, it was figuring out what good liquor looked like. She grabbed the bottle with its label written in Hallit, only because it sounded interesting, as well as a whiskey. She'd seen Little Boy and Fat Man put back their share of the amber liquor and, although she usually didn't like the smell of their libations, the warm, woody smell of whiskey never put her off like the others. She shrugged, figuring the stuff was all the same in the end anyway.

After a few minutes wait, her heart jumping in her chest and hand on her rapier, she fished out another extract, focused scrutiny, and drank it down before Noelle turned into the alley. She needed any edge she could get.

Once Noelle was in view, Thisbe stepped out of the shadows, though keeping a far enough distance to not be within reach of Noelle's dagger.

She smiled curiously at him and extended the two bottles, one in each hand. "I hear that Caydogs never start a negotiation without a drink. Here's to a mutually profitable deal."

Thisbe kept a wary eye while schooling her expression to be welcoming, seeing if she could get a read on Noelle's openness to her and whether or not he might recognize her.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 + (5) + 10 = 30

After finding the Caydog watering hole for the evening, Thisbe quickly scribbles out a note for Noelle Brochard:

I've got a deal for you. Back alley. Come alone. 5 minutes. - Your Friendly District Vice Agent

She takes her invisibility extract, keeping the note in her hand, and attempts to slide past the crowd to drop the note in Brochard's pint. As she does so, she also tries to swipe a bottle of whatever Brochard's poison is for the night, but only if she can do so without making her presence known.

Stealth: 1d20 + 14 + 1d8 ⇒ (15) + 14 + (4) = 33
Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (18) + 10 + (4) = 32

Thisbe decided a conversation with Noelle Brochard was in order and made her way to Brewer Street. Prior to leaving Vice territory, she dipped into a dark alley to arrange a disguise: a baker making her way through Brewer Street after a long days work would do. While in Caydog Territory, Thisbe is careful to stick to the shadows and avoid guards that may start asking questions about curfew. Looking for the busiest tavern, Thisbe will scope it out a few hundred yards out to see if she can catch a whiff of Brochard before entering. She also keeps an eye out for details: a quiet alley, or room where she can chat with Brochard and, what the drunk was drinking. Maybe she could swipe a bottle as a peace offering, if she had the time.

Thisbe considered a few avenues to avoid being spotted by Caydog underlings and landed on the most simple. Before entering the tavern, she planned on using her invisibility extract. Next, she’d slip past the crowd and drop a little piece of parchment in Brochard’s cup, leaving instructions to step out and head to Thisbe’s rendezvous point.

Disguise: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (7) = 30
Stealth: 10 + 14 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 14 + (8) = 32
Perception: 10 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 10 + (4) = 24

Really enjoying the game thus far! Exploring Isarn is super fun and I think y'all are doing a great job!

Thisbe steps outside the Honey Pot and considers her next move. It occurred to her that she was in a unique position. With the Grey Gardeners heading through Caydog territory, it wouldn’t be unrealistic to assume they may be willing to make a deal. In exchange for Vice information or favors, she may be able to convince them to scout the territory the night of the transfer, or possibly create a distraction that could assist with their replacing Grey Gardeners. She’d have to find someone she could talk to, who might be favorable to meeting with her without taking up arms the moment she came into sight.

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (11) + 13 + (2) = 26 To figure out who might be the best person to get a message to a Caydog leader, or an amicable leader who might meet with her.

Thisbe felt nothing like fear when she met Anton’s intimidating gaze, but the roiling rage she’d stoked since her mother’s death burned brightly in her chest. She ignored Florimond’s scowl to focus on arranging her expression to be reverent towards her boss as he spoke. Men like Anton were responsible for her mother’s slow, excruciating demise. She imagined sticking her rapier through his now adorned neck as she smiled and cooly replied, “At your service, boss.”

Thisbe left the dark room and headed towards the bar where she’d overheard Little Boy laugh earlier. When she finds him, she thumps him on the back of his head in greeting.

“Boss has a job for us, L. We need to sniff out wherever that rat Gregorié Chauvin has gotten to. He was expected at the fights last night with his take and never showed his face. Probably in some den out of his mind on pesh, if I had to guess. Ask around will you?”

Thisbe spent several minutes coaching Little Boy on how to properly employ diplomatic tactics to gather worthwhile information out of people and describing the folks he was looking for: pesh dealers, regular betters that worked with Gregorié and any known personal relations. She also passed him 10 silver to grease palms if he has to, though she suspects he'd find a way to keep the coin for himself.

“I’ll circle back with you tomorrow before our rounds. I expect you to have a few leads for me.” She scribbled out a schedule for the rest of the week on a bit of parchment and handed it to him. “I’ll give you an extra day off this week for your help with this. Make sure Fat Man sees this, too.”

Thisbe has A Quiet Word with Little Boy to assist him getting info on Gregorie. A Quiet Word: A mastermind’s reputation precedes him. At 1st level, once per day a mastermind can spend 10 minutes preparing an ally to make a single Diplomacy or Intimidate check (mastermind’s choice when preparing the ally) within the next 24-hour period at the mastermind’s behest. This skill check uses the mastermind’s skill ranks instead of the ally’s. The mastermind’s affected ally still uses its own ability bonus for the check.

Thisbe studied the trio for a moment, her focused gaze lingering on Florimond and hands . She hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with him as Florimond was accompanied by Anton, yet she suspected he was the brains of the operation. Thisbe craved to get at the information Florimond kept in his books. It had occurred to her that stepping into Florimond’s role would be her logical next step to dig in deeper, and while unlucky thus far, she had been angling for an opportunity to make her move. First, she’d have to win Anton’s trust. Then, she’d find a way to execute Florimond from his current position. Getting rid of the old man is going to be the easy part, Thisbe thought.

Thisbe needed Anton to think of her as a logical replacement and for the idea to come to him naturally. It was Thisbe’s best judgement that Anton’s desires were little better than a Chelish noble’s: he wanted everything, yet did little work for it. If she could somehow make herself indispensable to Anton, perhaps she could outshine Florimond as his right-hand.

“Boss, we cleaned up well today. Little Boy and Fat Man are skilled, hustling with the best of ‘em. I thought I’d ask if you had anything in mind for us to be further in service to the Vice? We’re a tenacious team, well-forged after a hard winter. Anything we can do to grease some wheels? Make your life easier?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (10) + 13 + (8) = 31

Thisbe left the Clerk of the Cork frustrated. She took a moment to take account of the day in her mind. With the moderate pickings from her collections and a less than productive meeting with Emilien, the day was almost over with little to show for it. As she sighed, and picked up her pace headed towards the Honey Pot. She’d settle with Anton, then would have some time to do more research on the Council’s rescue mission.

It occurred to her that they weren’t aware of how Pauline would be transported. Would she be in a secured carriage? Certainly they wouldn’t openly march her through the streets. If a carriage, or cage, it could have a specific locking mechanism. Any time saved could be vital.There’s also the potential of sabotage to consider. She considered identifying who builds the Grey Gardener’s carriages, or even who might know, then possibly sneak in to investigate.

Knowledge Local: 10 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 13 + (8) = 31

Thisbe turned over the potential of using a portion of the day’s collections towards the Scarlet Hand’s fund before handing it off to the boss. There wasn’t much here, so didn’t want to risk taking more than would be noticed. After finding a quick alley to dip into and checking to make sure there were not witnesses beforehand, she moved to act as though she were tying her boot, but instead she quickly moved 5 silver from her collection funds to her own private pouch.

Perception: 10 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 10 + (1) = 21
Sleight of Hand: 10 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ 10 + 10 + (8) = 28

Thisbe made her way West, out of La Lumiere Rouge and back to Nord Riviere towards the Honey Pot.

Thisbe followed Emilien out into the common room. She didn't extend her hand out of fear of being kissed again, but nodded warmly before stepping out of the shop without much fanfare, "Always a pleasure, Monsieur. I will certainly not be a stranger."

Thanks for having me! :)

“Ah, don’t you love a simple solution, Monsieur Monreau?” Thisbe smiled wanly. She was hoping she’d unsettle the unassuming shopkeep and was somewhat unimpressed by his desires to simply own elegant fashions. She did make note that he didn’t decide to share what information he’d received from Loudmouth Sharp. Yet, secrets were his bread and butter. Thisbe couldn’t fault him for keeping some. Besides, it’s likely the beggar had nothing useful to say.

Thisbe couldn’t help but prod Emilien. His facade of pomp and spectacle was so tight that she felt impelled to discover what lurked beneath the surface. She needed to know if he was loyal to the Vice and, this small test of sorts, unfortunately only provided a small glimpse into his true intentions. It rubbed her the wrong way to have to trust that the Cerulean Council chose her comrades with precision. Like an itch she had to scratch. Yet, it seemed that for now, she would have to.

“As I said, I simply prepare for many possibilities. Perhaps my own memory is mixing with the one you’ve provided. Indeed, now that you mention it, I don’t recall Kasim mentioning the specific stock! It is likely this order of yours will go unnoticed, so I will only share what you’ve told me if asked directly.” Thisbe noted. She sipped the last bit of her tea and set down her cup on the saucer before continuing.

“You have shown me nothing but courtesy and hospitality, Monsieur Monreau and I only intend to return the favor. I do hope my brief intrusion hasn’t kept you from your work. As I have my own to attend to, I’ll take your leave.”

Thisbe sat in her seat across Emilien and began preparing her tea. First, she put a pinch of spiced tulsi in her cup, to color and enliven the tea, as she replied, “Frankly, I didn’t expect I’d find myself here today, yet a poignant thought struck me as I finished my route in La Lumiere Rouge this afternoon. I’ll only take a moment of your time.”

She paused a moment to add a spoonful of hisbiscus and rosehip meant to focus and balance the mind.

“As an intelligent man, you’re aware, certainly, that the Vice has eyes everywhere North of the river. So you won’t find it surprising that, even before your shared memory, I was made aware of your trip to the Paper Company and of your purchasing government-grade stock. I also heard about Loudmouth Sharp stopping by.”

Thisbe grinned as she crushed a few rose petals between her thumb and forefinger before dropping them on top of the herbs resting in her cup. She looked for Emilien’s reaction before continuing.

“Now, you’ll have to forgive me for my line of work. As everything in Isarn, my professional choices go deeper than it may appear. My job, when I get intel from a spotter, is to figure out how the Vice can exploit it. Let’s consider this, shall we?”

After a sprinkle of elderberries, Thisbe filled her cup with the hot water Philippe had left for her. She let the brew steep, waiting for the loose tea to drop to the bottom of her cup.

“The Vice will likely suspect you’re creating forgeries for one of your clients. They may even task me with shaking out a few more pieces of gold from you in a few weeks expecting that you had a larger than average payday. Most importantly, however, they will be on the lookout for who your client may be and why they needed forged documentation.”

“I don’t wish to alarm you, as at this point, this is all merely educated speculation. Yet, I suspect you may like to live your life as I do in accounting for multiple possibilities. The question I come to pose to you is this: how will you evade the Vice and… how can I help you?”

Thisbe takes a long sip of her tea, keeping her dark eyes trained on Emilien’s.

Emilien’s memory of the Old Taldor Paper Company filled her mind in a flash. While she already knew Emilien’s whereabouts earlier today, the memory gave her intel a color that couldn’t be replicated by a hasty spotter’s report. She found Emilien’s politeness and reverence to the honest, hard working Annette de Modesto to be quite refreshing. Perhaps his air of joviality isn’t all for show, Thisbe considered. Though trust came often with a price, she felt that perhaps Emilien could be one she could lend it to. He would have to be if we are to get this job done.

With a candid nod and a knowing moment of eye contact to signal that she’d received his memory, Thisbe replied, “Quite right, Monsieur. My preferences for my blend are very exacting. Phillippe has much more important work to do than fiddling with my tea.”

Thisbe made to follow Emilien to his office with her hands folded neatly in front of her in an attempt to appear less threatening to those watching. There was little benefit to Thisbe in being a known Vice agent. When collection time came, sure, a little fear struck in the hearts of her charges was motivating enough to keep her interactions civil. Yet, Thisbe was very aware that she wasn’t free in this City. Not free to enjoy a cup of tea in public, or take a Springtime stroll in the Nord Riviere. It was a price that she would willingly pay to undermine this feral organization. And, she suspected, she was not yet done paying. Not by a long shot.

“Monsieur, lead the way.”