Council of Thieves

[zimmerwald1915]

Tamarie

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Eight bells toll somewhere in Rego Corna, booming out waves of sound that cross the boundary between night and day out in the Westchannel, into your little shop. Only a few minutes ago you stepped out of your sleeping room in the back and perched yourself on the hard stool behind your rough desk. A small wooden bookshelf holding samples of your work squats next to the wall on your right. It’s not much, but the Order of the Dragon didn’t have much to spare, and a translator doesn’t need much more. The door leading out into the street hangs open, inviting customers in. Westcrown’s citizens are only beginning to emerge from their homes, dawn’s light lifting at least one worry from their hearts, but you don’t want to miss any potential customers. You see a ragged-looking woman scurry down the street, only to drop to the ground near what looks like the remains of a rudimentary shelter propped up against the building across from yours. She tears at the wreckage and uncovers the head and chest of a clearly dead man. You can hardly bear to tear yourself away as the woman cradles the head to her and her shoulders begin to shake.

However, it seems your openness may even be rewarded as well as punished. A cloaked woman enters your shop and walks over to the bookshelf, closing the door behind her. Something seems strange about her. You do not recognize her as one of your normal customers. She has dark, curly hair and a oval-shaped, hard-to-read face. Under her cloak you glimpse dull but tough-looking leather armguards, and you can hear the faint clanking of metal rings. She also doesn’t seem to be examining the book she has chosen—a compilation of star charts that no one seeking translation work ever touches—very closely, instead glancing every so often at you.

After a few moments of this she replaces the book on the shelf and goes over to you. [b]"Tell me,"[b] she says, placing her hands on your desk, "I saw your name written in that book, Miss Rivern, as the author. I have to ask—did you know Agnes Rivern?" The woman looks right into your eyes as she says it, and you can see in her eyes a compassion that you would not expect in a total stranger. [b]"I did not know her well,"[b] explains the woman, pulling back a little, "but I’ve worked with the dottari and she was uncommonly honorable."

Amanita

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The air rings with sound as nine bells clap in some faraway tower. The streets are beginning to fill up, and you begin to trace your familiar route through the city, looking for some sign of your brother. Vendors’ mats, stalls, and carts are beginning to line the streets, and patrons are beginning to queue up for a shot at their wares. You scan the crowd for an easy avenue for movement and spot one: an armored Hellknight on a dun, speckled horse Is making way for himself by shoving people to the side, and is going in just the direction you want to go. You slither through the crowd and start moving in his wake, ducking back into the mass when it looks like he might be turning his head to look behind him. He doesn’t notice you.

You don’t notice any signs of your brother, either. Your daily searches have yet to reveal any signs of him: being locked in a basement is not the best way to become skilled at gathering information. You have, however, seem to have picked up a footpad. A woman in a cloak with the hood thrown back and the front open to reveal her dark, curly hair, oval-shaped face and leather-and-metal armor has fallen in behind the Hellknight as well. She beckons at you and you hesitate just long enough for the crowd to close between you and the Hellknight. He moves along, and you and the woman stand facing one another in the crowded street.

"I don’t always come this way," she says, "but since every time I do there you are, it seems like you do. What is it you’re looking for? Perhaps I can help you find it."

Corath

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The procession flows slowly down the street as twelve bells peel one at a time. Each step of the accused, and his captors, and, it seems, each beat of your heart, is in time with a peel. The man shuffles toward a raised platform in the middle of the square, his hands bound at the wrists and his legs shackled to a lead. This lead is held by one of the dottari, the city guards, clad in red and black Cheliaxian livery. Two more flank the prisoner, and one more, mounted on a horse and keeping the way clear, goes in front. Around you, onlookers throw stones or pieces of rotten produce at the condemned man; the execution seems to have brought out the worst in Westcrown’s people.

The man and his guards make their way to the platform. The two guards in back of him shove him onto the platform so he ends up on his knees in front of a large man dressed all in black and carrying a massive sword. The dottari on the horse pulls a scroll out of his pocket and opens it. It is more than a foot long, but the message he reads off it is brief. "For the crimes of disloyalty to Cheliax, sedition against its rulers the noble House of Thrune, and incitement against their dominion over Westcrown and the lands about there can be no lawful punishment save death. This is the fate this man brought upon himself." The dottari rolls up the scroll and directs the horse to sidestep off to the left so everybody can see the execution. The executioner raises his sword to his shoulder, and his mouth seems to be moving, but you cannot hear over the cries of the crowd. The condemned man’s voice, however, rings out. "Beyond this world the legions of Hell shall not pursue those who refuse them!"

The dottari on the platform laugh and push the man down to the ground. He thuds against the wooden planking, and the sword thuds too, louder. You feel a touch on your shoulder and look behind you. There stands a woman in a black cloak, with dark, curly hair and an oval-shaped face. She does not look at you, but instead at the dead man on the platform. "I understand if you do not want to talk about that," she says, her eyes not moving, "but you did not throw anything or shout. I don’t think you were here for the spectacle." She seems to come to herself, and looks to the left and right at the slowly-dispersing crowd. "Perhaps we can talk further, somewhere a little more private?"

Ducan

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At two bells, the drinking house you haunt is nearly empty. The barkeep is nearly asleep in his chair, the barmaids won’t arrive for another two hours, and the only other patron has just stepped out. The corner in which you sit smells of stale beer and of your own body. Many hours, over many days, you have sat here, until the chair seems to have molded itself around you. You’ve considered leaving your corner, and the tavern, for the outside, but where would you go? Only one thing’s certain: whatever allies you’ll need to track down the people who hurt your master, you won’t find them here.

Or perhaps you will. You’ve grown to know many of the tavern’s regular customers by sight, but the cloaked woman who enters now is new to you. Her oval face is framed by dark, curly hair, and her eyes are brighter than most anyone’s who comes in here. She gives the bartender a pitying look and seems to decide not to disturb him. Instead, she takes a step toward your corner, and then another, until she is sitting across from you. "Let me make this simple," she says quietly, leaning over the table. "I know why you come here. You met two of my associates here, though you might not have recognized them. They told you about your master and the thrice-damned House of Thrune, and you’ve waited, and waited for news." She seems about to continue, but stops herself, and waits instead for your reaction.

Paimon

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It’s been almost an hour since three bells, and you’ve decided to find a place to camp for the night. The smell of today’s catch going rancid on the docks seeps down the alleyways from the waterfront, only a few blocks to the east. You can’t help but turn over the name of the district in which you find yourself, Parego Spera, over in your mind. "Hope’s Altar". Some hope. The planks and plywood you’ve managed to collect over the course of the day—no staying in one place for you—won’t even protect your body or the manuscript you carry from rain, much less the shadows that stalk Westcrown at night.

You chose this alleyway for its seeming lack of traffic, but it seems you will have to revise your earlier assessment. A woman in a black cloak and leather and metal armor comes picking her way along. She seems worried about something, looking about herself nervously. Her curly hair shakes just a second after her head. In the middle of one of these sweeps, you see her eyes come to rest on you. She might have moved on, but instead she stops scanning and stares at you for a second. Not at your horns like other Chelish, but at your eyes.

"Paimon?" she says, sweeping her hair off her forehead and hurrying closer to you. "Of the Lowpier Players? I saw your last performance, though you probably don’t recognize me from the audience."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon

"Hush, whoever you are! Throwing names around like that is dangerous!"

[slugboy_73]

Corath

Slowly unclenching his fists that had been balled up in frustrated rage Corath nods and turns to the woman, "Yes, somewhere quiet would be good after that."

[Zefir]

Ducan

Ducan looks up from his table as the woman comes near him. he has draged the cape over his head, since this way his face is more in the dark then without it. His eyes widen for a moment as she cursed the House of Thrune.
He cough slightly befor he speak up in a silent voice.

"Dear Miss. I think you aren't here to tell me that your 'associates' have done there job to please you. And since you take this name in a sentence with a curse, I assume you have simular feelings then I do. You know me well enougth to know what I want to hear. Continue and we will see how good your informations are Miss?"

With the last he holds up his hand open just like he wants something from here. Mainly her Name in the current situation.

[Vacuus]

OOC

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Is it safe for me to assume that you're handling the Perception and Sense Motive rolls?

I'm assuming that I'm not picking up anything suspicious from the person, okay?

Amanita

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Amanita stares blankly at the woman.

"You know something about what happened to him? Him being my brother, that is. Waern Vallist, if you need a name. He was a great person, probably still is."

"Not probably," Amanita corrects herself, "definitely"

"If you know anything, make your demands known. If you know nothing, then leave me be."

[Feather Sigil]

The very moment she saw the cloak, Tamarie probed beneath her desk with her foot, looking for her crossbow but trying not to knock it over. The lightest of bumps confirmed it was there, along with her quiver of bolts, exactly where she put them before opening the shop. It didn't make her feel safe nearly as much as the lack of pentagrams on her visitor's garb--every morning Tam woke up half expecting to be evicted.

One of the advantages of wearing what was ostensibly a blindfold was being able to look all around discretely. While her guest "browsed" her star charts, Tam examined her bookcase and desk with her eyes alone, watching everything through a haze of blue cloth. Quill and ink vials on the desk, scrolls of bare parchment in a box to the left of her desk, six books with alternating brown and black covers, a bare space for a seventh with a dark blue spine--the book her visitor held--and weapons under the desk. The cloaked lady put back the book. Good. Everything was in place. Too bad she didn't really seem to care about the star charts, though. Nobody did.

At the mentioning of her mother, Tam's mouth suddenly felt dry, words sticking in place in her throat. She immediately looked away from her visitor. "Y...yes, she was..." Her voice quivered when she found it again. She shut her eyes and felt the bottom of the blindfold turn cold and wet. "...She was my mother. She-she died three days ago." Because of me. Tamarie found herself just nodding slowly for a moment before looking back up at the visitor, regaining at least some of her composure. She had to deal with this person professionally. "Was there some unfinished business you had with her?"

[zimmerwald1915]

Tamarie

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The woman pulls back at the sight of tears dripping off your blindfold. "I’m Janiven," she says quietly, her hand rising to her face and brushing at her cheek. It leaves a dark streak of smudged, damp dust behind. "And I’m sorry to have mentioned her so soon…I didn’t know." Janiven falls silent and begins to pace the room from one wall to the other, an uncertain expression on her face. "I met her here once. This was an empty hovel," she says, and stands still, feet wide apart. "And I did have business with Agnes. I was supposed to meet her again at four bells at Vizio’s Tavern, but I decided to check this place out as well. I was surprised to see your shop."

Janiven sighs. "I don’t suppose you could join me at four bells to honor her memory?"

Amanita

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The woman raisese her palms at you, seemingly in surprise at your response. "I did not know you had lost your brother, Miss Vallist," she says, "and I certainly did not kidnap him. However, I do know that you won’t find him wandering the streets."

The woman takes a few steps closer to you, as though to stop you walking away. "I also know that you are not the only one who has had something precious taken from them. Instead of looking fruitlessly all on our own, a group of us are meeting at four bells this evening at Vizio’s Tavern. Do you think you can come?"

Corath

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The crowd around you begins to disperse, but it is by no means quiet in the square. With the specatcle over, people are going back to their business facing the plaza or at open stalls lining the streets. "Walk with me," says the woman, leading you through the mass of people. You follow, not really looking or caring much where you’re going. The streets are all familiar at a glance, so you know the woman isn’t taking you somewhere unknown or dangerous. After some time, she speaks, sounding disappointed. "I’m sorry to say it would be hard to find anywhere truly quiet at twelve bells. Unless you want to visit the north end! And after that, what I have to say might not be the best thing to hear." You notice you’ve stopped, just in front of the modest shrine to Idomedae at which you’ve been staying. "Honor him. And then, if you would, honor me at Vizio’s Tavern at four bells. Then we shall have some talk."

Ducan

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[b]"I do know what you want to hear,"[b] says the woman, throwing back her own hood. Her eyes hold pity, whether for your loss or your insecurity at needing to you’re your face you’re not sure. "You want to hear that someone will pay them back for what they did to you. You want that someone to be you. And you want me to tell you it might be. Well, it might be.

"But wearing a hole into your chair here isn’t going to get you what you want. Coming to Vizio’s Tavern at four bells this evening might. Ask for Janiven." With that, she throws her hood back up. You think you catch a slight roll of her eyes as she does so, but her mouth remains still and expressionless.

Paimon

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"Yes, it seems sometimes even the walls have ears," says the woman. "and I understand if you don’t feel safe after what happened. However, the night holds worse perils and if you want to shelter behind walls, deaf walls, tonight, I can help you. My name is Janiven, and I’m on my way to Vizio’s Tavern, a short walk from here, to meet a couple of friends. Would you like to join me?"

[slugboy_73]

"Vizio's Tavern and four bells", nods Corath. "I shall be there".

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon

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"Yes, it seems sometimes even the walls have ears," says the woman. "and I understand if you don’t feel safe after what happened. However, the night holds worse perils and if you want to shelter behind walls, deaf walls, tonight, I can help you. My name is Janiven, and I’m on my way to Vizio’s Tavern, a short walk from here, to meet a couple of friends. Would you like to join me?"

"A hot meal and a place to stay for the night without fear of Hellknights kicking down the door? Yes, please."

[Vacuus]

"I see."

Amanita glanced around aimlessly while thinking about the matter. There was no indication that the woman had any useful information whatsoever, the entire affair may even be a trap of some sorts. Mysterious people approaching you randomly in the streets is usually a cause for concern.

On the other hand, Amanita had been rather short of leads lately, a short visit probably wouldn't hurt. Not to mention she sensed no hostility from the woman.

"I'll be there," Amanita replied.

[Zefir]

Ducan

Inside his mind he makes puh. This Lady is annoying. First hidding and than this condescending gesture? She really doesn't know all.

"I will be there."

He will wait until she left and then since it is 3 bell he will go. He isn't quiet sure where the named tavern is exactly, but this seems to be the one tavern he never entered.

[Feather Sigil]

Tam immediately guessed this Janiven was another rebel, affiliated with the Order of the Dragon. For what other reason would she have happened to meet Mother in this of all houses? Kazoden never told her for what the house was used before he gave it to her but it was so simple and out of the way it could have been a secret meeting place as much as a warehouse.

"Yes...sure, I'll be there, Janiven. Thank you."

There was nothing wrong with doing that. She'd have to close the shop a little early, was all.

They wouldn't be the only two there to discuss rebellion, most likely. Janiven would warm her up a little with small talk, perhaps buy a drink or two and then get right to the point. Tam would hear everything she had to say, say "No" in response and then leave, promising not to report anyone present that afternoon to the guards. Hardly different from when Mother tried it on her (only it was at home and thus considerably more awkward when it was over) or when Kazoden tried it on her. The Order wanted her for some reason, that much was clear, but while she would die to keep their secret, she would do nothing more than turn a blind eye.

"Where can I find the tavern?"

[zimmerwald1915]

Paimon:

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Janiven leads you to the back door of the Tavern, which opens into a kitchen. You see pots hanging from the ceiling, a massive oven, a narrow countertop and a basin full of water before Janiven shows you the way to the common room. [b]"Make yourself comfortable,"[/color] she says, turning back into the kitchen. "I’ll be getting food and drinks."

You notice that the common room is empty of people, and that all but one of the tables is covered in dust. All the windows leading outside are covered by heavy black curtains. There is no one behind the bar, but you can see Janiven through a window lighting the stove. When she is satisfied with the flame she hurries out and behind the bar, where she draws a mug of ale from a cask and gives it to you.

Tamerie, Amanita, Ducan, Corath:

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You arrive shortly after four bells. The sun is dipping below the tallest buildings, whose shadows cover the streets, though it won’t be truly dark for some time. You can smell the stink of old fish from the Crescent Market on the waterfront. The Tavern itself looks like a solid building, but something about it is off-putting. After a few seconds you realize: the quieting streets are louder than this place. No light issues out the windows either. The door, however, is slightly ajar, and you can see candles flickering, inviting you to come inside.

When you enter, you see only one customer, a man with pale skin and horns sitting quietly at a table in the middle, nursing a drink. The woman you met earlier today is visible for a few seconds at a time, busy in the kitchen. Now that you’re inside you can hear the clattering of pans, and the smell of old fish is replaced by the smell of frying fresh fish and aged ale.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon savors the taste of the ale. Sure it wasn't Corentyn wine, but the only alcohol he'd ever been allowed was cheap, watered-down swill. And not because of who he was. That was all the Lowpier Players could afford for celebrations after a successful opening or closing. He looks with curiosity at the people arriving at the tavern. Something told him Janiven wasn't offering him a meal out of the sheer goodness of her heart, though she certainly had showed him more kindness than he'd come to expect from anyone. But he now realized she must have a motive.

[Zefir]

Ducan enters the bar early as it seems. He only noticed the one man inside and the woman behind. He takes a seat next to Paimon.

"Hello." he sais.

After all he isn't sure if this man is one of the poor customers here or is here for the same reason. Either way Ducan looks after him closly, because his kind isn't known for beeing the good once.

[Vacuus]

Amanita steps into the dimly lit bar, not a very welcoming sort of place for meeting of any sorts. She walks to the counter and takes a seat, not intent on standing for the duration of the wait.

[slugboy_73]

Corath enters the tavern and offers everyone a soft, "Good afternoon"

He takes a seat with the others at the table, making sure that his falchion is accessable.

[Zefir]

Ducan just nods at him responding with an "Hello"

The woman just got a nod.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon

"Hey there," Paimon replies. "Janiven invite you here too?"

[Feather Sigil]

After Janiven left, Tam checked the bookcase again and got right back to waiting for any customers to arrive. No big deal, really. Just another rebel to decline. Maybe she could introduce her to Kaz, that they could work together. It was not at all strange that she could brush off knowing dissenters of Westcrown's rulers so easily, for it was something she grew up with. Tam didn't report them because she thought it was the right thing to do, though Alice certainly made a good point (as usual) that right now the last thing she needed was to have more reasons for the law to mercilessly throw the book at her, on top of the potential danger of being somewhere other than home when the sun went down. Hopefully the meeting wouldn't last that long.

At three bells, Tam closed her shop and made her way to her parents' graves. The graves were empty, for nothing recognizable as a corpse was found in the smoldering wreckage of the house they died in. Yesterday's funeral wasn't much, either: just herself, Kazoden and a few of Mother's friends from the Order of the Dragon. She paid for the tombstones and the graves and that was it.

After the funeral ended, Tam stayed while everyone else left. When she was alone with them, she knelt before the tombstones and apologized repeatedly. When she returned to the graves today, she did the same thing.

The four great peals died down as Tam laid eyes on the tavern. Soft, dim lights lit its windows but only the faintest murmurings escaped its open door. Hardly anyone would notice the place; they would be too busy getting things together before sundown. Tam looked all around before pushing the door open and walking in, shutting it behind her. Four people sat at a counter while Janiven darted in and out of the tavern's kitchen. A tall armoured man with grey eyes and a haircut one would expect from a priest. A thin lady with long black hair. A man sporting a rapier and dagger at his sides. The one that stood out the most was the one with pale skin, black eyes and horns on his head: a tiefling.

Tam inhaled sharply as she approached them. She didn't mind tieflings, but she knew their reputation. It was the reason for her wearing a blindfold: ever since she had a vision of her parents' death her eyes were permanently stained black and the last thing she wanted was to have to endure constant suspicion and harassment from people who suspected she was a tiefling.

She quickly took a seat next to the black-haired lady. "Hello, everyone. Are you all here for the meeting with Janiven as well?"

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With the DM's permission, rolling a Linguistics check instead of a Profession check for whatever income she makes today. The result will be in gold pieces and I'll divide the result by seven since I'm going by one day instead of one week.

(1d20+3)[13]

13 / 7 = 1.8. So, 1gp 8sp.

[Vacuus]

Janiven? Perhaps that was the name of the woman from earlier.

"I know not of a 'Janiven', but assuming you're referring to the same woman I'm thinking of, I'm not here to meet with her," the black-haired lady responded, "I am here to meet with everyone else."

The lady paused for a moment before continuing, "my name is Amanita Vallist, pleased to make your acquantaince."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon

"Wasn't aware she was holding some sort of meeting here, but she offered me food and shelter for the night, which is a damn sight kinder than I'm used to. So I'll hear what she has to say. Name's Paimon. Formerly of the Lowpier Players, though I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that around. Have no idea if the Hellknights are still out for my blood."

[Zefir]

Ducan is very disappointed for now. He was told to hear something of intressed, but for knoe he just heared some smal talk.

"We are here for a reason. And if I assume right we all share a goal here. Janiven may knw thisand I assume she is able to clear things up."

[Feather Sigil]

So their stories were all different. It didn't surprise Tam that the offer of honouring Mother was a lie, but it did surprise her that at least four of their number were lead her under completely different false pretenses--some of them weren't even aware of their host's name. The armoured man believed they shared a goal but that could not be so if such measures were what it took to get them all together here.

At least this was different from past insurgent gatherings she had attended.

"If we all share a goal, why do we all have different interpretations of what this gathering ought to be? Seems we're here only for Janiven's goal for us, whatever that is. Paimon, we know why you're here, but what about the rest of you? How did she convince each of you to come?"

[Vacuus]

"I see," Amanita says, a look of disappointment clearly shown on her face.

It's too soon to give up, Amanita thought, but Tam's words had a stronger impact than she might have expected. Still, there's no harm in trying, I guess.

"I guess I'll be the one to start," Amanita adds, as she gets up from the counter.

"I am here as I was promised that someone here had information regarding a man named Waern. That is all."

[slugboy_73]

Corath remembers his manners

"My name is Corath,"he begins. "I am here due to differences with the current regime.

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Sorry for the lack of posts, RL has been crazy

[zimmerwald1915]

Once you’ve all gathered and introduced yourselves, Janiven—you all know the name by now, either from her or from the others you met in Vizio’s—emerges from the kitchen balancing three trays in her arms. The first contains five mugs of ale, which she gives to everyone except Paimon, who has one already. One she sets down on the bar far away from any of you. The other trays bear a large bowl of roasted potato chunks covered in glistening and pungent olive oil, a platter of white fish filets bearing seared-black grille marks, and carved wooden plates and pewter forks. These trays go on the table at which Paimon’s been sitting, and Janiven gestures for those of you who have not joined him to take a seat.

"One thing before we eat," she says, going to the door and closing the latch. She then goes to the bar and picks up the mug she’d put aside. "A toast to those we miss most tonight. Ulrica, Larens, Waern, Agnes, Joel^{1, 2}. None were known to everyone here, including me, but Agnes and Hilstrom were, and they deserve to be remembered not with silence, but with words. I suspect that is the same for the rest." As Janiven throws back her drink, her eyes glance at the door.

"Since you ask about Waern," she sighs to Amanita, "I’ll tell you what I know. He is not being held by the dottari. None of the city jails hold a man by that name. He could have been taken by the Hellknights of Rivad, and been held there, though I know not what would make them want him, or by the shadow beasts to wherever they take people."

1: Zefir

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I took the liberty of naming your master Larens.

2: Slugboy

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You recognize "Joel" as the man you saw executed today.

[Vacuus]

Amanita stared at the food that Janiven carried out of the kitchen, she was completely unaccustomed to food of that sorts. Most of her meals consisted of bread and dried meat of some sorts, on special days, she would treat herself to a loaf of sweet bread. Roast potatoes and grilled fish were completely alien to her, so much so that their appearance and aromas were all that she was thinking about.

That is, until Janiven mentioned the name Waern. Amanita immediately straightened up and listened intently.

----

Unfortunately, Janiven's words are less useful than Amanita had hoped, on the bright side, at least his death has not been confirmed. As long as he isn't dead, there's still a chance, Amanita thought.

After mulling over her thoughts for a moment, Amanita spoke up, "do the Hellknights you speak off keep logs of the people they take?"

[slugboy_73]

Corath joins Janiven in toasting the missed people. He hopes that Joel's soul is at peace.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Paimon

"To the dead."

Paimon raises his glass and then takes a long pull before setting it down and enjoying the meal. For a man who's had nearly nothing to eat for the past few days, and has NEVER had anything like this before, he takes his time, carefully picking the fish apart before eating it, and cutting the potatoes finer than Janiven had. An actor's every movement was made with care, and while many could see in his eyes unbridled joy, he was trying to avoid behaving like a starving animal.