Death's End IC II

[Ajadea]

Calia shakes her head. "I don't think I'd get very far at any of those," she says. "I think we should all go to the Heroes' Plaza. It's best if we stick together... mind you, I expect that'll only last for so long," A frown passes briefly over her face as she acknowledges the absence of Lirian. "If you see anything shiny at the stalls there, don't buy it. I guarantee they're charging three times what it's worth and you'll be able to find something just as good and significantly less overpriced down in West Harth. That goes for near everything in Old Town, actually," she says. After a moment to reorient herself, she starts heading towards the Heroes' Plaza, stopping briefly to haggle with a merchant and purchase a white Cato half-mask, which she slips on as she walks. She moves with confidence and ease, seeming to draw the eye effortlessly.

Spoiler

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Using her Presence Aura to effectively make herself a little more charming than normal might be considered cheating by some. Ah well.

I assume Diplomacy is used for haggling - taking 10 for a result of 26, after Presence Aura.

[esorscher]

Arran closes his fist tighter around his goldpurse as they walk. "The archery contest sounds intriguing," He goes to the Heroes Plaza with the others.

[gallagher]

Ben keeps his cloak draped over his haversack after making sure it is still clasped shut. You know, I was thinking... this hide and seek contest sounds intriguing. If it works anything like how I think it does, we may have a chance to tip the odds in our favor.

As they move through the crowd, Ben shifts his eyes around looking for shops and stalls to see if there is anything of interest to him. Maybe I can wait to buy it, maybe I cannot...

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian follows the others from a distance. Having moved out into the crowd, she's realized that she has no idea which way she's going. She'll follow them to Heroes' Plaza, then find a guide to point her in the right direction.

[PersonMan]

"Oh! That doesn't leave time for more relaxing beforehand, does it?" Elara replies, taking a step back to the rushing Merrelis doesn't trip on her feet or run into her. She herself had, occasionally, been caught up in a fit of needing to go right now, so she knew to stay out of the way while someone else was in one. As Merrelis finishes readying herself, the mage moves closer to her, making a brief comment here or there, helping her friend with things that may not be visible in the mirror. Silently, she considers the merchant's words for a few moments before replying with her own. "Midnight? That sounds easy enough. You know how it is with me and trouble, though - I don't find it. It finds me," she says. "But I'll do my utmost to keep out of any chaos for the night!"

Elara doesn't seem to be bothered by the idea of a bit of makeup being spread by a kiss from Merrelis, even if it was only brief. As her friend looks into her eyes, she smiles, giving her the best reassuring, confidence-boosting look she can. "Good luck!" The mage says as Merrelis leaves, looking at the door for a few moments before turning to the window again. For perhaps a minute she stands there, leaning over the chair, simply enjoying the sights of the roofs of the city, the darkening sky. Listening to the sounds of the festival. Remembering the quiet, clean air of the mountains. Considering which was better. Considering painting, or looking at her old works again. Deciding not to.

Humming a tune she'd heard played during a holy day of Gruumsh, Elara puts her cloak back on and takes a look around the room again, smiling as her eyes linger on the bed. Walking out the door, she takes note of the room so she can find it later then heads down the stairs. As she goes, she smiles again at Naberys before leaving, going back out onto the streets. Reinvigorated by her brief rest (and in no small part by the plans she's made with Merrelis), there's a spring in Elara's step as she rolls her shoulders and heads off towards the Heroes' Plaza. Trying to remember the way doesn't always work out for her, so she asks a few passerby who seem to know about the city for directions (or just asks merchants if none are around).

Elara walks quite a bit faster than she normally does. After all, she wants to be able to enjoy the Festival properly before she has her important appointment at midnight.

[Togo]

Myr moves on quickly, his mind whirling.

What the...

He moves off through the crowd and asks one or two other passersby for recommendations. In part he's looking for some kind of common pattern, in part he still needs a place to stay. After a short while he slips into the shadow of an elegent arching staircase, giving some upper floor residence access to the street. He leans with his back to the wall, one foot behind him to stop the possibly dirty surface from touching his fresh white shirt, and presses the bridge of his nose in thought.

Ok, so this is definitely not how his arrival in Onyx was supposed to go.

With a sigh he goes through the pouch he was given and his pockets, just in case that hug was an excuse to plant something for him to find. Then he pushes himself off the wall, and rejoins the flow of traffic, trying to find a place to stay.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: With all you resolved on a course of action, Calia leads the way deeper into the city. As you progress, the streets begin to be more spaced out, even as the crowd thickens. Many of the buildings you see are no longer storefronts or residential blocks, but instead white-washed buildings of fine stone. The corners are cleaner here, sharpened by design. A wispy veil of cloud covers the first of the starlight overhead, but down here everything is awash with the golden glow of revelry. For the most part, the main streets are actually the most expedient way to get to your destination, even though there are countless people in your way. If anything, there are even more of the vendors, although here in Old Town there are also a number of more expensive magical tools for sale. Flare coins, shadow-cloth, and special potions are all on display. The latter in particular seems quite popular among the customers, probably because it is advertised to 'enhance the festivities' for those interested in recreational consumption. However, you do note that there are extra guards posted near these stands in case customers get too rowdy.

All of this pageantry pales in comparison to the Heroes' Plaza itself.

The first thing you see are the columns that ring the edge of the space. Most of the buildings seem quite distant, or at least obscured a good distance behind their frame. This unbroken circle of immaculate imperial architecture has been adorned with lanterns that glow like miniature suns. Even when spaced out over nearly a mile, the lights form a kind of protective halo around the oval. The plaza within is mostly smooth stone, although you can tell that it has been worked with a care that is not commonly seen. Interlocking geometric patterns mark the plates beneath your feet, and as you move further within you can see similar markings all over the place. They don't seem to serve much function beyond decoration, and although some might find it a bit gaudy, the sheer scale and attention to detail does take in the eye. An arc here, a corner there. It is too much all at once. But you are drawn, as are countless others, towards the center of the oval. There, towering over the masses, is a monument that exists nowhere else in the mortal world. Five figures stand at arms, their forms interlocked in pure marble at least fifty feet tall. Even those of you not from the city know their names: Ilthus and Haldara di Vorn, Olyranna Dawnsong, Argus of the Red Blade, and Watcher Mordecai. The quintet of heroes who broke the Cato reign and ushered in the age of the Republic have been immortalized in the gazes of the gods. At the foot of the statues, there sits a sort of enclave of tents on a much larger platform. There are a number of figures standing there, but it is a bit hard to tell who they are from this far away. Getting closer through the crowd of thousands right now might also prove to be a bit troublesome.


Elara: With Merrelis gone, you are free to take in the evening skies for a moment before getting on your way. The door creaks subtly as it closes behind you. Downstairs in the common room of the Painted House, you are met by a bit of a smaller crowd, as a few of them have likely filed off to watch the opening ceremonies exactly as you're about to do. Naberys doesn't seem to be smiling anymore, as she busily polishes off some of the glasses from the night's first shift. Without a doubt, there will be more traffic later on. She does give you a preoccupied wave as you leave the inn, but the weariness is clearly getting to her.

Outside, it is noticeably cooler than even before you arrived - the sun going down will do that. Without the multitude of torches and lanterns that are so often seen in more upscale districts, the streets of West Harth seem more than a little bit darker. And while there are still plenty of people out here, more and more seem to have migrated towards Old Town. Most of the vendors are packing up as well. One of them tells you that they are moving to a different location, somewhere with a little bit more action. A few wagons stand by waiting for the paid hands to load up all of the gear before whipping the pack horses into motion. There is a kind of heartless efficiency to it all, a coldness that belies the spirit of the festival itself. While it is true that these are people's jobs, the sudden juxtaposition of enthusiasm with indifference is more than a little bit jarring.

"Help me! Twelve Gods, somebody come quick!" The sudden cry splits through the air, emanating from a nearby alleyway. It is quite dark there between the two buildings, but the voice sounds like a young woman. You can tell that it is not Merrelis at the very least, but whoever it is does sound quite distressed. A few of the passers-by stop and begin to approach as well.


Myr: With the couple gone, you do find yourself a little bit adrift. A few of the strangers you pass tell you - some kindly, others decidedly not - that East Harth is more or less full up, and that you should head to West Harth if you are looking for relatively cheap lodging. The Janos Crown and the Painted House come up a few times, both of them described as fair and clean. Both establishments are run by gnomes, apparently. Who knew that they were masters of hospitality? In any case, there aren't that many people interested in talking to someone carrying such a large weapon. Even those who don't recognize it tend to keep their distance. West Harth. From everything you've heard about the congestion and the size of Onyx, heading there now would mean postponing your trip up to Forger's Row for at least an hour or so. Then again, the criminals of this city aren't likely to be heading to bed any time soon.

As you make yourself relatively comfortable and begin to check your pockets, your suspicions are confirmed in a singularly awful way: your own purse is gone. The sack of silver that she gave you is still there, as is a small note attached to the rough burlap. In the shadows beneath the staircase, the writing is a bit hard to read at first, but you can make it out as your eyes adjust. "If you're reading this, thank you for helping me prove the theory of cause and effect. Yours sincerely, Elyas." You can't help but notice that there is a sort of ghoulish comedy to the act, as if she wanted you to know that it was her that stole from you. But even though the gold pieces she took was worth about four times more in value, the silver is genuine. She could have left fakes, but instead she offered you the real thing. The truth of the matter is that she paid you for the theft and left her name behind, possibly as a kind of tribute.

[gallagher]

Look around for a way to get to that platform, a crowd this big means that this isnt something we should miss. Ben scans the crowd and the area before him; if he can find creases in the crowd that he can slip through, or parts of architecture that he can jump and climb across, he might be able to get near the platform. He even looks higher than he could normally reach, because Arran might be able to give him a boost.

As he looks around, Ben listens to the crowd around him, in case someone nearby says something important about the day's events, or the people who organize and compete in them.

Spoiler

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Spot: (1d20+4)[9]
Listen: (1d20+5)[24]

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian takes a moment to look around at the stands, trying to find a guard who doesn't look too busy. When she finds one, she aproaches them.
"Excuse me, but could you point me to the Great Library?"

[esorscher]

Arran nods and looks around for a way through the crowd for him and his companions. If he can get Ben in a good vantage point, Ben could relay information to them after the fact. He makes a mental note to look into purchasing earrings that work like his own, still embedded in his ear since their adventure, though he has worn it only as decoration and not attempted to contact anyone through it. He wonders if they can be tuned to each other.

Spoiler

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Spot: (1d20+1)[20]
Listen: (1d20+1)[11]

[Togo]

Myr tilts his head back against wall and laughs. It could be worse. His paranoia fades as he realises it wasn't someone following him, but merely a thief with a sense of humour.

With a sigh he replaces the pouch and kicks himself back off the wall and into the thick of the crowd. Mentally revising his budget sharply downward, he heads east. He doesn't really know where these lodgings are, but he can make a fair guess of which way to go, and he wants to see the Festival. There are sights to see, a new city to explore, and, ah... security arrangements to observe.

Feeling a bit like a skeleton at the feast, he carries on.

[Ajadea]

Calia nods. "If you do want to see the Master of Ceremonies, I bet that's where he is." The crowd is, as usual for the Festival, so heavy it moves like a current, the people within not so much walking as being sucked in to the movement. She moves with them, letting her feet walk where they may and trying to work her way towards the center politely and gradually, with a minimum of shoving.

[PersonMan]

Elara doesn't really notice the chill, at least not the way others might. She notices the different quality of the air, of course, but it doesn't really go past her skin, doesn't go into her core and make her shiver. It does get to her in another way, jostling the mage's perception of Onyx as a hot city yet again. In the past, she'd spent most of the time the city would be cooling beneath a night sky inside, and her travels through the desert were aided by magic so she never spent time beneath the stars unless she felt the need to. The merchants are a bit unusual, but Elara's time with Merrelis and her family, during which she'd seen the heterochromic beauty put on a mask of enthusiasm only to toss it away moments later at least a few times, has given her a more informed view of salespeople. Again she stops for a moment, enjoying the peace, the contrast between how it had been before and how it was now, even though people were still present. It was interesting to see how quickly such things changed. Perhaps she'd do a painting of a street over the course of the day, showing how its appearance changed every few hours. It's these thoughts that are interrupted by the sudden cry for help. In a split second, three thoughts go through Elara's head.

Nooo, why today? comes first, followed by Please let this be quick, please let this be quick... as a mental flurry of scenes far past midnight, her walking into the room covered in soot and Merrelis with her arms crossed, shoot across her mental vision. Then, overpowering that, comes the call to action. The thought that's gotten Elara into far too much trouble over the course of her life, the one she can't shake off. Someone needs my help!

The final one spurs her into action and Elara whirls towards the alley way, having to hop forwards the first few steps to shake the sudden leaden feeling out of her legs before she breaks out into a run. "On the way! Hold on!" She says, snapping her fingers as she rushes to the alley, mind racing, looking for some combination that would be good to use here. It was pretty much the end of the day, so after a moment of indecision Elara decides to throw caution to the wind and cast a spell or two just in case things get ugly.

Speaking the arcane syllables, Elara throws out a half-dozen complex hand signs out in front of her, the timing and sequence just right to trigger the proper surge of magical energy. Further enhanced by her voice, the words trigger the last bit of required power to flow into reality. Suddenly, the mage seems to shatter into several identical versions of her, who keep running towards the alley.

Spoiler

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Casting Mirror Image for (1d4+2)[3] images, lasting 8 minutes.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia, Lirian: One fellow - who has clearly been drinking far too much for his own good - directs Lirian to the northwestern edge of the Plaza, next to the towering facade that is the Senate Hall. Meanwhile, the crowd seems to swallow you with no compunctions to the contrary, and once you are in the tide it becomes a bit easier to make your away around. Some kind of brawl is being broken up not far away by the guard, which allows your group to slip in and take their place even closer to the stage. You can hear the masses begin to quiet down as a pair of figures seem to step forward, and you note that they could not be more different than night and day. While the first is dressed in extravagant brocades of silk that include a slightly ridiculous headdress, the second is adorned in rather plain looking armor and carries his helmet beside him. The former seems to drink in the adulation, and the armored man seems more than a little bit uncomfortable being so exposed. He runs a mailed finger idly through his trimmed golden beard. When the volume of those around you has reached an acceptable level, he nods for the first figure to step forward and begin their address. They don't seem to have any determinate sex that you can see, as their features are caked with colored paint. But when he does speak, it is with a high and amplified male voice.

"People of Onyx! It gives me great pleasure to have been appointed as this year's Master of Ceremonies for the Festival of Lights for the second consecutive year. It seems as though the Whitestrake name is a lucky one!" A few throughout the plaza break out into soft guffaws even as this strange individual prepares to move on. "Now, I'm sure that most of you are wondering what the schedule will look like this go around. Some of you may have heard of the localized contests that will be running for the first day, but I am here to assure you that there is MUCH MORE IN STORE!!" A wave of cheering and applause breaks out all around you, the fervent voices of approval sounding over the ancient stone. "In fact, those of us on the festival committee have spent the better part of months planning the next five days. Before I begin, I would like to take a moment to thank the Republic Bank and the Dawnsong Foundation for their contributions to the festival. They have made all of this possible! And of course, how could one forget the famous Commander Titus Vasher! I am sure that the divines themselves have sent such a capable figure to make sure that our games are run smoothly." The armored man, who you presume to be Vasher, seems to nod modestly as he is acknowledged. As Whitestrake's momentum picks up, he begins to tread up and down the platform like a caged animal. Finally, the adorned figure throws up his arms in something akin to ecstasy. "And now, what you've all been waiting for: the line-up! Tonight we start with a fireworks-dance show, under the direction of Garth of Howling. This will be followed by an interactive concert of faerie muses from the wind-strewn rocks of Siara, and the return of fan-favorite, Ilthos Stormreaver. But as you know, a part of the festival is the mystery! So it should not come as a shock that tomorrow's events may come as a bit of a... surprise. LET THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS BEGIN!!" Barely able to contain his glee, Whitestrake begins to skip around in a circle as the crowd goes wild.


Elara: The space between the buildings is filled with a kind of muted silence, as a woman lies cradling her child. A nasty purplish bruise has settled in across her left cheek, and you can see that her clothing has been ripped here and there. A trail of thick blood stems from what is likely a broken nose. The newborn in her lap does not cry, but thankfully it still breathes. As your eyes fully adjust to the scene, you take note of the glittering coins of silver and copper that lie discarded on the cobblestone beneath her. The woman begins to crawl to her feet, baby clutched in one hand. She seems upset, but not to the point of crying. Instead, her expression is somewhere between fear and rage. Although slightly put off by your illusion, she recognizes you as a sympathetic bystander. "Please, that man just tried to rob me. Hunt him down and bring him to justice!" A clatter of metal on stone from further down the street draws your attention, as you catch sight of a figure who stands further away. He doesn't seem dressed all that well, his cloak torn in several places and his clothing has seen much better days. A rash runs up one side of his neck, and his features are covered in either dirt or facial hair. By his side is a claw hammer, likely pilfered from a nearby trash pile. His beady eyes seem to follow you, although they dart off to try and see all of your doubles. If he understands the nature of the magic you're using, it does not register on any level. The would-be thief's hands tighten around the grip of his weapon, but makes no move to attack you or hurt the woman in any way. You can almost see the thought process behind his gaze. However, the shouting and approach of the other vendors behind you seems to cement a decision in the man's countenance, and he turns tail to try and flee. The woman lets out another cry of anguish, a wordless sound that follows right on his heels. "Quickly, catch him before he gets away!"


Myr: As you head across the cityscape, you are met with what seems like endless revelry. After a while, the lights and the noise become too saturated, as if a petulant god were pulling a curtain over your eyes and ears. Soon, the half-filled spaces of East Harth are long behind you. However, your course seems to have taken you a bit further south than you may have intended, and after a while you are confronted by the slow creep of foliage. Great vines wrap around stone pillars and battlements, and the harsh glow of street lights is muted under a canopy of trees. It is much quieter here, and a quick look around reveals next to nobody on the streets around you. A great archway serves as the only border between Arborgate and the rest of Onyx. Beyond, you can still see buildings protruding from the greenery, but a great many of the structures seem to complement their natural surroundings, as though they were built after the fact. Knowing the elves, they probably were. The path extends into the darkness, lit on either side by floating pale sparks that are almost certainly of magical origin. Nobody else walks that road, and for a moment all you can hear are the distant cries of men and birds.

"Greetings." The speaker emerges from the brush ahead on your right: an armored elf carrying an intricately carved bow. He scans you quickly for weapons, but doesn't seem overly concerned at your polearm. There are no other guards present. "We don't see many travelers here, especially at this time of night. Especially given all that is occurring across the city. Tell me, what brings you to this fair city?"

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian makes her way to the Library, ducking inside. The festival is great and all, but it isn't her scene. If they held some book-finding contest, or competition of learning or scholarship, perhaps she would be more interested. In the meantime, though, she takes a moment to look around, taking in the sight of the inside of the Library.

[esorscher]

Arran listens intently to the MC's speech, taking note of the names he mentions. Once the MC has finished and the show begins, Arran asks Calia about each of the people named--Commander Titus Vasher, Garth of Howling, Ilthos Stormreaver, and of course, Whitestrake himself. He also asks her about the Republic Bank and the Dawnsong Foundation. "Caius, Marius, Nisus... I wouldn't be surprised if this Titus character had some important role to play," he mutters absentmindedly.

[Togo]

Myr blinks. And then replies in the clipped but precise elven of someone who has learned mainly from books. Me? It's reputation, mainly. I was heading south along the mountains, and it seemed a shame not to make a detour to visit, since I was heading in that direction already. Change of pace and all that. And of course, there's the Festival, and the chance to catch up on news that didn't just come from the next valley.

He shifts his heavy pack.

I'm looking for a hostel. Two gnomish establishments were recommended to me, the Painted House, and the Janos Crown. I thought I was heading in roughly the right direction, but maybe not.

He gives a cheerful shrug.

I assume this is the arbor district. He says, glancing around, admiringly. In the north, they hear about an arbor district ask why elves would live amongst boats and warehouses, ha. Myr shakes of his head. You'd have to translate that to Common to have it make sense, sorry about that.

A nod to the weaponry on the elf's back. That's a nice bow. Was it made recently?

[PersonMan]

Elara gives the armed man a hard stare, concealing her anxiety at the prospect of getting into a fight now by stepping forwards and clenching a fist. Hearing others approach strengthens her confidence, and the mage takes another step forwards just before the man turns. Letting out a slow breath, glad that the encounter had ended without the need for violence, she turns to the woman, bending down to help her up. To make sure the frightened lady doesn't find her hand passing through an illusory palm, Elara has the illusory images of her self slide backwards slightly, revealing the true her in the front. Shaking off the threatening look she'd tried to give herself a moment ago, she smiles at the woman, hoping to calm her down.

"Are you and your child alright, miss?" Elara asks, deciding to ignore her shouting about chasing the thief down. The others could do that, she thinks. In truth, the mage has no reason to risk getting pulled into some larger issue by chasing down the man when she could just stay here and comfort the victim of the attack. Let the ones who swore revenge rush after him, she preferred to make sure that that things were alright to trying to chase down the criminal. Punishing him wouldn't help the woman, after all. "Please calm down. You'll be alright now, Elara continues, offering the woman some support as they both stand. Looking around, she frowns at the scattered coins. "Ah...I'll help you with these. You really should stay out of alleys like this, you know."

With that, Elara prepares to help the woman pick up the coins strewn about the alley.

[gallagher]

Ben thinks aloud in Arran's direction. Wait, don't we already know a famous commander named Titus? Ben looks up to the stage to see if any of the faces are familiar. We need to find out what this surprise is, and see if we can use it to our benefit. Come on, Arran, you and I are getting to that stage. Put me on your shoulders and start walking, I will look for creases in the crowd and you use those muscles to push us through.

[esorscher]

Arran hefts Ben up onto his shoulders as a father would a child and complies dutifully. "Do we? I don't recall..."

Spoiler

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Spot: (1d20+1)[20]
Strength (if necessary): (1d20+4)[20]

[gallagher]

Atop Arran's shoulders, Ben has a vantage point he is not used to. Yes, at Dawnharrow. We saw his daughter...perish. Ben shifts around on his new seat as he scans the whole crowd, looking for areas where the crowd seems to be moving faster. While he is at it, he looks at around the crowd for familiar faces or suspicious activity. Ben looks again to see if there are ledges that might give him a better vantage point or a quicker route to the stage.

Spoiler

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I'd like to aid Arran's spot check, since we are in on this together, but I also am looking for stuff that he isnt. I know I have to roll separately for looking for vantage points and checking out the people in the crowd.

I should probably also do a balance check while I am up there: Balance(1d20+6)[18]
Spot: (1d20+4)[8]

Also, I am 22 pounds and most of my stuff is clasped in a haversack. You may have just tossed me in the air like you would a child. Be careful catching me cuz my collar has spikes on it

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia: As the energy picks up throughout Heroes' Plaza, you notice for the first time that Lirian has gone without saying a word. Normally, someone like the catfolk would hardly be difficult to find, but in such a large and diverse crowd such a task proves to be much more troublesome. However, you only have a moment to worry as waves of the crowd begin some kind of a low chant. It starts off quiet at first, but it builds in volume until most of the people packed into the Plaza are all but shouting. It is a singular phrase in an older dialect of Collean, repeated over and over, but you understand the meaning well enough. Before long, they all speak with one voice.

"Light! Light! Light! Light! Light! Light! Light! Light!"

Up on the stage, Whitestrake is all but drinking in the adoration. With a flick of his wrist, a shower of golden sparks illuminates the space directly above the statues of the five heroes. The paint around the edges of his eyes and mouth seems cracked under the constant strain of his wide smiles. Behind him, Vasher is joined by a few others. Their ceremonial vestments mark them out as praetors of the city, but their faces are hidden under crimson hoods. The armored commander moves to whisper something to one of the praetors, but there is no way to listen in at this distance. They seem to be watching the Master of Ceremonies, and a visible look of amusement crosses Vasher's features. Motioning for the next act to be brought on, he steps in close to Whitestrake and begins to escort him offstage. The eccentric showman doesn't resist, only taking one moment to wave back at the crowd one more time before he leaves. Meanwhile, the light show intensifies, as a man wearing a burning cloak takes Whitestrake's place. The praetors follow the commander, and are met at the base of the platform by two squadrons of the same soldiers from the gate. They begin to march off together, towards the Senate Hall at the northern end of the Plaza.


Elara: Three of the armed men from outside the Painted House charge down the alleyway past you, chasing after the perpetrator. Not one of them stops to help the woman in the street. For her part, she smiles at you and nods vigorously as you help her up. "Yes, I... I think we're alright. Thank you for driving him off, I was worried he would have..." She trails off, still a little bit shaken from the encounter. But the baby gives a little wail, and she comes back to her senses. She feeds the child with a bottle from one of her pouches, her own voice immediately switching from concerned to soothing. All in all, it takes her less than a minute to put the child back to sleep. Having taken care of that, she moves to help you pick up all of the coins. Strangely, you don't recognizes some of the faces stamped into the silver - the usual dead emperors have been replaced by an intricate hexagon symbol. The woman notices you looking at the currency, but says nothing. If anything, she is even more quiet than she was before. However, after a moment she does attempt to explain herself. "I found a purse of them while I was working up near Forger's Row. You know Carekk's Pub? An adventurer walked in there a few nights ago, tried to pay with it and got thrown out for his trouble. They ain't worth nothing, but the little one likes to play with them some." She carefully places all of the coins back into the little purse at her side.


Lirian: Leaving your traveling companions behind, you make your way to the doors of the Great Library, which as it turns out is a massive hall that borders the Plaza. The noise of the crowd follows you for a while, but soon dissipates. The carved stone facade above the doors is marked by a pair of angels slaying a massive serpent. Their swords are lit by holy fire, and their gaze is one of righteous anger. A complement of the city watch stand outside, patting down anyone trying to get inside. Furthermore, you see another squadron of those unmarked soldiers helping guard the entrance. Furthermore, a pair of robed figures that you presume to be spellcasters loiter near the doors. Everything about them screams 'librarian', from their ink-stained fingers to the intermittent tremor that comes from clutching a quill for hours on end. They really don't look like a threat, but if there is anything that your adventures have taught you, it is that those gifted in the arcane arts rarely look dangerous. Thankfully, the complement of guards at the door seem lenient to visitors, only taking your sickle and your shuriken and promising to return your weapons when you leave. One of the two robed librarians moves forward to escort you inside. "Before you enter, you should be aware of a few things. There is to be no fighting or weapons inside, obviously. The first two floors are open to the public, but the third is off limits without a permit from one of the curators. Likewise, you are not to step past the curator's desk or go down into the archives unless expressly invited." The bespectacled man leans over to put a gentle hand on your shoulder, but his gaze is unwavering. "And if you so much as light a match or conjure a spark, you will be banned from the Great Library for life. Now, please follow me."

The space past the doors seems to be a kind of atrium or antechamber, with a symbol of two crossed scrolls emblazoned on the floor. The librarian carefully steps around it, and advises you to do the same. "It's bad luck to stand on the crest. Nine years of misfortune to all that disrespect the Twins. Lyr isn't particularly vindictive, but Janos... it's an odd tradition, but you won't see me about to risk paying the price for hubris." As you make your way further inside, you finally encounter the central hall of the Great Library. Great stacks of books dominate the floor on either side of you, extending over a hundred yards ahead where it is bisected by another hall. There are three such floors that mirror the same pattern, with the carved ceiling at a dizzying distance away. At the center of where the two hallways meet is a eased section of floor, complete with a ring of darkwood desks and chairs. There is a small structure as well, a pyramidal fortification that looks like the entrance to a basement level. A few windows at the higher levels let in the moonlight, providing the stale air with a soft light. Attached to many of the railings are a series of magical lamps, which let off a grey glow. It provides the space with a somewhat ethereal touch, as if the entire library were something out of a dream. All in all, the Great Library must be at least three or four times the paltry collection from Aquinal. "If you have any questions about where to find anything, please let me know."


Myr: The elf tilts his head to the left slightly when you mention his bow. "Well you're right on one score, at least: this is the border of Arborgate. After this point, you walk under the graces of the coven." Lovingly tracing a line of filigree along the length of his weapon, he looks back up at you. "But this? This armament was not made, but sung from a root of the Worldpine at the heart of this quarter not three moons ago. I will say this for the druids, they know their craft. It has served me quite well since my last was broken by a would-be intruder."

"As for living situations... I'm afraid that while the coven does allow visitors, extended stays aren't always encouraged. If you like, I can put in a good word for you? You seem like a well enough man." The sentry extends a smile and a nod your way. "That said, if you're not interested I can point you the way towards the Janos Crown. I would steer clear of the Painted House, if I were you. Got a bit of a spotty reputation, and it isn't in the greatest of neighborhoods."

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Hmn..." Lirian takes a second or two to think.
"First of all, what is kept on the third floor? And how does one get a permit to study there?
Second, are there desks available to use for study by the general public?
Lastly, how is the library indexed? Is there a main set available for public use, or does one ask a librarian?"

[Togo]

Myr pauses for a moment, then, on impulse, pulls out his own bow, although he makes no attempt to string it.

This is an old Imperial bow. Tethis pattern, one of the northern crafthouses. It's probably intended for use by scouts, being a bit light on the draw, but it's got a good wind on it. It looks a bit ungainly, doesn't it? They get deliberately left unfinished, to allow for field modifications and the like. You can see here and here there's a touch of verdigris where the previous owner put brass braces on each end to strengthen the effect of the recurve. I know, I know, they shorten the life of the bow but he was probably more worried about his life than in leaving a legacy. Since he's dead, and the bow isn't, I can't really fault him. But, as I'm more of an optimist...

Myr flips the bow around with the practiced grace of someone who trains with a staff, to present the belly of the bow.

... I found a craftmen just west of the great lake to take off the brass ends, and reinforce it with horn and sinew here, here, and of course on the compression points here and here. So now it's got a much harder draw, but it's a little stiffer and slower. That suits me, if I speed up too much, I just start to miss more. Of course the end result looks pretty ugly.

He sighs, looking from one bow to the other. It's a miracle our two races can talk at all, isn't it? We are careless, because we do not expect ourselves to last. He wraps the bow back up in the loose leather intended to protect it from wind and rain, and puts it carefully away again.

Of course I'd love to get a bow custom-made, but it'll be a while before I can afford that. And even if I could, any druid I know can barely carry a note - I hate to think what their atonal growling would form for me.

I'm not likely to pick up any work in the city, because I don't know anyone down here. Unless I magically run across someone who wants a bodyguard they've never met and that noone can vouch for, I may have to go for the cheaper option. Give me directions to both places, and I'll see if the Janos is somewhere I can afford.

As for seeking a place in the domain of the coven. He looks whistful for a moment. It's a tempting prospect and a huge honour. But even my poor human senses can detect that the crowds and Festival that drew me to the city are curiously absent in these streets. If I wished the calm serenity of my own thoughts and the natural world, I would have stayed in the mountains. Maybe I could explore that offer more fully at another time? Or if your compatriots fear for their safety in plunging into such a throng, maybe they'd consider my services?

Myr hesitates, then plunges on.

Do you see to your own protection here, then? I've seen many soliders engaged in keeping the peace, and understood special arrangements were being made. Or is the Arbor District a place apart, as the coven is in so many things? What kind of intruder would be confident enough to break in here, or seek to?

[3SecondCultist]

Lirian: Your guide adjusts his glasses, affixing them to the bridge of his nose. "Well, you can see the desks for yourself. We can accommodate up to fifty researchers at any one time if desired. As you can see at this time of night, the Great Library is mostly empty, but there is always custodial staff to help with any issues that may arise. The stacks are separated into four categories based on content, and each category has a quadrant of the space. History is on the far right, arcane treatises on the far left. On your very right we have planar scrolls, while the other side deals largely with issues of religion. Within each quadrant, the texts are arranged alphabetically by author, with anonymous contributions typically heading up the 'A' section. Interdisciplinary texts are typically handled on a case-by-case basis. For instance, Mera's Volumes on the Origins of the Tiernans would be within the religion quadrant, while Volant's Division of the Faith would be in the history quadrant. So you see, it's really quite simple."

As he speaks, you can hear movement coming from above you. Looking up, you can see an older looking woman leaning over one of the railings up on the third floor. Her hair is tied up into a tight bun, and she wears a plain robe just like the librarian with you. Tucked under her arm is a pair of scrolls. After a moment, she turns away to head back into the proper stacks. Actually, there are a few other figures traipsing around that you may not have noticed initially. By their garb, most of them are also custodians, but there are a few between the shelves or sitting around the desks in the middle of the hall that are clearly visitors like yourself.

"You also asked about the third floor? Well mostly, it houses the rarer and more sensitive documents. Think of it as a restricted section if you must, where we keep the books that should not be open to the general public. To get a permit to study up there requires a full magical scan and a written non-disclosure agreement about any material you may come across in your research. Unlike the rest of the tomes we have available for public use, the third floor texts cannot be taken out of the Great Library at all, and must be read here. Do you have any further questions, or would you like ask for any further direction?"


Myr: "Well I can't say that I would have chosen it as my own bow, but you have certainly made it your own. It isn't just about how a weapon looks. The feel of it... that is far more important. How it moves in your hands, protects your friends and delivers death to your enemies; that is a weapon's true testing ground." When the elf speaks, there is a glint of respect in his eyes that was not there before. He looks around for threats once more before slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

"Well, I must say that I am glad that you stumbled across this particular place, even if you were looking for another. If you head northwest, you should come to a place known as Eagle's Crossing, a sort of communal marketplace that borders Old Town. From there, head straight west, and you won't miss the signs for either inn. I will say this for West Harth: you will have far less trouble at finding room and board."

"And since you asked, Arborgate is guarded by my kin. Although there are visitors, those not of elven blood tend to keep their distance. The main events of the Festival do not interest the coven: the Worldpine was planted here long before the Justinians were. I count myself among the watchers, who would protect my people from those that seek to do them harm. And there are a few." The sentinel leans in closer, even though there does not appear to be anyone else nearby. When he speaks now, it is in a melodic half-whisper.

"I should not be telling you this, but it has been eating at me for far too long. A shadow has fallen over this land. For weeks, my people have been having nightmares. Something moves unseen, like a ghost beneath the earth. The people of this city recognize its awakening, although they do not know it yet. The signs are there - it doesn't take much. Just the sensation crawling all over the back of your skull that something is wrong. The coven have been trying to investigate its source, but their most powerful divinations are met with failure. I am afraid, afraid that it will consume us."

[Ajadea]

"Full of questions still?" The murmur rippling through the crowd proves a thorough distraction from her train of thought. Calia chants along with the rest of them. She doesn't know the Collean dialect well enough to speak it fluently, but this one word she knew quite well. When at last the crescendo breaks into cheering, she laughs along with everyone else. Only when the roar of the crowd dies down does she finally answer Arran, leaning against Windfarben's flank.

"Vasher's brilliant. The Mongoose, they call him. Best general in all Onyx. Tiernan in faith," she adds, making a face, "But the praetors don't care, so long as he keeps winning. And he does, even when the odds are stacked against him. Under his command, we've claimed miles of territory from the Imperials and Tiernans," she says, practically glowing with national pride. "Past Witch's Crossing, now, even." If she's aware of having potentially insulted her companions, she certainly doesn't show it.

"Whitestrake's been on the Festival committee for six years. The crowds love him, and he knows how to please. Wonder what they're doing up at the Senate hall. The bank's a bank. Moneylending and stuff like that. Don't they have those where you're from?"

[PersonMan]

Elara pauses as the baby cries, unsure of what to do but, once the woman shows that there's nothing to worry about, she turns to start collecting the fallen coins. Their unusual nature surprises her, but she doesn't ask and is instead pleasantly surprised when the woman explains them to her. Some kind of odd, forged or foreign money that had gotten someone tossed out of a bar. The names aren't really familiar to her - Forger's Row she recognizes as the place Merrelis told her to stay out of to avoid getting mugged, but Carekk's doesn't tell her anything. Elara mentally shrugs - a vague idea was enough for the situation at hand. It wasn't like she was going to head over there to see where the coins had come from, after all. A baby's toys were weren't worth that kind of leg work anyways. Although the mage can't quite kick off the thought that something was odd about them.

A crazy idea shoots through her head - What if she was attacked for these coins? - and Elara quickly forms a plan to deal with her suspicions and do this woman a favor. If the coins really were worth nothing, and hadn't brought this odd attack on her, then she'd be better off. If they had been the cause of this assault, though...well, then, she'd be better off, too, because she wouldn't be harassed by people looking for them anymore. No matter which of the two was the truth, Elara'd be giving her a good deal, so there wouldn't be any worries on her mind about accidentally ripping off someone she'd been trying to help.

"Hmmm. Could I have them, actually? I like weird little things, and it doesn't seem like you have much use for them - you should be able to replace them with these..." Elara says, reaching into her pockets for some of the coins she carried on her when traveling without her messenger bag. Pulling out three, she opens her palm to show them to the woman, smiling. "You should be able to get something nice with 'em. Maybe something for your hair..."

[gallagher]

all right Arran, I'm getting down. I am rather small so and am going to try and weave my way through this crowd. Ben climbs down from Arran's shoulders and turns to Calia and Arran.will you guys try and join me? I will be asking about the contest. Do either of you wish to go elsewhere? After that I was hoping to stop by a temple in search of some insight into the legends concerning the story we heard recently.

[esorscher]

"I'll come with you," he says to Ben. "I'm interested in the contests as well." and getting closer to Commander Titus Vasher he thinks to himself. "My plans are open-ended after that." He moves into position to act as a lead blocker of sorts, creating openings for Ben to move through, but following his direction overall.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Ben, Calia: With Ben back on the ground and Arran leading with Windfarben, the three of you manage to make it quite a bit closer to the stage, although you do encounter some resistance in the form of a group of dwarves. A few of them give you sour looks, but ultimately they let you pass. Up at the front of the crowd, there are nearly a dozen robed figures answering questions from those in line. Presumably, the crowd nearby is there to get the same answers as you are, although Garth of Howling continues to let off fireworks above you. At first, you can only hear little snippets, but soon entire conversations are audible to you. "Remember to aim higher than your target. The wind will catch you and take you far, but don't let that thought distract you from the inner ring. With any luck, the gods will see fit to grace you with victory." The speaker, a taller woman, sends off an armed halfling with a benevolent smile on her face before turning to face the three of you. Her raised eyebrows and wide eyes are enough to tell you that your presence impresses her somehow.

"Hello there! I presume you're here for more information on the contests throughout the city? We have a number of events available to the public. Is there any one in specific we can interest you in?"


Elara: When you offer the trade, the woman's face seems to instantly light up. She does pause to think for a moment, but you can tell just by looking at her that she has already made up her mind. Handing over the purse of the unusual coins, she then accepts the gold. "Thank you so much! May the Twelve shine on you, stranger. Really, I don't know what to say." Pocketing your gift while running her fingers through the wisps of her child's hair, the woman looks around to make sure that you didn't miss any of the lost coins. However, she is interrupted by the sound of boots on stone, as two of the men return. The younger of the pair seems to have been wounded, a long gash from a blade running down his forearm. The third man is nowhere to be seen.

"Here, give Kale a hand with that cut! Do you have any bandages or anything to help stop the bleeding? Actually, there may be something in one of the wagons. I'll go and check, you watch him. The older man looks to his companion with concern, taking steps to ensure that he stays standing before heading off to check for supplies. The wounded merchant - Kale - leans up against a nearby wall, his breathing ragged. "Should have... should have waited for back-up. The assailant ambushed us on the other side of the alley, made it look like he was getting away when really he was... doubling back. I d-don't know what happened to the last guy who was with us." Sucking in the air through his teeth, the merchant's calm countenance becomes a grimace of pain.