Shadows of the Past IC 11

[Thokk_Smash]

Lieutenant Wyldon and I go way back, to our childhood in St Mary's. He has always tried to show me the errors of my ways; maybe now I'll listen to him.

Well, nothing he can do now but to wait for the hammer to fall--or cudgel, as the case may be.

To the Lady Katherine, he hides his consternation at the monocle with another curious smile. If she finds out that he can cast spells, and she tells Connor, then his...tenuous relationship with the Grand Inquisitor will get that much more unhealthy.

Interesting piece of eyewear, Milady, he notes, before turning to Mithmironel. Mithmironel, can we go, please? I need to see someone at Runestone about what that monster did to me. I feel so strange, like there's something swirling within me. He exudes an aura of irritation masking uncertainty.

If Mithmironel dallies, he goes ahead to hail a carriage. Why waste a perfectly good teleport when there's carriages to take them?

Spoiler

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Bluff about "what the monster did to Corwin": (1d20+14)[19]

[Tyrann]

"Do you want me to be here when you convene with lady Silvarel, Elric?" Olly asks uncertain. "I don't like the idea of you two being alone out here when you go looking for whatever that whisper is."

At Maurice's shop Olly has to laugh a bit at the assistant's unfamiliarity with alchemy. She remembers Maurice's eagerness to share his passion for the craft, and his obliviousness to anything but enthusiasm. She had a lot of memories in this shop and of Maurice. Most of them good, though some did involve almost losing fingers, and several occasions of awesome pyrotechnics and horrible smelling vapor clouds. Maurice would show off, and every time he did they'd have to air the place out for hours. Above all though, stinky and intoxicating vapors aside, it had always been fun. Maurice had been a good boss and a good teacher, and she was glad he was doing so well for himself.

"Actually, it's not for me, Maurice. It's for a friend. He suffered through some kind of mental assault and his hair went gray. I was wondering if maybe you could help me surprise him and brew up something to turn it back to red? I'm fairly good with colors, I can help you if you like.

But how have you been?! I like what you've done with the place. I suppose with the taxations on magic, alchemy would flourish. Looks like I chose the wrong career path after all" she grins.

Spoiler: Craft (Alchemy)

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Olly has +17 in alchemy, so she'll assist in any way she can if Maurice agrees to help.

[Togo]

Pharis gives Maxil a slantwise glance, and then moves away. He's made the trip here often enough to know the streets around here, where he might be observed, and where he might not.

And what route Maxil was taking. Heading him off would be child's play.

A quick jog down Sweep street, ducking through the alleyway through to Hiil Lane, a quick trip over the roof of the old plate smithy, and then flip over the fence near the culvert, and he's at the crest of the hill, leaning on the salt barrels outside the furrier's, just in time to look notchalent as Maxils comes around the corner.

Hey Maxil... You got a moment?

[Still_I_Rise]

Silvia shrugged at Connor's question about her recent lack of performances, as if it were a trivial matter. "My mind has been preoccupied lately. Personal matters. I just don't feel I'd be able to give an honest performance."

Then, as gives his "generous dispensation," she bowed again. "Thank you for your understanding, Grand Inquisitor."

________________________

She follows Corwin and Mithmironel outside, eager to be away from the immediate gaze of Connor.

Letting out a sigh, she asks, "Where to from here? It doesn't seem our great lord" - her voice drips with sarcasm - "will be offering any assistance from the city. And yet we're still expected to bring Alexia to his legal system," she scowls.

[Frendle]

After getting his gear in place, Borazon sits on the bed kicking his feet, “Ronald, I hate this city, I mean not the people, at least most of them, but the city itself.” Borazon stands up and looks at himself in the full length mirror Ke’era and Lysa use for inspecting their latest purchases.

The newly minted Dwarf rubs his chin and stands sideways. “This body is……. Well it feels odd, or maybe I’m just feeling odd. Restless.” Sighing heavily Borazon takes one last smirk at this face and raises his hand up to the chin, like he is cupping a small object. “Maybe I should get a pipe. Dwarf’s smoke pipes, yes?”

Laughing out loud at himself he walks toward the door, “Are you coming Ronald?” The burly Dwarf stretches out his hand as he addresses the bow spirit, “Coming master,” is the jovial response from Ronald as he flies toward Borazon. “Wheeee!!! Where are we going?”

“To the Kordite Church to see Father Muscles.” On the way, Borazon inquires of the Cabdriver if there is a Tobaconist on the way. “Might as well start acting the part.” Says the stumpy Sky Priest as he mimes smoking a pipe.

[Niwrad]

About to cast the teleport spell, Archadious notices Corwin call a carriage.

Shrugging, he decides to save the spell and join the reporter.

He stays mostly silent in the carriage ride, but once they are some distance away from the Cutherbertine Temple, the elf hands the bag of ashes to him.

Here are the remains. Please see that they are returned to her family so that she may be given the appropriate ceremony. I would do so myself... but I have already delayed my training at the Academy for long enough.

[AlanBruce]

@Lysa: Cassandra takes a seat as you explain that you won't be coming back and she caresses your cheek.

"Oh, sweetie… that's too bad. We really could've used someone with your talents. And the Bitterstein fiasco? Ha! Yes, I heard of it. I wasn't invited to the opening- they do not consider women of my… line of work to be well seen in such posh gatherings. Oddly enough, when the wives are tucked in and boozed up, the husbands always take a night cap over here."

Cassandra's chuckle disappears when you mention assassins.

"I know this city has no shortage of thugs and muggers…but assassins? And hired ones to get you? Oh my, Lysa. And you lost a friend…"

Cassandra looks at the wall, where adorned with roses, you see a small alabaster figurine of a nude woman with long hair in a dance pose and a vitive candle in front.

"May Lirr guide your friend to pleasant pastures. I am sorry, dear."

Then, you mention Alexander's passing as the girls that were cleaning turn to look at you and cover their mouths.

Cassandra shuts her eyes and gets up as she looks at the small shrine.

"Alex Anderson… Connor's Untamed Inquisitor. The Halmathan Bull, he was called here. A regular. A good man, but one who always sought family wherever ghe went. here, he found all the family he could, much to Connor's chagrin. Of course, that was before Connor became who he is now. Now he just wants to shut my house down because of his twisted views… he will be missed, that is for certain."

Cassandra turns to look at you and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"You go and take your time, Lysa Silentwhisper. We aren't going anywhere. You can bet on that."

@Corwin: Connor looks at you from his higher ground as Dalpinian hands him the onyx cane.

"Lieutenant Wyldon is a Loyalist, Nister Knell. He believes The City is first and paramount. It would be wise for you to follow in his footsteps."

Once outtside, you put on your best pocker face as High Priestess Katherine the Temperate looks at you through her intricate monocle and forces a smile.

"A swirl? Of course… have a good day, all of you."

Maybe she bought it, maybe she didn;t, but at least the Muoquolian isn't raising red flags at the doors of the Palace of Justice.

Once at Runestone, Archaidous hands you Anselma's ashes.

"Thank you for your assistance, and that of Olly, Silvia and Sid. I do not think we would've been able to get out of there alive…."

The elf conjurer pauses for a moment.

"You learn as a traveler that loss is part of the journey. A sad lesson indeed. I shall now retire to the Tower of Magi. My training is not yet complete. What you do with these ashes and for the following weeks, I hope is not troublesome enough to arouse Connor's wrath. Take care, Corwin."

Archaidous walks away, not before turning back to look at you one last time.

"And I hope we can count on you when the time comes."

@Olly: Elric paces around, his steps causing the ground to rumble slightly.

"I will ask Silvarel to meet me here, with Claudia. We shall commune with this land and see what ails it. Do not worry, Olly. We will be fine. No harm will come to us. I promise."

You leave Glenndale Park and head Downtown, not really caring for the looks given by the more conservative bystanders and go check Maurice's Alchemical Emporium.


"Me? I'm doing great! Granted, I don't leave the shop much, but I believe I have been able to replicate pretty much every spell banned by Connor in a little jar. Granted, the effects aren't as long lasting, but I must admit, people like them! You want a mole removed? I got a pigment for that. A new color streak? I now have spray cans! Now, tell me what you need…"

Who knows how many hours spent under strange mixtures have had an effect on the alchemist, who guides you to the back room and shows you his new working table.

"A mental assault, you say? and it turned his hair white? Ominous…very ominous. Hmmm… but nithing alchemy cannot cure, Olly. You do have experience with herbs and roots? What we need to concoct is a dye, Olly. One that will not wash away under water. Keep the hair red, right? Hmmm… bloodroot, a pinch of canary feather, and the Halmathan twistleweed…yes."

Maurice places the items on the table with a bowl and mixer and a bunsen burner.

"You haven't forgotten what I taught you, I hope?"

@Pharis: Leaping over fences, dumpsters and crawling over rooftops like a swift urban hunter, you trail Maxil as he rides at a slow pace with his horse through the streets.

A tight laundry rope proves to be of little concern to you as you balance across it and sommersault into a large bag of clothes, which caiuse you to spit a sock as you slide from the shadows and lean casually against the wall a few feet ahead from your Royal Guard comrade.

Maxil's horse neighs as the paladin holds on to the reins.

"I…may have a moment. Who are you?"

[Chimaera]

"Once I'm done dealing with all the stuff around I'll come back. I brought back the playing cards you lend me, in case you want it back...", Lysa says as she hand her the cards, "Now I have some punk to find!", she says smiling and leave the brothel.

Lysa then hail another carriage and ask the driver to get her to the Park, where she hopes to find the punk druid who Steinner showed to her.

[Thokk_Smash]

Corwin pockets the bag of ashes, preferring not to think of how morbid that sounds. I'll inform the Castafernis as soon as I can. The situation in the city is dire, and we must be careful of our every move. I'll keep my head down, and you do the same. Best of Luck, Mithmironel.

Glad that they had gone inside to trade the ashes, he seeks out the mage that Crowell had mentioned...this Master Sinio in Bursars. Hopefully he could keep his training under the radar and discreet. Maybe wear a disguise to and from Runestone.

What to do after that? First things first, get in touch with the Castafernis. Whether the Castafernis know of his magical abilities, maybe best not to Send to them. So he finds a courier and tell them to inform the Castafernis that Corwin Knell has information, and to tell him the best time for them to meet at their home. He tips the courier generously to get it done within two hours, and sends him on his way.

Now...time to visit the Gazette, and tell Victoria or her boss that they should be careful in the next few days. Best to try to head off whatever retribution the Grand Inquisitor may think to enact against him.

[AlanBruce]

@Silvia: Connor looks at you and stares for a few seconds.

"We wouldn't want dishonesty to run rampant…even in a burlesque show, would we? You are dismissed."

Once outside, you leave with Corwin and Archaidous towards Runestone.

So Connor has tasked you to bring Alexia to him…

In a way, one could not argue this was not brought upon yourself.

Alex had been a terrible opponent. he almost decimated all eight of you singlehandedly and had to be slain…

And now this tyrant expects all of you to bring alexia in chains before The palace of Justice? Suicidal. You have only heard her voice, but you have seen what she's done to the fey in park and to Archaidous' friend…

What manner of opponent could Alexia prove to be?

With archaidous entering the Tower of Magi to continue his training, you are left with corwin in campus grounds.

You won't be seeing the elf for an entire month…

You could gather the others and check alexia's house. Corwin or Ke'era or even litle Lysa have a way to get you there, but what else lies beneath the city, in that eerie house?

@Tonel: You look at yourself in the mirror as Tonel rests on the bed.

A long beard. Hairy arms. short legs.

You have been so busy fighting for your life in the Dragon's Flight and Alexia's facility that you haven't really had a chance to get acquainted with this new body.

Dwarves… stout and loyal. Very hairy too.

But what else do they do? They are notorious drinkers. Ale, from what you've heard.

But you can't be drunk all the time. Not with the certainly upcoming battles.

You head for the lift and stop, as you extend your hand and Ronald flies to it as you smile and sling it over your shoulder, desend to the lobby and ask a carriage to take you to a Tobaconist.

The coachman takes a few turns and stops at a shop with a large wooden pipe hanging above the wall.

Bahiti's Corner

You walk inside and the smell of tobacco with different scents wafts around as you look at the place.

Wood and glass all over. Tall wooden shelves with ornate and simple pipes as a tan skinned dwarf wearing a turban greets you.

"Greetings, brother! I am Bahiti! You look like a dwarf who apprecaites a good solid pipe. Be it after a hearty meal, a jug of ale, or maybe a goblin clean up mission? Don't be shy, sir! Allow me to show you some samples…"

Bahiti opens several wooden boxes and the smell of pine fills your nose.

"If you fancy long reads by the chimney while you savor a glass of brany or ale, this is the pipe for you. Two gold, plus tax."

"Now this one is for that cloaked stranger in the corner of every inn! You know the type- hood poulled down, smoke coming coming out in precise gouts. They usually have some relevance to the plot- at least that's what I read in some book. the dark color meshes well if you favor dimly lit places. Two gold."

Bahiti barely touches this one.

"If you favor the sea and all its wonders. This one was made from the wood from a famous Aventi ship, almost a century ago. Some say it is cursed, but look at the detail! A wilderness pipe, be it on land, sea, or air. Four gold."

Whether you buy a pipe or not…


You get back on the carriage and it takes an extra forty five minutes to reach the Kordite Temple.

Father Bhagazzin can be heard training outside as he lifts a few more weights made , as usual from wall of stone planks.

The Kordite High priest is red all over as he puts the weights down and a fellow clergyman hands him a towel.

"I am this close from snapping that snake's head. I swear… oh! Hey! I remember you- Borazon Ironfoot! How are ya!"

[AlanBruce]

@Corwin & Silvia: You head outside Runestone and hail a coachman and deliver a letter to the Castafernis, along with a solid tip, that they may contact you at their earliest convenience.

Then, you walk towards the imposing Tower of Magi and inquire about Master Sinio.

The young mages direct you to a wooden non descript door.

Inside, you find a large bookshelf against the bakdoor with a small window alloing light in.

A huge desk piled with forms nearly drowns a gnome who, behind thick spectacled glasses, looks at you and Silvia as you walk in.

A Cuthbertine agent stands against the wall and eyes both of you warily as Sinio sighs and looks at both.

"If I had to guess, you are here because you want to enroll at the academy? Very well…"

Sinio mechanically recahes for a form and hands it to you.

"It's 150 gold up front. and then 150 upon admittance to the academy. Fill the form and have it delivered tomorrow."

Spoiler: Runestone's Admissions Form

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Name:

Race:

Gender:

Age:

Are you an arcanist? if so, what kind?

Do you specialize in any School of Magic? if so, what schools are opposed to you?

Are you a Halmathan Citizen? (If you aren't, do not fill this)

If you are a Halmathan Citizen, please state your place of residence:

If you aren't from Halmathan, please specify where were you born and where you are currently living within the city:

Have you had formal training at any other Academy? If so, who did you mentor under?

Write a short essay detailing how you came to know of Runestone Academy and why you would want to enroll here:

What are your long term plans as an arcanist?

What is your view regarding other career paths when compared to an arcanist (a fighter, a bard, or rogue)?

Have you had previous adventuring experience? If so, please detail as much as possible the one experience that left the most lasting impression on you:

At what level of expertise would you consider yourself to be in your chosen field of magic?

The Cuthbertine guard clears his throat as Sinipo looks up to you and then at Silvia.

"You are planning to enroll as well?"

[Still_I_Rise]

"Ha! No, I'm afraid I don't have the patience for it. Not that it isn't an interesting subject... but I'll stick to my blades," Silvia says.

"Best of luck earning admittance Corwin," she smirks, looking over his shoulder at the form. Just how much are you actually going to tell them?

[Thokk_Smash]

Well, that Cuthbertine priest squashes this idea right quick. He takes the form from Sinio, but says, Don't presume to know what I came here to do. I'm here at Runestone to do an exposé on what you mages do in here, and the application process is included in this. Of course, my companion here wasn't privy to my intentions, as she is more sympathetic to the mages than I.

Hush up with the Cuthbertine priest here, Silvia, he says in his mind to the dancer. One of my only advantages here is that Connor doesn't know for sure I'm a magic user.

Good day master mage, sir, he says, nodding to Sinio and the priest in turn. He then goes back out of the room, and thinks to Silvia, Looks like I'll need to find someone outside of the normal channels to teach me. Anyway, I want to swing past the Gazette for a little bit before we continue on our way. Alright with you?

Spoiler

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Bluff: (1d20+14)[15]

[AlanBruce]

@Lysa: Cassandra pinches your cheek.

"You'll be missed…and I never even had you working here. Keep the cards. They bring me luck."

You leave Cassandra's fine establishment and head for Glenndale park, which takes almost an hour as the sun begins to set.

The City workers light the lamposts as the druids meditate between benches and you ask around for a punk druid.

A yound druid, in his early twenties and wearing war paint and a chock of feathers on his head stands up.

"You wouldn't mean Olly, would you? Only punk styled druid around here. But she left. Hours ago. Did not say where, though."

[AlanBruce]

@Corwin & Silvia: The Cuthbertine agent raises an eyebrow and gets closer to both as you sit down and Corwin states he is not here to enroll, but to write an expose.

Sinio blinks twice as you can hear the guard's breathing behind you.

"An expose? And from the Gazette? Well, I …uhhh. I may not be the best person to provuide such an interview, sir. The gazette is, well…"

The gnome gulps as the Cuthbertine agent crosses his arms and looks directly at you, not very happy.

"…we rather not provide interviews, sir. I handle admissions. That;'s my job. You may want tos peak to a Headmaster, probably…if you can find them, that is. They are quite busy teaching."

@Silvia: Sinio looks at your blades and adjusts his spectacles.

"Oh! Well, we do have arcanists who dabble in swordsmanship, reason why I handed you a form… but if you are not interested, well, I do have a lot of paperwork to review."

The Cuthbertine agent walks to the door and opens it to both as he looks straight at Corwin and deciodes to speak.

"If you're not enrolling, then go fijnd someone to interview, reporter…"

[Thokk_Smash]

With pleasure, sir, Corwin says, pocketing the enrollment form and heading out the open door. Keep an eye on things around here.

Give me an hour here, Silvia, he thinks to the dancer in his mind. Me and my big mouth. I'll go around, pretend like I'm asking questions. At least make it look like I'm actually doing a report. You can stick around, or we can meet at the Cafe in two hours.

With a nod to Silvia, he turns at the hallway corner and does his best to find higher-ranking teachers within the academy. Well, might as well learn a bit about Runestone while he's here, apparently. If asked, he says that he's just satisfying his own curiosity now that he's seen an Archmage up close and personal.

But first, he finds the quietest, most secluded place he can find, where no agent of Cuthbert or anyone else will find him, and Sends to Victoria: Conference with Connor, did not go well. Be careful. At Runestone, doing "expose", go along with it if anyone asks. Be at Gazette soon.

Once he gets enough information that he could hobble together an article, he heads out and hails a cab for the Gazette.

Spoiler

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Gather Info for enough information on Runestone's current events to write a story on them: (1d20+19)[37]

[Still_I_Rise]

Silvia nods. "Of course, I wouldn't want you to waste your time on my account," she says to Sinio. She raises her eyebrows at the guards unpleasant demeanor. "No need to be hostile," she says lightly, walking out the door.

I'll see you at the Cafe.

Spoiler

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How long would it be to get from here, to Cassandra's Bordello, then to the Cafe? If the travel time is < 1.5 hours, Silvia will hail a carriage and head to meet with Cassandra briefly. If not, she'll go straight to the Cafe and wait around there for awhile.

[AlanBruce]

@Corwin: You ask Silvia to meet you at the Cafe and walk around campus.

The Cuthbertine guards are gone. The Eyes in the Sky remain, of course, floating and chugging black smoke and casting an ominous shadow on the green fields.

You ask around, particularly to the younger mages.

One, a preppy looking girl by the name of Mary Skylarios sits with her clicke of clearly noble mages at a table as she has an ugly short gnome comb her hair.

"I heard that Runestone suffered a tremendous spike of arcane energy a few days ago. I didn't see it- I was doing my rejuvenation bath, but my roommate did. She said it was power unlike any seen before, even in a classroom… but you didn't hear it from me."

She then shuts one eye in pain and turns to look at theb gnome.

"Easy with the knots, you dork…ughhh!"

Another girl, dressed like a goth, by the name of Silvana Castaferni, looks at you as she brushes her black hair to the side as a small skeletal pidegon hops around the table and a group of similarly dressed attire- black robs and broken fishnet stocking and sleeves, look at you quietly.

"You have been talking to that stuck up Mary? Ha! She thinks daddy will get her a new unicorn this year…whatever. But you're alright… they say there's something big. really big hidden beneath that tower. I'm guessing an undead. And a powerful one too. And I guess it would make sense since, well… you know, I gotta go."

Silvana picks up her skeletal pidgeon and puts in on her shoulder as this one pecks at her very pierced ear as her clique of friends follow her in a morose fashion.

Not much to go by… but hearsays. Huge arcane surges. Possible giant undeads under the tower. Who knows. This place is filled with magic.

Then, you find a quiet secluded spot and shut your eyes as you Send to Victoria.

Understood. Don't be hasty this time. I have cudgel heads in every floor. More tha usual.

@Silvia: You leave Runestone and hail a cab and reach the Cafe.

You have already sat down when a fine looking gentleman with a groomed mustache and goatte bows and sits down.

Lord Patin Laughton.

"Silvia Tauber, the Eastern Star, in the flesh. Here I thought you wree a ghost. that was, of coursem, until word came that youw ere in His Garce's presence- and with church heads, no less!"

Patin orders a couple of espressos.

"Put them on my tab. So, Silvia- about your returning to the Threatre…"

Before you can respond, Lord Laughtion raises his hands and smiles a million platinum one.

"I know we've had… differences. It happens, but I must remind you, my dear- The Royal theatre sponsors your aparment at the Olympus. and we have done so for several months. rent isn;t cheap, much less maintenance fees…"

Patin Laughton takes a sip from his coffee.

"Maybe it's time you considered a revival?"

@Corwin: It takes an hour through traffic to reach The gazette as the un has already dropped and you can see the lights inside the three story building, yet another Halmathan landmark, crackling as some of the letters won;t even light up.

A squad of guards stands by the door as you make your way to the door.

One of them, taller and bulkier than you, steps in your way.

"Halt! What business do you have here?"

[Thokk_Smash]

Corwin suppresses a grin as he talks to first the one, then the second teenaged girls. The Skylarkios and Castafernis, both on opposite sides, even away from the family. Some things never do change.

At the Gazette, he takes a more serious look. Peace, sir, please, Corwin pleads, holding his empty hands out. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his identification, and his expired press badge. I used to work here, and still do freelance work from time to time. The name's Corwin Knell, just looking to talk to Victoria Glasz about a story. You can ask Lieutenant Downfeather if he's here, he knows I used to work here.

[AlanBruce]

@Corwin: You raise your hands and show the expired press badge as the "G" in the word gazette above sprinkles electricity and goes dark.

The soldier looks at it and then hears mention of Downfeather as he looks at his partner.

"Yeah…let him in. No funny business, though!"

The three storied building has always been filled with the sounds of presses and writers.

Now, it's a bunch of Connor's oversized thugs patrolling the creaky wooden floorboards and looming over every writer's shoulder.

One even snatches a piece of paper from one of them.

"This is blasphemous!"

the writer shudders in is desk and looks up as a pair of guards walk up to him.

"B..b..but what did I do? It's a piece on flowers that grow in the Park!"

The guard rips the paer to shreds.

"His Grace was clear that no pieces were to be written about Glenndale Park! Take this anarchist away!"

The guards cuff the poor writer and escort him outside as he looks around at his peers terrified.

"This isn't fair! I didn't do anything!"

One of the guards takes out a baton and knocks the writer in the back of the head as this one keels over.

"Tell it to the judge…hehehehehe."

And this is just the first floor.

the second floor shows a group of guards kicking one of the gazette's first presses. When they get tired, they resort to blunt weapons as one of the oldest printers, William, holds his head in utter disbelief.

"What are you doing? It's just a printing press!"

"Shut it, you old fart! His Holiness has been privy to your Letters of a Free Man. They were printed. this is a printing press, so there! Now go write something about His Holiness' Generosity, by hand. I want a hundred copies by sunrise."

"I can't write a hundred copies by myself! I'll get cramps!"

"You'll get chains if you don't do it. GO!"

You get up to the third flor, which is packed with guards, looming over the writers as these shake and write silently.

Victoria's office is wide open and you can hear her using one of Halmathan's latest revolutionary machines.

And then you hear her voice.

Jeez, Wyldon! I can hear your breath! Personal space…it;s a thing, you know?

It's Lieutenant Downfeather, Miss Glasz...

Oh, please: I've known you since you were six, Wyldon. Care to remove the stick up your arse?

You walk in and find Victoria's office a mess.

Stacks of unfinished papers everywhere. An ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.

Now you know it's serious.

Victoriua was an avid smoker, until she contracted a severe lung disease. A pelorite tended to her ailment, but was quite adamant about his warning.

You can purchase all the scrolls of remove disease you want, Miss Glasz, but ultimately, not smoking is the best solution...

A pack of Halmathan Delights sits by Victoriua's typewriter and at least seven paper cups of coffee lie strewn around. as Victoria Glasz, chief editor of the Halmathan Gazette takes out another cigarette and stands up as she pats her pockets, looking at Wyldon.

"You have a light?"

"The Royal Guard must remain fit, Miss Glasz. His Grace ays…"

Victioria walks around the desk and addresses everyone as Wyldon walk a few feet behind her.

"A million gold for a goddamn match, fire… a spell, even!"

The Cuthbertines turn to look at her as Victoria's cigarette, palced between her lips, lowers as Gwyldon dowfeather steps in.

"She;s udner stress. It was a joke and…"

Gwyldon stands straight and stern as he looks at you.

"Corwin Knell…"

Victoria's hair is a mess from having shaken it so much as she walks to you.

"Well, aren't you a stranger! Been what? Four months? Tell me you have a light? Please?"

[Togo]

Pharis grins.

It'll come to you Maxil. I'll admit it's been a while. And you've certainly come up in the world since I left the Mage Guard. I never thought they'd keep you in the ranks, but this is more than I expected. A holy warrior of Justice are you, now?

He sighs.

I'm afraid they never formally admitted me into the Academy. Not enough money, no connections.

So how's the Justice business going? They treating you ok?

[Tyrann]

Olly's jaw drops in amazement at the new work table. "Wow, that is unreal! You even got the- WOW! And a bird?!" She reaches her hand out emphatically to the parrot-like creature, hoping to pet it

Spoiler: Animal empathy

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1d20+12

"Hey there little buddy. I'm sure you keep Maurice busy by knocking everything over."

When asked if she still remembers everything she gives Maurice a warm smile. "Of course, how could I forget. Let's see.."

She places an Erlenmeyer filled with alchol on the burner plate and turns the heat up to a nice blue-invisible flame. Then she grabs a small knife to start cleaning the bloodroots. Bloodroot was delicate, she knew from her own paint. You needed to make little cuts along the sides, so you could draw out the juices with a solvent. But if you cut too deep, your fingers would be red for days. She was going to need lots. Corwin's hair had been very, very red. She then moves on to the twistleweed, bruising it by snapping and slightly preheating them by holding them in her hand for a bit. Sudden temperature shifts could ruin these. Finally she adds the canary feather powder and starts grinding the whole mixture down with the pestle. It takes her a while - her arms still hurt, and she's not as used to doing this anymore as she used to be - but once she's satisfied with how everything looks she takes the now boiling alcohol off the burner with tongs, trying her hardest not to inhale the fumes. She gently adds alcohol, grinds, and adds more until she has a fine paste. Then she steeps the mortar. She'd have to wait a few minutes for the mixture to cool down so she could strain out the remaining fibres. The rest of the paste-like solution would go into a squirt bottle.

Spoiler: The roll

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Craft (alchemy) (1d20+17)[36] before modifiers

"Well, what do you think? That should do it, right? Thanks for the help Maurice. I really appreciate it."

She says her goodbyes to Maurice and his new assistant, and pays Maurice if he wants to be paid. They did use his ingredients after all.

Then she heads off to the Bitter Coffee. She didn't actually know where Corwin was. Or any of the people from last night for that matter. But she did need to visit the Bitter Coffee's basement anyway, and maybe someone there would know.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silvia crosses her arms as she looks at her old employer. "Spare me the weaseling, Lord Laughton. If you intend to kick me out of my apartment unless I return, just say so. Of course, I'd be willing to read up on what the new laws have to say about extortion, if it proves necessary.

But really, just what do you mean by a return to stage? If you mean a return proper, back to my own performances - well you just need to say as much.

But if we're talking about slow and solemn ritual dances, well, you can easily find dancers more qualified for that than I am.

Oh, and yes," she says, as if by an afterthought, "I do have other things to attend to. You see, our Grand Inquisitor has generously given me a special dispensation - something concerned with the safety of the city as a whole.

Come to think of it, Connor might not be the most pleased to see me make a return to theatre now, regardless of what sort of shows we're putting on."

Silvia shrugs and sips from her cup as well. "Still, no hard feelings, Lord Laughton. Maybe you'll consider finding room in the performance schedule for a few of my old shows in the future? Of course, I can't say right now how long in the future that will have to be - but you understand why."

[Thokk_Smash]

Corwin nods at the guard and pockets his badge once more. He walks inside and takes in the sight of his old place of employment. It's enough to make him sick to his stomach, how a place dedicated to informing the people has been so totally taken over by Connor's thugs.

Picking his way around the desks and guards, he takes his press badge back out in case a guard gets any ideas. He says hello to some people he remembers fondly: Genevieve, the gossip column; Horace, the liaison with the nobility sector; Gerry, the religious expert.

He walks past poor William as the guard verbally abuses him, and wishes he could do something. Maybe point out that working a printing press doesn't automatically mean that William prints the Letters of a Free Man, and anyone who says so is an idiot. However, he pulls his hat down further on his head as he pushes onto the third floor, hoping to get through this with minimal fuss.

On the third floor, his eyes focus immediately onto Victoria's office. Back to her old vices, he thinks to himself morosely. He hadn't seen her smoke so much since she'd first been named chief editor after the old editor quit without warning. That had been a rough week, to be sure. Of course, if he were under her kind of stress, he probably would've OD'd on espresso shots by now, so he could call it even.

Good to see you, too, chief, Corwin drawls with a raised eyebrow. Those things'll kill you, y'know that? Pretty sure the doc wouldn't like me enabling you. He sighs, then takes a matchbook out of his pocket. He takes out a single match, and holds it in front of her. You get one.

After Victoria takes the match, Corwin turns to Wyldon. Lieutenant Downfeather, he says with a respectful nod. In a voice soft enough so only the three of them can hear, he whispers, It's good to see you well, Wyldon.

He gestures for Victoria to go back into her office, and assumes that Wyldon will follow. Here's the info I managed to get from Runestone, he says, tossing the notes he'd taken in his hour of asking around, including a rough article that could be polished into an actual article with little effort. He'd written it on the ride over; he has his pride as a reporter, after all. The mages were as tight-lipped as you'd expect, and any higher-ups were conveniently busy. I could only get rumors from some of the younger mages, but it should make for a sufficient side-article.

Lieutenant, may I close the door? There's something I'd like to say in private, please. Chief, I think this should stay between me and the Lieutenant, at least for now. Could you give us a minute? If Wyldon agrees, and after the door closes, Corwin continues, I was part of a conference in the Palace of Justice today, Wyldon; Mithmironel, y'know the guy? I found him, and he gave testimony in front of His Grace. I found Mithmironel under the sewers, but in the process I discovered dozens of insect-like monstrosities beneath the Mercy. Beneath our old home, Wyldon.

And there was another monster, created from the depths of a mind warped by insanity. It touched my mind and I saw its birth from a poor soul; if you don't believe me, look at this.

He takes off his hat, to reveal his cloud-white hair. He quickly replaces it on his head, and says, There are monsters beneath the Mercy, Wyldon. His Grace ordered an investigation, but you deserve to know and I trust you. I promise, I don't intend to tell anyone else, nor make an article of it; the people of the city don't need to know this, for their own security of mind.

[Frendle]

Intrigued by the pipe made of Aventi ship wood, Tonel wants that one, so Borazon reaches into his pack and retrieves 4 gold, plus 4 more to buy some good tobacco and cleaning tools and pouch.

Taking his purchases, Borazon leaves the shop with a smile and a bow for the Tobacconist “I thank you sir, may your shop ever be prosperous.”

Getting out of the cab at The Kordite Church, Borazon walks onto the exercise yard which is somewhat diminished it appears from the last time he was here.
He extends his hand determined to return the firmness of the good father’s grip, knowing it will be futile.

Father Bhagazzin, I hate to interrupt your training session, when it is convenient I’d like to have a private word with you please.

Spoiler

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If the father continues practicing Borazon will take out his bow and sharpen his skills on the targets. Either way…..

As the stout Dwarf finishes up his session, Borazon leads the way to the small room in one of the remaining towers. “Father, I have a notion concerning helping the folks living in the Mercy. Since the closing of the Oldimarian temple, they have no church in the ruins to go to for help or succor. I was considering clearing out some space and setting up a Phaulkonite mission and surreptitious training yard.”

The Sky Priest leans in closer, “It occurs to me that Conner, in his neglect of the Mercy, has made it possible to operate there in some security.”

Leaning back a bit the former human continues, “From there I can dispense food and healing, and perhaps carve out a safe zone for folk to work and live.” Standing up and looking out the window, Borazon clasps his hands behind his back as he feels Tonel wanting to run his hand through his hair as he did in his former incarnation.

“I know there is no love at all between you and the so called high inquisitor,” Borazon sits back down and leans in again, so I would like your advice. I am sure there are laws to follow and a mountain for forms to fill out to establish a lawful church in the city, so, would it be pushing the boundaries to go ahead outside the law? Or perhaps it would be possible to create the Church outside the actual boundaries of the city itself. Which I am sure must end somewhere, but I have no idea where that might be?”

“Can you advise me on those matters, or is there someone you trust who could assist me in my endeavor?”

[AlanBruce]

@Pharis: Maxil Trentis stops his horse and looks at your new face.

A new face, a familiar voice.

The lieutenant to Connor's Arcane Guard of the Faithful dismounts and smiles as he does a formal salute.

"I almost had to use my blade against you, thinking you were some assailant. Pharis…good to see you."

Maxil shakes your hand firmly and his horse walks a few feet behind as he looks at the City and the Eyes floating above you all.

"I am a warrior, Pharis. A warrior devoted to The King…although I'm not so sure about the Holy and Justice aspect, to be honest…"

Maxil walks alonmgside you.

"You know, you could've stayed in the Royal Guard. I would've made sure to put a good name for you. The City right now needs people like you, Pharis. The guards I have been assigned to me might as well be thugs from St. Noria's prison. And many times i have had to steel my resolve not to unsheathe my blade upon them, but my oath to The City and its King…steward keeps me from doing so. It's a tough spot, I'll tell you that. I know His Grace means well… in his own way, but Royal Guard or not, I do have a way of seeing things and these don't neccesarily match The Grand Inquisitor's views…"

Maxil turns to look at you.

"And what of you, Pharis? You simply disappeared. I thought you gone from the city altogether."

@Olly: You pet Maurice's canary as this one chirps a tune.

The crazy alchemist points a twitchy finger.

"Pluck the feather now! While he's distracted!"

You look at Maurice with disdain. The formula does require a canary feather, but with the bird's approval, you pluck off one of the smaller ones.This would enhace the power, and given Corwin's former hair color, you'd need it.

Maurice hands you a pair of red goggles and steps back.

"Sometimes, the alchemical reactions tend to jump off the pot. Hurts the eyes like you can't even imagine."

You look at the ingredients on the table and begin the lengthy process to cut the bloodroot with much care and finesse as you light the Erlenmeyer with a low flame as this one bubbles on the small pot and separate the unneded parts of the bloodroot like a chef.

Maurice smiles and nods.

"If only my assistant in the front desk would be able to do this like you…"

You smile smugly and place the thistle weed, canary feather and bloodroot inthe pot and let it simmer for about half an hour as you step back and light a cigarette as Maurice takes it out of your mouth.

"You certainly haven't forgotten, Olly- I have stacks upon stacks of alchemist fire here. In raw material. Very flammable."

Once the fifteen minutes are up, you walk back to the table and grind the semi solid mixture as it begins to form into a clay like substance, fiery red in color as you take it of the burner and get close as you pick a few samples with a pair of tweezers and put them in a vial.

Maurice claps.

"Bravo! Olly, you just made the perfect hair dye! And withoyt the use of magic whatsoever. I alwaus said it- you could;'ve been a master alchemist. And I will not charge you for the ingrdients, but I will use your recipe and technique. Come by sometime later= I may have something that may interest you…"

Maurice looks past his lab to the counter, where the half elven assistant practices her handwave and tossess a smoke stick as he coughs and his eyes water.

"Just so she can't hear us… I have stuff- mighty good stuff, but it isn't ready yet! For a price, I can have it sold to you. Now go! I have to clean the lab."

You step out of the black smoke, your face covered in ashes and nod to the assistant, who keeps waving and smiling stupidly as you shut the door behind you.

It's night time already.

Pocketing the mixture in your bag, you straighten your leather jacket and look at the crowded city streets.

Now, where could Corwin be?

In such a big city like this, and with those Eyes in the Sky already turning on their searchlights, you walk across downtown alone. Many would consider dangerous for a young girl to walk the streets after sundown, even with Connor's tight security. Mugging is common…or worse.

But in your case, whoever was stupid enough to do so would end in some alley, their throat ripped to shreds.

Once at the Mercy, the ornate lamposts are replaced by flaming barrels as you hear comments of the Mercy's Maiden.

Someone has been in the Mercy giving hand outs, it would seem. Food. Noble, but it could be one of Connor';s tricks. One can never know these days.

The Bitter Coffee is filled with patrons as Nana Rose winks from the bar and serves someone a cold beer.

You're the graffitti artist?

A voice causes you to stop and you look at one of the tables and spot a short haired brunbette wearing a simple traveler's clothes as she drinks a beer, with a nose ring.

"Not to worry. I like your work. Care to join me for a drink?"

@Silvia: Lord Laughton chuckles.

"Why so sharp, Silvia? I never said you'd be evicted. I just mentioned that the Theatre has been spending a lot of money into your living space- an expensive living space. This is, after all, my dear, a business. You knew that when we met four years ago."

On the matter of dances, Lord Patin Laughton sips from his own coffee.

"A dance, as you may well be aware of, is a form of Art. Be it solemn, as you so glumly declare it. Look at it as a chance to rise again and, on the good graces of The Grand Inquisitor, who has promised a great inyection of capital into the Theatre. It's an opportunity few get, I can assure you."

Then, you mention Connor's own mission assigned to you as Patin raises an eyebrow.

"A mission? But Silvia, dear- you are dancer, not a soldier! You belong on stage, not on some battlefield…Anyways, do consider my proposal and.."

Laughton gets up and tosses a few silvers on the table.

"Try and be prompt about it, dear, ok?"

With laughton gone and the street lights in full bloom, you leave the cafe and head for Cassandra's.

The bordello is bustling with people as Cassandra herself greets the many esteemed gentlemen. Many who have met you and invited you along with the Royal Theatre troupe to their lavish houses in days past.

These look at you and hurry into other rooms as Cassandra, with her long dark hazel hair and her midget pig on arms, greets you with a smile and a kiss on both cheeks.

"And here I thought I lost a singer…and Lirr brings me a dancer! I have missed you, darling! What brings you to this Temple of Succor?"

@Corwin: You walk through the halls of the Gazette and hold your hat down, so as to not be recognized.

Connor was destroying the Gazette- literally. These idiotic morons, destroying the printing press.

Genevieve waves her arm and smiles, but quickly puts it down as a sildier looms over her as she continues to write.

Horace nods as a guard hands him a file.

"You write this."

Gerry, religious enthusiast, is surrounded by guards as one poiints to the desk, amking this one shudder and shake.

"The Olidammaran Priest is a fugitive of the Law…write it!"

So much for freedom of the press…


Then, you reach the third floor and hand Victoria a match as she runs it against the wall and light her last cig for the evening.

"Thank you…I needed one."

Wyldon shuts the door to the main office and stands a few feet away from you, eyeing you cautiously.

"Corwin… it has been awhile. You don;'t work here anymore, but I';m sure the guards downstairs don;t know that? I will assume they were too busy making sure the truth was written… you get a pass."

Victoria exhales a gout of smoke.

"Stop it! Please! What truth? I could start writing about broken arms and arrested writers, Wyldon! The pen is mightier than the sword, yes, but in Connor's case, a broken hand is useless to wield it."

Downfeather controls himself as Silvia puffs on her cigarette.

"ma'am…"

"Victoria, Wyldon. We've known each other for years."

Downfeather sighs deeply.

"Victoria, we must make sure the city is safe. Granted, there are some excesses and I will look into it."

Victoria looks at your friend.

"Can't you hear a press being crused below us? They're destroying Gazette property! I will have the City pay for damages. I can assure you of that."

"….. I will notify the Palace of Justice, Victoria. My apologies."

"You damn better make sure of it! Guards breaking in is one thing- guards breaking my staff's arms and presses is out of line!"

You then hand Victoria the information from Runestone as Gwyldon looks at you with a raised eyebrow,

"The mage cabal? So you have decided to ally with them at long last… why would you do that, Corwin? As for Mithmironel? yes. His Grace says he is a devil conjurer. His face was shownn all over the City a week or so ago. You aren't…allied with him, are you?"

Wyldon Downfeather's expression changes when you mention monsters in The Mercy. He may dislike mages. That much is clear. And his allegiance to Connor is unwavering…but home is home. And it is being threatened.

"Wait, Corwin… monsters and…oh no."

You remove your hat and Victoria herself drops the cigarette as you show both the result of sharing the mind of one of Alexia's tortured souls.

"You fool, Corwin Knelll! What were you doing down there?"

Wylkdon relaxes his stance and walks up to you as he shares a few seconds of eye contact.

"Corwin, we have always had disputes on belief. You would not want Connor in power. I see him as necessary to maintain order. In that regard, we shall forever be at odds, but we both grew in the Mercy… Victoria? You can tell your staff to rest. I am dispatching the guards out of the Gazette and filing for an investigation to the sewers."

Victoria Glasz gets up and straightens her hair.

"Wyldon…are you sure?"

Lieutenant Downfeather opens the door and turns to look at both.

"It's my home. Thank you for the information, Corwin. It doesn't leave this room."

[Tyrann]

Olly coughs up some smoke as she thanks Maurice. She will definitely take him up on that offer. Later. For now it was getting late. She'd best get a move on if she was going to do this tonight. Carefully placing the dye in her pack, she lights a cigarette and starts walking, lost deep in thoughts of color combinations and action poses. She wasn't too worried about mugging attempts. Frankly, she almost wished someone would try. She could use an easy fight for boosting her self esteem after the whooping Alex had given her.

When she finally arrives at the Bitter Coffee, Olly raises an annoyed eyebrow at the lady with the nose ring. "Who, me? I never break the law, lady. I can't afford the fines. But I'll join you for that drink if you're buying" She turns a chair around and crashes down, both elbows on the table, one hand holding her head, the other hanging holding a cigarette. The lady with the short hair gets a biting look before she adds in a whisper "Now, if you wouldn't mind keeping it down? The rumor mill works overtime these days and I don't want it leading inquisitors to my doorstep."

[Chimaera]

"Yes! Olly is her name! You dont know where she went? So sad "

"Do you know someone who might know? Or someplace I can try to find her? I need to speak to her about a friend of us who might be in trouble...", Lysa tell the druid as she look around and sighs.

If he manage to give her any info for where to search her, she'll thanks him and look for her.
Otherwise she'll go back to the Mare and call it a day (but not before asking him to tell Olly - in case he see her tomorrow - to look for her in the Mare or at Owzzer's Gallery.

"Wait for me one more day, Steiner", she thinks as she leaves the park.

[AlanBruce]

@Olly: You walk down the Halmathan Streets and stop as a sewer lid leaks a tiny wispy green fume, not too different from those found underground in large quantities.

To think those things were running and buzzing right below your very feet.

that;s when you curse as one of the Eyes in the Sky shines a bright search light on you as you liht your smoke and the thing, wordlessly, follows you for at least a two blocks before it ascends into the night sky.

Jerks.

Once at the Bitter Coffee, the woman smiles and raises her hand as one of the few servers at the derelict pub bring you a cold beer.

"It's on me. and that's ok- you have nothing to worry. I have no love for inquisitors…"

At the end of that sentence, the woman looks at her own bottle and takes a solid chug.

"I was told by a good friend, Kyrich- big tall bald man. Wears chains- no, that came out wrong. He uses a chain. He said you and others were at his place across from here just last night. He said you all looked pretty banged up and that a man by the name of Alex had died…"

The woman's eyes shift to a golden iris as she looks at you.

"Is this true?"

@Lysa: The young druid laughs.

'Olly! Yeah! if she's not deeper into the woods, you can find her in the Mercy's pub, having a few cold ones."

If you decide to head to the mercy….

You hail a cab and stop in front of the wall of Separation as you look around at the many people huddled around the fire barrels as you enter the onkly pub around- The Bitter Coffee.

The place is filled with patrons- a lot of druids…

Amidst the tables, you notice Olly having a beer with a similarly dressed woman.

@Tonel: Bhagazzin invites you insde the temple as the stars begin to wtinkle above.

"I make it a habit to stay indoors at night. I have warned them that if thopse damn searchlights fall here, I swear I'll fly up there and punch the damn balloon off the sky. And I'll do it."

Bhagazzin invites you for dinner as he hears your very noble deire.

"The Mercy needs just that, Borazon. Be warned, though- Connor is a threat. Of that, I have no doubt, but the Mercy has its share of good for nothings. If you want to open a mission there, I can sponsor you. hell, I am i no position after what that imbecile told me today but you what? Those peoiple need a church there as well. To think Connor wanted to just…. wall them in. It makes me sick."

Bhagazzin then listens to uoir other options.

"You could leave the city and establish a church outside. He can't touch you there. His business is here…and believe me, he wants to keep it here, if you've been in this city long enough. But taht would mean one of two things: Either you build the church at sea, if you can find fishermen to row there, or you head north, to the Badlands, beyond Halmathan's wall. and I'm telling you, it's called the Badlands for a reason. But if you want to make the church in the Mercy, I say go for it. In fact, you what? F*** the red tape. Just build it. It pains me to say it, but you have enough materials there left after the fire. Nobody will come in with a waver or some such paper."

[Thokk_Smash]

Corwin shakes his head, tired already despite his happiness at seeing his old friend. Man, he needs an espresso, and badly...

I did not lie to them, Wyldon, he says with a sigh. I even showed them my expired pass, and told them up front that I only do freelance work now. Which is the truth, although it is infrequent. I admit that I used your name, though, so berate me for that if you must.

As for the truth? The truth is whatever the Grand Inquisitor says it is, from what I can tell. We cannot even write about something as innocent as flowers in Glendale park? I can concede that some information should be kept from the public for their own safety...but how do restrictions on such simple subjects serve the public?

His voice, for once, is not confrontational. He just seems...tired. So tired of fighting his friend, so tired of being in a city where his freedoms are being systematically stripped away. He probably has more lines on his face than yesterday due to the monster's mental assault. He closes his eyes, then sets his face in a determined grimace.

What? No, I had no intention of joining them. Too stuffy, too regimented. And Mithmironel is a means to an end, to help me find the truth beneath the sewers. Nothing more. But I need to be better, Wyldon. Better so I can survive the terrors that lie beneath the streets. And it's true enough--he had been hoping he could be tutored without enrolling in the Academy. So much for that hope.

He weathers Victoria's anger with a determined scowl. I was doing what needed to be done. I was there to find the truth, no matter the cost. I was--

He turns to face Wyldon as the taller and larger man steps closer. He looks up into the eyes of his best friend, looking for any semblance of the man who had actually smiled at Corwin's first published article. The straight-laced soldier had actually gone to the bar with Corwin for a drink, one of the only times Wyldon has drunk in the past decade or so.

He watches Wyldon turn, and assure them that he would investigate the sewers. Corwin feels his heart lighten when he says that, and he actually manages a smile. Then he thinks of something, and moves to Wyldon's side. He clasps his hand onto Wyldon's much larger hand, grasping it as firmly as he can. He looks into Wyldon's eyes, and says, Thank you, Wyldon. But I have one more confession: I spoke at the conference. I let my emotions get the better of me, and said unsightly things. I apologized to the Grand Inquisitor, and I apologize to you. I spoke from my concern for the city. I just wish...I wish things were different. I miss my friend.

He squeezes Wyldon's hand one last time before letting go. He watches Wyldon leave, and then slumps into a nearby chair. If you wanna yell at me some more, go ahead, Chief. I just need to cool down before I leave for the cafe.