Thuvian Nights (IC)

[Bhaakon]

Scanning the room for anything not in Taldane, Aril finds a number of correspondences on the Exarch's mahogany draw-top desk penned--or brushed, or charcoaled, or, in one case, incised into a sheet of baked clay--in a dozen different tongues. You scan those you can read unaided--a considerable number given your collective facility with languages--and find that most relate to the mundane tasks of managing a globe-spanning shipping concern. There are a handful of flattering notes from artist or scholar looking for patrons, or distant relatives hoping to get in good on with their rich uncle Gregorios. A few are more...private, including a rather strained Varisian limerick punctuated with lip print in the most ridiculous shade of purple lipstick glittering with crushed gem dust.

To love one, it is said, is divine,
but night after night loses shine.
Instead leer at seven, each foxy,
not just one 'mid the thousands of doxies.
A lass for e'ery night might just do,
or go on and make your play for two,
even then the queue to your chamber's short of your wife's line.


Doggrel aside, there are still a number of letter that are impenetrable, but the Butler isn't going to just stand there while you puzzle them out.

"Excuse me, but I must insist you leave the Exarchs personal affairs alone. Only a handful of his business dealing are not under the Patron's purview, and I would be more than pleased to have his accountant forward the information on business in Thuvia, but his clients expect a certain amount of privacy.

Spoiler: Linguistics DC 25

Show

1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

"Even if it could mean the killer may get away? Those are some awfully important clients, if so." After a pause, she adds, confused but not letting up despite the butler's protests, "What does this even mean?"

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu:

The Sin Wizard spends much of the time during which the others are arguing drinking heavily from the bottle of poached wine, his eyes glancing from person to person as if he was watching the most intense game of tennis that ever was. Enshadu gets comfortable, resting his sore feet on the table as he drinks from the bottle. Why, watching his newer companions fight among themselves like this was almost as entertaining as the prospect of sending several thousand volts of magical electricity through some unlucky person's body! It'd been so awfully long since he'd been in a proper fight.

He'd almost forgotten the satisfying sound of crackling flesh. Smelled just like chicken.

As he listens, his right eye noticeably twitches when his name is mispronounced, but the minor transgression is quickly forgotten as Erica reminds the Pathfinder of a particularly pleasant past mission, involving exactly what she was so amusingly referencing. The best part was, it hadn't even been a particularly difficult mission! The only truly difficult part of it all had been the process of finding the damned will. However, several dead guards and the successful acquisition of a will later, The Society ended up making out with a particularly tidy cut out of some poor, dead old Ex-Pathfinder.

Good times.

--

After several moments, watching the others argue gets somewhat less fun. It was so hard to have a good time on the job nowadays. Enshadu stands up, stretching lightly as he does so, before one of the papers catches his attention. He leaves the bottle on the table for now, before striding over towards the paper, an eyebrow raised.

Speaking of searching for wills... Now would be as good a time as any to look for any important documents.

He does, eventually, come across the sheet of paper that Aril found. The wizard takes a good look at the incredibly poorly written poem on the note before blinking twice, slowly. He raises a hand up in the air as if to say something, before finally simply bringing his hand down to his chin. He rolls his eyes, before rubbing a finger across the stain, bringing it up to his lips before licking at it. Eurgh. That was... awful. "Don't know what I expected there. Hm." He shrugs. "Still not the worst thing I've tasted. That shade of purple is absolutely hideous though, ugh. No taste, whatsoever."

After muttering to himself, he speaks up. "Some woman smelling of lavender visited the floor-guy, right? Before he kicked Pharasma's proverbial bucket? Looks like the poor guy got some dopey note from the same lady. The lipstick tastes like Lavender. And I think Amethyst? The Sin Wizard takes another lick. "Mm, definitely Amethyst. Anyway, the Lavender Lady seems to be heavily involved around all this, she visited him very recently."

"If we're lucky, she's cooperative... Though I suppose I'll be just as pleased one way or the other."

[stack]

Uriah is already out the door as the exchange continues behind him. Others can dis-cypher letters and such, his field is more...direct.

[Bhaakon]

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I must insist that you leave the letters be. My Lord was quite serious about the privacy of his clients and the discretion of his shipments. You might even say he took secrecy as a sacred charge. Where he not already dead, he would defend those letter with his life, I'm quite...WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SIR?!" He explains as Enshadu licks the lipstick on the apparent love letter.

"That's is enough. Absconding with mediocre liquor is one thing, but attempted blackmail, and now...now... now...molesting the Exarch's private correspondence is quite another. Begone, all of you! Guards!" It only takes a moment for swordsmen in the indigo livery of the Exarch to show up. to escort you out.

Spoiler

Show

If you have anything left that you want to do, post it now. Pick the next place you want to visit if you haven't made it clear already. Currently I have Raven and Uraih going to the hookah lounge; Nisha, Erica, Tulug and Aril to the morgue. Where are Enshadu and Lydia going?

[Bhaakon]

The guards escort you out firmly but politely. The same can't be said for a certain halfling, who physically blocks you from staining the carpets again with your filthy feet, all the while mumbling dire threats in a half-dozen tongues.

Once out on the street you quickly decide on your next courses of action and divide up to cover more ground. The streets are crowded with people racing to finish the last of their morning errands before taking shelter against the midday heat. The air is heavy with the smell of spices, cooked meats and baked goods, tea and coffee sold at stands on virtually every corner or carried about on cleverly constructed racks draped over the bodies of those who can't afford the license for a stall. One lad parades about with a score of gutted rats hanging from a stick, both a convincing testament of his prowess as an exterminator and an advertisement for cheap protein. A pair of woman and riotous colors have staked out one busy street corner, tossing a jaunty tune back and forth between a one-stringed anzad and a double-sided drum. A child dances, a brass pot nearby set out to collect donations from the small crowd of people watching the show.

It's at this intersection where you split up, heading to different districts on your respective missions.

The Morgue------------------------

The garrison of the Shurtah--the guard and policing force--is a squat stone cube just outside the far more impressive navy complex on the north side of he city. It sits on the border of Merab's slums, and the smells in this part of town are less spices, perfumes, and delicacies and more sewage, sweat, and domestic animals. The street vendors tend to have less appealing goods--bruised fruit, meat that's a a day or two past its prime, plain ceramics and dented cooking pots, cloth that's a bit rough or cheaply dyed--but the buskers are just a lively, and livestock for sale seems healthy enough.

Your letter form the patron gets you into the garrison to to the bodies without incident. They're in a cool room well under ground, each laid out on a heavy granite block. There's an altar to Pharasma in the corner, and the dead in here have all been magically preserved (which has the added benefit to suppressing the smell of decomposition). The Watch Sergeant leads you past most of the bodies--dead beggars or mugging victims stashed here until next of kin can be found--to the plinths bearing Duchess Svetochka and the Count Hasterton.

You're glad for the magics inhibiting the rot, because the count's body is well down that path. The scavengers have had at his corpse, tearing at the soft tissues of the face and gnawing the extremities. You can see the little bore holes where beetles and maggots have made inroads, and the color of the exposed muscle and organs is the green-brown of rot. Svetocha's body is in better shape, though her eyes and tongue are missing, and her lips are in shreds.

"We have the Count's servants in a holding cell, if you want to talk with them." The Watch Sergeant drawls, unimpressed by the grisly scene. "Well, talk at them. They still haven't said a word. The bird is in a cage in a broom closet. We can't shut that one up."

House of Seven Saeals----------------

The Kamaliyah is a rat's nest. Tight streets--alleys really--with buildings that lean outwards and choke out the light. The thin strip of blue sky you can see overhead are crossed by a web of bridges and cat walks, most little more than simple board stretch across the narrow gap. There's a steady stream of traffic on that upper level, maybe even more than on the street proper, but the public entrance to the House of Seven Saeals is at ground level, so that's the route you take. The place is only marked with some hand-painted Osiriani script over a heavy door, but you find it easily enough and have no problem getting past the bouncer--a burly dwarf with nary a hair on his body. You don't even have to show your official documents. The dwarf just takes one look at you, notes your obvious wealth, and opens the door.

Inside are stairs leading down to the cellar that houses the shisha bar. There are a half dozen hookahs ringed with piles of cushions and pillows. It's virtually empty now, only one pipe is active, a trio of women enjoying an anise-seed smoke, tea, and sweets. There's a bar of sorts--really just a table--weighed down with clean mouthpieces, jars, tins, and bottle of every description and manned by a portly female halfling.

The halfling blinks once, slowly, and turns toward you with all the haste of a zombified sloth. "Hmm?" You approach her, and the stink of pesh hits you like a backhanded slap.

Pan Jichan's abode-------------------

The rented manse of Pan Jichan is relatively close to the Exarch's. It's slightly smaller, but nearer to the Patron's palace. All in all equal in the vain contest of ego-measuring that rich people enjoy as a sort of international pastime.

The guards at the gate are Merab natives, as is the woman who comes out to greet you when your make your presence known. She's wearing a brilliant white gown and trousers in the local style--its shining cleanliness itself a testament to her wealth and careful manner--covered by a golden silk cloak stitched with an intricate vermilion phoenix design.

"Ah, the Patron's special investigators. Please, be welcome. The Lady is expecting you. She is in an important meeting, but will receive you in a few moments." The woman explains, politely and apologetically, as she leads you through the mansion to a well-appointed waiting room. The building itself is based around local architectural tastes, but the decoration ties in elements from across Tian Xia. The upholstery is heavy with golds and reds, wooden furniture is lacquered black for the most part, often with intricate designs, usually involving a red phoenix. There are artifacts on display from just about anywhere in Golarian you can name--and many places you can't. It's obviously a show of the reach of Pan Jichan's consortium, but the the items are fewer and more carefully chosen to fit an overall aesthetic than the obscene display of profligacy in the Exarch's home.

Your escort directs you to a set of comfortable chairs, though there are also cushions for those who prefer sitting on the floor. "I apologize again for this inconvenience, but the Lady of the house is very busy. Can I get you some refreshment or answer some questions while you wait?" She flashes a broadly smile that's reflected in her eyes.

Spoiler: Anyone

Show

If you want to go somewhere else, make a post heading there and I'll respond.

[stack]

Uriah makes a quick scan of the room, seeking the woman from the valet's memory.

[Hattish Thing]

Enshadu - Pan Jichan's Abode:

The Sin Wizard had been perfectly fine with where he was, pondering over the significance of the lavender woman while proceeding to drink more and more from the stolen bottles of swill publicly pilfered from the deceased man's case. However, when the armed guards showed up, Enshadu went along willingly, impressed with how polite the guardsmen were.

Usually he was knocked out first before being escorted off the premises.

--

After a few minutes spent staring at a map of the city, Enshadu casts a quick cantrip on himself, drawing from the magical reserves contained within the trapped shadow bound to him. Inky blackness appears, washing over him and shielding him temporarily from the sun's blinding rays.

It had been so long since he'd gone outside. Was it always this unpleasant?

Probably.

--

Soon, the shadowcaster finds himself wandering down the streets of Merab, enjoying the sights and smells of the exotic city. Upon finding himself confronted by a young boy wielding several bunches of gutted rats on sticks. After pausing for a moment, the wizard shrugs and moves towards the boy before speaking in perfect polyglot. "Yes, I'll have one of your... things." Life had been so boring lately! It was time to experience something new, something exotic!

Enshadu reaches into his robes before frowning. Only gold, no copper. Hm. There was only one way to go about this.

With that, the Sin Wizard purchases the entire cart of rat-kebabs, leaving a gold piece on the counter before merely plucking two of the rat-sticks from the case, leaving the rest behind. For the rest of the trip, Enshadu enjoys his exotic "delicacy" with a grimace. It built character.

--

Just before arriving at Pan Jichan's mansion, Enshadu hides his Pathfinder Badge within his robe, before stuffing the spare kebab within the Handy Haversack, for later consumption. The wizard knew very well of the history shared within Jichan and the Pathfinder Society.

Once the woman in white speaks to him, the Sin Wizard banishes his cantrip, squinting painfully as his eyes slowly and uncomfortably readjust to the bright light. Enshadu takes careful note of the many Phoenix emblems seen all throughout the waiting room within the mansion, and on the greeting woman's white clothing. He sits down, somewhat tired from the brief journey to the mansion. However, the offering of refreshments causes the wizard to perk up a tad. "Refreshments? Oh, oh yes. Fantastic, I was just about to ask, aheh." The Sin Wizard waggles his fingers before continuing. "Alcohol, please. Don't care what from, or where, or whatever."

As soon as the woman leaves the waiting room, Enshadu takes a moment to look around. As he glances around, he notices a glass case in one of the corners of the room. A chalice was held within, a chalice covered in glittering runes. Thassilonian runes! The wizard recognized the intricate, aggressively stylized runes immediately. He rises, looking around before slinking his wave over to the case and reaching for it. Before he makes physical contact with the case, Enshadu catches himself, slapping himself on the wrist for his momentary burst of greed.

Instead, he quickly detects magic, frowning deeply in disappointment as he recognizes the schools of magic. This was Sorshen's Chalice, or one of a set, depending on which source you believed. Expensive, clearly of great value. However, the particular powers granted by the chalice were, unfortunately, quite underwhelming.

However, he does take a mental note before he continues to wait, staring and studying at the chalice from afar.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril, amongst the dead.

Aril looks over the corpses with a grimace on her face. While describing a dead body was not alien to her, actually seeing one was obviously a rare curse, and one that she didn't particularly care to repeat multiple times on a given day. Turning to look away, she felt the rustle of a breath on her ear, whispering "What's the matter, child? Feeling a bit squeamish today?" Talking over her dark passenger to keep it from being heard in the echos of the room, the woman quickly adds "I'll speak to the prisoners, just lead the way - though I can't promise any will talk, I'm sure I can get something out of them."

[stack]

Uriah, fixes his smile in place as the pesh-stink wafts past. It wasn't his first time having to deal with such surroundings. Having not sighted his quarry, he leans amicably against the bar. Voice resembling nothing so much as honeyed silk, he begins. "Ah, my fair proprietress, perhaps you could be so good as to help me. A good friend of mine has recommended your fine establishment to the attentions of myself and my servants here. Indeed, he highly praised the company of one particular lady, but, silly creature that I am, I have misplaced her name." He shrugs and forces a blush, self effacing. "So, find myself in need of company and burdened with fortune, I thought perhaps you could save me from both?" He describes the girl in as much detail as he dare.

Spoiler

Show

bluff (1d20+25)[31]
diplomacy (1d20+25)[42]

[Bhaakon]

Pan Jinchan's Estate-------------------

"Of course, sir. I shall return with your refreshment shortly." The attendant's smile remains as she bows her head slightly and backs out of the room, careful not to disrespect her guest by turning her back on the man. Enshadu only has a few moments to peruse the decor, including the historically valuable and aesthetically unmatched--but only somewhat useful--chalice before the woman returns with a small crystal decanter and a single glass hardly bigger than a thimble. She pulls the plug from the top of the container and the acrid stink of nearly pure alcohol wafts out, assaulting the nose with its stinging pungency. She carefully powers the distilled ethanol into the tiny receptacle and then hands it to the wizard.

"As you requested, sir."

The Seven Saeals----------------------

The plump halfling smiles stupidly as the wave of verbiage washes over her, breaks on her breakwater of inebriation, and recedes back into the sea seemingly without altering her stoned visage. She sits still for a moment, quite literally a minute and a half, before a chubby hand reaches onto her table and pushes forward a particularly ornate silver coffer and pops it open. Inside is a pile of shredded shisha tobacco tinged crimson and sticky with some sweet-smelling proprietary marinade. Based on the expense of the container, it must be the best stuff in the house.

"Okay." She says, the word barely fumbling out past her drug-fattened tongue. "Wait a spell. Twenty crowns."

The Garrison (Prisoners)----------------

"All right. Follow me, then." The Watch Sergeant leads Aril, and whoever else wants to see the prisoners, up the stairs and back to the ground floor of the garrison. About half that level is made of cells to hold drunks and rowdies while they await processing. He leads you right to the back of the cell block, where eight people are stuffed in one iron-barred chamber designed to house two in semi-comfort. As it it, they must take shifts laying down to sleep.

Their eyes are sunken and heavy with bruise-colored bags. There are four men and four women, all human, and a seemingly random assortment of ages between 20 and 60 years. They're all shaved hairless, or at least they were before being imprisoned, but now the stubble is growing in. They watch silently as you approach the cell, dull eyes not quite as lifeless as a broken beast of burden, but utterly lacking expression. "Like I said, they haven't said a word so far. The crow won't shut up, though. He's in a closet down the end of the hall over there. Just go in and take the sheet off the cage."

[stack]

Uriah flashes another smile, depositing the coins.

[The Hellbug]

Tulug, at the Morgue

Gruesome, to be sure, but not quite my area of expertise. While Tulug has had a small amount of experience with medicine in the past, it was mostly with diseases and the like, not wounds and the analysis of such. Therefore, he keeps out of the way anyone who wants to examine the bodies themselves. However, at the sergeant's offer, the half-orc lodges an additional request. "I'd like to, yes, but there is something else I'd like to examine first. Have you impounded any evidence from the deceased, particularly anything they had with them at the presumed times of their deaths?"

[Desril]

Raven

It wasn't her first time visiting a house of ill repute such as this, nor would it be her last, but Raven still couldn't stand the smell of these places. It always stuck to her clothes too and she made a habit of taking a bath before reverting to Selene after any trip to such a place. Still, she understood how they worked and while Uriah gave the demanded coin, she decided to speed things along, "We are in a bit of a hurry, I'm sure you understand," she says with a pleasant smile...and ten more gold coins.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica barely glances at the corpses before following to the prisoners, making her way straight to the bird's cage. "It was mentioned that his sentience has been slipping since Duchess Svetotchka died. How far gone is he?" She doesn't wait for a reply before opening the door and pulling the sheet off the cage.

[Hattish Thing]

Pan Jinchan's Estate-------------------

"Of course, sir. I shall return with your refreshment shortly." The attendant's smile remains as she bows her head slightly and backs out of the room, careful not to disrespect her guest by turning her back on the man. Enshadu only has a few moments to peruse the decor, including the historically valuable and aesthetically unmatched--but only somewhat useful--chalice before the woman returns with a small crystal decanter and a single glass hardly bigger than a thimble. She pulls the plug from the top of the container and the acrid stink of nearly pure alcohol wafts out, assaulting the nose with its stinging pungency. She carefully powers the distilled ethanol into the tiny receptacle and then hands it to the wizard.

"As you requested, sir."

Enshadu returns to his chair and rests for a little bit just before the woman arrives within the waiting room again, her sudden appearance simultaneously startling the Sin Wizard with it's abruptness, and exciting him, seeing as refreshments seem to have arrived with her.

The wizard eyes the receptacle greedily, before accepting it with waggling fingers. "Hopefully this won't kill me."

--

After taking a drink, he speaks to the woman once more. "How much longer do you imagine it'll be? Catnap-worthy, or...?"

[Bhaakon]

The Garrison (Evidence Room)-------------

"Yes, a few items. All that the Count had with him is in the evidence lockup. Most of the Duchess's goods are still locked in her estate, though we did bring in some things. The bird's stand, her bedding and clothes, her case of poison samples." The Sergeant leads you to a heavy iron door near to the morgue.

The evidence lockup is as secure as a bank vault, and those who bother to check see that its magical defenses are even stouter than the physical guards. He retrieves a few crates and bags, all the things collected with the bodies. The Count's log of evidence is full of traveling gear, for the most part. Heavy clothes you'd expect to see from an Ustlavan nobleman on a boar hunt, far too thick for Thuvia. There's a magic pack with a pair of waterskins, empty. All told, about enough liquid to last a man a day in out in the dessert. There's a rapier, heavily enchanted but foppishly embellished and gaudy beyond good taste. The rest is a hodge-podge of items useful and ridiculous. A tea pot but no camp stove or cup. A great deal of silk string, but no rope. A bedroll, but no blanket. A tremendous surfeit of writing materials and a complicated device that you realize is some sort of telescoping pole. A small bucket full of dead leeches. The sort of thing you'd expect from an amateur with no idea how to mount a proper expedition into the wilds.

Svetochka's goods are more straight forward. Sheets and a diaphanous night gown soaked with blood. A pillow placed in a crate that's labelled with a black skull to warn of the poison. A jeweled headband (likely to reinforce one's intellect, as even the rankest apprentice knows that such items couldn't even be removed when sleeping). An intricately crafted folding case loaded with two score or more thick glass ampules. One of them, labelled 'Tears of Death' is empty. Then there's the perch, crafted from silver and ivory to resemble a tree bare of leaves. There are two small dishes, for water and snacks, a silk-lined nest of spun gold, and any number of comfortable spots for a raven to roost.

The Garrison (Broom Closet)-------------

The bird's bead eyes glare out through the cramped brass cage as Rcia tears off the sheet. He bites its tongue for all of three second before it starts blathering. "Oh, the half-breed cub has come to get revenge for her dear mummy. The prodigal daughter, no doubt guilty at abandoning us all. But why, I wonder. She was treated as poorly as me. Maybe here for congratulations, yes? To smooth my feathers and give me a treat for my service. No...wait...it is you, after all. Probably going to complain about stealing your prey, aren't you? Far too much like your father."

"Well, get on with it then. Yes, I have all day, but that doesn't mean I want to wait."

The Seven Saeals---------

The halfling nods glacially as Raven insists on haste, and toddles out through a beaded curtain with the...donation. Then the waiting begins. It's ten minutes before something happens. 'Something' being one of the women seated around the hookah finally working up the nerve to ask you a question.

"What are you here for, anyway? Never seen anyone get Lyn off her arse. Don't think I've even seen her go for a chamber pot." Another nods her agreement. If you glance beyond the table of goods, you'll note that the halfling's well-cushioned seat has a deeply-cleft dent precisely fitted to her frame. You suspect you could get a perfect casting of her rear from it, if one had need of such a thing.

Pan Jinchan's abode--------

"Not so long. I will go and check now. Please enjoy more while you wait." The woman answers Enshadu, setting down the bottle of pure spirits on a side-table beside him.

Fifteen minute later...or is it thirty? The clear liquid made it hard to judge such things. Regardless, the woman returns, still smiling. "The Lady will see you now. I apologize again for the delay, but she is most busy." She leads your through two more sets of doors, offering the support of her arm should inebriated guests need something to steady themselves that isn't both achingly delicate and extremely valuable--descriptors that apply to much of the villa's furniture.

Eventually you emerge in the central courtyard. The Exarchs's courtyard was nice enough, as such things went. Orderly and regimented. Pan Jichan's is a work of art. Plants, local and exotic, arranged in ways that seem both natural in their happenstance and planned to the last detail in their perfection of composition. There are things here that shouldn't be able to grow together in the same climate, but are, somehow, intertwined vibrantly. Paths wind through the garden, twisting between bushes and shrubs pruned to appear overgrown without actually getting in the way. The scent of orchids, roses, and citrus entertwin in an intoxicating aroma, somehow mixed with the smell of exotic spices, not from the kitchen, but from rare cultivars growing within arm's reach.

The center of the incredible oasis is a softly babbling fountain choked with lotuses and water lilies. Butterflies flutter about, while gold and silver fish dart along with frogs and turtles within the water. Pan Jinchan herself is in a wheeled chair nearby, dressed in crimson silks, a heavy blanket covering her lap in spite of the heat. She's work at an easel, painting a watercolor of the scene in front of her. It's not a good piece. The lines are crooked, and you can see her hand shaking as she goes make a final stroke before setting her brush aside.

The servant who guided you in takes away the painting gear and produces a glass of iced lime water as if by magic (though, on a second look, there's a pitcher of the stuff behind the painting), and holds it up to Lady Pan's lips to that she may drink. Then the attendant carefully turns Pan Jichang's chair so that she can face you directly. You note that there's nowhere for you to sit. In fact, there are impressions in the moss nearby where there must have recently been benches of some sort for entertaining guests, but they're now missing.

"So, a member of the Pathfinder Society." Lady Pan crows, her voice quite a bit stronger than her palsied grip. "Here to offer a much belated personal atonement, I expect. The compensation was as agreed, but I never did receive the formal apology I demanded as part of the settlement. Though I do believe it would have been more appropriate for a Venture-captain to deliver it. Or a Decemvir."

The woman who brought you here is no longer smiling.

[stack]

Uriah turns to the speaker, walking a bit closer. "Why, we are merely following a recommendation. Best to patronize those that have earned a good reputation, no? I trust that it not an uncommon thing here?"

Spoiler: read mind

Show

Lesser Charm: You may detect a creature’s emotional state (Will negates if unwilling). Unlike other lesser charms, there is no limit to the number of times you may use this lesser charm on a target in a day.

DC25, targeting the speaker

[Ilorin Lorati]

Aril

Aril scowls as she's left in front of the jail cell, looking through the bars at the people held inside. How many people were in there? How could the guard force them into such inhumane quarters? "You poor things. Did they just gather you up in here and forget about you? This is horrible!" Without even bothering to wait on any kind of response from the prisoners, Aril turns and moves to find a guard. "It would be easier to simply force the information out of them. Get them separate, get into their head and find just... where... to twist."

"Well it's a good thing I'm in charge, then, because the easier way isn't the way that will get results. First, we help, then we ask them what they can help with."

Ignoring any further protests from the demon, Aril continues her hunt for a guard. Once she finds one, the woman points back in the direction she came, questioning "Could you explain to me why the dead Count's servants are all being treated like chattel? They don't even have enough room to breathe, much less keep a semblance of a healthy schedule!"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Diplomacy if needed: (1d20+19)[33]

[Hattish Thing]

Pan Jichan's abode--------

"Not so long. I will go and check now. Please enjoy more while you wait." The woman answers Enshadu, setting down the bottle of pure spirits on a side-table beside him.

Fifteen minute later...or is it thirty? The clear liquid made it hard to judge such things. Regardless, the woman returns, still smiling. "The Lady will see you now. I apologize again for the delay, but she is most busy." She leads your through two more sets of doors, offering the support of her arm should inebriated guests need something to steady themselves that isn't both achingly delicate and extremely valuable--descriptors that apply to much of the villa's furniture.

Eventually you emerge in the central courtyard. The Exarchs's courtyard was nice enough, as such things went. Orderly and regimented. Pan Jichan's is a work of art. Plants, local and exotic, arranged in ways that seem both natural in their happenstance and planned to the last detail in their perfection of composition. There are things here that shouldn't be able to grow together in the same climate, but are, somehow, intertwined vibrantly. Paths wind through the garden, twisting between bushes and shrubs pruned to appear overgrown without actually getting in the way. The scent of orchids, roses, and citrus entertwin in an intoxicating aroma, somehow mixed with the smell of exotic spices, not from the kitchen, but from rare cultivars growing within arm's reach.

The center of the incredible oasis is a softly babbling fountain choked with lotuses and water lilies. Butterflies flutter about, while gold and silver fish dart along with frogs and turtles within the water. Pan Jinchan herself is in a wheeled chair nearby, dressed in crimson silks, a heavy blanket covering her lap in spite of the heat. She's work at an easel, painting a watercolor of the scene in front of her. It's not a good piece. The lines are crooked, and you can see her hand shaking as she goes make a final stroke before setting her brush aside.

The servant who guided you in takes away the painting gear and produces a glass of iced lime water as if by magic (though, on a second look, there's a pitcher of the stuff behind the painting), and holds it up to Lady Pan's lips to that she may drink. Then the attendant carefully turns Pan Jichang's chair so that she can face you directly. You note that there's nowhere for you to sit. In fact, there are impressions in the moss nearby where there must have recently been benches of some sort for entertaining guests, but they're now missing.

"So, a member of the Pathfinder Society." Lady Pan crows, her voice quite a bit stronger than her palsied grip. "Here to offer a much belated personal atonement, I expect. The compensation was as agreed, but I never did receive the formal apology I demanded as part of the settlement. Though I do believe it would have been more appropriate for a Venture-captain to deliver it. Or a Decemvir."

The woman who brought you here is no longer smiling.

Enshadu continues to enjoy the particularly strong beverage and admire the room around him. Though the thought of poison comes to mind once he's up to his second glass of the powerful drink, Enshadu simply shrugs and rolls his eyes. If someone as powerful as Pan Jichan wanted him dead, she most likely wouldn't do it with poison.

Besides, this as expensive stuff. It'd be such a waste.

--

The Society Agent continues to sip and look around the room, occasionally slapping himself aside the face when he feels like he's getting a bit too groggy, careful to avoid accidentally slapping the particularly large blood polyp situated towards the right side of his cheek. That'd be most unfortunate.

Finally, the woman arrives once more, this time with better news.

The Sin Wizard stands confidently, relying upon his glamorous walking stick to steady himself. "Ahh, fantastic. I appreciate your Lady's generosity, I ain't felt that pickled in quite some time. Still, music would have really topped off that whole waiting experience. Though, I guess decent musicians are hard to find and keep these days. Keep in the... you know, paid with gold sort of way. Not in the bad way! Not against their will, or anything like that. ...Obviously." Enshadu blinks twice before awkwardly smiling at the woman and walking forward gingerly, his right leg asleep from the long wait. As he walks down the many luxuriously decorated halls, Enshadu politely waves off the woman's offering of support.

With Enshadu, touching people usually ended in an explosion of blood and electrified gore, after all. That, and it would be foolish for the evoker to risk revealing his true appearance here.

--

As he steps outside into the gardens, the Sin Wizard curls his upper lip in disgust and looks around the area. It was all so bright, and warm, and awful!

As Pan Jichan reveals herself, Enshadu gazes towards her painting for but a second before averting his eyes. Now would be a poor time to comment upon the woman's artistic skills, or lack thereof. The Sin Wizard looks around the area for some sort of chair, taking note of the uncomfortable absence of a seat of any kind. That was concerning. The tone that the old woman in the wheelchair takes is even more unsettling, however, to Enshadu. Apparently, Lady Pan was the kind to hold a grudge.

Enshadu didn't fully understand it. What's a crew, or a ship between mutual business partners? The gold the Lady had received to remedy the relations between the Society and Jichan had been worth far more than their lives, or a sunken vessel.

After a second of looking forward, somewhat caught off guard, he speaks. "Uhhh. Yes. Society Agent, Gold Member, guilty as charged. Heh, gold member." After quietly giggling to himself, Enshadu bows curtly before noting the other woman's sudden lack of a smile.

"Anyway, yes. I am Enshadu. I regret to inform you that I am not, in fact, a Venture-Captain, yet, nor a Decemvir. No, rather, I'm here on official business, Ms. Jichan. Got a fancy piece of paper and everything."

"I... apologize for any inconvenience that my appearance as a representative of the Society may cause you., bt there are matters of far greater importance than a few dead sailors and a lost ship that need be discussed, Miss. Jichan. If you weren't already aware, Exarch Gregorios was found dead a short time ago. Murdered. My patron and I have reason to believe that you may be at risk."

"Your full cooperation with this investigation would be most appreciated, as I'm sure you'd wish for your enterprise to have as little to do with all this murder-y shenanigan stuff as possible. So, if you don't mind, I have a few questions My Patron has bid me to ask of you during this... regretfully bright day. What was your relationship with the Exarch? Do you have any idea who may be behind this murder?"

"Also, do you have a free chair anywhere? My feet hurt."

[Desril]

Raven

For her part, Raven just smiles at Uriah's comment, figuring that such an obvious lie would fall on its face, but no point in ruining it now, "My friend here is just a little inexperienced but always so professional, I wanted to show him a good time and a little word of mouth goes a long way."

Spoiler

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Bluff (1d20+17)[36]

[The Hellbug]

Tulug starts his investigation by cataloging the Count's possessions, shaking his head in disappointment as he looks over each item. The man was a fool for going out onto the open desert with such gear, but it was fairly obvious that he at least expected to be there, even as poorly-informed as he evidently was. The half-orc had expected the Count to have been kidnapped and left for dead, given the deaths of the other victims, but, alongside that suspicious message to the Exarch, the Count's relative preparedness was beginning to make it look like the murderer (if there had been, in deed, only one) could be luring the victims to their own deaths somehow.

For now, Tulug takes the water skins in hand and begins to concentrate. The Count's time of death is uncertain and would be pushing the limits of Tulug's abilities regardless, but hopefully there is still some connection to the man in his possessions, the water skins in particular chosen because of their connection to his death--hopefully his dying emotional state would have left a mark on them.

Spoiler: OOC

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Object reading on the water skins; a long shot, but potentially a helpfulone.

[Bhaakon]

Spoiler: Tulug

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The waterskin is fairly new, you note as your look it over. Local make, featuring the bright colors and bead work in the distinctive geometric designs Merabi craftsman pride themselves on. The cork is missing from its spigot, no doubt discarded somewhere in the desert as the late Count tried, desperately, to suck out the last drop of life.

You close your eyes and concentrate, and a vision come to you. You see a dead body still gripping the waterskin tight in death, just beginning to bloat in the sun. Flies swirl in a lazy cyclone above, scattering briefly each time the jackal or one of the vultures camping out the corpse darts in to nibble.

But suddenly there's a frightened screech from the jackal, and it sprints off with its tail tucked between its hind legs. The vultures are gone just as fast, raising a cloud of dust as their great wings beat hard to get their ponderous forms aloft.

A moment later the air next to the body...unravels, is the best way you could describe it. A slit forms in reality and widens into a ragged portal. A thing sloughs through, a lopsided form with too-long arms and pink, glabrous flesh shiny with mucus. A robe of darkest black is thrown over its seven-foot form, the hood fitting ill over a head that's little more than tumor with a toothy maw. It lurches its way to the count's abandoned pack, the claws of one gangling arm digging into the hard pan to steady its shambling gait. The being's other arm grabs the leather sack in and dumps the contents, scattering them about until it find what it's looking for...a book, but an odd one. It's a set of lead plates, a score of them, bound together into a codex. The cover plate is an ankh encircled with arms or wings.

The creature gurgles--you assume with satisfaction, though in truth it sounds like a pneumonia-sufferer's death rattle--and staggers back the way it came. The portal sews itself back together, leaving a scar in the air that takes some minutes to fade. Then your vision is done.

Spoiler: DC 20 K(Religion)

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The symbol you saw is that of Nyarlathotep, and outer god known better in this region as the Black Pharaoh.

Spoiler: K(Dungeoneering) DC 18

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The creature is a Dimensional Shambler.

[TheOneHawk]

Erica smiles coldly at the raven. "Rafal. I am very pleased to see you've not yet completely reverted to a mindless animal. Would you kindly explain to me exactly how you managed to murder my mother where so many others have failed over the years?"

[The Hellbug]

Tulug sets the waterskin down weightily as his vision clears. "Hmm, no evidence," he mutters as he looks through the count's pack again, hoping for some sort inspiration he had missed, "but my vision showed me a peculiar sort of scavenger, a bulbous mass that, I daresay, isn't of this world. Just as peculiar was the count's cargo that was taken: a tome related to the Dark Pharoah Nyarlothotep. Count Vieland was definitely in something over his head, whether or not he knew it. Shirah, we need to find out why this man walked out into the desert to his death."

Still seated, the half-orc turns his attention to the Duchess's belongings, eventually settling on the headband for his reading.

[Bhaakon]

Aril------------------------

"They're uncooperative witnesses and suspects." The guard answers Aril's angry query with a defensive tone. "We can't have them taking up half the cells in the jail, they can't be tried or sentenced until we figure out what happens, and they can't be released until they start talking. They haven't even asked why they're being held, complained, nothing. They just sleep, eat, and wait around staring into nothing, like...well, like a donkey or something. Except a donkey will bray if it's not happy. They just...don't do anything."

Indeed, the late Count's servants don't even seem to register Aril's attempt to get them into nicer cells.

Erica------------------------

If a bird could grin, Rafal would be flashing teeth from ear to to ear. If he had ears.

"You ask like it was hard." The raven brags. "No one else ever got around the wards on her bedchamber, but she let me past them. She was a fool to trust me given how she treated me. Thought that the leverage of turning back into bird would keep me in line. But she's wrong...oh ho was she wrong. Rafal doesn't take that kind of demeaning treatment sitting down. The way she'd hand feed me like a chick. Or tell me, me. what magics she wanted. I was the expert, clearly. And how she'd take my counsel and discount it. Like how I told her to assassinate you before you came back and did her in. But no, she was confident you were too much f a coward. But I know you always hated her. Everyone hated her. But only one of us could actually do something about it."

Seven Saeals------------------

Spoiler: Uriah

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Your first impression is that the woman is numbed by narcotics, but, digging deeper, you find that her interest is more than idle.

"Day's a bit young, innit?" The woman replies. "Most of the professionals are sleep now, you know? Probably have to pay extra for morning service." She shrugs. "But Lyn would know, so I guess you picked the right place."

As if on cue, the halfling shuffles back into the room and hoists herself back up into her seat, twisting slightly to settle proberly into the familiar crater in the cushions. Finally, when she's properly situated, she nod ever so slightly towards the bead curtained portal she just returned from.

"Upstairs. Second door." She mumbles. She blinks as she speaks, her eyelids making the arduous trip across her lenses over the course of a solid ten seconds.

"Oh...upstairs. I guess you'll get what you came for, then." The woman observes, popping a cookie in her mouth. "Twenty crowns, was it? I'd have guessed twice that to rouse the girls before noon."

[TheOneHawk]

A short, harsh laugh escapes Erica at the bird's words. "I suppose you didn't take it sitting down, considering you can't physically sit, but you sure took it for a damned long time. You were her familiar longer than I've been alive, Rafal, and behind her wards for all of it. If you wanted to kill her so bad you'd have done it long ago. Gods know you had the opportunities. Why now?"

[stack]

Uriah excuses himself, "Maybe we were not unexpected? Or maybe the service here is everything I've heard? Good day." He gives a nod to the halfling as he passes toward the indicated door. Few would catch the wink to his companions as he turns, giving them pause to consider his words.

Spoiler

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bluff to pass secret message 'something is up', bluff (1d20+25)[33] autopasses the DC to be understood, rolled only to determine interception DC

[Bhaakon]

Lady Pan's Estate--------------------

The shipping magnate in the wheelchair frowns, her parchment skin crazing like poorly fired pottery until the tension of the expression. "I'm afraid the only chair here is taken." She replies. "Would that I could stand up and offer it to you. Alas, I fear that such a...Gold Member, was it? I've never heard of such a thing. No doubt some sort of title inflation. A functionary in good standing with the Pathfinder Society, such as yourself, will simply have to continue to stand well for the time being."

"As for Gregorios," The loathing drips from her lips as she pronounces the name. Whatever annoyance she has for the Pathfinders, it's nothing compared to her opinion of the deceased. "I have no dealings with slavers, smugglers, and liars, as I'm sure your superiors can attest. I'm certainly pleased by his demise, as pleased as anyone would be when sewage is washed from the gutters by a fresh downpour, I cannot claim responsibility. It would be foolish for me to kill the man here, where I have so much to lose if caught. It would be far safer to wait until after I win the auction, which I fully expect to win. Besides, I'd be in a better condition to give such matters the personal attention they deserve. Were I so inclined, of course."

She pauses, and the servants holds the lime-water up to Jichan's lips for another shallow sip. "I'm sure you'll find that the man had many enemies, both potent and pedestrian. He was wealthy, but not personally powerful. Just about anyone could see to his end if they managed to get close enough. And then there are all the...less well-heeled bidders. Perhaps some of them think to slip into the top six. I couldn't give you their names, though surely the Patron or his representatives could do so."

[Desril]

Raven

Uriah seemed to have the situation in hand, and though she hadn't known him for long, Raven's intuition said to trust his abilities, so if he said something was up, she was inclined to believe him even if she didn't notice herself. She was, however, curious by the woman's rather obvious interest in them, but unfortunately couldn't press her on the subject without risking tipping their hand, something which wasn't worth the effort without anything clear to be gained while there were still leads to follow up on. So for now, she simply nods her head to the woman in time with her partner's good-day and follows along to meet their suspect.