The Crimson Echo IC

[Darvin]

"Memories are not things that have happened," Dalen snaps, a reflexive response of his own discipline, "they are what our minds believe to have happened. And mortal minds are masters of self-deception," indeed; Aliani had once told him to break the mind of another man. That is not the way of the enchanter, and so many wizards lacked aptitude for the field as they are incapable of grasping its most fundamental of precepts: you are not deceiving the subject's mind, but rather convincing it to deceive itself. Dalen was not so conceited as to believe he was an exception and that was exactly why he was here, reaching out to understand what his mind was telling him rather than making disingenuous inward rationalizations like the man in front of him was doing now.

Dalen calms down, letting Aliani finish then speaks, "I don't claim any special purview of whatever cosmic forces are at work here, but I'm not going to close my eyes to them. An avalanche doesn't disappear when you turn your back to it, and whatever strands of fate Zellaria saw are still there," Dalen grabs his friend's shoulder, expending a small amount of magical energy, "Aliani, I need to know what you saw,"

Spoiler: OOC

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Beguiling Touch, DC 17

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani returned Dalen's touch with a baleful glare; any semblance of softness or vulnerability was temporarily replaced with a combination of defiance and disappointment.

"I don't know what you think you know of me, but if I didn't give freely enough of myself in whatever passes for our past life together, that you feel like you need to resort to that to get me to answer a simple question, I apologize. But in the future, if you want something from me, a simple 'please' will suffice. Do we understand each other?" He gave Dalen a look that made it clear that one way or another, Dalen was going to understand, starting right now.

"But yes, sure, you should know. You're a grown man, you should make your own choices. Everything about Gaedren Lamm and me bashing his skull in, Eodred's death and the chaos that followed, the butcher shop, making a deal with Barvasi and his den of crooks and leaving that creature stuck in its cage to suffer, chasing Trinia -- all of that, more or less. The part you left out, presumably because whatever consciousness is filling our heads with these things had long since left you, was: me, alone, starving, in some dark place -- I don't know if was a prison, or a cave, or just the blackness of night -- feasting on the flesh of everyone that had ever been close to me. Because that was all that was left, and it was that or die, and I chose that. I never saw their faces in my nightmares, mind you -- usually I snap myself out of it just before I have to suffer that fate -- but I know."

"So, there, you wanted to know. You still want to tell me they're memories, that I really did all that?" He shook his head, partly out of defiance and partly trying to talk himself out of what he was about to say. "If you're telling me that's the outcome of all of this, then pray for us both that Naderi answers my pleas tonight."

Spoiler: OOC

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Rolled in OOC, Aliani made both the Will save to resist and the Spellcraft check to know what's up.

[Darvin]

"How interesting, it appears it's you who has me at a disadvantage, in more ways than one," Dalen smiles shrugging his shoulders, "what you remember and what is real are two different things. How much the two converge and how much they diverge... well, that's what I'm going to find out. I'm sure I gave enough freely of myself that you know that I won't stop. I'm going to find out what happened, and the next person to seek out is Trinia Sabor. The only question that remains is this: will you assist me Aliani," Dalen pauses, then adds, "please?"

[Stelio Kontos]

"Don't really have a choice, do I? I got the same invitation you did, after all" he whispered hoarsely, unbuttoning his shirt pocket and pulling out the corner of a harrow card. "I'll tell you what I think -- hope anyway. I refuse to believe this is all inevitable. I think this is all some sort of a warning, and for some reason we, us, need to stop this, change it somehow, before it all goes to ****. You put your head toward that, and I'll help you."

"Can you give me some time, alone? Go out, have a nice time, one of us should. I'm guessing you haven't done one of these before. They usually throw a pretty good party, great wine if you're into that. You may as well go enjoy it. Why don't we meet at Kendall at say three o'clock? It'll give us time to maybe make some sense of it all when I've had a chance to -- when I can make myself want to do more than curl up in a ball and die."

[Darvin]

"You do have a choice and nothing is inevitable," Dalen chuckles, "fate is less of a stone tablet fixed in place, and more of a boulder rolling down a hill and continuing by its own inertia. Just because we mortals lack the power to directly confront such a cosmic force doesn't mean we can't try to do anything about it, however,"

"You've seen enough to understand that the inertia is still there, I hope? Whatever was pushing the world towards those conclusions previously is still doing so. By all means, enjoy your party, although keep in mind that less than a day remains before one of those metaphorical boulders comes crashing through Korvosa,"

[Stelio Kontos]

"I don't get to enjoy the parties" Aliani replied, forcing a bit of a clipped smile. "I get to be enjoyed. Everyone out there is here to see ALIANI ROSE", as he gave a quiet impression of a stage announcement of his name, "and I have to give them that, whether the world's about to end or not. It's harder work than the stagecraft, not that I expect anyone to understand."

[Inspectre]

Steveodore

The elf briefly looks up at your inquiry only to shrug and suggest some other shop down the street – “The Mixing Phial?”, or something like that. It was hard to say as she half-muttered the name, and then immediately returned to the gazette that was dominating the majority of her attention, in between glaring at the two teenagers still wandering around the store. Clearly, customer service was not at a premium here, but then again with a drug den out back perhaps they didn’t need the business.

Wondering why you were following this trail so hard and just how far in over your head you were willing to go, you make your way out the shop, around the side, and back down the alley to the iron door. The presence of the mutagen in easy reach was a comfort, but that same nagging unease was quick to point out what good was increased physical strength against someone who could give people literal magical abilities? Still . . . this place was a business, and you were just a normal citizen looking for a new high as far as they knew.

Deciding that you had argued with yourself over the wisdom of this plan enough and it was time to do something, you rap smartly on the iron door. You hear the creak of a chair and someone grumbling to themselves on the other side of the door, and then the eye slot near the top of the iron door slides open.

“Oooo . . . heya beautiful. What’s a nice street rat like yourself doing in a place like this?”

For a moment you wonder if you had somehow reverted back to your “less human” appearance, as if not matching the racist Chelish ideal somehow made you “less” than them. But no, you hadn’t, so how did he make you!?

The realization hits you at the same time as the scent from behind the door finally wafts out through the eye slot and hits your own nose. There was the acrid scent of chemicals and drugs, and plenty of mold to go along with it sure, but there was another scent underneath all that. It was faint, but like most people living down below you had honed your sense of smell to be able to pick up that unique smell of fur matted with musk – wererat. That was how he made you, he smelled the sewers on you, the rat bastard. Fortunately in this case it seems that for once your status was actually a boon rather than cause for ostracization.

“Ya hear for something special lass? I got all sorts of things that could make you feel good.”

Darvin/Stelio Kontos

You manage to get access to one of the tavern’s back rooms that the management uses as an office – most people even here at the party wouldn’t have been able to get such a concession but most people here aren’t Aliani Rose, famous producer and star of the party either. Unfortunately the news after that is rather grim – both of you are aware of what’s to come and yet there seems very little that you can do about it. Certainly, no one else seems to share in your memories although as Dalen ponders perhaps it was a proximity thing.

Which means if you can find her, you could check Trinia Sabor’s own recollection of events to see if she also was aware of what’s coming. Of course, if she *is* aware of what’s coming she’s probably on her way out of the city right now, as being accused of murdering the king in a few days would make escape at that point rather difficult. There was also that tiefling that had shown up just as you started to chase Trinia, but at least you had an address for Trinia – who knows where and when that weirdo would turn up.

Unfortunately, it seems neither of you could catch much of a break, as from out in the common room you suddenly hear the murmur of the party grow quiet. Followed by a female voice shouting, increasing in volume to match the decrease in the other noise – Aliani recognizes the voice as belonging to Beautrice, Nadine’s twin sister. And she sounded mad as hell.

“What the devil are you doing here!? You know what I don’t give a damn how! Get out! GET OUT OF HERE! NADINE’S GOT NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU!”

PiccadillyPi

(OOC: Ah yes, I seem to remember some time ago an outcry that rollv was bugged. Guess they never got around to fixing it. >< )

You manage to make your way back home with Trinia without further incident. Your neighbor gives you quite a look, carrying an unconscious young woman into your house with crossbow bolts buried in you both, but given some of the things she claimed to have done in her youth, you doubted she’d be alarmed enough to cause trouble.

Once inside it was time to take care of your nagging injuries – you were getting too old for this ****. First you took a look at Trinia – those cuts on her arm and leg were going to hurt when she woke up, but the bleeding from them had largely slowed to a stop so it was unlikely she’d bleed to death while taking a nap on your dining room table. The crossbow bolt in her shoulder was gone, having dislodged itself at some point while you were carrying her. That was weird – usually bolts tended to stay in people, and there was only a small bloodstain around the hole in her clothing where the bolt had gone through.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, you checked the wound site, and the long ragged tear in the back of her shirt, and saw glittering metal beneath Trinia’s outermost layer of clothing. Beneath that she was wearing a very finely crafted chain shirt – mithril probably given the quality. At this point this latest revelation about your damsel in distress barely had an impact – Trinia Sabor was a well-prepared enigma. In any event, she’d be fine for the next few hours so it was time to take care of your own crossbow bolt, which was considerably more difficult to remove.

Removing a crossbow bolt from your own back was about as easy as it sounded, but fortunately you had developed quite a bit of flexibility. In came in handy in your other endeavors, and it came in handy here – thankfully the bolt hadn’t penetrated through your armor more than an inch or two, just enough to get the head imbedded in your skin. If it had gone much deeper though, you might have been in trouble and had to either cut it out or do one of those disgusting magic tricks where you pushed it in deeper . . . until it came out the other side. Your self-surgery was helped by the fact that this particular bolt didn’t seem to have very large barbs on it – with your new “friends” trying to take you and Trinia alive they probably didn’t want to inadvertently kill you when removing their handiwork.

With the bolt removed it was time to figure out just what you had stepped into and how you were going to scrape this mess off. Unfortunately, you didn’t really come up with any clever plans while sipping on a healing potion, and wishing you had something stronger to numb the pain – no. No, that way was a slippery slope leading you straight back down into the Hell you had been trying your whole life to crawl out of. You’d just have to grin and bear the remaining pain, and be grateful that sniper hadn’t aimed six inches higher and gotten you in a lung.

The best alternate you had right now was hunting down this neighbor of Trinia’s. Aliani Rose. He was a rather famous playwright or something, everybody knew that. Getting to him and convincing him to help, however, might be difficult. But you certainly couldn’t manage it from here, so you left Trinia and note and went back out into the streets, hoping Tark didn’t have too many friends out there looking for you.

It doesn’t take too long of asking around to learn that there was a big production at the Kendall Ampitheater tonight, starring Mr. Rose. That was no good really, since he’d be on stage and the guards tended to not like people rushing onto the stage – or back stage, for that matter – to try and talk to the famous Mr. Rose. You might have better luck catching him at the party following the performance, assuming he actually attended those things. The problem there was that it was at the Crested Falcon, which had a reputation for not tolerating riff-raff on the premises. So there’d probably be guards there on the look-out for anyone trying to sneak in too.

Fortunately, you had a solution there too – you had a few old “acquaintances” that owed you a favor. It took a couple more hours of wheedling – and fending off requests for an “encore performance” of your own because you were busy right now, damnit – but eventually you found a lady who had a VIP ticket but wasn’t going to the show. That ticket allowed you to turn it in at the Ampitheater for a token, which when shown to the guard allowed you access.

You showed up at the Crested Falcon just after midnight (I’ll let you decide if Silas does anything else to prepare, but for the sake of getting the party together let’s just accelerate things to the after-party if that’s alright?), token in hand . . . just in time to watch the door guards get called inside to help some sort of dispute. And judging from the loud female voice shouting from inside, whatever was going on in there was going to need some guards to break it up. But isn’t that just typical – you go to all this work to sneak inside, and some distraction happens at just the right time that you could have slipped inside without the trouble!

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani closed his eyes in disgust. "Unless I miss my guess, that would be Miss Nadine's ex-boyfriend making an unwelcome appearance. I think this might be a more appropriate use of your talents, if you'd like to tag along. I don't recall this as part of...well, anything."

He rose, reluctantly, and made for the main room.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

It'd been a few hours since he left his house, and depending on how the event went, he may be a few hours more. Worst case scenario, he ended up in a cell for the night. With any luck, Trinia would be fine. As Silas approached the door, the guards seemed to become distracted by a dispute occurring inside, leaving no one to call 'halt!' or spout some racist slur about his heritage. Such unfortunate luck he has had this day!

'No, I have a ticket. I'm on the list, I swear.'

Ending his sarcastic monologue, the tiefling casually rested a hand on the hilt of his falchion and followed the guards to the common room. He'd been to the Crested Falcon before as part of a team of escorts, hired by some big-shot falsetto.

Didn't he die the other week?

Looking around, it seemed it hadn't changed since then - still gaudy and understaffed. Of course, there was a commotion as well. Last time, it was a gaggle of drunks. This one sounded just a tilly more serious. Avoiding the guards by a hair, Silas went to witness the party poopers. Upon seeing Aliani, Silas' head throbbed. He reposed himself, now firmly holding his grip. That face, familiar only from a vision, was here? No, that made sense. Aliani Rose, former resident of room twenty-one. There was no telling what to make of the half-man, but Silas quieted his aggression, only glancing at the actor while watching current events. Dalen's face was merely a fuzzy image in memory given their glimpse of one another through a doorway, but the pair of them together was enough to give Silas a hint as to the man's significance.

Spoiler: OOC

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I forgot! I meant to leave a healing potion for Trinia. I hope that's not too big a favour to ask. If it's a no, I'll take it as a lesson of preparation. Silas had two on him before using one for himself.

I'll reorganize Silas' items so it shows what he has on him vs. what he has at his house. I'll be adding the items I specified in my previous post to his person. I'll put house items in the 'other notes' box above his backstory. The rest will be organized properly on his items list by backpack, wrist sheaths, bandoleer, etc.

[Darvin]

"I'd be delighted to be of assistance," Dalen reassures Aliani as he follows him out of the room.

[Steveodore]

Spoiler: goofed

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I messed up and erased my post and I'm short on time, i'll be filling this in property in the next hour hopefully if not.

Short version: Miz tries to by the magic shiver, by wanting to buy a stronger version of shiver that gives you dreams of being powerful.

Edit: here's what I got, if you need me to roll say the word but I won't be able to see or respond for 5 hours feel free to roll if you don't want to wait, bluff and diplot are at -1 for me.

Miz was somewhat surprised by this turn of events, realizing the wererat nature of the crooning dealer. It made more sense now that this was likely Nile's most recent and final supplier with the likely connection through the Vaults. This exchange was starting off better then she had hoped. With any luck she wouldn't even have to kill anyone!

"Just here to do a little grocery shoppin' like any fine upstandin' sort."

Miz fleetingly pondered about how to fish for what she was after. Asking direntry for it was out of the question. She wasn't completely in the loop when word was coming down the chemical grapevine. She didn'the know how marks like Niles were picked. Mostlikely the magical and lethal qualities of the drug were kept on the hush and it was simply advertised as a special blend to isolate it's connection to the explosive incidents emerging around the city. It seemed the best way to get her hands on it was to aim for something above the average fare.

Miz moved herself a little closer to the door to talk business.

"I'm lookin' for somethin' good. Somethin' for good dreams. Shiver I suppose, but I'm lookin' for real quality. Somethin' to make you feel powerful. That's the kind'o good I'm looking for."

[Inspectre]

Darvin / Stelio Kontos / Piccadilly Pi

(OOC: Trinia appreciates your thoughtfulness. And *I* really appreciate your organization of where everything is! )

Although you enter it from two different directions, Silas by the front door and Dalen & Aliani from the back manager’s office, you all arrive at the scene at roughly the exact same time.

Near the center of the cleared floor are Nadine and Beautrice, the twins similar in appearance but displaying opposite emotions like a mockery of a theater mask’s dual faces. Nadine is not quite terrified, but definitely reserved and pensive, staring down at the bouquet of roses and fidgeting with them. Beautrice, meaningful, has her face contorted with outright fury, and is standing with one arm blocking Nadine while the other continues to gesticulate angrily at the towering figure confronting him.

The giant of the man confronting the two ladies must be Kynndor Thok, a Shaonti man who is a head taller than even Beautrice, with the imposing musculature to match his stature. He wears a long leather duster that trails down to the floor, with its arms cut out to no doubt show off his deeply tan tree trunks that serve as his arms. Some sort of bone necklace dangles from his neck, its significance known only to him. Tattooed into the man’s face is the pale white visage of a skull, although the stylistic details of it suggest this is a Shaonti thing rather than some sort of over-the-top intimidation technique. Right now that skull is twisted up into a frustrated sneer, although the big man’s arms are spread wide in a placating gesture.

“Cease your rantings, woman. I didn’t come here to trade shouts with you. I just wanted to see if Nadi liked the flowers I sent her, and to tell her that I am sorry.”

“NO! YOU DON’T GET TO CALL HER THAT! AND NO, SHE DIDN’T! IN FACT, SHE STOMPED ALL OVER THEM, BECAUSE SHE WANTS NOTHING FROM YOU! SHE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, AND OUT OF OUR LIVES FOREVER, YOU DIM-WITTED, BACKWARDS, PRIMITIVE BARBARIAN!”

Kynndor certainly didn’t like that, but aside from a narrowing of the eyes and clenching his hands into fists, he didn’t react to Beautrice’s insults.

“I want to hear Nadi say it. If she can tell me herself that’s what she wants, then I will leave and not return. So – do you have something you would like to say, Nadi?”

Nadine, the female lead and star of Aliani’s show, who showed no hesitation with allowing herself to be harnessed up to a crane and swung around ten feet above the stage, was now silent. Her only response was to move further into Beautrice’s shadow, shrinking up against her back as she continued to awkwardly play with Aliani’s roses. Kynndor Thok smiled, and clearly was about to say something else to press on his point, but was interrupted by one of the front door guards reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright buddy, that’s enough of a show for one ni –“

The guard doesn’t get to finish his statement as Kynndor Thok whirls, driving a fist into the man’s face once, twice, three times, before bodily picking him up and hurling him across the floor to smash into some of the stacked up tables. It’s unclear whether or not the man is dead, but he certainly isn’t getting back up any time soon.

“Don’t touch me, tashmek!”

Kynndor spits, and then turns to glare at the other door guard who has drawn his club, but is backing away slowly from the giant mercurial Shaonti. Kynndor takes a deep breath, running his hands through his long black hair to smooth it back from his face again.

“I am sorry you had to see that Nadi. I promise you that I have changed, and I regret the circumstances that led to our parting. I hope that, in time, I can convince you of that. Good evening to you. Beautrice.”

And then just like that, the Shaonti gangster turns and leaves, giving Silas a dismissive glance as he shoulders his way past him at the door. Slowly, things started to return to normal – people started talking again, the door guard went to check on his fellow and eventually managed to rouse him although the poor guard clearly had one hell of a headache. But in the center still stood Nadine and Beautrice, Nadine dropping the bouquet so that her hands were free to cover her mouth as if she could hold in the wracking sobs, and Beautrice wrapping her arms around her sister to hold her up and looking around as if daring any of the other party-goers to say anything.

(Wow, that got dark pretty quickly. Ah well, there’s nowhere to go but down from here anyway. )

Steveodore

The wererat dealer is silent for a moment, and then hums appreciably.

“Well, there’s this new stuff coming out now. Good stuff, twice as strong as Shiver and will give ya magical powers to boot! But umm . . . you don’t want any of that stuff darling. Bad juju, that stuff. I don’t have any of that left right now anyway, but I’ll be getting another shipment in a day or two. Dunno why they want me to be selling the stuff, the brats that turn up here already got magic powers, but ya gotta do what the boss says, y’know?”

Great. So this was just the distribution point for the Shudder, and it was manned by a dealer who seemed to be having second thoughts about pushing it onto unwary customers. You probably didn’t have two days to wait, either, as Stross would figure out the connection sooner rather than later, and the Hellknights never seemed to have heard of the concept of a “stakeout” before. They’d probably burn the whole city block to the ground if they could, and call it a job well done. Meanwhile whoever was making this garbage would just shrug and pick a new dealer to pass the product through.

Although that was another route you could take – dealers tended to know each other, and those that were part of the same distribution network tended to work together even if they didn’t get along. It’s possible this guy would know of somewhere else you could go to get the Shudder, but convincing him you needed it now and not tomorrow was going to be difficult. This would be so much easier if you could just threaten to break his legs if he didn’t tell you everything you wanted to know. At least then he’d take you seriously instead of trying to brush you off or get into your pants. Or you could just tell Girrigz he could come here to get his miracle drug, and hope he got taken out by the Hellknights at the same time they showed up to raze this place to the ground. Too much to hope for, perhaps, but you had to get a lucky break sooner or later.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

A lady had been offended, and a guard was humiliated. His shoulder had been nudged. A true man of action would have chased after the brute, offended. He would have shown him a thing or two. There would've been blood spilled, and celebrations of chivalry! But, a bravo Silas was not. Instead, he scoffed at the stupidly strong jackass - silently.

Excuse you

Not wanting to waste time, the dandy left his position to sit in a corner away from the crowd, draping his coat off the back of the cushioned seat, his sword comfortably to the side. If the duo recognized him, he expected that they'd approach on their own. If they didn't, he might've had an opportunity to start fresh. In the meantime, he rested his head on a few fingers while crossing one leg over the other, all while resting his elbow on the chair's armrest. It was a position he adopted after witnessing so many clients as they waited for clothes to hit the floor. He gave it his own flair of course to appear more discriminating. It was unlikely that a bigger commotion would be caused by the guest of honour, so Silas focused his eyes on the guards - or whatever else caught his fancy - while concentrating his attention on Aliani and Dalen.

Spoiler: OOC

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Potion reserved for Trinia removed from inventory to reflect the retcon.

Detect Thoughts (racial Sp) is being directed toward Aliani and Dalen:

1st Round: Presence or absence of thoughts (from conscious creatures with Intelligence scores of 1 or higher).

2nd Round: Number of thinking minds and the Intelligence score of each. Int of 26+ stuns Silas (and me) for 1 round.

3rd Round: Surface thoughts of any mind in the area. I want to say it's DC 14 (10 + spell level + CHA). I think I read the rules correctly, but a second opinion is certainly welcome.

He'll be doing this until either he is confronted or if you both resist his probe.

[Steveodore]

Miz sighed internally of course it wouldn't be that easy. Her frustration was tinged with a bit of relief that she didn't risk the hard approach on this dead end. At least she was on the right trail with any luck she can get a little more use out of her new friend here. She was tempted to squeeze the wererat for the name of his boss but that that would probably be too far of a push. Better just to get the name of another vendor out of him, one that might have what she was after. While he might question why she was insistent upon getting the drug now, would he really think is was so strange for her to want to get her hands on something all the sooner? He might not want to drum up business for his rivals but maybe she convince him with coin if her winning smile wasn't enough!

Miz gave the door panel a lopsided smile.

"To be straight with you I'm not buyin' for me self here, doing favors for a fella with no head for living topside. This new shiver sounds like just the ticket and to be honest, don't much care how bad the stuff is as long as he gets off my back. Though sooner then later would be good. You know anyone else sellin' this special shiver? I'll make it worth your while if you can help me out.."

Spoiler: Rolls and stuff

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Diplo roll to get the name of another dealer
(1d20-1)[13]

Also willing to bribe if the roll doesn't work out. Will sort that out ooc if need be.

[Darvin]

The moment he steps out of the office, Dalen breaks from Aliani and attempts to blend into the crowd. He carefully observes the situation, particularly perturbed by the swiftness of the man's blows. Dalen has heard of monastic orders before and their penchant for unarmed combat, but didn't know enough to identify any discipline. He did know, however, that the training a monk underwent included mental conditioning. A part of him was excited to test the boundaries of that training, another part of him was less excited about meeting those fists in the same manner the guard had moments ago. As it would turn out, tempting fate was not on the menu tonight. Well, there would be plenty of that in the near future anyways.

Dalen relaxes into the corner of the room. Parties were never his preferred way to spend an evening, but one could always learn something by watching the interactions of other people. Magic, however, was far more interesting to him, so his attention immediately gravitated when he noticed that. A spell of detect thoughts. Well, someone was getting a bit curious for their britches... a tiefling... with tiger-like features.

Dalen had never seen Silas in the previous world, but the description was fresh in his mind and uncanny. It was likely - almost certain really, with this headband on his head - that his own mind would shine like a raging wildfire amid a sea of candles. It was time to put his own mental discipline on show. He fixated his gaze on the tiefling and focused his thoughts with the very real questions he wanted to ask: "who are you? what do you want? and what do you know?"

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani had steeled himself for a right good telling off, perhaps even a full-blown scene, as he exited the office -- only to find that that was already well taken care of. Stunned, he watched things unfold. A rather pitiful "HEY" emitted from his lips as the giant's fist pounded his guard in the face, unheard over the din. A somewhat more forceful "HEY!" leapt forth as the man stormed out.

He quickly asked the two sisters to go back to the manager's office, to wait for him there. Then a check of the guard, who was, somehow, still alive. Good for him. The doormen weren't his employees, strictly speaking, but he felt responsible nonetheless. "Lay down, relax, you're not going to die. Come see me in the manager's office in about five minutes, okay? I might have a thing or two I can do for that."

A quick scan of the room for any other trouble or unfamiliar faces -- these parties were usually mostly the same crowd -- led Aliani to meet Silas's gaze just for a moment. I haven't -- wait, that face -- what? Well, wasn't that great. I don't have time for this, damn it!

Okay, organize. Tiger-man, sisters, guard, everything else can wait a bit, I hope.

"Mr. Rittle" Aliani whispered to Dalen on his way back to the office with his customary politeness, "can you please entertain the tiger-man, keep him around? I think we'd very much like to speak to him, but I'm a bit busy."

Then, back to the office. Gods only knew which of them would be more of an emotional wreck. Probably you, you idiot.

"I'm sorry that happened, there's only so much the doormen can do..." he started before trailing off. Then a thought occurred. "Beatrice, can you please step outside, just for a moment? I need to ask Nadi something, alone. It's important. Won't take but a minute."

As she left, Aliani made sure to completely close the door behind her, taking a deep breath as he did so. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"I can't think of any other way to ask this, and I don't believe in secrets..." (LIAR!), he cursed himself, " so I'm just going to come out and ask this. I know she can't stand that man... but, how do you feel?"

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

That's unfortunate

His face scrunched in mild frustration. It became quite clear he was now dealing with someone well versed in magic. Locking eyes with the wizard, Silas dulled his expression and motioned an invitation for Dalen to join him in the chair to his left.

[Darvin]

Carefully eying the rest of the party, Dalen meanders his way towards the tiefling. He doesn't sit, and instead reaches out his hand to shake, "I don't believe we've been introduced, even if our paths have crossed before. I am Dalen Rittle, and you are?"

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Unmoving, Silas glanced at the outreached hand, then back to Dalen.

'Charmed.'

He looked the wizard up and down, considering whether to lie or to get right to the point. There was no telling if and when Tark and his lot would discover his domicile, so Silas decided the latter would be less risky - if only by a hair.

'I'm short on time, so I'll make this brief: A client of mine is in need of shelter from some less than reputable sorts. My client claims to know Aliani Rose. I don't trust people I don't know, so I'm here to know Mr. Rose as well. If I have to know Dalen Rittle as well, so be it.'

He sighed. He realized he was a bit rude there - quite rude, rather. Adjusting himself, Silas stood up, and interrupted his pause in speech.

'Sorry. I've... I'm not having a good day. My name is Silas Rata'da. Pleasure to meet you, etc. Nice spot, by the way. Very keen. However, I really must speak with your friend, Mr. Rose.'

[Inspectre]

Steveodore

The wererat sighs at your request, and for a moment you think even the promise of money wasn’t going to break through this dead end. But apparently in the end greed trumps all, as a moment later the wererat chuckles.

“Well, I just can’t say no to a lady in need. I don’t like talking about others in the business, nor am I the most knowledgeable about who else is selling what these days. But I have an idea of one guy who might also have access to this stuff. But this information is not free, savvy? I need to know you actually have the money for this stuff – it’s not going to be cheap – otherwise I’m just wasting your time and embarrassing myself. Plus I just cheated myself out of a sale, and that’s not good for me staying in business, yeah? So tell ya what – you purchase this vial of Shiver and I’ll tell ya where else ya can look.”

The lower slot of the door slides open, and the wererat places a vial of Shudder on the lip of the slot.

“Fifty gold.”

Fifty!? Shiver wasn’t the cheapest drug, but that was easily more than twenty or thirty times the usual price. It would be an extreme rip-off under normal circumstances – but then again fifty gold was pretty cheap compared to the price you might have to otherwise pay in blood and frustration to get the information some other way.

(I will assume that Miz pays up, but if she doesn’t I guess you can just ignore the rest of the post in the spoiler box below.)

Spoiler: Paid Info

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“Pleasure doing business with ya. So, you’re looking for a fellow called Dandelion – well, technically his name is Dandy Leon, but nobody really respects him much so we call him the flower instead. He’s, ah, a bit of a dandy as you might have guessed from his nickname. Likes to peddle to bored nobles over in South Shore, thinks it’s safer than mingling with our “type” . Hah! We’ll see how safe he feels after some noble brat dies from his ****. But anyway, as you might imagine, he likes to only consort with those high-**** types – only does “referrals” with new clients. No chance someone like you will even get close to him. But I know he also likes going to the theater – he’ll probably go to that Aliani Rose production tonight, and then over to the Crested Falcon to peddle some wares to anyone who needs some “after show” entertainment, haha! Dunno how you’d get invited to something like that, but if you can get in, you can find him there. Tall, weedy looking Varisian with a goatee and some sort of high-**** flower in his lapel – can’t miss him.”

Stelio Kontos

The guard nods, wincing at the motion, while dabbing at his broken nose with the handkerchief the other guard had pressed into his hand. Trusting Dalen to keep your tiefling guest busy until you could join the conversation, you head into the back office again with the twins. Beautrice gives Nadine’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then steps out, while sending you a look that you better not make things worse. Which, admittedly, for a moment it looks like you did as Nadine breaks into another fresh round of tears. She manages to regain control after a moment, wiping the tears out of her eyes before shaking her head with a sigh.

“It’s . . . complicated. He can be so sweet when he wants to be – I know you might not think that, but it’s true! It’s just . . . well, you just saw his other side, that sudden violent rage. That . . . that was actually him exercising some self-restraint, believe it or not. He used to be even more violent . . . I never knew what would set him off . . .”

Nadine closes her eyes and tenses up at some remembered incident, as if anticipating the blows.

“O-one night, after he had lost a bunch of money gambling, he came home furious. I had just gotten a bit part in a play, and I thought maybe if he knew we’d have some more money soon, it would help . . .”

Nadine swallows, and manages a nervous smile, clearly for your benefit.

“It, uh, didn’t end well. Beautrice found me the next morning. She got me to the Church of Abadar . . . somehow . . . and paid for some healing magic with her savings. I’m . . . not sure I would have made it otherwise. It took him nearly killing me for me to realize he was never going to change, not really. As soon as something went wrong, he would seek an outlet for his rage – and as long as I was around, it would be me. So I left. It was hard at first, and I was afraid I would wake up one night with his hands around my throat. But, until now . . . I hadn’t heard from him.”

Nadine’s eyes went wide with a sudden thought, and she chewed her lip nervously.

“Aliani . . . promise me you aren’t going to get involved in this. He will KILL you, especially if he finds out . . . well you know.”

Nadine sighs and rubs her forehead.

“Y’know . . . maybe Beautrice’s idea to get on a boat to Cheliax isn’t such a terrible one after all. I mean, we don’t know anyone there, so we’d be starting over, but . . . maybe it would be safer for everyone? We were actually planning on this show being our last one, actually . . . but, well . . . then we met you. Leaving doesn’t seem like such a great plan now.”

Darvin / PiccadillyPi

The crowd continues to swirl around you, all of them blissfully unaware of the doom that was coming their way in a little less than a full day from now.

(If you guys want me to interrupt your conversation, by all means let me know, but at the moment I think you’re still getting the introductions out of the way and such. Something which I don’t think Dalen and Silas got to do before now, so chit-chat away!)

[Darvin]

"You don't know the half of it," Dalen smirks at Silas' particular choice of words, then sits down next to him and listens to what the tiefling has to say. Even in such vague terms, Dalen is certain the story will play Aliani like a harp, "Aliani is hard enough as it is to get ahold of at one of these events, and that particular display will have him predisposed for even longer. You may be here for a few hours,"

Silas' path has twice intersected with Aliani, and the previous time it was in relation to Trinia. Dalen pauses, briefly considering attempting to charm the tiefling before remembering his lessons that native outsiders are highly resilient to the technique and are only affected in the case of the most diluted bloodlines. The tiger-like features told him quite strongly that this was not such a case. He'd have to handle this with a more mundane approach, "I am a trusted friend of Aliani, and I have a reputation for making things happen. Perhaps I can assist you in a more timely manner?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Gunna roll for diplomacy; doesn't really do anything when dealing with another PC, but may as well get an idea of how persuasive Dalen is:

(1d20+18)[38]

[PiccadillyPi]

((**** off with that roll, ya cheeky monster! A roll like that could convince the gods to rain wine directly into your glass.))

Silas

Hours?

Silas audibly groaned, tilting his head back. Whatever plans he made, he was feeling the pressure of his luck turning sour. Better to use this opportunity given to him. He didn't have any other connection with Trinia beyond. so what he said next was an attempt to clear up two questions at once without putting all his chips on the table.

'Alright, if I must. However, before we speak further, I just need to test that brain of yours.'

Removing a creased card from his pocket, Silas showed it to Dalen, careful to not display the writing on its back. The wizard should recognize it as a harrow card. The art style matched the one he had rediscovered earlier that day, although this card was the rabbit prince. Silas watched Dalen for a reaction to the card.

'I will be needing shelter provided for the night - away from inns and brothels. Your place or that of Mr. Rose. On the back of this card is a number between one and twenty. If you tell me the correct number, you will allow us free room and board for the night. If you guess incorrectly, I will pay you one hundred gold for room and board - but not before I can assure my client's safety. In both cases, you are not to utter the existence of my client to anyone. Fair?'

An odd choice of a gamble for anyone, but Silas needed to gauge his fate. If the wizard didn't know the number, it was unlikely they would meet again.

Spoiler: OOC

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For funsies: Sense motive vs. Dalen's reaction to seeing the card:

(1d20+6)[11]

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani exhaled a sigh of relief, At least she knows she needs to get away from him, listening to her every word before he said anything in return. He rose silently, opening the door long enough to beckon Beautrice back in to talk to them together.

"It's not complicated, you know. He's not going to stop abusing people, it's just who he is. I think you know this. He's not going to stop, until someone stops him. And running away isn't going to help; I mean, it will help you, but he's just going to do it to somebody else, and next time he might actually kill them. And I don't know about you, but I can't really live with myself knowing that we could have done something and didn't. So yes, I'm involved. People don't hurt my friends and get away with it." (Except that one time, of course, you hypocrite.)

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, I promise you that. But, he nearly killed you and there's records of it, he just laid out a security guard in front of a room full of witnesses. The man belongs in jail, for a very long time, and we're going to put him there. It just so happens that I met a member of the guard earlier today; this will be an excellent project for him, see what he's all about."

There was one more matter to attend to. Running never solved anything, he wanted to say -- but, running was the only sensible solution. Not from Thok or whatever his name was, of course; he was just the appetizer of trouble.

"I understand if you want to get out of town for a while; it might even be best, because I assume he's got friends who are just as charming as he is. Let's do this. You pack what you can pack tonight. I can get that guardsman here tomorrow afternoon, you be here at two o'clock sharp. We can give him your statement, I'll get some of the people from the party to come at the same time and give statements about tonight, and then you can get on the first wagon out of town until it's dealt with and it's safe, and I'll get a message to you, and you can come back. But please, if you do go, go somewhere nice, like Andoran, or even Taldor maybe. Cheliax is basically like one giant Hellknight party, you'd hate it there."

Tomorrow's schedule was definitely filling up.

[Darvin]

Dalen looks carefully at this card. He knows very well what it is, and what it means, but what it portends is harder to fathom. This Silas character was not present last time when Miss Esmerelda called together her chosen proxies. Had she made different decisions this time? Or were the intersections of fate she was observing slightly different? Still, it doesn't take him very long to make a decision; regardless of what this development represents, there's no point in a charade.

Dalen reaches into his pocket and pulls out his own card, the Foreign Trader. As he pulls it out, without bothering to check the text again, he speaks the number of the address, "three" he allows the card to linger for only a moment before returning it to his pocket.

Spoiler: OOC

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((**** off with that roll, ya cheeky monster! A roll like that could convince the gods to rain wine directly into your glass.))

No, that'd be DC 40.

Oh, and "for funsies" I'll also roll for bluff: (1d20+9)[27]

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Likewise, the rabbit prince found itself back in Silas' pocket.

Good news, at last!

Hopefully. The horny one smiled as the word spoken by Dalen graced his ears - as the card before him bewitched his eyes. He let out a sharp, grinning giggle as he took a step forward.

'Something in common, then! Very good! I expect we will see one another tomorrow, definitely. For now...'

He bent down to the wizard, muttering his address so that only the ear of the man beside him could understand.

'187 Fleet Street. Knock thrice, then twice, then once. I shall await you there with a Miss Sabor. Bring trusted company if you wish as I fear the streets of South Shore are to be rather dangerous this night.'

Silas stretched out his hand in appreciation of Dalen's honesty. Afterward, he bowed.

'I need to give my client the good news. I expect I shall be seeing you again within the hour?'

Turning to leave, the tiefling raised his hand to signal farewell, hoping he did not have any unexpected guests awaiting his return.

Spoiler: OOC

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Darvin: Huh. I think I fell for the ol' 'house rules mistaken for RAW'. I always played it as +/- 5 on critical success/failure for skill checks, but when I first learned that as a player I assumed that was RAW and never bothered looking it up for the brief time I acted as GM. I played with friends, so I guess we were a little fast and loose with the rules overall. It's been a few years since I last played PF properly, so I imagine I'll be needing to brush up on the rules more thoroughly than I originally thought. Still, you're only two level away from potentially godly diplomacy. We'll have to throw you a party by then.

Anyway, feel free to interrupt Silas' attempt to leave if you'd prefer him not go just yet.

Inspectre: If Darvin has no objections, Silas will be going back home. I've listed his address as '187 Fleet Street' if that's alright with you. Easily changed if you had something else in mind.

[Darvin]

"No need to wait, I'll accompany you," Dalen reaches into his coat and pulls out his notebook, ripping out one of its pages and writing down both Silas' and his own address. He adds an initial next to each address "T.S." next to Silas' and "D.R." next to his own, then draws an arrow from the first address to the second. He folds the page and locates the nearest security guard.

"Excuse me, sir; I've the information that Mr. Rose was looking for, but he seems to still be predisposed after that unfortunate incident. Could you pass this along to him when you have the chance?" Dalen hands off the page, then turns to Silas, "Aliani will catch up when he can,"

Once they're outside, Dalen calls his familiar to his shoulder, then turns to Silas, "so then, Silas, you'll have to tell me what exactly is going on with Miss Sabor. I already had strong reason to believe she's somehow connected to what is about to transpire, and I suspect you have a very different vantage than I do on the matter,"

Spoiler: OOC

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Still, you're only two level away from potentially godly diplomacy.

I was joking about the DC 40 thing, although that's still a ludicrous roll. The scary thing is that I could have easily added another +5 to diplomacy onto my build, but I thought it was overkill so I didn't go for it.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Very well

As they walked down the road, Silas kept his voice low.

'Perhaps. My experience thus far has been getting acquainted with the Fishmonger - and his poisoners. If you know of him, you'll know he has a talent for making folk disappear. To be honest, I don't know why she's being targeted. Not specifically. I've... I'm... Fate seems to have us intertwined for the moment, as you say.'

The tiefling kept his eyes open for suspicious on-lookers, if any.

'She is at my house, and while I do not hand out my address willy-nilly, my appearance has me at a disadvantage for blending in. If they've beaten us to her, be prepared for blue whinnis. I'm not fond of the stuff myself, but Tark and his men seem very keen on it.'

At that, Silas increased his pace, encouraging Dalen to do the same.

Spoiler: OOC

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Blue Whinnis

Inspectre: I'm sort of assuming Silas would know what the effects of blue whinnis look like given his affection for knock-out poisons.

Perception to spot any suspicious on-lookers: (1d20+6)[7]

Edit: Time to switch out my dice.

[Steveodore]

This whole venture of Dahl's was really starting to leave her with a sour taste. Miz handled over the money with sincere reluctance. She shifted the shiver vial to her person and took in the expensive tip the dealer laid out for her. She muttered her goodbyes to the Wererat and stepped back out into the street.

She wasn't quite sure how to make use of this new information. It was extremely unlikely that she could get close to this Dandelion, looking like she did. All in all it might be less trouble for her to come back better prepared later to the wererat's door and beat the name of his boss out of him. The Theater side of this district was absurdly secure. Getting into that high end establishment like the Crested Falcon was more then alittle beyond a sewer rat like herself. What more there's no guarantee that Dandelion will be holding shudder for too much longer. This drug was selling fast it seemed so she had a limited amount of time for this.

Miz moved in the direction of the theater as she worked out her next steps. There wasn't much she could do at home except fill Dahl in on her findings but heading back slum side was just more time wasted. She didn't have much in the way of connections on the south side of the city. Silas Rata'da was about the only reliable person she knew southside, actually he was one of the few reliable people she knew in general. It was possible he could help her get inside a place like the Falcon or maybe even find Dandelion directly? What better way was there to find a dandelion then with a Dandy Tiger? She fought to keep from laughing out loud. She probably shouldn't share that joke with Silas in person, this was pretty serious and getting a door slammed in her face wouldn't be too helpful.

As the Crested Falcon was along the way to Silas' place in South shore anyway, she took the time to case the place for security measures and maybe finding some inspiration on how to get inside. She still had a extract of disguise readied but wasn't so certain of it's reliability to infiltrate the Restaurant. She also observed the various patrons and others standing outside the establishment. Miz hoped to see if the dandy dealer was kind enough to lurking around in plain sight. Wouldn't that be nice?

If nothing around gave her ideas and she was not heavily hassled by guards (to the point where she actually has to take action) Miz heads properly into South Shore either through the district gates or some alternative sewer route if the direct route is an actual issue. Miz is an irregular visitor to Silas' house. Occasionally making alchemy deliveries or using his bath when he'd let her. (Also sometimes when he wasn't at home.)

[Darvin]

Dalen nods, not familiar with the names that Silas mentions, but making a mental note of them. Indeed, Silas has a vantage on this that is very different from his own, and that could be useful information. The more he can get out of the tiefling, and the sooner he can get, the better. Dalen whistles for his familiar, who swoops down to his side. He considers what Silas has said for a moment, then responds, "we'll keep an eye out then; I'm none too keen on walking into an ambush, and appreciate being appraised of that possibility of an ambush. I can't claim to be familiar with this 'Tark', however," he chooses to

Spoiler: Perception Checks

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Dalen: (1d20+4)[12]
Rhetoric: (take 10) result = 21

(just going to quickly go over Rhetoric's perception check: 3 ranks (familiars use their master's skill ranks), +3 class skill (perception is always a class skill for familiars), +3 skill focus perception (default feat for a Thrush), and +2 from wisdom (15 wisdom is default for a Thrush) = +11 perception)

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

'Tark Vigo, the Fishmonger. Abductor extraordinaire. I've heard he dislikes that nickname.'

He chuckled to himself at the idea of possible future interactions.

Hello, Mr. Fishmonger. Sell any fish today?