The Crimson Echo IC

[Inspectre]

Stelio Kontos

"I told you."

Nadine says in support of your lie, slurring her words slightly.
Beautrice considers your words for a moment longer, lingering suspicions flashing in her bloodshot eyes, but eventually she seems to accept your explanation as she shifts her grip on the crossbow to a carrying stance, and hands the weapon to you.

"What's all the trail rations for, then? Planning a trip somewhere? You really shouldn't leave all this stuff out where someone can find it, they'll think you're a . . ."

An idea pops into Beautrice's head then, as she gives you a cheeky smile - the same sort you saw the other night.
Whatever she had just thought of, you weren't sure you were going to like it.

"T-That you're the n-notorious revolutionary, the Crimson Rose! Oh please s-sir, we're simple ballerinas. If you just let us go, we won't tell a soul about your secret base, I swear! Please, don't do anything . . . untoward to us!"

Beautrice stammered in an overly-acted tone of horror, backing away from you with her hands up. When she gets back to the table with Nadine, who had just been watching this performance with an expression of drunken indifference, Beautrice kicks her in the shin with her foot. Nadine sighs loudly, takes another swig from the wine bottle before setting it on the table, and then joins in on the performance while rolling her eyes.

"Oh no, sister! What fools we were to come here, with our bottles of wine and silk rope! Maybe if we're lucky he'll just take the wine and send us on our way!"

PiccadillyPi / Dalen

Vencarlo's home is a cozy, warmly decorated affair, with a thick carpet of Vudran-design just inside the door. After removing your boots, you walk across this soft carpet to a narrow hallway that leads into the back half of the house, the walls lined with various papers, awards, and commendations that Vencarlo has collected over the years on behalf of his school. At the back of the house is the living room, two large stuffed sofas sitting in front of a fireplace, with a stairway running along the north wall up to the second floor. Only a few embers still flicker in the fireplace, but the room is still quite warm despite the lack of fire, and the two sofas look quite welcoming.

Dalen stretches out on one of the sofas by himself, leaving Silas and Trinia to share the other one. Fortunately, the two of them are able to make it work by sitting on opposite corners of the sofa, Trinia pulling her knees up to her chin while Silas simply lets his feet rest on the floor. After the exhausting day everyone has had, sleep is almost instantaneous. Some hours later, the group is awoken by the sound of laughter from the stairs, as Vencarlo Orsini descends into his living room.

“Well, Silas, when I had said that my house was your house, I hadn’t expected you to bring a pretty lady along with you! And good morning to you as well – whoever *you* are, Mr. Other Guy!”

Silas awakes with a start to find that at some point Trinia had cozied up to him and was resting with her head on his chest. At Vencarlo’s greeting, they both wake up and Trinia hastily retreats to her half of the sofa, blushing as she stammers a greeting to Vencarlo. As the elderly fencer descends the rest of the way into the room, perhaps the most eye-drawing feature of the man is the stump at the end of his right hand. Noticing the attention, Vencarlo chuckles as he holds the amputated limb aloft into the morning light shining in from the window by the stairway.

“Quite the argument against taking lessons here, no? You must forgive me, I’m not used to having guests at this hour, so I didn’t make myself presentable yet. Silas, you mind giving me a *hand* with getting a fire started? I’ll put some coffee on once we’ve got one going.”

Vencarlo asks with a self-deprecating chuckle at his own joke as he moves around the sofas to the fireplace, where he takes a small bucket full of kindling down from the nearby wall and begins piling it up in the fireplace, one small handful at a time. His voice turns serious as he pauses in his work to look back at Silas and affix the tiefling with a piercing stare, although the man’s smirk takes some of the sting out of it.

“And then, you can tell me what sort of trouble you’ve gotten yourself, this lovely lady, and Mr. Other Guy into this time.”

Steveodore

You down the alchemical mutagen as you cross the alley, and by the time you get to the nearby window your body has already undergone its transformation. You smash the window open with a single swipe from your claws and tumble into the warehouse. Outside you hear Dandelion’s desperate threats reach a new fever pitch, and the unmistakable sound of a rather large sword being removed from its sheath. You get to the door leading out into the alley and find a bit of good fortune for once as the door is held shut by a long heavy bar latch rather than a lock you would have to pick.

The bar is somewhat rusted and thus difficult to slide, but with your enhanced strength you don’t have any trouble with that, it simply takes a few seconds to work the bar back out of the door brace. Seconds you don’t have, as Dandelion gives a bloodcurdling scream a moment before you manage to get the bar completely out. A moment after that, the door bangs open as Dandelion comes crashing backwards into the room, clutching at a blood-spurting stump where his arm had been a moment ago. The severed limb lay on the street outside, the vial of shudder still (thankfully!) intact and clutched in the hand. The massive greatsword came scything back through the open doorway a moment after Dandelion fell, his attacker having reversed his swing after taking off Dandelion’s arm – if you hadn’t opened the door at that exact moment the blade would have cleaved the drug dealer in half at the waist!

Unfortunately, having a sobbing, bleeding Dandelion lying in the doorway made it difficult to close the door again. Pity the swordsman hadn’t cut off Dandelion’s legs, that would have made dragging his sorry ass further into the warehouse much easier. Even so, it only takes you a few seconds to grab the man by the collar and haul him the rest of the way into the warehouse before slamming the door shut again. But those few seconds mean you aren’t quite fast enough, as the swordsman thrusts its sword through the closing doorway, nearly skewering you and preventing the door from closing all the way. A moment later the man’s shoulder impacts against the door, and it booms open again. Dandelion’s attacker stands in the doorway, a tall black shadow silhouetted by moonlight as blood patters off of his sword.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But you can either stand aside or I will cut right through you to – ARGH!”

The man’s intimidation attempt is cut short as a hand crossbow bolt slices through the air from above and behind the man to glance off his cheek before striking the stone floor of the warehouse just inside the doorway, embedding itself there like a blood-spattered barrier between you and the dark swordsman. From atop the building on the other side of the alley a gruff voice shouts out.

“CYKAN TRIPAS! YOU HAVE FAILED THIS CITY!”

Blackjack Musical Theme

Lifting a hand from the hilt of his weapon Cykan swipes the blood off of his cheek with a curse and backs away out into the alley again.

“Looks like we’ll need to settle this some other time. Be seeing you again soon, Dandelion. Lady.”

And then the dark swordsman is gone, disappearing from the doorway to dash away down the alleyway. A moment later, a new dark figure takes his place as your rescuer swings down from the top of the other building, a hand crossbow clutched in one hand and a rapier in the other. This one’s about a head shorter than Cykan (which isn’t hard considering Cykan was practically a giant) but clad in similar black attire, including a black hood and scarf that conceal all but his green eyes from sight. There’s something about the newcomer’s appearance that is familiar to you though . . .

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT? CAN YOU GET THIS MAN TO A CLERIC?”

The newcomer asks you, drawing a vial from a pouch on his belt and tossing it to you.

“POUR THAT ONTO HIS WOUND – IT SHOULD HEAL ENOUGH FOR HIM TO BE STABLE. THEN GET HIM TO ONE OF THE CHURCHES – THE CHURCH OF ABADAR SHOULD BE CLOSEST. I HAVE TO GO NOW.”

And just like that, your rescuer is gone, running off into the night after Cykan. And leaving you with presumably some sort of healing potion, a bleeding out Dandelion, and a vial of Shudder still clutched in his severed hand out in the alleyway. Which is when it hits you who it was that had just scared Cykan off – it had to be Blackjack! Blackjack, the mythical hero of Korvosa’s back alleys who punished the guilty and saved the innocent. Most people down below figured he was about as real as the derro were, but there he was as if he had just stepped out of the stories. It would probably be better if you left Blackjack out of whatever story you told Dahl regarding your day when you saw him again. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be any more unbelievable than the rest of your day where-in you stumbled across a conspiracy whose aim was apparently chaos and regicide, and the people you met along the way were also somehow bound together by Fate to bring an end to Gaedren Lamm, and possibly this whole conspiracy too because why not?

Spoiler: Blackjack

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[Darvin]

Still sleepy and in much need of rest, Dalen forces himself awake for his first meeting with Vencarlo this time around. Best foot forward always, Dalen rises to his feet, "my name is Dalen Rittle, purveyor of arcane services," he extends his hand to shake, then seeks to provide something of a explanation, "I've spent the last week or so following up on some rather peculiar divinations, which lead my path to cross with Silas' last night. I have reason to believe the king will die before this day is done, and that girl there... will be made a scapegoat for his murder. Already there's some conspiracy surrounding her, and she is in need of protection,"

[Stelio Kontos]

Those are for, uh, the needy, you know how people are going hungry and it's a charitable ... oh good, you don't actually care. It's not a bad idea though.

Aliani's groin informed him that what Beautrice was proposing had a chance to be quite enjoyable -- and he did his best to play along, turning his voice a bit dark and gravely* for effect. "That's right, I'm going to take the king and queen and give them the what-for, and their lackeys too! Now you've already seen and heard too much, so ... I'm going to have to... um ..."

Then something clicked in the back of his head, and for the first time in quite a while, he found himself speechless for a moment. Without speech.

"Nadine, um, just how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Spoiler: *

Show

No, not actually Batman.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Silas stared at the ceiling for a good portion of the night. It felt natural to be here again - almost like a farewell before a long journey. Tired, restless, terrified, and calm. A bevy of emotions he couldn't even begin to disrupt traced over his mind. It would indeed be a long journey ahead. As the quiet snores from the creatures around him grew in numbers, he eventually fell into unconciousness himself.

~~~~~

As light shone through the old glass of this well-kept home, Silas reached his hands into the air with rested ease. A yawn preceeded his eyes opening. Ahead of him was Dalen, slumbering without a sound in a shady corner of the room. Likely plotting the day in his sleep. He turned to face Trinia. She was still as a doll, undisturbed by the light of the sun.

Silas reached over to shake the girl awake, or tried at least. He appeared to be bound to a chair. Reexamining the room, he discovered he was in the confines of his old drug den. In front of him, clear as crystal, was Vjarna. She was as beautiful as that fateful day they met in the market. For a moment, it all made sense to the bound tiefling that she was alive. However, her lovely features soon turned to rot and ash. From behind her came Vjala. She read aloud a book in her hands yet no words could be heard. As she spoke, a burning figure rose from the floor. It cast fire into the room alongside it's entry, catching Vjala unaware. She lit up with the rest, but kept reading - pacing only a little faster. As she burned, the figure of fire guided her through the door, leaving her father to burn alone.

As his world burned, Silas screamed and shouted without ever making a sound. When the room turned black and his life was expunged, he body was tossed into a shallow grave. Around him were past clinets, a few dealers, and underneath was Trinia. He was too late. The world had gone dark, and his life had become a... a nightmare?

~~~~~

Silas flinched awake, eyes wider than the windows. The sunlight blinded him briefly, causing him to shut his eyes again. After a round of fear, his eyes focused back on reality and he found himself back in Vencarlo's living room.

Just a dream this time.

He felt a weight on his chest. It was gentle, warm, and smelled a bit. He noticed one of his arms had wrapped around Trinia as her head rested on him, still asleep. She must have crawled over without realizing it. He'd met some forward women in his lifetime, but this one was certainly not one of them. In some ways it was nice. She wasn't a client paying for after-care or a session of cuddling. He also felt a little creepy being this close to a girl the same age as his daughter - mind he has had some young clientele. Still, it was nice.

Raising his arm to the back of the sofa just in time for Vencarlo to enter, he let Trinia react without saying a word. Better to ignore it and carry on. He rose to his feet while Dalen did the heavy lifting.

'That about sums it. Good to see you again, old friend. Sorry it had to be under such circumstances as these, but I'll need this favour. More specifically, Miss Sabor needs this favour, but feel free to put it on my tab.'

Silas outstretched a hand for Vencarlo, intentionally targeting his bad side. After a chuckle, he switched hands and kept close as they hung around the fireplace. Silas kept his voice low.

'I'll throw in a few juicy tales from work too.'

[Steveodore]

[QUOTE=Steveodore]Miz was put off balance by the preceding events. Her clawed hands were still twitching from the encounter with this Cykan Tripas, she was left feeling alittle unfulfilled having missed her chance to sink her hands into a foe. This man dressed as the Blackjack was also alarming the way he got the drop on them, she'd have to keep rooftop ambushes in mind more often.

Miz glanced down at the potion in her hand then over at the bleeding mess that was Dandilion. It was best not to leave him like that, any longer and the man would be even less likely to be able to talk to her. As the Blackjack instructed she seized the dealers arm and poured the concoction over the wound, observing to her satisfaction that it would work as intended.

Once the man was stable she made her way over to other arm to collect the vial, while she was at it she popped the arm into a nearby sack to take along as well. What to do next though? She could follow along with the Blackjack's advise or she could try to take the man over to a secluded part of the sewers to get more information out of, She wouldn't have to be nice either away from prying eyes.

..But then it came back to the Blackjack, she couldn't be to sure he was still around. If the man was anything like the fairytales and rumors he would likely take exception to her kidnapping him. Better to take the man'said suggestion and lead him to a church to hand off.

For her own safety, Miz leads the man through less traveled streets and alleys, making sure to cover herself up from pring eyes. Miz attempts to probe Dandelion about his employeers, if he's not in a state to talk she uses her healing extract on him. If he refuses to tell her anything she resorts to threats.

Spoiler

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takes a 10 on Disguise to hide her transformed state for a 9

Use cure light wounds extract on Dandilion if he's unconscious or in toother poor a state to talk.

Rolls intimidate to get answers about his employeers [roll]1d20+9 [/roll]

Sorry bit short cause I'm working

[Inspectre]

Darvin & PiccadillyPi

Vencarlo looks at Dalen’s outstretched hand, and then Silas’s, and sighs.

“Oh, would that I had bothered to put on my prosthetic hand before coming down here. I could have had it detach in Mr. Rittle’s hand here during the shake, and we could have all seen how he handles surprises, hohoho!”

Vencarlo laughs uproarishly at the idea of Dalen coming away with his hand in his own, but his humor quickly fades after he exchanges awkward handshakes with his intact left hand, and learns what you are doing here.

“I see. Well, that certainly is serious trouble then – but then trouble tends to follow in the footsteps of all beautiful women. And your beauty is certainly extraordinary, Miss Sabor.”

Vencarlo offers his left hand to Trinia, but when she grips his hand instead of shaking he pulls her hand up to his lips, prompting a fresh round of blushing from the young woman. Still chortling to himself, Vencarlo finishes setting up the fire and lights it with a tindertwig, slowly adding larger pieces of wood as he talks.

“Interesting that you say the king is to be murdered – I had heard he was merely ill, hardly a shock at his age. But fear not. I will keep young maiden fair safe from harm, and invisible to any seeking eyes that might be looking for her. Assuming of course, that she is not actually to blame for the king’s malaise?”

“No!”

Trinia shouts, jumping up to her feet and staring at Vencarlo as if he had just burst into flames like a scene from Silas’s dream. Vencarlo nods, and motions for her to sit back down.

“I figured I should at least do my due diligence and ask – I trust you at your word milady. I don’t suppose any of you know more about this conspiracy against the king? It *would* be helpful to know what to look for if I’m to have a secret guest for an extended time frame. And do we plan on clearing Miss Sabor’s name, or should I begin making arrangements for her to go on a rather permanent vacation out of the city?”

Trinia frowns at that offer, a mixture of sadness and fear in her eyes.

“I . . . um . . . I’ve never been out of Korvosa. This is my home, so . . . I’d . . . I’d rather stay if I can. Do you think that’s wise though? I, um, don’t want to impose on Mr. Orsini for too long either . . . like for the rest of my life.”

Stelio Kontos

Nadine smirks as she reaches for the bottle again.

“Not quite enough yet if I’m to be kidnapped, methinks. Who knows when I’ll be able to have a drink again, and – hey!”

Beautrice snatches the bottle out of her sister’s hands, downing the last of the bottle’s contents, earning a squawk of disapproval from her sister.

“I think you’ve had enough already. Or maybe I just haven’t had enough yet.”

“Oh you sneaky bitch! That was *my* bottle! Fine, I’m just going to drink yours then – hey!”

Nadine growls, reaching for the other bottle only to be stopped as Beautrice sets the emptied wine bottle back down and grabs hold of her sister’s wrists. This rapidly turns into a wrestling match between the two women, and while you would think Nadine would be at a disadvantage due to her greater inebriation that also unfetters her from certain restrictions – like grabbing a fistful of her sister’s hair and pulling on it.

“Ow ow ow, stop that! Not fair, not fair!”

“I’ll let go, after you apologize for stealing the last of *my* wine!”

“Ow! Aliani, help me out here! My sister needs a time-out!”

“If I need a time-out, then you need a good spanking you little brat so you keep your hands off what isn’t yours!”

Well, this escalated quickly. You aren’t sure you should get yourself involved in this sisterly squabble, especially if you take one side or the other, but on the other hand if you leave it up to them this argument could go on all night.

Steveodore

You pour the vial that Blackjack gave you over Dandelion’s bleeding stump of an arm, after confirming that it was a simple healing potion. The healing magics wouldn’t be able to regrow the severed limb, of course, but the stump’s bleeding slows to a trickle, and you manage to swiftly stop that with a bandage. He’d need more advanced medical care if he was to survive the infection and such that would likely follow such a grievous injury, so Blackjack’s recommendation to take him to the Church of Abadar was a sound one. Hopefully you’d be able to slip away before any awkward questions about what you were doing there could be asked, and the city guard called over.

After gathering up Dandelion’s arm and the vial of Shudder (which you took considerable more care in packing away), you threw the drug dealer’s remaining arm over your shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged the man out into the night. While the healing potion had helped with the blood loss and pain, Dandelion was still in shock and consequently out of it. You also noticed that he had soiled himself from fear during the attack, although after a life in the sewers you barely even noticed such odors.

Despite Dandelion’s befuddled mental state, you manage to coax a few answers out of him on the walk to the Church. Apparently Dandelion was a free-lancer, so he wasn’t closely connected to any of the main drug dealing operations such as the one Gaedren Lamm ran or Devargo’s, the so-called King of Spiders who operated out of a place along the north side of the docks called Eel’s End. A few weeks ago, he was approached by a man he had never seen before, and never again after, who offered him the chance to set up his game. Against his better judgement, Dandelion had chaffed under the long years of being little more than a pill dispensary for the nobility, and so he agreed to spread some new product around to those among his clients who might be interested and also would not attract a great deal of attention. A few vials of the stuff had shown up on his door a couple of days after that, but Dandelion hadn’t made too many sales yet after hearing news about this new product he was going to be selling.

The street name of the drug was indeed commonly Shudder, and it had no repeat customers as anyone who took the drug went mad, went on a murderous rampage with their newfound magical powers, and then died either at the hands of others, their own, or simple Nature as their bodies gave out from the drug’s effects. While deaths of customers from new untested drugs was an occupational hazard, the carnage that this new drug seemed capable of unleashing scared Dandelion to the point of not wanting to sell it. Unfortunately, it was a little too late to back out now, and Dandelion had other concerns to worry about – namely Gaedren Lamm, his normal supplier for Shiver, catching wind of Dandelion’s new arrangement. Apparently Mr. Cykan Tripas was someone who had recently started working for Lamm as his enforcer, and Dandelion had really not wanted to get on the man’s bad side (so much for that).

It was hard to tell much less from the man’s delirious, rambling explanations to your questions, but it sounds like he had two more vials of Shudder yet unsold, tucked away in his stash. Unfortunately, you didn’t manage to get an understandable set of directions out of him before the cathedral of Abadar loomed before you. With the one vial in your pocket, you probably had enough to satisfy Girrigz, for now, but it seemed likely that the wererat was going to want a steady source of this drug despite its fatal side effects. If you could track Dandelion down after the clerics were done with him, perhaps you could get where he had hidden that stash out of him, but he would probably be a bit more cognizant of what he was saying by that point. Then again, you had just saved his life, and he apparently wanted nothing to do with this drug anymore, despite going through the motions of supporting its use to his clients (for fear of retaliation from his new suppliers if he didn’t), so who knows?

The church is dimly lit at this hour, but there is an acolyte waiting just inside the front doors, likely just for the sort of thing where someone barges in carrying an unlucky half-dead whoreson like Dandelion. Your entrance certainly causes a stir, and while the acolyte is shouting for help and more holy-types are rushing into the room to take Dandelion, you manage to slip back out into the night.

With that out of the way, now you just had to figure out whether you were going to sleep first, or go satisfy Girrigz’s request. Taking care of Girrigz now would hopefully get him out of your hair, and keep Dahl from claiming all the credit like he probably wants to do, but you were also tired and Dahl was probably wearing a hole in your floor with all his pacing waiting for you to meet back up with him. A lot had certainly happened since you had parted ways. And tomorrow certainly seemed to be shaping up to be just as “interesting”, if not more so.

[Darvin]

Dalen nods as Vencarlo mentions the king's illness, "I know little more than you with regards to how the king will meet his end, but I do have some insights as to how it will play out: riots in the streets, rampant conspiracy theories, talk of insurrection, purging of government officials, and all of that culminates in the obvious need for a scapegoat," Dalen turns his eyes to Trinia, "if enough people believe that the king was murdered, then the new regime needs to either find a murderer or invent one,"

Dalen listens to Trinia's impassioned plea. In truth, he regarded her situation as a lost cause; she could flee the city, but she would be pursued and hounded. Perhaps if she fled to some distant reach of the world she might find respite, but always with the fear that some cash-strapped wizard would teleport in on top of her head to claim an old bounty. Of course, time had wound back. She could position herself along a different path. Dalen's mind turned, then he addressed the young woman.

"No one here can do much to change what is about to transpire, but you could perhaps get out of the way if you move quickly enough. If Trinia Sabor were believed to be dead, she would make for a poor scapegoat, or at least one no one would bother to pursue. You have little time to fabricate your own demise, as once you are named as the king's murderer there will be too much scrutiny for you to get away with it,"

[Stelio Kontos]

Well, crap. Yeah, they're schnockered.

Aliani's testosterone was quite disappointed with this development, but did realize it had to do its part to defuse the situation as best he could. "Ladies, how dare you .... um ... do such impertinence before the Crimson Rose!" he said, in his best gravely voice. "You will surrender your wine immediately!"

He couldn't really keep that demeanor up for long though. "You're both right. Nadine, go to your room and go lay down in bed. And as for you..." he said, as he delivered a quick, playful swat to Beautrice's bottom, "I'm going to allow you to work off your punishment... by helping me clean up a bit."

There was a good chance that they'd both be disappointed in the morning not to have had the chance to use his body in ways that would make a Calistrian priestess blush, if he'd misread the situation -- and even now, parts of him were likewise registering a final protest with the judges -- but right now he desperately hoped that Nadine would pass out inside of five minutes, and that he could convince Beautrice that maybe sleeping it off was the best course of action for them both. That would relegate him to the spare bedroom, brought over from the old place on Moon Street more because he couldn't bring himself to throw functional furniture away than for any actual comfort it provided.

[Steveodore]

Having safely stowed Dandelion away in the church and successfully slunk away herself before anyone began asking her questions, Miz thought about her next course of action. She now had a complete vial of shudder in hand, possibly two more later if she could speak again with Dandelion tomorrow. She didn't like the idea of handing this thing off to Girrigz or dealing with him at all for the matter. Better to keep Dahl as a go-between with the mad wererat, now esspecially as she had spent nearly all her magical resources until morning.

Thinking about Girrigz now and knowing what she knew about the king put a dangerous new spin on things. She was originally going to tell Dahl about the king's assassination along with her progress in finding the shudder, now she wasn't so sure if she should. Dahl was a reliable rat in his ways but this was too profitable of a secrete for him to keep to himself. (It'd be a lie to say she didn't consider selling it off herself.) Girrigz would no doubt capitalize on any sign of a crisis above. In the next few days the truth will more then likely come out, and if some wererats start acting up in the days before that then the conspirators might well take advantage of that.

She put her bleak imagination aside for the moment and elected to go home to pass off the vial to Dahl, along with her progress on tracking down the supplier. As an afterthought she asks him if he could track down the residence of one Dalen Rittle, purveyor of arcane services before catching a couple hours of sleep. She had a lot to do in the morning. One thing she knew for sure from her adventure today, she was woefully unprepared for it. She decided to remedy that tomorrow and acquire supplies, tools and other items to help her through the trying weeks ahead.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

'Perhaps Mr. Rose could give a performance in her stead? A magical disguise to mimic the lady, and a killing blow in the public eye might do well here. I fear bringing the real Miss Sabor will lead clever onlookers back to this locale.'

He gave the girl a concerned glance.

Best I stay away as well. While I can hide my tracks in this city, a witness to my entry and exit could be problematic - especially if they start putting up posters of me.'

[Darvin]

"No, that won't be good enough. If there's even a whiff of suspicion it won't work. You'd need a body, and you'd need to make it appear like the girl there. There is magic for that, but it's not my area of expertise," Dalen shrugs, then adds, "Aliani could still be helpful, though. He was her neighbor, and if he 'just so happens' to have been the witness of her last will and testament specifying cremation as her chosen means of burial, that would very quickly rid us of the evidence of this ploy. Again, it must be done before she is named; once scrutiny falls down, there's no way we'll get away with this,"

Spoiler: OOC

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This is the spell we need. Also we need a dead body, so I guess it's a good thing we'll be procuring one tonight.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

'As you say. I'm not much of a magician, myself. I suppose we may need to procure a scoll or two.'

Spoiler

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Silas could probably get some from a local shop, and then we can meet again at 3 Lancet Street? Earlier might be better.

[Inspectre]

Darvin & Piccaddilly Pi

“Now wait just a minute here! Are you saying that the only way I can get out of this is to DIE!? I mean, not literally, but still – “die”!?”

Trinia exclaims, staring at Dalen in open-mouthed disbelief.

“Well . . . I have heard of a grove of druids in the forest several days to the north, in between Janderhoff and Kaer Maga. We could always kill her for real, and have the druids there reincarnate her. That would provide us with her actual dead body to display, and – I’m kidding, Miss Sabor! Please, relax. We will figure out a way to keep you safe.”

Vencarlo says, offering Trinia hasty reassurances when she appears torn between either bolting out the door or sobbing uncontrollably. Vencarlo then goes on to argue against the fake death plan from a more pragmatic than emotional viewpoint.

“Unfortunately I am concerned that your plan will only draw more attention rather than less – it would be a simple matter for this conspiracy to claim that Trinia faked her own death, and once the suspicion is out there the curious will endeavor to bring the truth to light. And if the Acadamae were roused off its laurels to bring its full weight to bear on the investigation I’m not sure any deception we could throw together over the course of a day would last long – to say nothing of where you expect to find a body to aid in this ruse. You’re right that the conspiracy might simply choose another innocent to frame, but then we are even less ahead than we are now, where we have the framed under our protection.”

Vencarlo looks at Trinia thoughtfully.

“I am still curious about *why* they have chosen Miss Sabor as their scapegoat. Surely there are more advantageous targets with greater access to the king that they could point the finger at.”

“Well, I mean, I *did* have access to the king – an hour here and there at any rate! He commissioned me to make a painting for him, so I visited the castle pretty regularly before he got ill.”

“Hrmm . . . it may be that the best way to deal with this problem is to establish Miss Sabor’s innocence rather than attempt to evade arrest. I am . . . acquaintances with the new Field Marshall. I could discretely inquire what proof might be necessary to accomplish such a thing – completely hypothetically, of course?”

Vencarlo turns his attention to the two of you now, clearly sizing you both up.

“I am also rather curious how you are so convinced certain things will happen. Conspiracies such as this tend to do their best to keep a low profile before they strike, so how you could know their plans with such certainty is highly unusual, to say the least. However you’ve managed it, it would be most helpful if you could also figure out the how and why of their interest in Miss Sabor!”

Stelio Kontos

Beautrice simply stares at you in shock for a moment, and then laughs as she disentangles her hair from Nadine’s relaxed grasp.

“Oh Aliani – if I knew you liked maids, I would have bought a costume! But he is right Nadi – you’ve had a really rough day. Perhaps it would be best if you simply got some rest now. Come on, I’ll help you into bed.”

Nadine frowns and looks back and forth between the two of you, clearly trying to calculate her odds of winning an argument. Even in her state, it’s clear to her that she couldn’t win this one, and so throwing up her hands and muttering some choice explicatives under her breath, Nadine gives up. Beautrice gives Nadine a shoulder to lean on and helps her up, steadying her shaky rise to her feet.

“Be right back Aliani.”

Beautrice says with a mischievous wink, and together the two sisters slowly make their way up the stairs to your bedroom. A few minutes later, Beautrice comes back down alone.

“Well – that went better than expected! Now, I believe you said something about punishing me?”

Beautrice’s smile faltered a bit when she discovered that you were serious about the cleaning up part, and that it was not in fact, some sort of euphemism. While she might also be somewhat inebriated, it’s clear that Beautrice is in more of a reflective mood than a belligerent one as she asks several questions during your work.

“Hey Aliani . . . would it be alright if I took one of those daggers from your little armory here? Tonight’s events have got me thinking that perhaps I need to be prepared to defend myself and Nadi – especially if we’re . . . leaving Korvosa. I was thinking about booking us a carriage to Palen’s Cove and staying there a couple weeks, in case the guard pulls through and rounds up Kynndor and his whole gang, making it safe for us to come back. And if not, well . . . maybe get on a ship from Palen’s Cove to Magnimar . . . at least that way we wouldn’t be, um . . . *that* far away? Maybe you could even come visit sometime - the great Aliani Rose tours Varisia!”

Beautrice stops, frowning as she rubs furiously at her eyes – she’s not entirely successful at holding back the tears.

“Damnit, I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional tonight. It’s just . . . you’re a really nice guy, Aliani Rose. Most guys we’ve met would not tell a drunk Nadi to go to bed alone, I can tell you that much! And, well . . . I’m really going to miss you, but I’ve got to keep Nadi safe, right? I had been hoping that tonight could just be a fun little encore, and then a farewell party after Kynndor just showed up like that, but now . . . I’d just like one more pleasant memory to take with me on the road.”

Beautrice walks over to the canvas bag the sisters had brought with them, picking up the bottle of wine in one hand and the coil of rope in the other. She walks over and presents them both to you with a forced smile.

“So if you’d just like to get some sleep given the busy day I’m sure tomorrow will be, that’s fine. But I’d really like to be your hostage for the rest of tonight, Mr. Crimson Rose.”

(OOC: So I think this might be a good time to transition to the next morning following Aliani’s reaction to Beautrice’s offer, unless you had other specific plans. Do note, however, that if Aliani does accept Beautrice’s offer he will be fatigued tomorrow (since he won’t be able to sleep in like *some* people, given all of his meetings during the day). The mechanical penalties for that are -2 penalty to STR & DEX, & can’t run or charge – these penalties go away after Aliani has had a good 8 hours of continuous rest/sleep. On the other hand, Aliani might never see Beautrice or Nadine again, and he probably is going to be rather busy regardless for the next couple weeks after tonight. Decisions, decisions. )

Steveodore

Arriving back at your humble abode, you do not find Dahl waiting for you. Instead, a note has been chalked onto the wall just inside the door.

Hey Apprentice – got tired of waiting for you. See you tomorrow.

Well, that made things a little simpler for a moment, although it was typical that Dahl wasn’t around when you actually wanted him to be. In any event, with visions of Hellknights and/or kingslaying conspirators kicking open your door and slaughtering you in your sleep dancing through your head, you collapse into the nest of furs and stuffing that serve as your bed. Predictably, you are awoken some hours later by a familiar pounding on your door.

“Hey, apprentice, I’m back! Are you alive in there!?”

You manage to get the door open before Dahl picks the (admittedly makeshift) lock again, and the ratfolk actually greets you with a surprising look of genuine relief.

“Wow, is it good to see you! I thought you had gotten pinched by the Hellknights or something!”

Oh. Of course – Dahl wasn’t actually concerned about your wellbeing, he had just been worried that you would rat him out to the Hellknights to save your own skin. It’s what he would do, which is precisely why telling him about a far-reaching conspiracy involving the king’s upcoming murder is a bad idea. You give him the sanitized version of your day that you had rehearsed on your way back home the following night, although once you got to the part of acquiring a vial of Shudder Dahl pretty much lost focus on everything else.

“Really!? That’s amazing! You’re the best apprentice ever Miz! I’ll get that over to Girrigz right away – I was starting to get the feeling that he was going to send someone to fetch me anyway, definitely look better if I show up of my own volition and not empty-handed. Er . . . do you want to come with me? I’m willing to take the risk alone (Dahl speak for wanting to take all the credit), considering I’ve already got a relationship with him and all. I won’t forget to get you your cut though (Dahl speak for giving you whatever percentage he thinks he could manage without ending up with his insides on his outside)! How do you want it?”

Dahl nods enthusiastically as you explain that you’d like to learn where a Dalen Rittle happened to live Topside.

“Sure, I can find that out for you! You really saved my ass this time, Miz, so I owe you one (Dahl speak for this favor of finding where Dalen lives making you even again in Dahl’s mind)!”

Still, Dahl was a pretty good information broker, so he probably could find out where someone lived without too long of a delay. And he did have some Black Market connections, should you require supplies that were not “strictly on the up-and-up” (Dahl speak for poisons, explosives, and other sorts of things that the guard tended to frown upon).

(OOC: Miz is fully rested and has about 10 hours to do with as she wishes, whether that’s shopping, more investigating, trying to see Dandelion for further questioning, or whatever else she’d like to do before the fateful meeting at 3 Lancet Street at 6PM this evening).

[Darvin]

"I concur regarding the potential threat of the Acadamae; if they become involved then the reincarnation plan will begin to sound less like a poorly conceived jest and more like sound advice," Dalen remarks, "of course, if she'd prefer to take her chances at trial that's her decision,"

Dalen chuckles as Vencarlo mentions his conviction, "to be honest, I don't have a satisfying answer to those questions. The entire reason I sought out Trinia last night was in an attempt to answer them. By some magical anomaly I have... knowledge of things that are to come. I've been knee-deep in a bit of powerful divination for the past week, and I've got a meeting with that diviner tonight. I somehow doubt it will be as elucidating as I hope,"

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Silas paced the room in thought. It would take too long to spread a rumour of her innocence. There were mages that could determine their ruse with simple spells. Trinia could be spied upon by spells if the Queen really was involved. There were too many methods for failure, and not enough for success.

'As Mr. Rittle said, we are bound by strange magic. I've carried the young lamb here through a window, overcome poison attempts, and evaded capture by prepared assailants. I assure you when I say any assistance you can afford us in this, Vencarlo my friend, would be greatly appreciated. Probe your contact for advice if you can. If you hear any gossip regarding Miss Sabor, however vague, lean in for a listen. I don't desire you to risk life and limb for this. That sort of fun will likely fall to Dalen, myself, and a few lucky souls.'

The tiefling found a chair to sigh on and spoke aloud his train of thought.

'It might not fool an investigation, but faking her death might buy us some time as long as we enact this charade after blame has been cast her way. Can't replace her with another scapegoat... Guilt like that would leave a scar. Maybe I'm over-thinking it. As long as she stays here, and she stays... away... as long as she speaks only in vague terms and avoids sitting too close to our gracious host while we poke around, we should be able to break her of any injustice before anyone can come close to discovering her whereabouts.'

At this point, Silas tried to hide his worried expression from Trinia. Mostly his mind was filled with what-if scenarios - largely to do with his daughter. He was still tired from the other day, but even without that as an excuse, Silas found himself struggling to think of anything useful. Momentarily steeling himself from his emotions, he addressed Dalen and Trinia.

'You two should catch a full rest while it's still early. If there's any shopping needed, I'll go now and catch up on sleep soon enough.'

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani nodded pensively at the request for the dagger. "That's not a bad idea actually. Take two. I'm sure you won't need them. And that sounds like a lovely trip, I wish I could come along, but... there's a lot of people here that are depending on me. With the production company, I mean, jobs and such."

And, well, riots and governments and murders. And such. That thought was enough -- just enough -- to overrule his baser urges one last time, but nonetheless he did aim to please...

He took the rope, tossing the main part behind her waist as he held it firmly. "You've got a long day tomorrow, you should really get some proper sleep" he murmured, tugging the rope to pull her just an inch or two from his lips. "Hopefully this will be enough of a memory to last you until you come back." He leaned in, giving her a gentle, lingering kiss. "And when you do, I'll do anything you want", turning her head slightly and blowing the whispered words into her ear. "Anything."

He pulled back from her, still a firm grip on the rope but slackening enough to allow some space. "Now, go upstairs and get to bed. I'll sleep in the spare room, so you can get some proper rest. You've got a lot of work to do to get ready."


So do you, Aliani. So do you.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

On to morning.

[Steveodore]

Miz handed over the vial to Dahl with only the slightest apprehension. It grated on her that Dahl would no doubt skim her reward for this deal, on the other hand this was more of a sample then a real end to the shudder deal. There were maybe two more she could get her hands on today, it gave her something to play with now that Girrigz would be sated for the moment. She made sure to inform him that the drug would most certainly kill whoever drank it and it would be bad for both their health for him to downplay that little detail.

While she still had Dahl's attention Miz also arranged to trade with some of his friends in Korvosa's less reputable market. She'd meet with them later that day, or scratch out a list for one of their runners with payment.

After Dahl makes his exit Miz brews a new mutigen having spent the old one, she prepares extracts and checks her gear afterward. Feeling a little more secure she heads out to check up on Dandilion at the church, with any luck he might still be alive! She keeps her eyes out for guardsmen, hellknights and hired thugs upon entering the place. Ideally she wants to meet with the ex-drug dealer while avoiding scrutiny from the church people. If challenged she would admit she's here to see the dismembered man that came in last night.

Spoiler

Show

making another mutigen so -1 hour to make it happen and then preparing heightened awareness and shield extracts.
Roll perception for ambushes and threats in the church
(1d20+6)[7]

[Inspectre]

Darvin & PiccadillyPi

Vencarlo listens intently to each of your opinions, and then sighs as he seems to reach a decision. He reaches underneath the collar of his shirt, pulling out a relatively plain and undecorated bronze medallion that had been resting on a chain underneath his shirt. Dalen notices the face of the medallion has several interlocking abjuration runes etched into its face as Vencarlo holds the medallion up by the chain, offering it to Trinia.

“Many years ago, when I was not so old and even more popular with the nobility, I used to get all sorts of invitations. Invitations to parties, solicitation for private midnight rendezvous, new business proposals, all sorts of crazy things. Didn’t matter how many I refused, more kept coming so I started trying to evade them. The most obnoxious of them persisted by hiring Acadamae mages to seek me out with magic - finding out where I was going, when I was home so they could still drop by to visit, using Message spells to deliver their offers. I eventually got sick of it all so I procured this – a warding amulet that blocks nearly all divination magic. Now, heh, I am not so popular, but I still wear the old thing out of habit. I suppose the risk of being contacted by a few old die-hard fans is worth it if it helps keep you safe, Miss Sabor. Go ahead, take it and put it on – let’s see how it looks on you!”

Trinia looks at the medallion cautiously, as if it were about to bite her, and then hesitantly reaches one hand out to take it and slip it over her own head. She adjusts the chain, and then poses, turning this way and that as if modeling the item, earning a snort of laughter and clap of hands from Vencarlo.

“Perfect! It looks lovely on you. So, hopefully that will take care of the risk of some mage discovering her. Now we just need to worry about some city guard investigator ferreting her out. Does anyone else know that Miss Sabor is here? And can they be trusted not to give away the secret if so? I agree with Silas that it might not be a good idea for either of you to hang around here – I can play messenger if you and Miss Sabor need to talk. I could also introduce you to the Field Marshall if you’d like, although I suspect she would be more candid with me about our chances of acquitting Miss Sabor.”

Stelio Kontos

Beautrice gives you a wistful smile and nods.

“Good-bye, Aliani Rose.”

Then she turns and goes upstairs to bed, leaving you alone. You fall into the old bed from your old apartment, and are asleep moments after you head hits the pillow.

Your dreams are full of pain and death, as they were last night, only this time instead of feasting on the dead you are running down city streets, the stench of smoke and burnt flesh choking you. Ducking down one side alley to try and escape, you find yourself standing in the one alley you had hoped you would never see again.

Lying a short distance away is your mother in a pool of her blood, exactly as you found her that fateful night all those long years ago. Only this time she is still alive instead of dead and cooling. She opens her mouth several times to speak, desperate to tell you something, but only manages to vomit blood. Dipping her finger in the blood, she begins sketching a message on the filthy ground of the alley.

Before you can read it, however, a cloaked figure stomps on your mother’s hand, dragging its foot across the message and leaving a streaked mess of blood . . . exactly as it was when you found your mother. The cloaked figure removes its cowl, revealing Gaedren Lamm’s leering face!

“Looking fer me, boy!?”

The criminal mastermind taunts, drawing a knife with a silver rose as the hilt and the long stem as the blade. You try to recoil back away from your mother’s killer, only to find your path blocked by Haeluna, Jack, and the other two as yet-unnamed Milani worshippers you saw at the theather – the ratfolk and the Halfling.

“It’s time for you to join us, Aliani!”

Haeluna urges, while Jack shoves you forward with a grunt of “Don’t be a sissy kid, do it now!”

Shoved from behind by Jack, you stumble forward, directly onto Lamm’s dagger, that sinks in between your ribs, exactly where the dagger had been lodged in your mother’s ribs.

“Whoops.”

Lamm snickers, still leering at you as the strength leaves your limbs and you crumple to the street beside your mother. People crowd around you a moment later, and you crane your head up to see in your greying vision Nadine, Beautrice, Kynndor, and Dalen looking down at you.

“Good-bye, Aliani Rose.”

Beautrice says mournfully, an instant before a wave of flame washes through the alleyway, burning them all to a cinder, searing your flesh, and reducing you to –

You snap bolt upright in bed with a sharp intake of breath, soaked in sweat. It’s morning. You’re in your old bed in your house. Safe. Although there is something pressed up against your ribs, but when you move you discover it’s not a dagger but simply your belt buckle – you had removed your belt as you collapsed into bed but apparently you hadn’t thrown it clear and at some point during the night it ended up pressed against your ribs. *Much* better than an actual knife, thank you very much.

Looking out your window you would say that it’s about ten in the morning, giving you a couple of hours before you needed to be back at Haeluna’s flower shop, apparently to be inducted formally into some sort of Milani resistance group. That gave you a few hours to make any preparations that you needed to. Checking the upstairs, you find the bed neatly made, but neither Beautrice nor Nadine present – they were already gone. With two of your daggers, you confirm after checking your weapons stash. Well then . . . one less thing you didn’t have to worry about until 2 PM, *after* your meeting with the other Milani leaders.

Steveodore

It was nice to be able to wake up without some idiot pounding on what passed for your front door. Less nice was the thought of Dahl getting all the credit for fulfilling Girrigz’s request, but considering the wererat’s rabble-rouser’s erratic behavior perhaps him getting all the attention was a good thing – so long as he passed a sizable cut of the reward to you. Regardless of whether he did or not, you had another potential source of power in the form of Dandelion’s other two vials of Shudder. Those could be useful bargaining chips in further negotiations with the wererat, and if he wasn’t interested there was undoubtedly someone else interested in purchasing them. Or maybe you’d keep them for your own studies, although the side effects from its use seemed to be rather severe – perhaps you could figure out a way to mitigate those? Well, no point in trying to figure that out until you actually had the two vials in hand.

Deciding to get started on that right away, you head back Topside, and back to the Cathedral of Abadar. Even at this morning hour, there are considerably more people in the entry foyer than last night, both guards and clerics wearing tabards emblazoned with the balancing scales icon of Abadar, and petitioners in relatively well-to-do attire seated along one wall in what seemed to be a waiting line. While not outright rags, your clothing was rather shabby by comparison to these other visitors, and as such it was drawing attention to yourself. You were just thinking about maybe seeing yourself out before the guard could be called for when one of the acolytes comes over directly to you.

“Excuse me . . . did you come in here several hours ago, late last night, with a gentleman missing his arm? You seem to match the description I was given . . .”

The acolyte explains, looking at a sheaf of papers in his hand, and then continues.

“If you are, I have been instructed to see you back to your friend. We have him resting comfortably in one of our recovery wards.”

The acolyte motions for you to follow him, while several of the people still waiting to be seen mutter amongst themselves, clearly a bit shocked that someone like you already had friends here, and perhaps a bit jealous that you were getting seen already.

The acolyte leads you into a side wing of the cathedral which is less populated, although you do pass several acolytes before entering a long, quiet hallway with a number of doors set along its length. Going to the door marked “8”, the acolyte leads you into a small room with little more than a bed, on which is lying Dandelion, now clad in a simple tunic and pair of breeches, and with the stub of his arm tightly wrapped up in clean linen. There is another man here administering to him that jumps up to his feet at the sound of the door opening, blinking nervously at you and the acolyte.

“Oh, h-hello. Are you this man’s friend who brought him in last night? If you don’t mind, I would like to discuss the matter of payment for your friend’s treatment before you leave today. I-if you don’t mind, that is.”

“Nonsense!”

Dandelion shouts, grinning at you with a glassy-eyed expression.

“This lady here – she saved my life! I’ll take care of my own tab, thank you very much Mr. Dharti! And don’t you forget it! HI! How are you today, my friend!”

Dandelion says, favoring you with an easy-going smile. Those must have been some good painkillers they have him on at the moment. The idea that the Abadarians were already expecting payment was less of a good sign, but typical from everything you had heard. Dandelion was probably lucky that they hadn’t demanded payment *before* treating him.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

'Resourceful as always!'

He clasped his hands facing Trinia.

'Absolutely agreed.'

Only briefly excited, Silas moved himself several steps away from the group.

'It dawned on me that I am also known to the people after Miss Sabor. If it's not too much trouble, I'll take a nap over in this corner. Old friend, if you could introduce the gentleman here to your contact once he's well-rested. We should part ways at noon. What do you think, Sir?'

He looked to Dalen for his opinion on the matter, avoiding the use of any names aside from Trinia's for the moment.

I should find Vjala before things go wrong.

[Stelio Kontos]

"Mom?"

Aliani awoke to some child's cry, or so it seemed -- it took a minute to realize where he was (not laying in a dark alley, not even back in the hovel on Moon Street, just in the spare bedroom -- ah yes, last night), and another to realize that the voice that had woken him up was his own. That was its own unpleasant thought. That quick peek out the shutters revealed that, at least for now, the city was not in fact engulfed in an all-consuming inferno, so he had that going for him at least.

The time being so late was more of a problem -- he was used to waking at dawn, and then going back to bed or getting an afternoon nap in. So, that was out. If it was ten, and he needed time for his "morning routine", and he had promised Haeluna he'd be there at eleven... that left approximately less than zero time for anything other than morning study. Haeluna would have to wait, I suppose; it was a favor he asked of her. Hopefully she wouldn't be upset. He tried to lay out his schedule for the day while putting the kettle of tea on to boil -- Haeluna's before noon, then at Kendall at two -- I hope they weren't expecting the other one to take all day -- and get the sisters on the boat out of town. Then that at six.

He unlocked the drawer on his desk, pulling out the well-worn copy of The Light of Hope. This was usually a time for quiet contemplation, a reminder that times could change, that the world could be a better place. They'd been a solace -- his only one, really -- in the darkest weeks and months. Today was different. Today he needed something more, a call to arms if you will, a reminder that the hard work that needed to be done was messy and rarely pleasant. It was an aspect of the faith that he often struggled with, and even now, reading the words, the the idea of turning into a stone-faced killer didn't appeal. How does one take matters into one's own hands, even with the best of intentions, without repeating the mistakes they'd made in Galt, an endless cycle of one man asserting his will over another? If he went out and bashed Gaedren Lamm's skull in tonight, didn't that entitle someone to bash his own skull in in their own righteousness? There had to be a better way. Didn't there?

Milani, I don't know what you have in store for me. You know that I offer all that I have, all that I am, all that you have made me, in your service. Today, this day of days, I need your help and your guidance. I know that I have the strength of body, of mind, of spirit to do what needs to be done, else you would not have given me these great gifts of joy and hope to share, but I ask that you guide me, for I have never walked this path before that you have walked. The visions you have given me, of darkness, death, destruction... if these are to be my fate then please, I ask that if I must die that it be not in vain. I have made that choice, but please give me the love to spare them from the suffering and pain that is to come. That's what it's about, right?

He sipped his tea, letting the words of the good book pass before his eyes, the violence of Milani's destruction of Treerazer and his minions producing an uneasy drumbeat in his mind. I am so not ready for this. He shuffled over to the mantlepiece, taking down that old, beautiful morningstar that Mom had kept around the house for who knows what reason, giving it a few perfunctory swings that slightly bruised the air. Okay, sure, I'll bring it. Why not? It's stupid, but dying is stupider. Maybe I get lucky. He hooked the handle onto his belt for easy access. Then it was just a matter of locking up the book, moving the survival caches up the stairs (that was quite a labor in itself; shoving the crates up with the telltale thunk-thunk-thunk at each step was more hard labor than he'd done in a few weeks), and cleaning up from breakfast.

The nice thing about the cloak and the garment sleeves was that it meant one didn't have to spend time getting beautiful. Or ugly, as the case may be. And so it was that at shortly after eleven, a highly anonymous half-elf that was definitely not Aliani Rose left the home wearing a large overcoat (the better, he hoped, to shield what felt like the virtual armory he was carrying), making the roughly twenty minute walk to the flower shop, arriving about a half past eleven.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I need to fix spells for the day on my sheet, will do that later. Now carrying full arsenal of morningstar and two daggers, and of course as always wearing armor.

[Darvin]

Dalen considers Vencarlo's offer, but after a few moments smiles and accepts the invitation, "I do have an appointment in the evening, but I agree that a meeting with your field marshal would be beneficial for everyone involved,"

[Steveodore]

Miz returns Dandilion's smile. He seemed in a pretty good mood all things considered, but then whatever the acolytes gave him was was helping him with that.

"Better then you I should hope, but then you look ta be in good spirits."

She turned her attention over to the man attending to Dandelion.

"Might I ask for a moment to ourselves ta talk private?"

She flashed the man her winning smile which she had been working on. When the small room clears out she sits down by Danilion and leans over to converse with the man alittle more discreetly.

"Well the folk here seem ta be takin' good care of you. I hate to impose on you so soon but I was wonderin' if you could tell me where you've stashed the shudder you didn't have on hand the previous night."

Hopefully Dandelion was in a state to share what Miz wanted, she didn't really wanted to linger too long here for him to be in a more sober state of mind.

[Inspectre]

Darvin / PiccadillyPi

“Splendid. Well, you two catch up on your rest right now, while I enjoy some fresh coffee and figure out the best way to introduce you to the Field Marshall. I should probably also make myself presentable, hmm?”

Vencarlo muses while maneuvering a pot of water onto a hook over the new fire to boil. Trinia uses that moment to nervously pose her own question.

“Um . . . what can I do to help?”

“For now, just rest. And think back to your interactions while in the castle. There must be some reason why the conspiracy is coming after you specifically. Even if you thought nothing of it at the time, there must be something you saw or heard that they don’t want you to speak of. Or maybe you just did something to piss one of the conspirators off, who knows? But I find it unlikely that they’re after you for no reason at all.”

Vencarlo answers smoothly, although it’s clear from her expression that Trinia is not satisfied with that answer. Considering she could be spending the rest of her life running and hiding from both the king’s murderers and the city guard that was a rather reasonable reaction. Unfortunately, there was nothing any of you could do about it for now.

(Individual DMs below)

PiccadillyPi

Despite misgivings towards sleep after your rather disturbing nightmare, you eventually succumb to your body’s persistent requests for more sleep. Thankfully this time your slumber is a dreamless one, and when you awakened by Vencarlo several hours later you feel refreshed and ready for what is to come. After a relatively uneventful luncheon with Vencarlo, Trinia, and Dalen, the group goes its separate ways with Dalen & Vencarlo going to see the Field Marshall, Trinia remaining at the residence, and you . . . well, you attending to a personal matter.

You had tried to track Vjala down before, of course, only to be met with failure after failure. It was rather clear that your daughter wanted nothing to do with you, if that hateful bile she hadn’t thrown your way yesterday wasn’t proof enough. And yet with the chaos that was about to wash over this city, you had to try one last time.

Your last lead on Vjala’s whereabouts was a shelter boat docked in Midpoint – not that far from Zellara’s home on Lancet Street, actually. Although you hadn’t investigated the lead yet you knew from experience that shelter boats were old derelicts converted into makeshift apartment complexes for the city’s most desperate. People packed themselves down into the hold of the old leaky boat and bought privacy for themselves with a few curtains to separate out their own space. Rent was usually charged by the week, often only a few coppers, which made it ideal for beggars and addicts living coin to coin.

Why Vjala would live in such a place you don’t know although anonymity was one possible reason – certainly whoever owned this boat wasn’t the type to ask questions or keep records. Which meant that checking out this boat could require some subtlety, especially given you tended to be fairly memorable and in the middle of the day Vjala was probably not home. And if she caught wind of your presence here, she would be gone before you would even see her again.

Darvin

With a decision of what to do with your afternoon reached and Trinia’s situation at least stabilized, you go back to sleep and awaken a few hours later fully refreshed and able to focus on your magic, when you felt the need to consult your tome. You have a brief luncheon with Trinia, Vencarlo, and Silas, and then you and Vencarlo take your leave. After crossing the main bridge connecting Old Korvosa to Midpoint, Vencarlo makes a brief stop at a nearby street vendor selling flowers.

“Always best to have a, well, not a bribe . . . but an excuse to see the Field Marshall, eh?”

Vencarlo explains as you continue on your way towards Citadel Volshyenek, although your trip stops short of the city guard headquarters. Instead Vencarlo stops several blocks away at Bailer’s Retreat, a somewhat rough tavern that caters to criminals freshly released from the citadel – *and* guardsmen coming off duty. Seated at an outdoor table in plain sight from the street was a small group of such guardsmen, officers all judging by their insignia although only two are recognizable by you – Field Marshall Cressida Kroft . . . and Lieutenant Verik Vancasterkin. Field Marshall Kroft notices you as Vencarlo leads the way over to the table and removes the napkin from her lap with a loud sigh.

“Godsdamnit, when I started having these lunches with my staff out in public I did so with the intent of making the guard more approachable, not to give *certain* people an all-access pass to me whenever they feel like stopping by. What is it today, Orsini?”

“You could always just add him to the guest list. He’s here often enough!”

A dark-skinned officer suggested with a grin, earning a grimace from Kroft and an eyeroll from Verik. Vencarlo shares the man’s grin while looking back at you.

“Uh oh, she called me Orsini – she only calls me that when she’s in a bad mood. And that is a splendid idea, Lieutenant Raistin – I would gratefully accept such a standing invitation!”

Kroft groans, regarding the bouquet of flowers clutched in Vencarlo’s glove-covered wooden hand with a skeptical eye.

“Please lieutenant, take that offer back – it would surely be the death of me. And what do you want today, Orsini? It must be something important given you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing a bribe along.”

Vencarlo transfers the bouquet of flowers to his good hand before setting the bouquet down on the table, affecting a surprised air.

“What, me, bribe!? Oh no, no, I would never try to bribe the Field Marshall of Korvosa! I’m sure that carries a steep penalty, like life imprisonment or something. No no, this is, ah, an office warming gift from a proud mentor to his successful student!”

“Because the last Field Marshall came down so hard on bribery . . .”

Verik mutters, barely heard as Kroft looks at the flowers and then up at Vencarlo with the hint of a smile.

“I think in your case we would make it punishable by execution, save for the fact that then your ghost would start to haunt me and I would get no peace whatsoever! And your excuse *might* be believable Teacher, if it was not for the fact that you’ve already provided me with two bouquets before this one to decorate my office with.”

“Er, well . . . when you get to be my age, the memory starts to get to be a little unreliable? Of course, if you can’t find any use for these flowers, I will give them to some other worthy maiden, and come back with a more appropriate gift . . . later . . .”

Kroft groans again at Vencarlo’s threat and Raistlin bursts into laughter.

“He’s got you there, Field Marshall! Course, you know he’s just going to come back anyway no matter what you do.”

“Like a fungus . . .” Verik quietly adds while Kroft throws up her hands.

“Alright, alright! Just tell me what you want today Vencarlo so you’ll go away and I can get back to work!”

Vencarlo’s expression turns serious as he gestures toward you with his fake hand.

“Well, my friend here is Dalen Rittle, Hedge Mage Esquire, and would like to speak to the Field Marshall of Korvosa about an urgent matter. An urgent matter that should probably be discussed with the Field Marshall alone, given the sensitive nature of the topic.”

Picking up on Vencarlo’s tone, Kroft brief smile faded into a carefully neutral expression as she glances at the assembled officers around the table.

“Please excuse us. I will see you all back at the Citadel with today’s assignments for your units.”

The officers quickly stand up and file out, Raistlin giving Vencarlo a playful slap on the shoulder and Verik looking at both you and Vencarlo with barely concealed disgust. Kroft then motions at the abandoned chairs across the table from her and stares at you intently, clearly sizing you up.

“Alright then, Mr. Rittle. What is it that you have come here to talk about?”

Stelio Kontos

It was unusual for you to miss the dawn, but then again neither did you tend to go to sleep just before dawn. In past situations when you found yourself coming home from a late night after performance party, you would simply stay up to greet the dawn and then go to bed. But given your busy afternoon, that hadn’t been an option. Hopefully Milani would understand, especially given the challenges you were about to face. You could only hope that you were ready for them, starting with Haeluna’s request.

You find her in her shop, tending to some of her flower pots that she was displaying in the window today. She greets you with a smile, wiping a smudge of dirt off of her cheek, and inclines her head to the back of the shop.

“So, I’m sure you are nervous about the meeting today, Aliani. Why else would you be half an hour late when you are usually so punctual?”

Haeluna shakes her head and offers a reassuring gesture.

“Do not worry about it – after all, you were the one who asked for this private meeting before you are inducted. I am sure you have many questions – I will answer those that I can.”

Steveodore

The cleric of Abadar nods, obeying your request to leave but it was likely that he wouldn’t stay gone for long. At your request, Dandelion’s brow furrows in confusion and alarm.

“Why – why do you want anything to do with that stuff? No no no, you don’t want anything to do with that stuff, trust me! I’m *done* with that stuff! Soon as I get out of here, I’m packing up my stuff and getting out of Korvosa – let those monsters sell their own ****!”

Dandelion gets more agitated as he speaks, trying to awkwardly push himself up into a sitting position as if he was going to throw off the covers and walk out of here to get started on that immediately. But his strength doesn’t last very long, and he slumps back into the bed with an exhausted grunt.

“Maybe I’ll do that . . . in a little bit. But seriously, you don’t want that stuff – it’s bad juju and being anywhere near it can only end in tears.”

That seemed to settle the matter, at least until Dandelion sighed and seemed to have another change of heart.

“Look, I don’t have any more use for the stuff, so if you really want to come to a bad end, I’m not going to stop you. I hid it, like I do with most of my stash, but given this stuff’s . . . volatility I decided to take extra precautions. There’s a storm drain grate behind my place that drains down into the sewers. It’s a loose grate though, and I’m able to pry it up with a little bit of work. I put both vials of Shudder into a pouch and tied the pouch strings around one of the bolts that the grate rests on. Should still be there unless we’ve had a heavy rain come through while I was out.”

As if sensing your next question, Dandelion sighed.

“My place is at 47 Pillar Hill Boulevard, about two blocks down from the Kendall Ampitheater. Go around to the alley behind the place, off from the street. You’ll find the grate back there.”

Dandelion closes his eyes and relaxes, looking as if he’s about to drift off into a drug-induced sleep again.

“You ever need anything else, you just let me know. Old Dandelion will hook you up, yes he will.”

Deciding you had gotten what you had come here for, you hurry out of the room and allow yourself to be escorted back to the foyer. On the way you fend off questions from the acolyte guiding you, including any questions he poses about payment or where to contact you once Dandelion was well enough to leave their care. Once out of the cathedral, you make a beeline for Dandelion’s residence, hoping to find this stash before someone comes and tosses his place looking for those vials – with your luck they were already gone as of last night.

As it turned out, the vials of Shudder were not gone, as you found the pouch still hanging from the bolt just below the grate that you manage to pry up with some effort. What Dandelion failed to mention, however, was that there was an Otyugh living in the storm drain tunnels. And that this Otyugh had apparently taken an interest in the hanging bag, standing directly below the grate and winding its tentacles up towards the bag, only to come up just short.

“Food! FOOD!”

It roars, stretching its stumpy legs as far as they could go while slapping its tentacles up against the side of the drain, just below the bag. It didn’t seem like the big bastard could reach, but you had heard stories about otyughs being single-minded about getting to food, and if it was desperate enough to try to eat a pouch dangling out of reach it was probably desperate enough to try to reach up and grab hold of you if you lean down to pull the pouch up.

[Stelio Kontos]

"A lot of questions -- but meeting with you is the one thing I'm not nervous about. Should I be?" Aliani replied, with a self-deprecating half chuckle. "I'm sorry I'm late, there were a couple of incidents last night, stumbled on some 'guards' in the midst of what I'm pretty sure was a kidnapping attempt, I didn't sleep until very late -- and I need to take care of some people again today, before... before it all happens. I've made some commitments to people starting mid-afternoon, I don't know if I should have done that, how long this is supposed to take, but I couldn't just let them ... I hope you understand?"

He took a long, pensive breath, steadying himself for what he was about to ask. May as well get the big one out of the way first?

"Everything, people, the nightmares, is pushing me in one direction ... Haeluna... do you think I'm a killer?"

[Darvin]

"I've been in over my head in matters of divination for the past week. I spent yesterday following up on them, and I believe they are mostly proceeding as foreseen. The crux of the issue is this: tonight the king will die, and there will be riots and insurrection in the streets. Conspiracy theories will abound, and in the coming days the crown will be forced to find a scapegoat to appease the enraged mob. I know who will stand accused - a young woman who a few weeks prior was hired to paint a portrait for his majesty. I sincerely doubt she is even capable of having felled the king, and have taken her into the care of Orsini here. I believe there are others who have made a similar prediction, as there was an attempt to covertly apprehend her last night," Dalen doesn't mention that some members of the guard were involved - that particular detail can wait until after some trust is built - but continues, "Doubtlessly they hope to cash in on the sizeable bounty when she is named as the kingslayer. I, on the other hand, am more interested in getting answers. I will gladly offer you my services and assistance, and won't charge a copper piece for them until you're satisfied that there's veracity to my foresight. However, if my predictions are correct, I will end up working for you in the coming days one way or another,"

"Oh, and speaking of that, you may want to have a chat with that guardsman you were with a few moments ago. Vancaskerkin, I believe? His own idealism will lead him astray in the chaos of the coming days, and he'll end up the unwitting pawn of a rather... unsavory criminal enterprise run by a gang called the Cow Hammer Boys. You may want to try and head that off. Or, if not, our paths should cross again about the time you need someone to deal with the matter," Dalen adds.

[Steveodore]

What a pickle this was. She was so close to getting her hands on more shudder but now she has a bloody Otyugh to manage before she can safely retrieve it. Never before would she have been caught without a dead rat or vermin on hand to distract a wandering Otyugh, surface life had really dulled her edge.

Reaching quickly into her bag she withdrew the vial of shiver she payed so much for as well as one of her potion sponges. she pressed the open vial to the sponge to absorb every drop of the drug and put away the now empty vial. For a final touch she pricked her finger and squeezed a few drops of blood onto it.

Miz really didn't want but she felt she had little choice in the matter. If she left to scrounge some food or prepare a spell the damn thing might actually grow a brain in the next minute and manage to snatch the bag.

"Hey Bigg'un, you hungry? want some food? Here's some food for you!"

With that Miz tossed down the sponge to the beast only moving to snatch the bag when it goes for the sponge.

[Inspectre]

Stelio Kontos

Haeluna listens attentively to your entire explanation, her expression deliberately neutral, although a shadow does pass over her face as you mention the attempted kidnapping by the guards. At your question, she reaches up a hand to cup your chin, giving it a little shake with a heavy sigh.

“No . . . no I do not think that you are a killer, my dear child. Which gives you a hard path to follow for it might be easier to walk if you were. But that . . . innocence, if you will, that optimism is something that our cause desperately needs. It is something that has been missing since your mother was taken from us . . . *sigh* I wish she were here with us now but if wishes were coins we’d all be wealthy by now, hmm?”

Haeluna removes her hand from your chin, reaching down to tap a withered finger on the silver rose brooch that you always wore.

“The people need a hero, Aliani. Someone brave, honest, and capable of inspiring them to be better than they are. I believe that you can be that shining beacon for them . . . but I understand if you have your doubts. I will not lie to you – violence is unfortunately the means by which our oppressors built their yokes upon us, and it will only be by violence in return that we will be able to free this city. I want you to be here now not to force you to commit that violence, but so that after what must be done has been done, no one can say that you were not present, bleeding and yes, even killing, beside them. So that after this dark time, you will have earned your place in leading us all into the light of peace. Does that in turn make me a selfish person? I suppose it depends on who you ask.”

Haeluna favors you with a sad smile.

“I am afraid that I have no other answer for you. But I do know that you can do some real good here with us and serve to balance some of the more . . . bloodthirsty members of our cause. However, if you really do not want this, tell me now and I will call it off, tell the other captains that I made a mistake. And you can continue to live out your life as Aliani Rose, playwright, if that is what you wish. Or leave Korvosa behind you with that lady friend of yours . . . did she like the bouquet?”

Darvin

Field Marshall Kroft simply stares at you, her expression carefully neutral as you explain the nature of your divinations. Vencarlo sees something in her face that you do not, however, as he sighs.

“Out with it, Cressida. There’s something you know that you’re trying not to tell us.”

Kroft works her mouth open, perhaps to voice a protest, only to snap her mouth shut again into a hard line as she meets Vencarlo’s stare with one of her own. It is the Field Marshall who finally looks away first with an exasperated sigh.

“Damnit, Vencarlo. You are going to be the death of me. Fine!”

Kroft looks around to ensure that there were no nearby onlookers, and then leans forward in her chair, her voice a low whisper.

“But if I hear that either of you two have breathed a word of this – to *anyone* - I will have you thrown into Longacre until you forget what the sun looks like. Are we clear?”

The field marshal gives a final sigh of defeat before explaining her secret.

“Actually, Mr. Rittle, your divination is slightly wrong. His Majesty Eodred II is already dead. He died last night after finally succumbing to his recent illness – or murder if you believe the conspiracy theories some have thrown about. Whether or not it was natural causes is frankly irrelevant for the moment. While we are trying to keep his passing a secret, more will learn about it by the hour no matter what we do, and by nightfall your prediction shall undoubtedly come to pass. That’s actually what I was speaking to my lieutenants about just now, trying to discretely set up patrols and barricades to curb the worst of the chaos. Unfortunately, the guard is still a little short-handed these days with people I trust not to join the looters or have the fortitude not to abandon their posts in favor of keeping their own families safe. *Sigh* if only I had another month as Field Marshall, perhaps we would have been more ready for this.”

Kroft leans back into her chair again, the worry in her eyes slowly fading back behind the neutral expression of resolve.

“So what else have your divinations told you, Mr. Rittle?”

You go on to explain Miss Trinia Sabor’s situation, your theory on what will happen to her and why, and where her current location is at which point Kroft sighs.

“Damnit, I wish you hadn’t told me that. Now when this woman is accused, I will be honor-bound to send an investigator to Vencarlo to follow up this lead.”

“Oh, come on Cressida!”

“No, I’m serious Vencarlo! I’m the Field Marshall of Korvosa now, I can’t just decide when and when not to apply the law. That’s what my predecessor did, and I’ll be damned if I follow in his footsteps! If this woman is accused of such a heinous crime, then it is my duty to find her and arrest her. If she is innocent as you believe, then the arbiters will acquit her of any wrongdoing – and you have my word that I will ensure to the best of my ability a fair and equitable trial."

“There’s not going to be a trial if a mob tears her to pieces on the way to the courtroom! Or one of your guards decides to play arbiter and shove a knife into her guts to save us the pretense of a trial – or worse!”

“I’m not going to argue this with you Vencarlo. When this woman is accused, if she is accused, the best thing for her will be to turn herself in immediately before bounty hunters, adventurers, and other . . . less scrupulous types get involved. I can and will protect her – at least trust me that much, gods!”

Vencarlo shakes his head, clearly disgusted, and Kroft turns her attention back to you. At which point you move the conversation on by mentioning Verik Vancasterkin, which draws an even deeper frown on the Field Marshal’s face.

“Verik? Hrmm . . . that is a rather serious allegation you are making, Mr. Rittle. Lieutenant Vancasterkin has been a model guardsman for most of the time I’ve known him, so you will have to forgive my skepticism. Still . . . he is an idealist, and I can see how he may make the wrong decision in these trying times, particularly under an untested Field Marshall. I will have a conversation with him if I am able, but no more than that – I will not condemn a man for something he has yet to do. Now then, is that the extent of your divinations, Mr. Rittle? Or do you have at least some ray of hope to share alongside this series of stormcrow pronouncements?”

Steveodore
(Well done! That was quite clever. )

With surprising deftness, one of the otyugh’s thorn-covered tentacles flashes out, ensnaring the dropped sponge while it was still in mid-air. And then in another blink, the creature swings its tentacle back down to deposit the sponge into its gaping maw that is nearly as wide as the spherical horse-sized creature. While the potent drug is intended for a human dosage, the Shiver takes immediate effect as the Otyugh staggers and its tentacles slump. It’s not quite enough to put the beast to sleep but it’s certainly more docile as it begins to hallucinate whatever dream shapes otyughs are capable of making.

Hoping that the monster doesn’t suddenly turn violent again due to hallucinating something it doesn’t like, you quickly kneel down and reach for the pouch. It’s a little hard to get free, as Dandelion tied the strings into a surprisingly tight knot – apparently he wanted to make sure the pouch stayed put in the event of rain, although you doubted he had made the thing otyugh-proof! You manage to get the pouch free eventually, though, and quickly pull your hand up and out of the grate, and then roll away from it entirely.

Only after the grate is firmly back in place do you risk spending time examining your prize. And sure enough nestled down in the belt pouch together are a pair of vials filled with a disgusting-looking yellow liquid. Two vials of Shudder alright, at least as far as you could tell at this point. The only absolute way to know for sure would be to find someone to use one of the vials and see if what happened matched the stories . . . but that might be rather hazardous to your health. Then again, keeping the vials might also be hazardous to your health if Dandelion’s mysterious suppliers or Lamm’s enforcer came looking for them. What will you do now?

[Darvin]

Dalen nods upon hearing that the king is already deceased, "Not particularly surprising. My predictions weren't privy to the exact manner and time of the king's death, but rather were focused on the fallout when the news becomes public,"

Upon hearing her course of action with Verik, Dalen nods, "I would concur with your judgement; better for all parties involved if those event never came to pass, and justice need not concern itself with hypotheticals"

"That's everything for now. Our paths should cross in the coming days, after the riots die down, and I'll have more for you by then. I've an appointment with a diviner this afternon, and I'll see what more I can learn," Dalen graciously waits to be dismissed by Kroft.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

His work was usually a messy affair. However, that didn't prevent his feeling of disgust when the near under-bathed citizens of Korvosa. Having inside plumbing for as short as he did must have caused some sort of newer aversion to scents and smells. The idea of entering a rats nest of poor or otherwise drug addled folk became less than endearing. Unfortunately, there was a pressing matter that could only be solved from inside that mess. Silas stepped onto the boat. It had been a while, but the smell was certainly familiar. During his time under the influence he had stayed on a boat similar to this. Canopy overhead, and the occasional rat skeleton. If he wasn't so repulsed he'd feel right at home.

He didn't bother to hide his presence under a disguise. Most creatures aboard these vessels didn't pay any mind to oddities. Any that did were likely thieves or beggars. Vjala may have had some scouts, but if she didn't want to be found... whatever the case, Silas went below deck. He moved lightly as to not disturb the more sensitive souls. Anyone he ran into was bothered with a question or three.

'Have you seen a short girl around here?'

'Do you know anyone with back curled locks?'

'Have you noticed any women here with eyes like mine?'

Although he avoided mentioning her by name, he hoped someone would recognize a feature and exclaim 'Oh, you mean Vjala?' Anything that would make this search fruitful.

While exploring the dens, he kept a close eye on his surroundings. He wasn't too keen on dealing with sticky fingered fellows, but more to his purpose: if his daughter or a spy were nearby, he'd hoped to catch sight of them.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Sorry for the late reply. Life, etc.

Basic summary: He boarded the boat quietly to find Vjala's living area.

Stealth to avoid being heard: (1d20+8)[20]

Diplomacy to gather info on Vjala and where she is sleeping: (1d20+8)[26]

Perception to spot spotters (and thieves): (1d20+6)[23]

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani turned pensive, murmuring "she liked the flowers very much, yes" but otherwise sinking deep into thought for a few minutes.

"The only reason I created Aliani Rose in the first place" he finally emerged "was that I thought maybe if other people thought I was somebody, instead of nobody, maybe they'd listen to me, you know? That I could change things without..." He took a deep breath to steady himself a bit before continuing "I know that sounds silly on a lot of different levels, maybe."

"I don't really know if I'm ready for this or not, but the town will be in ruins tomorrow whether I think I'm ready or not, won't it? So I think I'm already in" he said with a rueful smile, pulling the morningstar out from under his overcoat. "I have no idea what I'm even doing with this thing, you know?. You think one of them can give me a crash course?"