Age of Exploration [0] - The Secret under Ravenwell [IC]

[Magni's Hammer]

Rukh

You scrutinize the cast print -- it looks like a large man's work boot or hunting boot, something made for tromping through mud. Unless the wearer has unusually large feet, it must be a tall man, over six feet. There can't be too many professors that big.

Volk

Puzzling over the coded letter, you are struck suddenly with a memory from years past. Thomas had been conferring with a colleague at another university and had anxiously awaited the mail for weeks until it arrived: a small, red book, just recently published, of his friend's analysis of some old tablets and pottery shards. He had gathered the household around the table and trucked out some of his artifacts, and with the book had attempted to translate the small scribbles around them. His friend had theorized that what had long been assumed to be stylistic marks on ancient clay, were in fact glyphs of a proto-Kitaran language, possibly the earliest in the world. The little red book was his argument for the theory and contained his hypothesized "proto-Kitaran alphabet." In your case, Thomas' artifacts had proved stubbornly unreadable, but it had been a fun and pleasant evening regardless, puzzling out the symbols scratched onto old stone. Looking again at the letter to double-check, you are sure they match.

All

Volk makes for the stairs, and in an instant he is back, carrying a small red book in his hands. Juliet had just finished apologizing that she could not make out the words she had heard in the pantry, only that it had sounded like a man, when Volk plants himself at the table with the letter. Through hurried explanation, he lays out the story as he tries to translate Prest's scribbles. Rukh catches on quick and finds some paper, then the rest of the party joins in.

Mercifully, Thomas did not actually write his note in an ancient language; he merely used it as a kind of cypher, so by sounding out the syllables his message gradually appears:

"Friends. Sorry to have kept secrets. Go to the Hothsdort Hotel. Alessia will explain."

"Cryptic," is all that constable Antony can mutter. The Hothsdort is a rather fancy newer establishment in the center of the city, overlooking the wide river. The place is well-liked by visiting industrialists, since it is close to both the business districts and several large universities and private labs, and is within walking distance of Ravenwell.

[Boethius Junior]

Happily retiring from the gawking crowd, Dr. Ridley chances a moment to explain his latest half-truth to his compatriots, for the sake of surety. Since then he has returned to quiet contemplation, overwhelmed by the investigation - yet word of the swanky Hothsdort rouses him again. "While I dare say the name Alessia doesn't rings any bells, I'm certain I have a few chum that often happen to loiter 'round the Hotel. It would be only small trouble to wander in and see if we can't drum up some answers."

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Donovan, and Volk

Setting off in a pair of hailed coppery cabs, your party reaches Ravenwell University without incident. Antony splits off to begin asking around for Sebastian, while Dr. Ridley and his bodyguard proceed to the Hothsdort; this leaves the three of you to travel the campus, with Stordus tagging along.

Ravenwell is rather empty, but that's to be expected of a small institution on a summer weekend. Folks still cross the main green, but most of the buildings are closed to guests; though they will surely have secretaries and custodians about, most of the inner doors will be locked unless a professor is in doing some work (which, to be fair, many are). But the students are all but absent.

Stordus wants to go to the history building, to check Prest's office for any clues, and asks you for directions if you aren't heading there yourself. Antony has already left for the administrative building, a towering and rather obvious structure of red-black brick and sour, feathered gargoyles, in hopes that someone there is in charge of sending letters and can direct him to Sebastian's apartment. Incidentally, your own residences are nearby if you want to get anything.

The university, having been built during the Revolution, took advantage of the frequent urban fires and property seizures to control a wide strip of this neighborhood. The central green is bordered by the main buildings and laboratories; radiating out from these are apartments (most owned by the school), several shops and bookstores, and some of the newer laboratories. The more dangerous workshops are partly underground, dug into the deep and winding undercity to keep the surface residents safe from alchemical radiation.

Rukh and Ridley

"Swanky" is more than appropriate a term for the Hothsdort. Reconstructed during the Neoclassical revival, its original, abstemious severity was replaced by the richness, splendor, and practically florid opulence of a culture subconsciously justifying its prosperity by aping the reverent history of the Rhoscan Empire. Passing between soaring marble columns and under a gilded ceiling of carved exotic wood and layers of golden paint, you arrive in an open-air courtyard where gentlemen lounge upon divans beneath a silk canopy, sipping coffee, smoking pipes, and ruffling newspapers. Above the murmur of polite conversation, a statuesque cherub pours infinite water into the central fountain. Waiters and valets cross the floor regularly, and a large checking desk guards the doors leading into the hotel proper.

A quick glance about the place draws your eyes to an unusual party: beneath a wide blue umbrella stands an enormous mound of hair, bunched uncomfortably into a servant's suit, predatory eyes flicking across the room. On either side of the creature sit two women, one young and the other old, casually chattering about something or other. They certainly stand out from the crowd of regulars.

On the other side of the room fidgets a face familiar to Hieronymus (and perhaps Ruhk too). You remember Julius L'lam, with his glossy black curls and audacious mole on his left cheek, from your time in the west. As a functionary for the d'Antonio Steel Trust, he rambles around, nose to the ground, sniffing for new businesses to purchase, new inventions to gobble up, and other opportunities for vertical integration into his master's metallic empire. You've traded rumors and gossip in the past, and he's both usually accurate in his advice and relatively free with his money.

[Grek]

Lydia elects to go along with Stordus, on the presumption that whoever wanted to hurt Mr. Prest wanted to do it for a reason. Given nothing was taken from the house, that mysterious reason is likely in Mr. Prest's office. Or so the criminal mind would think. Surely? "Do you think it could have been one of his colleagues? It strains the imagination to think any of them could have done something like this."

She thinks back to what she knows of the History department. She had visited with them, on occasion, when her duties to the University required it. Before the accident, mostly. Elliot was too short and Marchios too bald to be the killer. Could it have been D'Aubrey? Could such an old and genteel man have had such malice in him? Perhaps the new hire, then - that Bruthe fellow. Though, it need not be a history professor...

Spoiler: Rolls

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(1d20+2)[17] to try to recall what I already know about the faculty of the History department - do any of them stand out?

[SlyJohnny]

Volk sidles along behind Lydia and Stordus, staring at Lydia's dress. He starts at her conversational entreaty. "Is hard to believe it was someone he knew. I had thought, perhaps some foreign person with an interest in the tomb..." he trails off.

Volk peers about him for anyone taking an undue interest in the party or the constables. Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is getting a khoj tracker up to the university, to search for a blue cloak with a conspicuous bite mark. He makes a mental note to check whatever laundry service the university has, on the possibility that the murderer was extremely stupid and decided to have his muddied robe laundered. Likewise for any seamstresses he knows who tend to the faculty. For now, though, checking his friend's office seems like as good a bet as any.

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley gives Rukh a nudge, pointing out the flamboyant L'lam from across the hall. "Remember this sot?" he asks with wry smile, swaggering towards his quarry. Far more at home among this upper crust than the gape-mouthed wonderings of the smaller folk, Dr. Ridley lights another of his seemingly endless supply of fumigants and gives the young dilettante a friendly clap upon the shoulder. "Julius, you stuffy rascal! Such a small world it is; how's the missus these days?"

[JeenLeen]

"Now that we're here, probably good we stick together," Donovan adds as he accompanies Lydia and Volk. "Y'know, this university was the first real home I had in a long time, when I moved here. It's always seemed a peaceful place to me. But the idea of the murderer hiding here, as one of our own in a sense... Everything here seems so different now."

The fixtures do indeed have an almost malicious glint to them now, to the young archsilverist's eyes. He makes a note to pick up his 'pets' before leaving the university grounds.

[Kvard51]

Rhuk looks where the Doctor points. A fleeting grimace crosses his otherwise smooth features. He remembers, all right. I'll need to watch the Doctor's back with this one. He looks like a fool, but he is dangerous...

Following Doctor Ridley, he smiles when Ridley engages the man, little more than baring his teeth, really. He keeps his eyes on L'lam's face while allowing his ears to pick up whatever he can from the rest of the room.

Spoiler: Actions

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Watching L'iam's face to judge his intent (1d20)[17]

Listening to the room for tidbits (1d20)[16]

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Volk, and Donovan

Spoiler: History Professors

Show

Elliot Jho was a student here and became a lecturer after receiving his degree; since he’s young for a professor, everyone calls him “Elliot” instead of “Professor Jho.” He’s a short man, with a dark beard and a bit of an accent – his family are probably immigrants from the west, but he’s never talked about it. He is very bookish, and avoids going on trips, but is quite a whiz at translations, and can both speak and read several ancient languages. Thomas seemed to like him and spoke highly of his talents.

Professor Ghent D’Aubrey is now the senior most professor in the department. He is same age as Thaddeus Wash, the late head of the department, but where Thaddeus was fat, mustached, and jolly, D’Aubrey is a reedy, bald, and severe man students call him “the buzzard” behind his back. He was passed over for the position despite his seniority, but it’s assumed he didn’t want it. As far as you know, the old man lives alone and has little interests beyond his scholarship. Thomas regarded him as professional and intelligent, but a cold and lonely person.

Professor Herbert Marchios is a muscled, hirsute man with a gleaming bare head and a thick scar running across it. Like Lewis Monk, an alchemistry professor, he is a former military officer and spends a lot of time drinking and gambling. He is a hard man, a severe disciplinarian, and not well liked by his students. You don’t think he’s married, but as far as you know he has a brother still in the army. Thomas did not like him and Marchios didn’t like most others, as far as you know.

Lastly, Professor Delian Bruthe is an ugly man from the colonies, known for his bad breath and worse teeth. As far as you know, he was the sole history professor of the new Academy of Stros but left promptly to take the higher-paying job here in Vanalot. He has a heavy accent and some nasty habits, like spitting, but seems congenial enough. Thomas hadn’t quite figured out what to think of him; Delian was friendly, but ignorant, a poor lecturer, and tended towards the casual rudeness of colonials.

The Department of History squats in the humid green. As you cross to the great oak doors you pass by a gardener pulling weeds; a young woman greats you politely beyond the front, then returns to her sweeping; the building is otherwise quiet. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, down the plain wooden floors to the director’s office at the end, and a pause, as the door is unlocked and ajar.

An open window lets in a soft breeze. Prest’s office is well-ordered, dominated by a heavy desk and a portrait of Sir Palladian Venture, the famous explorer. Everything is neatly stacked, and you hear a scratching pen cease in the adjoining secretary’s room. In an instant, Sebastian emerges, looking tired but otherwise his normal self, and he brightens as he sees you. “Ah, good morning Mrs. Cassus! Volk! Donovan! This is a surprise, I thought the Professor had wanted to meet with you this morning.” His face darkens as he notices the constable behind you. “Is something wrong? What has happened?”

Rukh and Ridley

L’lam’s sudden start turns to the usual false smile. “Hieronymus, I didn’t know you were in, old boy. What a pleasure. My Janie is quite well, thank you, and sends her warm regards. We have a place in Tarraco now, lovely little villa – you must visit some time, you and Rukh.” He moves to shake the Khoj tracker’s hand, all limp wrist and fake friendship. He calls for coffee and directs you to a set of unoccupied armchairs by the fountain. He continues to prattle amicably about his wife and their new house, asking after your health and such, but Rukh’s keen eyes note how he positioned himself to watch the unusual trio on the other side, and how his eyes regularly flick towards the women and their hulking bodyguard.

Pleasantries end once the coffee arrives, and Julius shifts back to his usual demeanor. “Business has treated me well this past year, but it’s kept me in the capital. The Trust is poised to snatched speculation rights in Maarvald from Ironhead. In fact, I have it on good authority that they will declare bankruptcy within the year (so best to sell off their stocks now); convincing the senate of this has been a bear, though.” He sighs and sips his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the pungent puffs from Dr. Ridley’s cigar. “Everyone in the royal department has already assured me the transfer is ready, but it’s one of those things that still requires senate approval, and too many still remember old Cleos too fondly. Nevermind his son is running Ironhead into the ground, those soft codgers can’t stand the idea of going back on their promise to an old, dead friend.”

“And speaking of heirs,” he smiles into his cup, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but another’s surfaced just recently. She’s my mark today, in fact. See if the old ‘Julian Charm’ can convince a young lady to finally sell off daddy’s crumbling old company.”

Spoiler: Rukh’s Impressions

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L’lam is paying attention to you, but he’s also watching that trio over there, and their guard is, similarly, watching him. Presumably the young woman is the heiress he mentioned. You know he likes to talk about business, and no doubt he’ll at some point try to level any useful information out of you. His job is to make deals for his company and buy up land, inventions, and other firms in the steel business, and he’s not above bribes, blackmail, and other pressures to get agreements. As such, any information is useful, which is probably why he’s here in this hotel while he waits for his lobbying to move the government.

Your ears pick up a smattering of conversation about that, in fact. A lot of people are talking about pulling out of the Ironhead Mining Concern after some train wreck in Maarvald. That little mountain country has apparently gotten more fractious since its ruling Grand Duke passed on, and some bandits dynamited an Ironhead rail line, stole the coal and lead, and held the crew for ransom. Some are men talking about it like it’s the last straw for Ironhead, a humiliating financial disruption for a company already struggling.

Those that aren’t talking about that, or general pleasantries, are talking about the heiress. You hear ‘Venture Industrial’ bandied about, whether she’s hear to sell or not, and how much of her father’s company is left after all these years. You recall Venture Industrial being a big name decades ago, manufacturers and inventors that made all kinds of curiosities, but you thought they went under years ago after the head, Amadeus, died. Most of the chattering men have similar impressions.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan feels a tension at seeing the door ajar. Maybe I shoulda brought my pets NOW, he thinks, but it evaporates (mostly) at seeing Sebastian.

The look of surprise on the young man's face is a relief; Donovan is feeling paranoid, but he'd like to think Sebastian is as trustworthy as Dr. Prest thought him to be.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sense Motive?
(1d20-1)[11], assuming it's a Wisdom check

If the background of living on the streets and some savviness can give a +2, I'll take it, but don't think I really deserve it.

[SlyJohnny]

"Let's go into your room. You should take a seat." Volk says, before anyone can say anything. He wants to usher the secretary out of the office so that he can search it. He peers at the man, noting how tired he looks, and wonders why, making a mental note to ask later.

After he's ushered everyone out of Prest's office and into the secretary's room, he woodenly intones "Thomas is dead. He was murdered, this morning." He studies the young man's eyes to check that he is genuinely surprised, though more out of habit than anything- he doesn't really suspect him. "We don't know more yet. Why it happened, who did it. This constable-" he gestures expansively to Stordus- "-is questioning Thomas' coworkers and friends. Any small thing you remember might be useful."

He steps back out of the room, apparently to afford the constable privacy, but in actual fact so that he can dig through Prest's office for any clues.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sense Motive (1d20+1)[19]

[Magni's Hammer]

Donovan, Volk, and Lydia

Sebastian is thrown into total confusion and worry by the news. He immediately begins asking questions, and once fully appraised he falls into a short, contemplative silence before beginning. "The Professor has- had, been not his usual self since Professor Wash's death and his taking on the position. He had been to see him, you know, before he passed. Mr. Wash, I mean. And the Professor was communicating with someone -- whomever it was that gave him the tip for the expedition, I think. He's left a few times in the past several months, and was always gone for hours at a time. Now, that's not unusual, mind -- he had his various meetings once he became dean -- but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. Not wanting to pry, I didn't question it, but with all this now...well, maybe I should have asked something.

"This past week he was very distracted. He kept putting off work -- which is why I came in this morning, incidentally, what with the grant letter still unfinished -- and he had taken out these charts from the university archives. I didn't ask about it, but I think they were building plans of some kind." At that, he retrieves his satchel from beside his secretary's desk and produces a thick fold of old architect's papers. They look like plans for various renovations of Ravenwell's alchemistry and metaphysics labs from over the past century; a fair bit of ink has been scrawled in the margins, with short notes like "missing funds," "D’Aubrey's story doesn't match what Wash told me," and "but Mrs. Cordaine said it was added in '14!" all in Prest's neat little handwriting. On the page for the new basement of the Metaphysics Deparment, there is a rather cryptic note that simply reads: "It's here."

As you look over the papers, Sebastian continues. "He gave these to me after Professor Monk came by. I stepped out to give them some privacy, since my door doesn't keep out the sound at all, but when I came back from my walk I could see Mr. Monk leaving, and he looked extremely angry. The Professor was very quiet after that, and after a while he took those maps out and gave them to me. He said I ought to keep them with me tonight, and then he sat down and wrote six letters before he left. That was the last I saw of him."

Volk hears all of this as from the main office as he searches the place. Nothing seems out of place, and there are various old letters carefully arranged on the main desk, with one of the finished grant letters set and ready to be mailed. Upon closer inspection, you start to spot evidence of Sebastian's work to clean the place: there are still bits of ash on the floor (where presumably a burglar was picking through the fireplace, and the secretary tried to sweep it back in), there's a bit of paper in the corner (where the wastepaper-basket had been overturned), and many of the shelved books are crooked, upside-down, or in the wrong order (where the burglar had pulled them off the shelf and Sebastian later hastily put them back).

Spoiler: Sense Motive Checks

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Sebastian is genuine in his shock and sadness, and his information seems accurate.

[Boethius Junior]

"Charm?" Ridley offers L'lam a crocodile's smile. "My dear Julius, the whole study of mesmerics could not compel you to charm. Besides, surely poor Janie would frown at this latest philandering?" Spewing a trail of smoke, the doctor turns 'round in his chair to observe the out-of-place arrivals. "So which one is she? And has she any name besides the late father's? Us freemen wish to know."

[SlyJohnny]

Volk pockets the grant letter and the mysterious bit of paper for later perusal, and glances over the letters, wondering if there's anything interesting or any clue as to who the professor's mysterious penpal was. He glances over the bookshelf- just in case the upturned books spell out some coded message that will crack this case wide open- but otherwise sits and reads the letters until the constable and the others are ready to move on.

[Magni's Hammer]

Rukh and Ridley

"I'm not planning to ravish her, if that's what you mean," Julius feigns hurt, "just lead her on a little. Whatever gets her to sign over Venture Industrial to the Trust." The three of you regard the odd trio quietly. "She's quite unusual, Alessia," L'lam murmurs. "Miss Alessia Venture, twenty years old and the very last of the family -- as far as anyone can tell, anyway. She was just a baby when her parents disappeared, along with every brother, uncle, and cousin. You remember that little fiasco, don't you? I think we were abroad when it happened. Factories closed, bankruptcy, the end of an era... Except little Alessia, spirited away until just under a year ago, when she comes out and convinces the board to return control of the family business to her. What's left of it, anyway."

He shifts his eyes back to Dr. Ridley, steely and earnest. He taps the side of his nose. "Word to the wise, she'll be looking to sell soon enough. Her finances can't be good. Story says she's been roaming the city like a lost little ghost, checking in with old acquaintances of her father's, begging for loans or a favor." He shrugs. "I'd offer to help, in my own charming way, but between the governess and that animal bodyguard I haven't had a moment." And as if the idea just struck him, his dark iron eyes light up like arc lamps, and he leans in conspiratorially over his empty coffee. "Say, perhaps you could introduce us? A plump old charmer like Ridley might just strike her fancy in a more...nonthreatening way. And who knows, Rukh, that hairy fellow might be a distant relative!" he chuckles. "And I'd be willing to pay, of course. Usual rates. Just get me onto a quiet balcony or a closed room, without any of those fussy old minders around, and by Honest Johnny I'll have Venture Industrial signed off to the Trust within the hour! Just think of all the ideas she could be sitting on; all of Amadeus' untried designs are probably just moldering away in her closet somewhere! Why, we'd be doing the doll a favor, taking her parent's crumbled legacy off her hands."

Spoiler: The Usual Rate

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If you can arrange a private meeting between Julius and Alessia he will cut you a check large enough to raise each of your wealth levels by +1. He'll pay you before the meeting, but you'll of course have to deposit or cash the note at a bank before it takes effect.

[Boethius Junior]

"So that is indeed Miss Alessia? I should have guessed as much." Ridley finishes his coffee with a sober pull and stuffs his cigar's remains into the nearest ashtray. "Though I would love nothing more than to spend my afternoon humoring you, I believe I have more pressing business than to watch you make yourself the fool at the poor lady's expense." Rising from his chair, he turns to his loyal friend. "Shall we then, Rukh?"

Whatever L'lam's protestations, Ridley carves a path through the meandering crowds towards this young emissary of the Venture name - bearing his brightest smile and wielding the warmest of regards: "So it is true!" he all but shouts, "the prodigal darling has returned to Vanalot at long last!" Bowing low enough that what few whispers of hair atop his crown brush the ground, Ridley showily announces himself to the heiress: "Doctor Hieronymus Ridley, at your service."

Spoiler: Charisma Check

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Should one be necessary at this junction:
EDIT: I fudged the form, so I shall post in the OOC

[Grek]

Lydia tries to be comforting. Soothing, even. The young man just had a colleague die, after all. But...

"I don't mean to alarm you, Sebastian, but you may very well be in danger. We have reason to suspect that the murderer wished to keep Mr. Prest quiet about some matter relating either to the University or to a recent discovery. If it were suspected that you had the missing notes, or that you knew about the secret - whatever it is exactly - you may very well be the next target. If you have friends or family in the city, please, stay with them for the next few nights? If only to put my mind at ease that you have someone looking out for you."

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Donovan, and Volk

"Thank you, Mrs. Cassus. I, um, yes, I share my apartment with two other students, Francis Chillae and Davin De Patois. I'll stay with them for the while, they're friends of mine." Sebastian fiddles with his satchel, thinking his thoughts through. "I believe you should keep the maps, though. I'm sure the Professor was planning on telling you about them, though I cannot understand how Ravenwell's architecture is relevant to Therme." A nervous flash shoots across his face. "Goodness! Wait, I had almost forgotten: when I came in this morning, the Professor's office was very dirty and I thought maybe the maid had left in the middle of cleaning, but when she didn't come back I started to tidy up myself. What if someone broke in during the night, looking for these? I could have destroyed evidence by mistake!?" The exhausted student slumps back against his desk, face pale.

With further kind words from Lydia, Sebastian is coaxed out of his funk, but he can't think of anything more useful to say. Constable Stordus offers to escort him home -- though they'll stop at the administration building on the way out to find Antony, as he'll no doubt want to record everything Sebastian has told you. In the adjoining office, Volk has exhausted his search of the room. The paper trash is nothing useful, just unfinished drafts of the grant letters, and you can't figure any meaning out the order of the books (though their disorder is almost certainly due to Sebastian's haphazard attempt to clean up after what was certainly a break-in). The grant letters and associated dean's paperwork are basically just formal money-orders for the various expeditions and new books the university is sponsoring in the coming years, allowing the addressees to draw a certain amount of money from Ravenwell's account to cover their expenses. Curiously, one detail stands out: there is no mention of the Therme Expedition here at all; not even a receipt for the guns and tools he already bought, now waiting in a warehouse down town.

Ridley and Rhuk

The enormous creature glares at you as you approach, but the women both smile politely and the bodyguard makes no move to interrupt Dr. Ridley. As he straightens, the young woman rises and offers you a soft handshake. She is short and dainty, her sable hair drawn back into a polite bun, her tiny hands encased in white lace gloves. "Dr. Ridley, your reputation proceeds you! Thomas spoke very well of you, and of your companion, Mr...Taash? I hope I have said that right," she says, nodding to Rhuk as he approaches. Returning her bright eyes to Hieronymus, she continues "Please, allow me to introduce my beloved companions: this is Mrs. Claudia Wippel, my nurse, governess, and business advisor--" the older, heavy-jowled woman rises and curtsies with a formal 'hello,' "--and this is Maximilian, my valet, driver, and bodyguard. He was an associate of my father's, and with Claudia, they are the last of the Venture household." The huge creature simply folds his arms and grunts. This close to him, you detect a faint musky scent mixed with moss, covered by a ridiculous amount of workman's cologne.

Alessia offers you seats, then sits to produce a letter from her purse: it looks just like the ones you each received this morning. "Thomas has been meeting with me for quite some time now, about the..." she whispers with girlish conspiracy "...expedition." Chipper, she continues, handing over the letter for you to scrutinize: "...Anyway, this letter was delivered very early, and in it Thomas wrote that we were to convene here this morning. I must say I am so excited to finally meet you all. I arranged for a private room for breakfast, where we could go over the details. Tell me, will Thomas and the other three be arriving soon? I'm so eager to finally meet Mrs. Cassus, Volk, and Donovan. Thomas' letter was so very fervent, I'm rather surprised they haven't come racing in the door!"

[JeenLeen]

"Do you think we should check out the metaphysics building? I... it doesn't seem like there any big clue what IT is, and... this is frustrating.

If the professor's murderer is afoot here, he might be watching our actions. Directly or indirectly. So we probably shouldn't reveal what these maps mean, and thus should avoid the metaphysics department. At least for now.
Perhaps, after checking in with administration, we should reconvene with the rest of our group? Given the danger, I'd like to pick up my pets. I can put a cloak on them so they don't stand out from a distance."

It wouldn't help a lot, but a mysterious cloaked figure tended to get slightly less attention and alarm than a freakish mutant.

Spoiler: on orders to archsilver mutants

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Can I give one an order like "protect Sebastian", if I wanted to send one as a bodyguard for someone? Or do they have to be near me to stay obedient?

Also, to clarify the IC: no real action suggested right now. Just some uncertainty about the best next action lest we tip our hand.

[SlyJohnny]

((Okay, that makes more sense now. I was wondering what robber you were talking about, earlier.))

Volk checks behind the portrait just in case it conceals a safe or something, then follows the others out. He waits until the constable has retreated out of earshot, then turns to the others.

"Neither of you need follow me, but I am going now. The trail may go cold, otherwise. We must give enemy no time to react. All three of us can see in the dark, so we can move without visible light. I will see if I can get inside without raising attention... perhaps our enemy will be too busy watching the constables." he replies to Donovan. Or perhaps they are waiting down there for us. Perhaps they sought the plans only to destroy them, and maintain their secrecy. Perhaps we will come upon them in the dark, and then I can make them pay. Volk muses. He shudders suddenly, flexing his arms. His fingers are fidgeting, curling and uncurling.

[Magni's Hammer]

It might be better to put OOC-posts in that thread [http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showt...#post23995258] to avoid clutter. You guys are all on track, and have found most of the clues in the module, so it might be a good idea to hash out a timeline and everything you know in that thread, and see if anything pops out to you then.

[Kvard51]

At the young woman's words, Rhuk bows from the waist in an archaic, formal manner. As he stands, he looks into her eyes and offers a rare smile. "You may call me Rhuk, lady, as is appropriate among friends."

With that, he steps back two paces, returning to Ridley's flank, Watching the room while listening to the conversation between the Doctor and Miss Venture.

[Grek]

"I suppose that is a risk, Volk. Permit me to fetch something from my residence and I'll be right along with you."

Lydia does not like the idea. Not of going into the Metaphysics building without the rest of the group, nor of using the prototype as a weapon. But what else could be done? She wasn't going to let Volk go alone, not after the secrets of that place had already claimed a life.

[JeenLeen]

"Volk, take one of these with you, in case there is any danger" he says as he passes a flask of scarbalm, with its small burner attached.

"I won't be much use if anyone is waiting there, and taking my pets will make it really obvious what we're doing. But I and the constables can go get my pets. If we are being watched, I can be the distraction."

[SlyJohnny]

Volk takes the flask of scarbalm and secures it onto his tool belt. He nods to Donovan. "Thank you. I will not take foolish risks. If there's no safe way inside- if seems to be more than we can chew, I will instead wait for the rest of the group."

He looks over to Lydia. "There is no rush. We can first retrieve whatever you need, Mrs Cassus."

[Boethius Junior]

Passing the letter to Rhuk, Ridley takes the offered seat and somberly meets the young Alessia's eyes. "My dear, your enthusiasm is infectious, but I implore you to quiet on these matters. You never know who might be listening, hm?" He glances conspiratorially about the room; voice dropping to scarcely a whisper. "My friend Rhuk and I have not merely sought you out on the good doctor's word; I am afraid we bring tragic news: Thomas Prest was murdered this morning at his home on Locust Row - if you trust his word then trust mine now."

Standing again, voice returned to its natural abundance, Ridley showily dons his cap. "Yes, I'm afraid the vacation plans will have to be put on hold, until the matter of attendance is sorted. Still, I believe there was word of breakfast? Somewhere we might away from these banker-vultures?"

[Magni's Hammer]

Rhuk and Ridley

Seeing the dawning horror in her charge's amber eyes, the governess rises to the occasion. "Of course, doctor," she says just a tad over-loudly, "If you will just follow me." Arm around her wrist, she scoops up the now-pallid heiress and leads you further into the Hothsdort, prattling on about how fine the eggs Pavian are here as if you hadn't just told them about the murder of their close confidant.

The two bodyguards fall in behind them, eyes sweeping the room for any dangers. Except for Llam's greedy glances no one seems to care about your departure. Satisfied, Rhuk's attention turns for an instant to the creature, 'Maximilian.' You've been all about the western rim of Isidia in your tour, but you cannot recall ever meeting a thing like this. Whatever Alessia's manservant is, he must have come from very far away. As you walk, he speaks suddenly, posing a question in a rumbling, heavily-accented Relian: "You also ahre ah guard, yes? I haff serfed thah lady since she was fery smahll, and her fahther before that. You and thah doctor seem close ahswell." He inclines his hand as he finishes; if you care to elaborate he seems curious and happy to listen.

Once seated and fixed for breakfast in a fine private room on the second floor (the decor tries a bit too hard, but the gilding is unobtrusive and there's a lovely floral imitation around the window), and sure that the waiting staff is unlikely to barge in, Claudia begins a careful series of deliberate questions about the morning. Maximilian has chosen to stand by the door, a mug of coffee in hand and one lupine ear pricked for any sound in the hallway. I'll assume you fill them in on the necessary details; Alessia remains focused but quiet as you talk, picking at a boiled egg without eating.

Now property informed, the young woman carefully musters a reply. "I...I suppose I must thank you, gentlemen, for everything you and your friends are doing. I did not know him as long as you, but I considered Thomas a dear and trusted friend, and it pains me to think that this evil should befall him and his family." She fixes you will a brilliant stare, her amber eyes intense and serious.

"He was a friend of my father's, you know. I never knew my father, or any of my family, but I was told that at school Thomas Prest was a close companion of his, though in life they went their separate ways." Now that she mentions it, you dimly recall, back years ago when he was in the diplomatic service, Thomas telling you about a friend of his, an ambitious young man that had left school when his rich father died to manage the family business. He had said he was a capital fellow, brilliant with mechanics and alchemistry and endlessly curious, but prone to bouts of introspective melancholy and manic pride. Had he been talking about Amadeus? You can't quite remember, it was so long ago...but it does sound like the kind of man that would rise to the greatest heights of industrial power before vanishing in a mysterious instant, leaving everything of his to fall apart without him.

Alessia continues. "When I took over my parents' company, I was desperate; I am not ashamed to admit it. I was given a fine education, but I am no genius like my father. So I sought out whatever talent I could, and that led me to Ravenwell and to Thomas. He was more than happy to take up the task, and it must have been his inquiring for opportunities that led to his conversation with Professor Wash, the old dean." She stops to hand you another two letters from her purse, these ones very wrinkled and dated less than a month apart, both over a year ago.

"Thomas wrote to me that, during one of their rambling conversations, the dean let slip something about an abandoned project between my father, when he had just taken charge of the business, and the university. Curious, because he had never heard of such a thing, Thomas pressed him about it, and the man eventually confessed that it had been kept hidden, due to its potentially ground-breaking nature, only to be abandoned for some reason or another." The young woman's smile is a mix of earnestness and sadness.

"My family has made all sorts of wonderful things through its years. Ventures pioneered the heliograph and sponsored all of Volta's research into his 'batteries'...Just imagine what brilliance my father could have brought into the world, had he lived? I wrote back begging Thomas to pursue this at all speed, and he promised, but," she hesitates, "he soon wrote back that Professor Wash was being obstinate. In fact, he denied ever having the conversation, and demanded Thomas drop the subject. When he went to the university archives to find any record of this contract, he found nothing and the archivist refused to speak to him about it. That was about about a year ago now, when he told me about this, and we arranged to meet him here in person shortly after."

"Thomas was very upset, and concerned that there had was something criminal in all this history. Perhaps embezzlement, or an accounting fraud. He knew how tightly the chancellor, Damian, keeps the university's accounts; how fragile the institution can be. I can sympathize. And though he did not say so, I suspect our professor was worried about, well, other things." Her voice drops again, but the subject is plain: laboratory scandals; unethical experimentation; abuse. The kind of things neither a young industrialist nor a struggling university would want associated with its name. Better just to seal it up and keep bad history hidden away.

"Nevertheless, we agreed that this was something we all should pursue -- if not for the sake of my company, then for the truth. He told me he had several friends that he could trust, and would assemble them to investigate. I think it was shortly after that meeting that he called for you."

Again Alessia hesitates, so Claudia takes up the story. "We know that Thomas was a good and honest man. Please, gentlemen, do not think he kept this from you out of any malice or desire to deceive."

The older woman stiffens. "Rather, I insisted on it. He spoke very well of all of you, but I simply could not trust anything of Miss Venture's reputation to chance. It was better for everyone that the subject of your investigation be kept between the professor and the three of us. Should it prove to be an old family scandal we were investigating -- well, I simply could not bear the idea of my charge being blackmailed by some scurrilous vagabonds." She coughs into her hand at this. "Ahem, not to imply either of you, or your other friends, would do such a thing. But now we are introduced. Then we were not."

[Grek]

The Cassus Residence is a narrow pile of bricks nestled in the middle of a row of similar structures, pressed snugly against its neighbors like lumpy grey molars in a brown-grassed jaw. Although the building is clearly intended to house a small family (perhaps a very small family), the window (for there is only room for one window in this cramped abode) lies dusty and dark on the second floor.

Lydia herself lives in the basement, out of sight of the memories that still loom so large and well away from the places where people aren't and never will be again. There is an oil lamp on a hook by the door and a stair that squeaks six steps down. A curtain has been drawn around a cot, a little island of calm amid the papers and the chalk. Their owner navigates the clutter without looking, stepping over this and dodging past that to retrieve a key left atop a yellowing reference book.

The key slides into a lock, the lock turns in the latch and the lead-lined coffer creaks open to reveal a sheet of moss-hued velvet tangled around a contraption that looks like a network of steel veins and sounds like barbed bells in a burlap sack. Lydia cradles it in her arms, keeping it well away from anything too firm - or too fragile. "Alright. I don't like using this, but... Well. I hope we won't need it."

[Kvard51]

Rhuk falls in behind the Doctor, smiling widely at L'lam as they walk away. He turns back at Maximillian's voice, a bit surprised at the thickness of his accent. Nodding in agreement, not sure if the man can understand the concept of "Life-Debt". "I am Okaat Rhukaan Taash. Doctor Ridley is my friend. I serve him out of love and loyalty. It seems you do the same for the Lady?? Rhuk takes the proffered hand, giving it a firm grip.

Once situated for breakfast, Rhuk falls into an easy squat where he can easily see both the door and the Doctor's back. He lays his pistol across his knees and takes a up of coffee when offered. He listens intently to the conversation, hoping to hear something from the heiress' party that might give a clue to Thomas' death.

[Boethius Junior]

Once comfortably secure, Ridley takes every pain to explain their current predicament, to the fullest extent of his knowledge. Upon learning the truth however, his somber mood further deepens. "I cannot blame your care, Miss Claudia - in fact I advise you keep to your premonitions. These revelations are...unwelcome," he muses. "Being something of a locus for mischief myself, I am scarcely taken by Ravenwell's sordid histories. Yet, to think that Thomas may have been embroiled - well, Wash passed recently too, and at about the hour of my grandiose return. Which, though I dare not sully his name by implication, was indeed at Thomas's behest. The pieces fit."

After a quiet pause, he stands to abrupt attention, shoving on cap and shouldering cane. "Come then, my new friends!" he cries with fiery zeal. "There is much good to do; and little more that may be done here - you must be introduced to our compatriots, posthaste! I shall be damned if I allow any stone unturned, until justice has been delivered." Swiftly he crosses the room and flings wide the door; storming the street, and onward to the University.