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"Speaking of which, you think the sorcerer is serious about robbing the tax offices? Part of me says he's just messing with us - throwing out the line and seeing if anyone takes the bait."
"Nah. No way. Well, maybe if...nah."
Len pokes at her chin in thought.
"It matches everything else I've heard him say, so if it really is a big game, its been a long time in the making.
Honestly, though, I think his behavior is too outrageous to be clever lying, and its too consistent to be bad lying. He's just a horse who can't stand the saddle as far as I'm concerned. "
Spoiler
I have unexpected company over, so this will have to do for now. I'll post again around midnight PST.
Last edited by Too_many_tamale : 08-05-2007 at 01:19 PM.
"Y-Yes...I can show you in..." He hesitantly steps closer to the entrance, fiddling with the door handle. "Sometimes, it gets stuck..." He continues to toy with it, and eventually he opens one of the twin doors. "There we go..."
You step into the entrance hall, with marble floors beneath you, a grand set of doors opposite you, and stairs to either side. A small admission stand is located by the door, ropes barring paths diverting from it.
Light shines through windows in the front of the building, as well as the sides - but things are still rather dim.
The man with you does not go beyond the doorway. "In there..." He points to the theatre doors, with a gulp. "There's something in there." Looking closely, you spot a strange white mist creeping through the crack in the doors.
Harold Betruger
Harold weighs up the situation carefully, and then puts the mist aside to be sorted out later.
"Sir," he says, his expression and voice the very image of soothing concern.
"How long has this been happening? Has the mist constantly been in the theatre?"
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"It's been about a week since the first occurence, sir." He hesitates. "T-The mist...comes and goes. Sometimes there's...other oddities, as well. Disembodied voices, doors opening and closing on their own, orbs of light floating in the air...I would be most careful, sir."
"You can call me Thomas, sir. Umm..." He pauses. "Thinking about it, I don't believe anyone's been hurt. Well, a few guests were trampled on the first night - as the first incident was in the middle of a performance. Things went horribly out of control, and everybody fled the theatre afraid for their lives. That was the only truly bad night." He takes a deep breath. "It started with some flickering lights. Then, strange laughter. Some people thought it was part of the show, but they soon realized otherwise. The actors tried to continue, but...well...in the middle of a piece where an actor was drawing a bated sword, when he pulled it from its sheathe...there was a snake, instead. It bit him, we all saw, but he had no marks. Still, unsurprisingly, he was afraid to death, and tossed it to the ground. Guests reported seeing it transform into some...beast. Some saw a troll, others saw an ogre...personally, I thought it was some kind of wolf-monster...but then, what does it matter? Performances haven't continued since that night - and nobody seems to know the source of the problem. But then, nobody's really been brave enough to stay inside for long. That creature hasn't reappeared, though."
"If not, we could help in that area," Fargrim interjects, entering the room after Harold, Flare and Ritan. "And once we find the troublemaker responsible for doing all this, we can definitely help you." Fargrim grins his usual grin and extends his hand towards Thomas. Hm, a little too off-putting. "I'm Fargrim, servant of our Holy Father. This miscreant has obviously strayed from the path and needs to be set straight."
Thomas nods. "We did have one man investigate, but he said his study was inconclusive...but that may perhaps be because he fled within moments of entering. Others...have been hesitant to even try."
Flare steps towards the stage, peering curiously at the mist. "What could be causing this? Do you know the history of this place? Or anyone who would want to decrease it's value?"
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Last edited by EvilRoeSlade : 08-05-2007 at 07:27 PM.
"Have you or anyone else searched the entire building? The sound of your story makes it sound like the building has stood empty. Someone or something could be hiding here in your theatre unknown," says Ritan. He looks around the room, eyeing all the shadows. The ornately decorated building would be a hard place to search thoroughly. "Are you even the owner?"
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Thomas shakes his head. "No, I'm not the owner. He asked me to come here to wait your arrival. I'm...eh...the admissions manager. Mr. Gortana is busy with important affairs elsewhere." Thomas sighs. "This place has some history...I wasn't around when Mr. Gortana's father ran it - but apparently the theatre was much more successful then. After his death, things started to go a little less than well. But, there were no such odd occurences until recently!" He quietly ponders for a moment. "The Silver Arch has already lost the great standing it used to have - so I don't know much about anyone wanting to compete with us, or take us out of the picture entirely...the only person on poor terms with Mr. Gortana was Maria, our best actress under the theatre's new ownership. She walked out on us a few months ago, frustrated with something - I have no idea what. She certainly didn't want to talk to me, that's for sure." He scratches his neck. "I don't think she's involved. Me, and everyone else who came here felt an evil presence...and nobody's cared to give too thorough a search, because they're afraid of what they'll find. The constable doesn't want to bother sending city watchmen to the task - I assume you picked up the job for them. Am I right?"
Harold Betruger
Harold nods.
"Sure, that's about the shape of it. Well, in that case, I suppose we'll have a look around. Where will you be, if we need to find you?"
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"Where is the Wisdom of one who only quotes the Wise?" ~Maboroshi
Harold Betruger
Harold waves his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. Just be within screaming distance. Hopefully this shouldn't take more than a few hours."
There's a look of excitement and anticipation on Harold's handsome face as he steps up to the door with the strange mist. Crouching down, he dips a finger into the clouds.
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"Where is the Wisdom of one who only quotes the Wise?" ~Maboroshi
The clouds swirl around Harold's finger harmlessly. He has no feeling of warmth or cold there...and it is as light as normal air itself.
Len finds the doors are a little heavier than most, but it's safe to assume that's because of their thickness, no doubt it place to keep the sounds of the theatre from spilling out. They are not too impeding - but most would not be able to whirl one open very easily.
Harold Betruger
Harold stands up
"Hm. I'm inclined to think this bit is illusion as well. Of course, illusion can also cover what's really there. Anyone got a lantern?"
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"Where is the Wisdom of one who only quotes the Wise?" ~Maboroshi
Flare pats Thomas' shoulder as he gazes at the door. "Don't worry," he says quietly. "We'll take care of everything. Will there be lanterns inside? Or any kind of light?"
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"Mr. Gortana had a wizard of sorts install magical lights some time ago, so that we wouldn't need worry about lanterns...orbs that generated light upon being commanded to do so. Unfortunately, they've been smashed."
Strength check isn't required. I said the doors don't impede you much, it's just that you suspect most couldn't throw one open effortlessly.
The doors move to reveal a grand theatre with rose-red carpets and cushioned seats, rows starting only some feet away, and extending into a strange and haunting darkness. What little light shining into the hall cracks through the doorway, giving you clear sight at only about 30 ft inward.
Thomas creeps back to the entrance door, but does not leave just yet - he stands awkwardly in the doorway, peering back at Harold and Len, curiously. With the door open, more light makes way into the hall, but none helps to enlighten the theatre itself.
As the two stare into the abyss, they see or hear nothing beyond.
Harold Betruger Uh-huh.
With a contemplative look inside the theatre, Harold signals Len to close her door as he does the same. The minstrel then watches the seal below the passage for a full minute in silence.
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"Where is the Wisdom of one who only quotes the Wise?" ~Maboroshi
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