Well past moonfest (midnight), Lilita’s search turned up an oddity. There was a small puncture on the woman’s neck, just beneath the hairline. So fine, she had passed over it once already without noticing. From casual inspection, the mark appeared to be some sort of sting or bite.
Knowing that a sting often leaves behind a sharp barb with an attached bag of poison or venom sac or least some remnant of such even if the woman had managed to remove it or rubbed it off by accident. Even so around the puncture, there would be signs of painful, itchy swelling with more severe reactions there would be a rash over the body, swelling of the throat or tongue, restriction of breathing, diarrhea, vomiting, etc. which one would think would be more apparent if it were a sting... of some kind. Besides her Detect Poison and Disease spell should have picked up any sort of traces of either poison or venom resulting from a sting, which Lilita finds very perplexing since she detected nothing.
So Lilita did what she could to clean the area of the small puncture as best she can and cast a Cure Wounds on her to see if it will have any general effect or slow things down a bit then apply an herbal poultice for pain, dress it and hope for the best. Lilita will continue to stay beside the woman, sitting close and watching her through the night to keep an eye on her for any changes, attending her... watchful for chills or fever or any other changes in her condition and do everything she can. As Lilita stays up she will consult any arcane healing tomes Arcana she may have on hand to research as well as reflect on her own memories of guild lectures, she attended concerning puncture marks like that which could appear as bites or stings and what sorts of creature or causes may be at work. In the morning if not better Lilita will find one of her former patients she has helped who lives nearby to sit with the woman while Lilita goes to Healing Guild to try to seek answers.
At some point during the night she dozed off. In the midst of a very disturbing dream where she was dressed in a wispy gown that left nothing to the imagination and was playing a very beautiful melody on her old viola while a tall, hauntingly handsome figure sat nearby, an amused look on his face, she woke with a start. The dream was surreal, as it lingered. Catching her breath Lilith turned to check on her patient and found the woman was gone. The bedclothes were tossed back hastily and the door to the Vardo wagon left slightly open.
Lilita attaches little or no significance to her dream and quickly pushes it out of her mind as her main concern is more on her now missing patient rather than herself and not on frivolous dreams... no matter how vivid or surreal. She hastily picks up then carefully folds the discarded bedclothes before going out to stand at the top of the narrow steps to her home.
The narrow street outside as well as the community garden across the way were veiled by a thick fog that seemed to eddy and swirl despite the lack of a breeze. Tarantis knew fog well, sitting on the edge of the sea as it did, so there was nothing unnatural about the weather outside. Even so, a shiver went through her, causing her arms to break out in goosebumps. Worried about the woman and feeling a chill as she grabs a shawl from her closet and wraps it around herself... After awhile she realized that the woman was gone and that there was nobody else about. Turning with a sigh she went back inside and closed the door.
Unable to return directly to sleep Lilita busied herself with cleaning up after her attempt to help the poor woman. Perhaps she had woken and slipped away in the middle of the night, it was the only thing that made sense. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman had been taken away somehow.
Every fiber of her being screams out to immediately dash out and search for the poor missing woman, Lilita is unable to explain and rationalize to herself why she doesn't do this!!! Why is she feeling and reacting so contrary to her nature... not feeling at all herself... acting in such a lethargic manner gives her pause?
While waiting for the water to steep her tea, Lilita sat on the bench beside a table for one, watching the street through the open window. The urge to close the shutter and bunker in was strong, a lingering fear or confusion that she couldn’t readily dismiss. Deciding to focus on everything that she had done to help the woman Lilith’s sharp mind visualized the condition and the wound. It had been as if the woman had suffered from some sort of blood disorder; something that left her weak and near deaths door, and the wound. There had been no signs or residue of a sting or thorn. No redness or swelling, either. Just a perfect puncture wound. She was reminded of some of the marks left behind when the instructors at the guild had used an artificial tool called a syringe to draw bodily fluids. Syringes were extremely rare and delicate, which also made them expensive.
Lilita lost in thought looks down at the cup of tea... she had leisurely taken the time to make... why she wonders, to calm her nerves? She picks it up, opens the window and flings the contents of the cup outside... without so much as taking a sip her thoughts still on the woman. Thinking in regards to the possibility of the puncture is from a syringe, perhaps someone had injected something into the woman... the question being, were they treating her for some unknown condition or was something else going on? Given how rare and expense syringes are why would someone go to such expense to treat a mere commoner... perhaps someone is experimenting, using commoners like the woman as guinea pigs???
She knew she had years of learning ahead of her and acknowledge her limitations. Surly, if not a syringe, then there were many magical beasts and aberrations that could possibly leave such marks and symptoms behind. With so little information, it was difficult. The more she thought about it the more details revealed themselves. The woman’s body had been clean, while not freshly scrubbed, but far cleaner than was the usual found in the Poor Quarter, and her fingernails had been even, well-tended to. Her eyes glanced at the woman’s dress sitting, neatly folded on top of a small cabinet. Sitting up, Lilita blinked. How had she missed that before? She recalled taking it off the woman and setting it where it was… The Vardo was a small space, hard to miss things that were not part of her own contents. It also meant that the woman had left wearing only her slip.
Lilita picks the woman's dress... closes up the Vardo and heads outside into the streets and alleys in search of the missing woman, upset with herself that she dallied far too long instead of going out immediately when she first discovered the woman missing... She goes nowhere particular, just wandering the streets, places someone like the woman might sight seek out for shelter or refuge.
Somewhere in the distance a bell chimes, marking it three past moonfest (midnight). The streets of the Laborer’s Quarter, also often referred to as the Poor Quarter by those who didn’t have to live in it, were quiet. The occasional drunk or group of drunks reeling down a street, many singing badly off key. Some bars and taverns remained open, day and night, their noise sounding dull in the heavy fog. Shadows moved and were distorted, more effects of the fog and poor lighting. Unlike the better quarters, this one was only lit at crossroads or by the fronts of various establishments still open. Passing by a three-story house overhanging the street Lilita heard sobbing from a second-floor window. There was a growling warning, followed by a harsh slap. The sobbing quieted.
As Lilita walks along the darkened back streets and alleys she picks up a small stone and casts a Light cantrip on it. She pauses briefly at the house looking up sadly at the second-floor window but there is nothing she can do. As much as she would like to be able to do something positive... helpful for the abused and downtrodden, sadly people make their own choices and mistakes in the world at large so she must be content to mind her place and do what she can for those who seek her out.
Wandering around the quarter, Lilita checked the more obvious places someone might go for help or healing. There weren’t many, especially outside the wealthier parts of the city or the temple quarter. Something else she noticed, the walking and air, damp thought it was, had helped to clear her mind. There was a lingering feeling that she hadn’t fallen asleep on her own. Whether it had been magically induced or something else, she couldn’t tell.
Three menacing forms emerged from a narrow alley, becoming shadows of rough looking men. One leered openly at her and made a remark to the others. Her path took her closer and into the dim light of a lantern mounted above a door to a shop selling clothing. One of the men stared at her than grimaced, his arm going out to grab his nearest companion.
“It’s tha’ healer girl, let ‘er be.”
Lilita feeling an initial wave of fear, she breathes a sigh of relief when one of the three men grabs one of his companions giving her some small measure of hope that the act will be enough to allow her to pass in peace unmolested... Still, the whereabouts of her missing patient pushes her onward. She gives them a respectful bow keeping her eyes downcast as she attempts to slip past them without incident.
As the men moved on, now singing a bawdy song, Lilita entered the clothing shop. While in smaller towns it might be shocking to find merchant, shops open at all hours, not so in cities as large as Tarantis. Business went on, regardless of the hour or day as different people kept different hours. The interior was moderate lit, which made sense. Open flame such as candles or torches could be fire hazards waiting to happen and produced a lot of soot that tended to get onto and into everything while lanterns burning oil tended to be cleaner, were expensive enough that most households considered themselves well off if they owned even one and could keep it fueled. An elderly man – probably part of the shopkeeper’s extended family – got up from a stool where he had been dozing.
“’ello, got a need missy?”
Lilita looks at the old man timidly yet respectfully, clutching her patient's dress in one hand and her Light stone in the other. "Excuse me, kind sir, I do not mean to disturb you at this late hour... I am called Lilita, a healer. Earlier this evening a woman ((briefly describing her age, dress, and general physical appearance)) came to me for help but later I must have dozed off and she was gone leaving only this ((holding up the woman's dress)), she is ill and mayhap delirious, thus I am greatly concerned for her wellbeing... and searching for her just to ensure that she alright. Have you... pray to tell... seen her or heard something from a customer perhaps... or recognize this garment of hers... that if not homemade... who might have made or sold it?"
“Well, your last guess is often the most correct in this part of the city, yes? Mm, yes. May I see the garment?”
As she handed it over Lilita’s senses took in the narrow shop. A doorway in the far corner led to another room, probably the clothier’s main work space. A few carved human figures were dressed in modest clothing made from average materials, not unexpected since most of the inhabitants of the Laborer’s Quarter could ill afford to commission attire. The balance of the shop’s goods catered to those who made their own. Rolls of uncut cloth lined one wall, ready to be pulled out and cut by length. Another wall was stacked with open faced baskets holding balls of yarn, while behind the counter multi drawered case held needles of varying materials, likely bone or wood. Metal would be expensive here, as well as buttons of all sorts. A few ready-made garments hung from pegs, ready for quick sale for those with the coin. Humming, the old, slightly gnarled fingers were going over the woman’s blouse. A pearl white in color with a detailed stitch creating a decorative banding at the color and cuffs. He grumbled something about his eyes and turned to hold the blouse closer to the lantern.
The kind hearted Lilita noting the old man's difficulty with seeing in the shop's poor light... quickly moves her glowing Light stone closer to help make it easier for him to examine the dress. Politely asking, "how is that? Is that better now, I hope?" Moving the stone about under his direction as needed... wanting to make it as easy on him as possible.
“Ah, yes, but thank ye, missy. My eyes are not as sharp as they once were, don’t cha know,” smiled the old man as he made use of the light from her stone. “Ah, hmmm…yes. You see, while most clothing is made of homespun and by the light of the hearth, our profession is one that takes pride in it’s work. Mostly anyway, even while knowing few, if any, would know our work once it’s sold. Still, those of us who belong to the Weaver’s Guild take special pride, enough so that each shop, yes indeed, even most individual crafters, adopt a stitch pattern unique to themselves. And, aside from that, many clients are wealthy enough or self-important enough to warrant additional customization.”
Lilita smiles and nods politely, "you are very welcome, kind Ser, you, after all, are taking the time to help me in this matter... so it is the least that I can do." She listens to him closely not knowing much at all about such things or of the Weaver's Guild so is very happy to be instructed on something new and interesting to her. Drawing closer to him Lilita is drawn to what he is trying to show her in order to better grasp the subject matter... taking it all in like a sponge! "Yes... I see... I had no idea, that is so very interesting but makes perfect sense now that you mention it."
Kindly eyes peered up at her as the old man traced the pattern again. “Can you see the flowering motif? Ivy intermixed with roses. And these” – he pointed at several swirling cross stitches – “suggest that these were made by Rail…Rail Avgrat or one of his people. Rail sells a lot of attire patterned after fashions from faraway lands; or clothing from such places, mmm, yes. Interesting, yes.”
Lilita looks very closely at the pattern, studying it seeing the flowering motif... fascinated with it all... pondering, how a simple weave could convey so much information! Thinking that the ivy intermixed with roses is somehow hauntingly familiar to her. "Oh, my yes, very interesting and very helpful. I am amazed at the information such a thing can convey to one with trained eyes in which to see, you are indeed a master in your chosen craft I am fortunate to have found my way to you."
Taking care to refold the clothes before returning them the old man pursed his lips. Rail’s shop is over on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage’s Quarter? Very expensive, yes. Many nobles visit there, as do pirates, probably for the outlandish costumes.” He gave Lilita a smile that showed his three remaining teeth. “Rail will be incredibly busy this time of the year, what with the Silver Festival approaching, mmm. Very busy creating new costumes for the various masquerade”
Lilita meets his gaze and smiles sweetly and politely back at him, not bothered by his lack of teeth or his age truly thinking him a very kind and wise man. She is however puzzled and somewhat surprised to learn that dress is made from expensive cloth as she had assumed coming to her the woman was like herself a mere commoner. Still, it's possible that the woman could be a commoner dressed by someone else in such finery... so it could still go either way. The woman, be she either a wealthy lady or a simple commoner came to Lilita for help. As result, Lilita feels an obligation to find a way to help her even though she has disappeared. Lilita diving fully into the rabbit hole... this mystery is quickly becoming... requiring her to dig deeper in order to get to the bottom of things.
The petite young healer nods, "yes Rail's Shop on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage Quarter. I am somewhat familiar with the general area but have not been inside any shops there," she sighs, "far too rich for my blood as you can no doubt tell from my humble attire," she giggles not all embarrassed by her lower-class origins. "Thank you very much for your assistance, you are right... with the festival no doubt he will be extremely busy to see someone like me... I am not even sure they would allow me inside the shop... festival or no festival to be honest, but I must try."
Following her as far as the door the old man pursed his lips again. “Oh, curious thing, nearly slipped my mind, yes. Hmm, yes. That other pattern, perhaps the patrons mark? It’s a black rose…”
As she walks with him, she takes both his hands into hers warmly... and thanks him with a smile and a hug, "thank you again for your assistance, you've helped me far more than you know. I am sorry that I have no coin in which to reward you but you know who I am and that live in the old Vardo... if you need an herbal remedy or healing... whatever I can do... please visit me or send a boy to fetch me and I will come whenever needed, I promise."
With the woman's dress in hand, Lilita turns to leave the shop... wondering if the pattern, the patron's mark... a black rose, it is somehow connected to the Black Rose Healing House. Lilita remembering when she was still but a student at the Healer's Guild... meeting and speaking to several elegant and fashionably dressed ladies... so beautiful and refined... who had been selected to serve that house, the house her current master... employer had warned to stay away from... As Lilita ponders this she walks outside, the hour is very late and the trail has grown cold, she can only return to her Vardo and get some needed rest. Tomorrow will be a new day... and hopefully, things will be clearer to her and after work, she can decide her next move.
After nosing in and around the handful of bars, taverns, and inn’s surrounding the quarter’s market Livvi settled on The Quarterhorse Inn. Far from being in the same league as Kastle Keep, which was just outside the gate to the palace and had standards, the Quarterhorse had an advantage in that it was four stories high and that the tavern proper was located on the second floor. The large balcony stretching around two sides helped, too, as it gave an excellent view of the busy market.
The Quarterhorse Inn, although rougher around the edges, had other appealing qualities. The second-floor balcony with its view of the surrounding market areas was enough to draw the bard in, and the aromas wafting from the kitchen on the first floor was enough to keep her there. Livvi poked her head in to the kitchen area, giving it a quick visual inspection for general cleanliness and layout. She also listened and watched the head cook interact with the scullions and serving wenches, interested in the tone and manner of speech more than what was actually said. The plump mistress of the kitchens was efficient and wielded her wooden spoon like a mace, but it was quickly apparent that she loved her work and did not tolerate tom-foolery or slackers. Most of the workers knew Miss Lucy's manners and methods and had developed an easygoing working relationship with her. Livvi sensed a warm atmosphere here - one she hoped permeated the rest of the establishment. The inn was clean; food looked (and smelled) good and was reasonably priced. The owner had introduced himself as Kaneal Pigcton, an older man, Kaneal had waved away the two serving girls working at that time of day to tend to her personally.
Upstairs, when Kaneal Pigcton personally waited on her, her first instinct was to be wary. There were many lecherous men in a city and appearing too friendly invited unwanted and dangerous attention. Her normal response was that it was best to be professional and a bit standoffish until she learned more about the person.
“A new city crier,” he asked as he brought her a plate of cheeses and fresh bread. Kaneal smiled as he gestured to the parchment tube sitting on the table in plain view. “I caught part of your discourse, of course.” Assuming that a young and pretty girl, even a supposed government employee, would be more concerned about the upcoming festival than the rest of the daily news the innkeeper added, “you must be excited about the Silver Festival. All the costumes and revelry. Ahh, to be young again.”
"Yes, the festival is certain to be an excellent one. Do you host a celebration here? I imagine with this balcony and the view of the rest of the market, a party here could be the envy of any around. Seeing the costumed revelers up here in the open but above the street. What a wonderful vision in my mind! But I get ahead of myself. I am Livvi and thank you for your hospitality. You know, I will be working in the Market for a while and need a good place to sit and work from between my announcements. Perhaps the Quarterhorse could be a place where I may be safe and comfortable?"
“Oh, indeed, indeed,” the innkeeper said as he set down the platter and nodded. “While not the most prestigious of the yearly festivals it is one of the more important ones as you no doubt know. How could one not? Growing up in the provinces.” Pigcton nodded sagely, “From the slight hint of accent, can I assume it’s the Jarmeer? Of course, it must be.”
Livvi smiles at the innkeeper. "You have a keen ear, sir. As a lady, I have had many voice training lessons to smooth away any rough edges to my speaking, but a trace always remains. Sort of a birthmark, yes? But I keep you from your duties and these other guests. Farewell, for now. I will be seeing you!" (Not being familiar with provinces or areas, I'll assume the Jarmeer is an upper-class province or area, and that his comment would be seen as a compliment... I would agree)
At first glance the Quarterhorse and its occupants seemed pleasant, even comforting. Even her first suspicions of Pigcton’s intentions had eased and yet, and yet, that inner little voice in her head was singing caution and was dancing in circles. There were deeper things going on here, in this place. As the innkeeper went on in detail about the masquerade parties most of the city embraced during the week of silver; how his was nearly equal to those put on by the nobles in their grand estates and townhomes…
Although Livvi had been hoping to learn some more information about the missing merchants and their wagons, the clientele here stood out. It wasn't that the young bard wasn't used to seeing many different races and foreigners, but something about this place made the little silver bells in her head ring their silent, but insistent, alarm. So, as she ate her evening meal Livvi casually looked around at the place, noting physical characteristics like doors and the layout of tables, and the other patrons. What about them caught her attention? What kind of groupings were they in - twos and threes, or larger parties? Was there a pattern or any similarities? Could she overhear any conversations? These were all things that Bilina would ask her to recall, and so Livvi focused on gathering as much passive information as she could through observation and eavesdropping. She would order a bowl of the lamb stew with root vegetables and rice, savoring the spicy curry and sipping the cool water, all the while alternating her eyes from her bowl, to the tavern interior, to the market view beyond the balcony, trying to piece together as much as she could. Investigation: 12
More than a few of the guests were from out of town. Some, judging by their dress, came from far away, perhaps even as far as the City State of the World Emperor (self-proclaimed). Several were exotic, humans and half-humans that might be from the southern isles or even further away. That warning on her parchments about being mindful of potential foreign agents leapt to mind. More than half of those in the Quarterhorse would easily meet the requirements at first glance. [Insight: 15]
Lingering over the last of her meal, Livvi was about to leave when Pigcton delivered some fresh drinks to a pair of older men at the next table. Judging by their dress, they were probably traveling merchants. Successful, if their garments were anything to measure by, yet not wealthy if measured by some floobs standards. One had a goatee that curled slightly at the tip, the other was paunchy and jovial in appearance but there was a hardness in his eyes. Goatee nodded his thanks to the innkeeper before saying, “We expected to see more trader’s and merchant ships in port, what it being this close to a major festival.”
“It’s the murders, no doubt,” commented his companion. “Isn’t it so, Kaneal.”
The innkeeper sighed. “Now, now, Geeve. You know that every large city has it’s share of ill news, but to suggest that there was some serial killer on the loose – “
“Bad for business,” Goatee said.
“Indeed,” the one named Geeve added.
Pigcton shook his head. “It’s simply disappearances,” he said, “there’s been no proof that anyone’s been murdered. Isn’t that so, Miss?”
The innkeeper turned to Livvi and gestured to the two visiting merchants. “You’re a city official, tell them I’m not wrong in this.”
"The announcements, read only this morning, speak of disappearances only. I assure you that Tarantis is the safest city in the world, with exemplary guards and officials who seek only to increase prosperity for all. Like any city, or even any town larger than fifty souls, there are some who try to eke out a living by stealing the hard-earned coin of others. Like vermin, they are unwanted and hunted, but nigh impossible to completely eradicate. Your business is hale and well here." [Persuasion: 9]
All three were drawn to her opinion. Geeve took a sip from his wine glass before looking at Livvi and saying, “Is the city officials doing anything about this? Word’s spreading that it’s a bad time to visit Tarantis – “
“- especially if you’re in the trade,” Goatee added.
“Too many malcontents,” Pigcton groused, settling down on the bench opposite of Livvi. “To many of the Overlord’s men or Emperor’s men. Stirring up rumor and random fears, I think. Why, just three nights ago, Karigaon the Silver smith was reported missing; his shop trashed. Probably work of the Seven Knives or some other criminal group.
“Another example,” Goatee said.
Geeve added, “Another good reason to get out of the city; least until after the Festival”
“Bah, but it wasn’t Karigaon that went missing, it was his daughter, Pithini,” Pigcton said. “She was found the next day, pale and sick. Took her to one of the healing houses. She’s probably still there.”
Livvi knew there were dangers and shady characters here, to be sure. And most of the city officials were slimy toads who wanted nothing more than to be paid for doing nothing of any value but be assured of the importance of their position and oversight. But it troubled her that these foreigners would speak so openly and readily of murders, and know of the issue already... [Insight: 19]
It was common knowledge that in any city of significant size people went missing every day, some simply seeking a change of life, perhaps a taste of adventure. Other’s went missing for far more insidious reasons, there were many dark souls living within the shadows of the city who thought nothing of robbing someone of their valuables and then committing murder to cover their tracts or taking their victims for other nefarious reasons. Then there were the many ships putting into port every five day. Press gangs were an occasional plague, one that even she needed to be cautious of. But apparently there was a growing concern in the higher levels of the city populace because the latest disappearances and murders had some un yet discovered tie.
As the conversation continued, the latest bit of information piqued her curiosity, and she questioned Pigcton about the silversmith, his daughter, and where she was taken. "Oh my, that poor girl! Perhaps I could help to brighten her night by paying her a visit and conveying her plight to the city officials above me. And I should visit Karigaon, too. He must be terribly upset over his daughter! Can you tell me anything more about the ordeal, or about the silversmith and Pithini? It will help me to approach and comfort them if I know more about their situation, where the shop is located, which healing house the young girl was taken to, and any details of the kidnapping." [Investigation: 16]
The innkeeper was only ready to discuss the situation. And after a lengthy discourse, occasionally interrupted by one or another of the merchants, Livvi discovered that Pithini was reported to be recovering in The Rose, one of the cities larger (and reputed wealthier) healing houses. Pigcton had gone off track a bit, discussing the particularities of The Rose, it’s current owner, Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, was part of one of the cities oldest noble houses and renowned for his ability to treat most diseases and illnesses caused by poisons. Livvi mused over that while Pigcton regaled the two merchants with tales of beauty of The Roses’ healers, and how Lord Maigrinstaff was so busy with matters of his House that he was rarely seen unless it was in the late hours.
After listening as the rumors and innuendo grew fantastical, Livvi thanked Pigcton for the wonderful meal, complements him on his tavern, and promises to call on him again in the very near future. She then walks through the rapidly thinning streets as night falls towards the office of Flander to turn in her tube and collect her silvers.
Mordecai eased his back against the hard chair that he’d been sitting in for better part of the afternoon. Sitting midway along Trollhraun Row, a side street cutting through the worst part of the Poor Quarter, the Eight Star Bar was a bawdy place with a vile reputation. Cheap drinks and cheap customers, most of which were either recovering from an all-night bender or winding up for one as the evening hours approached. Fairly large as bars went, there was a stage in one corner. Empty for now, but Mordecai was familiar enough with the establishment to know that would change come sunset, though he had avoided the place until now and for good reason. The owner, one Lep Stax was rumored to be well connected with the local underworld, some rumors even suggesting that he headed a powerful thieves guild. Other, more dangerous rumors were circulating that there were, perhaps, even darker things in play at the Eight Star. Things that could get a person killed, if they weren’t careful.
"I told myself I wouldn't come here no more," Mordecai thought to himself, "Yet here I am. Figures that the day crowd would have no idea about this 'Daris Hadara' fella. At least the drink is serviceable. And for once, I'm not actually looking for trouble." [GM roll +14 (+3 Perception) = +17]
Sitting at a nearby table was a raven-haired beauty with an air of confidence that was slightly out of place for the Eight Star. There was a hardness lurking behind her blue-gray eyes, and something else, something threatening in the right circumstances. While he never considered himself as a great judge of character, Mordecai had a knack for knowing a killer when he saw one. There was something else, something that itched at the back of his neck. Taking a drink from the surprisingly good homebrew that the bar produced, that tickle became a warning. A brief recognition and then he remembers. He had seen her loitering outside of the Government Quarter, as if waiting for someone when he had gone in. A brief recollection of that vivacious, bouncy half-elf waving her copper tube linking arms with this woman…
"And there's trouble," Mordecai thinks after noticing the raven-haired woman. He continues drinking hoping that she doesn't note the recognition in his eyes when he saw her.
He sighs, "This is going to get complicated. No chance she's NOT a government agent. And if there's one, there's many. Whatever I do, it's going to have to be fast."
His second glance was greeted with a cool smile and those threatening blue-gray eyes. Eyes that just as quickly dismissed him as they darted towards a narrow hallway leading into the back alley via a door. One that he had used earlier to visit the jakes outside. A thin, somewhat harried looking man fitting the description of one Daris Hadara squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the bar.
Mordecai doesn't think twice. He leaves his drink at the bar and makes a beeline for Daris, calling out with a huge smile, "Daris? Daris, is that you? Daris, it's been so long. Come now, friend, we have much to catch up on, and I am staying nearby. The drink is not as good, but it makes up for it with some other fineries."
Hadara jumped nearly out of his boots. “Do I know yo – “
Mordecai grunts, muscles bulging as he physically attempts to hurry Daris out the front door walking alongside him with hands around his shoulders. Hurry him out. Knock him out. Collect."
“But – “
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s a voice from behind them. The door to the alley bounced off the wall as a trio of city watch poured in. A stout, older man wearing the stars of a sergeant in the lead. He glared at the half orc – “Step aside citizen, that man is wanted on a dozen charges… including murder!”
“What? I never – “Hadara’s protest cut off.
Mordecai gives a quick sigh. Then, managing to straighten himself up and seem even bigger, says, "Perfect, then you lot can accompany me to the headquarters. As a member of the IGCPM I claim my bounty on Daris Hadara per right of first capture. Now, I'll be leaving with my bounty now."
He turns Daris towards the door whispering to him, "Trust me - better me than anyone else in here."
“I ain’t done nothing to no one!”
"I don't know what you did," starts Mordecai, "but all the wrong people are after you. Move. Now."
Mordecai loosens a strap along his chest that'll allow him to unsheathe his glaive and strike with it in one fell movement.
Things in the bar were about to get froggy. By the bar the owner was having a short, serious conversation with a flame haired Draw female, the sort of conversation that Mordecai didn’t need to hear to understand its intent. A glance in the direction of the raven-haired woman showed that she was still sitting in her chair, watching with obvious interest. So were most of the room’s occupants.
Mordecai urges Daris to the door. He thinks to himself, "The situations I get into just for 35 crowns."
Followed by a pair of bruisers in mail employed by the bar’s owner, the dark-skinned elf with red hair was attempting to keep him from hustling Hadara out through the front door. The Drow known as Firehair had a reputation of her own, one that only fools and the dead didn’t know. He was surprised though, at last he had heard, the Drow was employed by the Seven Knives, one of the cities four underworld cabals. Firehair
Another figure, one he didn’t know, came in on the tail of the guards. An older man with a roguish look stopped, eyes taking in everything to sort the situation out.
In front of him Hadara moaned, “Oh, we’re going to die now…”
Mordecai grunts, "Not today."
Staying out of range of the weapons he assumes the goons are carrying, but within range of his glaive, Mordecai states coldly, addressing Firehair, "I respect your craft work and reputation, but I agreed to a contract and I make it a point that all my contracts get executed to the letter - and this is no exception. Daris Hadara is under my protection until I deliver him."
Baring his tusks, "So. Kindly. The lot of you. Out of my way." (Intimidation check? 9)
The sergeant eyed Mord and shook his head, “I represent The Lion’s Law, friend. Do yourself a favor an’ turn the murderer over and return to the bar.
All eyes turned, some in shock, more than a few briefly and unimpressed, towards an older man wearing the armor of the city guard. More appeared in the door leading to the alley. Behind them came another older man, one dressed in well-traveled clothing’s with a distinctive foreign look.
With a slight sneer, Firehair turns her full attention on the half-orc and resumes trying to reach the front door before he did. “Mordecai of little renowned,” she said with a sultry tone flecked with her race’s contempt for anything not Drow. Turning her red tinted eyes on Hadara, she whispers so only Mord and Hadara, “Stax is offering sixty gold crowns if you can get this…piece of meat, to the docks. A ship by the name of the Winged Crow is waiting.”
Mordecai responds, "Of little renown is no insult - the end goal is to affect without being seen." Firehair merely smirked. Mordecai puts on a thoughtful look and whispers back, "Technically, I don't have a contract per se for this one - seems Stax's option is best for both of us."
Mordecai smiles and a hopeful look came to Hadara’s face.
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Mord’s glance took in the city guard approaching him, short swords already in hand. Behind them their tail had come fully into view. He had a loaded, handheld crossbow in hand and was pointing it in his general direction.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied Mordecai. As he says this, he places his hand on a chair next to him recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way. He whispers to Hadara, "I hope you're fast."
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior most guard than started after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today."
Mordecai spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go in the direction of the soldier with the hand crossbow.
He pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons. “Out the door, Hadara - run if you want to live." Ignoring the man’s protests, Mordecai powers him towards the exit. Across the room the chair flies towards the archer who tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The man was good, but not quite good enough. The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty that Mord had assumed might be some government lacky. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended. Unlike many in her situation, this one merely smiled encouragingly instead of hurling insults at either him, the archer, or both. Bilina
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” The intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
On her way to Pencelot’s, Lilita found her steps taking her on the longer route, one that took her through the Shopkeeper’s Quarter and along a street intersecting with Black Rose Lane and the Healing House of a similar same name. A curious coincidence perhaps? She realized that she knew very little about the Maigrinstaff family aside that it was one of the older noble lines.
Lilita ponders the curious coincidence in the similar names but chalks it up to her firm belief that the wealthy elites of the city are a bit overly obsessed with the idea of leaving behind a legacy of some sort or another... such as the construction of grand parks or libraries that bears their name. Still others, its tombs, and monuments with many having streets and such named after themselves or by others seeking to honor them or curry their favor. So perhaps it is the same with House Maigrinstaff with its Black Rose sigil inspiring place names like Black Rose Lane... Black Rose Healing House.
Mayhap the roadway came first long ago and then the High Lord or one to come after decided to construct a grand Healing House along its way and for the sake of name recognition used the name of the roadway as well making it all the easier for folks to place it and its location in their minds. Perhaps this is out of pure pride and vanity... or just to ensure the common folk never forget the works and the names of their betters.
Suddenly Lilita's racing mind slows as she considers that someone like herself could never truly know the mind and motivations of the city's elite. She is no great learned sage and it's all conjecture and speculation at best on her part. She knows that she should not concern herself with such things and instead be content to fix her mind towards more mundane and practical matters, keep to her place, to her assigned station as she has been taught.
The young Healer sighs as instead of getting a tighter grip on herself, her mind slips deeper into fanciful thoughts as she wonders how grand life must be for those born to such a noble house like Maigrinstaff or privileged enough to be permitted work in such a household where luxury and dreams become reality. But a plain low-born maiden such she will never know such a life. She giggles at the thought of herself dressing in such finery as she wore in the dream, she had the night before. Starting to blush again remembering the wispy unseemly gown that left nothing to the imagination she wonders if perhaps the person she thought was herself was, in fact, her mother... her real mother, a beautiful sought-after courtesan who had been forced to give her up and leave her on the steps of the Healer's Guild.
Lilita ponders this new fantasy of hers and talks to herself saying out loud, "oh Lilita where do such bawdy thoughts come from... your fantasy last week about being the illegitimate daughter of a Princess is far more desirable... not to mention much more acceptable in polite society... you are better than that... be practical... sensible." She scolds herself sharply... even so, she couldn’t stop her eyes from looking up at one of the grandest Houses of Healing outside of the Guild itself or the temples in the Temple Quarter.
The Rose House of Healing took up an entire corner with one side facing the quarter’s central market. More of a collection of interconnected buildings than a single structure, the Rose was three stories high, making it one of the taller structures in the quarter as well. From her position on the corner Lilita noted a five-story tower behind the house that was probably connected as well. It was a well-tended place, with no windows opening out onto the street level, only a pair of thick, white stained oak studded with iron bolts. At the back, where the Rose pressed up against a narrow alley was what she thought might be a wall about ten feet high. An intricate series of iron spikes and metal work capped the wall, intended to keep floobs from climbing over it. On the side facing Black Rose Lane was another set of heavy double doors, these carved lavishly with a pattern of ivy and rose vines. In both cases, large, expensive lanterns of Tenari crystals hung above the doors, flanking the white, gilded sign commonly used by Leaches and Physicians the city over and shared with her guild. There was enough silver and cut gems in those signs to have fed a score of families for a year.
Lilita's gaze fell upon the massive structure... such wealth, such opulence, and such splendor... it made her feel all the smaller and insignificant. There was a dark beauty to it but also a feeling of dread. Though well-tended, with no windows it seemed more prison to her than a palace. Feeling, or rather sensing that the place was designed as much to keep people inside as to keep them out, how sad, how dreadful she thought.
All the good that she could do with the wealth of a handful of those gems. Never has she ever stolen a thing in her life, not even so much as a single bread crumb, never once feeling temptation until now. Is this what temptation feels like she thinks to herself? Is it a temptation to want not for yourself but only for others truly in need?
A single tear runs down her cheek as a feeling of guilt and wickedness fall over her like a shadow. Lilita turns and moves quickly away averting her gaze... thoughts of the strange woman's dress coming back to her now. How much the pattern of ivy and roses here reminded her of what the old man in the shop had shown her. Was the strange woman she encountered the night before a patient or employed here? How could such a thing be possible, if she were how could she just wander off in her condition... from a place so sealed up and why of all people would she seek out someone like Lilita, the whole thing seems to now make less and less sense to her.
As she began to resume her morning walk to Pencelot’s several things occurred. A very young-looking half-elf climbed up onto a nearby railing in the market and flourished a large piece of parchment from a copper tube embellished with the Ministry of Internal Communications emblem. As the Half-elf began artfully reciting the days news an older, well dressed man on a horse and accompanied by several armed escorts rode up to the doors of The Rose and dismounted. With out pause, he strolled determinedly up to the main doors and pulled hard on a rope. When nothing happened, he cursed and yanked twice more. After several more pulls one of the doors opened, revealing a woman of haunting beauty. Dressed in an obviously expensive red dress, one far more form fitting than common decency commanded, gave a slight bow before speaking with the man.
Lilita paused to watch and admire the beauty of the Half-Elf, how exotic she seemed to someone like Lilita... When the door opened and the woman of haunting beauty revealed herself Lilita could only gasp in awe... and look on unmoving, captivated by the regal beauty and radiance of a real, true Lady of style and refinement... Lilita feeling like a dirty street urchin in comparison she found herself frozen in place... watching and listening as the scene unfolded before her like something out of a storybook.
“…don’t care what your rules are, I demand to see Pithini.”
The woman, whose hair was a thick, lush black and tied up in a series of complex braids, smiled demurely, “Artisan Karigaon, did we not explain the rules of the House when your servants delivered your daughter unto our care? For her to recover fully, she must not be disturbed, not even by family. I assure – “
“Damnit, Melinia, it’s been two full days,” Karigaon interrupted. “How would a brief visit hurt?”
“She was seriously hurt, my good sir,” Melinia said in a tone that was used to sooth the agitation in others. A tone that Lilith worked to master for her own account. “I assure you, she is recovering well under the personal administrations of Lord Maigrinstaff himself, but she is still in a delicate condition and must not be bothered. If anything changes, word will be sent. Now, good day sir.” And before Karigaon could protest further, the door seemed to shut on its own. Cursing once more, Karigaon turned back for his horse.
“Do you wish for Argao and I ta insist on a visit, sir,” the shorter, wiry of the escorts asked with all seriousness.
Pulling himself up, onto his horse, Karigaon shook his head than glanced upwards at the shaded windows above. “No, no, Argao. It wouldn’t be a wise move, but I can promise, if I don’t hear from Pithini soon we’re coming back, with help, and I won’t be taking no for an answer. Noble connections or not.”
As Lilita watched the Lady Melinia even with a healer's tone of voice intended to soothe and comfort for some reason came off a bit cold and distant to Lilita... which she could sense but could not explain even to herself... a gut instinct perhaps. Lilita could only feel empathy and sorrow for the poor man Karigaon, feeling... sharing his deep concern, and worry for the wellbeing of his daughter... so very sad. Lilita hoped that his daughter was alright and that they would be reunited...
Then all at once it hit her, Lilita felt a sense of overwhelming guilt and alarm... what was she doing here... of all places... she had promised Master Foonse she would stay well away from the Black Rose Healing House and yet here she was breaking her promise. Her eyes downcast in shame for the wicked creature she feels herself to be... then as Lilita looks back up... her gaze falling directly on the Lady Melina, in Lilita's fevered mind their eyes locked upon one another... as if the Lady was looking at her, directly at her, through her, penetrating down to Lilita's very soul.
Lilita let out a low whimper of embarrassment... she was imagining it all, she knew a Lady like that would never... not for a moment look directly on one such as Lilita for any reason. Distraught and becoming even more ill-at-ease, the young Lilita found herself turning away abruptly, pushing through the crowd in an attempt to get away from the Lady, from the Black Rose Healing House...
Mordecai eased his back against the hard chair that he’d been sitting in for better part of the afternoon. Sitting midway along Trollhraun Row, a side street cutting through the worst part of the Poor Quarter, the Eight Star Bar was a bawdy place with a vile reputation. Cheap drinks and cheap customers, most of which were either recovering from an all-night bender or winding up for one as the evening hours approached. Fairly large as bars went, there was a stage in one corner. Empty for now, but Mordecai was familiar enough with the establishment to know that would change come sunset, though he had avoided the place until now and for good reason. The owner, one Lep Stax was rumored to be well connected with the local underworld, some rumors even suggesting that he headed a powerful thieves guild. Other, more dangerous rumors were circulating that there were, perhaps, even darker things in play at the Eight Star. Things that could get a person killed, if they weren’t careful.
"I told myself I wouldn't come here no more," Mordecai thought to himself, "Yet here I am. Figures that the day crowd would have no idea about this 'Daris Hadara' fella. At least the drink is serviceable. And for once, I'm not actually looking for trouble." [GM roll +14 (+3 Perception) = +17]
Sitting at a nearby table was a raven-haired beauty with an air of confidence that was slightly out of place for the Eight Star. There was a hardness lurking behind her blue-gray eyes, and something else, something threatening in the right circumstances. While he never considered himself as a great judge of character, Mordecai had a knack for knowing a killer when he saw one. There was something else, something that itched at the back of his neck. Taking a drink from the surprisingly good homebrew that the bar produced, that tickle became a warning. A brief recognition and then he remembers. He had seen her loitering outside of the Government Quarter, as if waiting for someone when he had gone in. A brief recollection of that vivacious, bouncy half-elf waving her copper tube linking arms with this woman…
"And there's trouble," Mordecai thinks after noticing the raven-haired half elf. He continues drinking hoping that she doesn't note the recognition in his eyes when he saw her.
He sighs, "This is going to get complicated. No chance she's NOT a government agent. And if there's one, there's many. Whatever I do, it's going to have to be fast."
His second glance was greeted with a cool smile and those threatening blue-gray eyes. Eyes that just as quickly dismissed him as they darted towards a narrow hallway leading into the back alley via a door. One that he had used earlier to visit the jakes outside. A thin, somewhat harried looking man fitting the description of one Daris Hadara squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the bar.
Mordecai doesn't think twice. He leaves his drink at the bar and makes a beeline for Daris, calling out with a huge smile, "Daris? Daris, is that you? Daris, it's been so long. Come now, friend, we have much to catch up on, and I am staying nearby. The drink is not as good, but it makes up for it with some other fineries."
Hadara jumped nearly out of his boots. “Do I know yo – “
Mordecai grunts, muscles bulging as he physically attempts to hurry Daris out the front door walking alongside him with hands around his shoulders. Hurry him out. Knock him out. Collect."
“But – “
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s a voice from behind them. The door to the alley bounced off the wall as a trio of city watch poured in. A stout, older man wearing the stars of a sergeant in the lead. He glared at the half orc – “Step aside citizen, that man is wanted on a dozen charges… including murder!”
“What? I never – “Hadara’s protest cut off.
Mordecai gives a quick sigh. Then, managing to straighten himself up and seem even bigger, says, "Perfect, then you lot can accompany me to the headquarters. As a member of the IGCPM I claim my bounty on Daris Hadara per right of first capture. Now, I'll be leaving with my bounty now."
He turns Daris towards the door whispering to him, "Trust me - better me than anyone else in here."
“I ain’t done nothing to no one!”
"I don't know what you did," starts Mordecai, "but all the wrong people are after you. Move. Now."
Mordecai loosens a strap along his chest that'll allow him to unsheathe his glaive and strike with it in one fell movement.
Things in the bar were about to get froggy. By the bar the owner was having a short, serious conversation with a flame haired Drow female, the sort of conversation that Mordecai didn’t need to hear to understand its intent. A glance in the direction of the raven-haired woman showed that she was still sitting in her chair, watching with obvious interest. So were most of the room’s occupants.
Mordecai urges Daris to the door. He thinks to himself, "The situations I get into just for 35 crowns."
Followed by a pair of bruisers in mail employed by the bar’s owner, the dark-skinned elf with red hair was attempting to keep him from hustling Hadara out through the front door. The Drow known as Firehair had a reputation of her own, one that only fools and the dead didn’t know. He was surprised though, at last he had heard, the Drow was employed by the Seven Knives, one of the cities four underworld cabals.
Another figure, one he didn’t know, came in on the tail of the guards. An older man with a roguish look stopped, eyes taking in everything to sort the situation out.
In front of him Hadara moaned, “Oh, we’re going to die now…”
Mordecai grunts, "Not today."
Staying out of range of the weapons he assumes the goons are carrying, but within range of his glaive, Mordecai states coldly, addressing Firehair, "I respect your craft work and reputation, but I agreed to a contract and I make it a point that all my contracts get executed to the letter - and this is no exception. Daris Hadara is under my protection until I deliver him."
Baring his tusks, "So. Kindly. The lot of you. Out of my way." (Intimidation check? 9)
The sergeant eyed Mord and shook his head, “I represent The Lion’s Law, friend. Do yourself a favor an’ turn the murderer over and return to the bar.
All eyes turned, some in shock, more than a few briefly and unimpressed, towards an older man wearing the armor of the city guard. More appeared in the door leading to the alley. Behind them came another older man, one dressed in well-traveled clothing’s with a distinctive foreign look.
With a slight sneer, Firehair turns her full attention on the half-orc and resumes trying to reach the front door before he did. “Mordecai of little renowned,” she said with a sultry tone flecked with her race’s contempt for anything not Drow. Turning her red tinted eyes on Hadara, she whispers so only Mord and Hadara, “Stax is offering sixty gold crowns if you can get this…piece of meat, to the docks. A ship by the name of the Winged Crow is waiting.”
Mordecai responds, "Of little renown is no insult - the end goal is to affect without being seen." Firehair merely smirked. Mordecai puts on a thoughtful look and whispers back, "Technically, I don't have a contract per se for this one - seems Stax's option is best for both of us."
Mordecai smiles and a hopeful look came to Hadara’s face.
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Mord’s glance took in the city guard approaching him, short swords already in hand. Behind them their tail had come fully into view. He had a loaded, handheld crossbow in hand and was pointing it in his general direction.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied Mordecai. As he says this, he places his hand on a chair next to him recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way. He whispers to Hadara, "I hope you're fast."
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior most guard than started after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today."
Mordecai spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go in the direction of the soldier with the hand crossbow.
He pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons. “Out the door, Hadara - run if you want to live." Ignoring the man’s protests, Mordecai powers him towards the exit. Across the room the chair flies towards the archer who tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The man was good, but not quite good enough. The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty that Mord had assumed might be some government lacky. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended. Unlike many in her situation, this one merely smiled encouragingly instead of hurling insults at either him, the archer, or both.
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” The intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
"Why am I doing this? For sixty crowns. Well, Quig will disavow all knowledge of me," Mordecai thought to himself.
Mordecai sees the crowd more engaged, reaches into one of his pouches and pulls out a handful of silver pieces, and says to Hadara, "Keep running!" and tosses the coins towards the floor between the oncoming guard and the door. Mordecai thinks, "Here's hoping some of these drunkards dive for the coins."
The archer was still on his feet and, like the rest, making for the door, his bow in hand. At a glance, Mordecai got the idea that the man was holding back, probably looking for a clean shot that wouldn’t hit the mark. While the rewards on Hadara were significant, it seemed that the value was set on the man remaining alive at the end of the day. The door was close, and open, thanks to some ragged looking sort who was jeering the guards. Beyond the sun was setting, the streets darker than when he’d come in and if true to form for Tarantis, the sea mists would be rolling in soon, further darkening the city.
As they approach the door, Mordecai nods a thanks to the ragged looking individual. "Move Hadara, I know a few cuts and alleys we can take to shake them loose. The city at night will swallow us whole - maybe we'll get lucky and come out for the better."
Mordecai, examining the situation, does not believe his own lie.
Watching as the city guard, followed by a few rogue citizens still jeering and yelling at them and those eager to collect their coin waged on the outcome rush out into the street, Lep Stax shook his head. Without turning to look at the raven-haired woman leaning against the tavern’s long, hardwood bar.
“If you wanted Hadara dead, we could have come up with a dozen easier ways of accomplishing it,” the tavern owner said.
Bilina said, “Easier, yes, convincing? No, probably not.”
There was a soft hiss from the third person sitting at the end of the bar. “I think that The Lion doesn’t want this ‘meat’ to be dead, just wounded and on the run for real,” Firehair commented with a bored yawn. Her eyes flickered towards a stair way where a cloaked man descended, unstringing a bow.
“The Lion? No, The Sage though…”
At the mention of the second most powerful position in Tarantis not sitting on the throne both Stax and Firehair turned to look at the slender woman. More questions in their eyes. Instead, lips tightened as thoughts turned inward. The Chief Advisor, Monach the Canny, was the power behind the throne, or so it was rumored. It was also rumored that there was some sort of power struggle going on at the highest levels. Altar the Lion had a reputation for over turning his entire council, except for Monach, his most trusted servant. Was the ruling class ripe for another purge and if so, what part was this Daris Hadara meant to play.
After a pregnant pause, Stax asked slowly, as if choosing his words with care, “And the Half-Orc?”
“He’s exactly as he seems. Some tark who must have heard about the reward on Hadara’s head and got to him first. Other’s will be seeking him for that reward, or for what he knows – “
“I know of this Mordecai,” Firehair interrupted. “Young and muscled with a kernel of some thought in that thick Orc skull, but a nobody. Just last five day he was competing in “Infernal Hell” – one of several illegal arenas around the city – “in five-silver matches at that, yet he showed ambition, going after Hadara, as well as some wits, recognizing the better offer.” She smirked towards Stax who shrugged.
“I’d like to know more about what prompted all this…drama,” he said, turning an eye towards Beliani but the woman was gone. A soft curse escaped Stax’s lips. “I hate it when her kind do that sort of shit.”
There was a brief silence as the shine of a score of coins flickered in the tavern light. Spinning they fan across the space between the Half-Orc and his bounty and those intent on reliving him of his charge. Then a roar went up as nearly as many floobs dove for the coins, causing the city guards and sundry to shout and curse. A brawl broke out as the sergeant tried to clear a path to the door. Mordecai heard the man’s curses even as they made the door. Hadara stumbled but the Half-Orc’s strong grip kept the man upright and moving forward. They were far from in the clear.
<GM Roll: Perception 19 (+3) = 22>
<DEX Roll 9..... Not sure what the assumption the second requested roll is based on, but if Acrobatics then it's 1, if it's [skill]Athletics[/roll] add 5 to that roll. GM Note: It’s an assumption that if the Dex result is (was) high enough, Mord may have been able to do something fancy about the incoming arrow>
"If we survive long enough, I'm going to want to know what you know. I ain't that smart, but I'm smart enough to know that there's way too many people after you," Mordecai comments to Hadara.
For a moment Hadara looked as if to protest his innocence, then an almost sly smile crossed his face. “I can tell you, but than you might find yourself embroiled in things far over your pay grade, Bounty Hunter,” the man half grunted as they rushed forward, into the street. The nightly mists swirled as it flowed around their knees, following some unseen current. Just about to let out a breath Mord hadn’t realized he’d been holding the Half-Orc spots a figure standing on top of the two-story shop next to the Eight Star, a bow in hand.
"By Erragal's storms, why is everyone after you?!?" Mordecai whispers harshly to Hadara. At this point, Mordecai is willing to split profits just to survive; he thinks to himself, "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...."
"Oy, archer - stay your hand and I'll cut you in on the profits!"
Mordecai doesn't stop guiding Hadara, only yelling his offer to the archer blindly as he knows his distraction inside the tavern will buy him only a few moments. Mordecai decides the docks is the goal and thinks of every back way there - sewers included - to avoid detection. He may stick out in a crowd, but if he takes routes few know about....
"You better hope that archer is either greedy like most here or is a bad shot," Mordecai says flatly to Hadara.
If the archer heard, the only response was the twang and whistle of an incoming arrow. Steps away from the nearest alley and temporary safety. The missile passed beneath Mord’s arm to bury itself deeply into Hadara’s side. The wanted man hissed in pain and would have collapsed, had the Half-Orc not maintained his grip on the man. Above the archer cursed, his voice sounding almost bored as the thickening mists played with the sound. Back in the Eight Star came another shout from the sergeant as the City Guard made the tavern’s front door.
“You, halt!” followed Mordecai as he half pushed, half carried Hadara into the alley and out of view.
"Ninazu be damned, death will not have you," an exasperated Mordecai states. He thinks to himself, "Arrows from rooftops. Guards suddenly interested in work. A world that greed can no longer affect. What in Erṣetu is going on here?!?"
Mordecai grabs a tighter hold of Hadara, more carrying him now then running alongside with him, but urging him to continue, "Keep going Hadara, we need to get a lead on these guards before I can check you out."
Rushing down the alley, Mordecai paused than pulled Hadara into a bisecting alley than paused to access the man’s wounds. A dead Hadara was worthless, that was obvious. The man’s breath was labored.
“Gods but I’ll live,” Hadara groaned through gritted teeth while the Half-Orc checked the wound. The arrow was embedded too deeply to remove, not and risk the man’s imminent death. While Mord was no veteran adventurer or solider, the Half-Orc had heard plenty of stories and saw some similar wounds in the cities fighting pits to know it was unlikely that Hadara would made the docks, let alone live through the night, not without a healer. Blood pumped slowly but steadily around the shaft, soaking the man’s undershirt, empathizing the probability.
"He's no good to me dead," Mordecai internalizes.
"Hold still," orders Mordecai, stuffing a part of Hadara’s own robes in the man's mouth. He presses the wound with one hand and breaks a part of the shaft off. He then removes his own cloak and wraps it around Hadara and ties it off to keep pressure on the wound.
"I need to know what you know," Mordecai reminds Hadara.
Hadara gave a raspy cough. “What’s the value in spilling the beans now? I talk, then you leave me for the rats, eh?” Another cough, then the man spit some phlegmy blood onto the filthy ground. “Gads, but healing’s expensive at the Temples, and those kneelers are worse than the bureaucrats when it comes to turning their cloaks. While one’s healing me, two more are rushing to finger the both of us, eh? And no, before you ask, I don’t have a hoard of crowns, silver or gold, to offer you.”
"Points taken, Hadara" replied Mordecai. After dressing the wound best, he can, he maneuvers Hadara down the alley, half carrying him, deeper into maze of alleys and backstreets. "There's only a few of them," says Mordecai with a tinge of hope, "we should be able to lose them."
“I may know of someone who can help,” Hadara replied in pain, “I’ve heard a rumor of a young woman over by the east wall of the Poor Quarter who offers healing to any, regardless of the ability to pay.”
Mordecai looks at the man incredulously, then thinking to himself, "Well, that's too good to be true - but I'm out options. Hadara is only worth something while he's breathing." With a sigh, he says, as much to Hadara as to himself, "Right then. Poor quarter. East wall. Pray to Gula that this girl is still taking house calls."
When she had arrived at the shop it was to find that Pencelot was not there. He had left a note saying that he would be away for a few days to fetch a few rare herbs. Just as likely, he had returned to whatever groove he considered is true home to meditate and commune with his nature God. She had become used to his absences after a few months. Most days the routine at Pencelot’s was enough to keep her mind busy as a seemingly unending line of people came, seeking healing. Most were minor issues, a physical hurt or some ‘evil’ vapor that made their heads or stomach or other parts hurt. A bit of that herb or a light touch of a healing spell and the grateful patient made their way out of the shop. Not so this day. This day her thoughts were a swirl as she struggled with the mystery of her late-night visitor, the strange dream, and those knowing eyes of Lady Melina that seemed to gaze at her out of every mirrored surface she glanced at.
Lilita felt a sense of relief given that she blatantly disobeyed her master's wishes in visiting the Black Rose Healing House... she had been somewhat concerned that Pencelot would somehow discover her disobedience... the idea of disappointing him would be something more than she could bear. Lilita having few real friends... at least that she could talk to and confide in... nor any family being foundling so old Pencelot was the closest thing to a father she would ever have or know. His being away is something of a blessing to her. Perhaps her indiscretion will be safely left behind her and forgotten.
Breathing a sigh of relief Lilita busies herself getting the shop ready for the day... she could not begrudge Pencelot's need to get away from the shop, his patients, the turmoil and politics of the city. Given his advancing years, she feels that he is deserving of any time and peace that he can manage to find. If only she could shake off her sense of guilt and the memory earlier events that have left a little rattled and flustered. Still haunted by the knowing eyes of the Lady Melina... Lilita wants only to put it all behind her and lose herself in her work and her patients.
“Young woman? Did you hear, the sitting disease is worse in my knees this day,” said an old woman sitting, slightly hunched over on the stool. Elder Caranne was a regular. Her family were well known wood carvers in the quarter, and she was the oldest of her line. Her husband and two of her three sons had died of age or accidents. Now her eldest grandson ran the family business with the help of a dozen cousins and apprentices. At the venerable old age of ninety-three, the stiffness in the elder’s joints was expected and a natural occurrence in one so aged. Of course, Master Pencelot had explained it to Caranne numerous times but the old woman wasn’t having it. “I’m not old,” she’d say, expecting relief.
Lost in her thoughts Lilita becomes aware of Elder Caranne's words... "of course not... you are not old... far from it. You are as fit and spry as a woman half your age and then some, I should be so fortunate," Lilita says smiling up at the elder woman as she inspects and examines the woman's knees, "sadly pain is a part of life, young or old... it is what makes us human; it shapes us the same as love and laughter. I need not tell you that being able to walk pain-free is a blessing. Being able to walk without showing the pain is a skill. You and I both know that there no true cure for what ails you... I will not insult your intelligence saying otherwise but still, there are some things that I can do, that we can we do to better manage your pain and discomfort. You know that I am here for you... always and will do my best! Meanwhile, are you following the program that Master Pencelot has proscribed?”
“Yes, yes, trice daily,” Elder Caranne said with an exasperated frown, one hand rubbing her left knee. “Hot compresses, soaked in that foul weed, just as that Druid said.” The old woman snorted, then leaned forward, “I think he’s got moss growing between the ears because it’s never worked, you know. Just a touch of the warmth the Goddess gave you child is what’s needed.”
Lilita massages the elder's knee as she shares a small portion of radiant energy deep within herself, not true healing but rather Lilita attempting to draw some portion of the old woman's pain into herself... bearing some of the burden the pain the old woman is experiencing and making it her own... her young body and spirit more able to deal with it... though at a temporary cost of some of her own health that over time Lilita will recover for the most part. Such a thing is frowned upon by the Healer's Guild but sometimes in certain cases, Lilita is driven by a sense of empathy to help those that need it. To her it’s a way of giving more of herself to those she cares about but mostly it's a way for her to make amends for any wrongs, real or imagined she feels responsible for.
The relief in the elder’s face was immediate. So was the nodding sigh she gave. “Most grateful, I am, child. Thank you.” She sat up as if the healing spell had eased the crimp in her back as well. It was all temporary, as only the rarest, most powerful magic’s could fix age. It was known, though often spoken of in the classes and hallways of the Healer’s Guild, the eldest Leaches would hold up fingers and then recite a story or fable of someone who’d pursued such magic who discovered that the price was equally high.
Lilith looked up and saw a familiar look in Elder Caranne’s eyes and knew what was coming next. “With your youthful beauty and talents, Lili, you shouldn’t live alone like that. Now, I have a grandson a few seasons older than you. He’s finished his apprenticeship and joined the Builder’s Guide.” She gave a smug sounding chuckle. “The two of you would give the world some beautiful, talented children, I think, yes. You should come by Enday for supper and I can introduce you two.”
Lilita politely listens to the old woman's words and smiles up at Elder Caranne, meeting her gaze as the young healer struggles a bit as she adjusts herself to the pain in her own knee and nagging crimp in her back but it is worth and in a few hours with rest will subside, until then it will be manageable and perhaps keep her mind off the Lady Melina.
"That is most kind of you to offer Elder Caranne, you honor me and give me more credit than is due me. I am a foundling, unworthy of such a kind and generous off... I have no kin, nor know my own bloodline and I fear such a taint would dishonor your family. Your grandson can do much better than someone like me no matter how skilled I may be at my craft. I am wed to my craft... in the hope of making up for the circumstance of my birth and the sins of a family, a mother whom I will never know. Your grandson deserves to be united with a woman from a family, a real family to join with your own family that will strengthen both."
“You sure? What a pity, “sighed the old woman as she got up. Patting Lilith’s shoulder, Elder Caranne winked, “perhaps I shall send him by on an errand so you can view his physique. He’s sharp in the mind and as powerful as a stallion, eh?” That smug chuckle rippled from the elder’s chest. “We shall see, dear, we shall see.” With that Elder Caranne left through the door.
Lilita smiles at her, "I do not doubt your words or your sincerity... you mean well, and I think you for your persistence. I am rather petite as you can see, no doubt the runt of the litter... your grandson coming from such fine strong stock would only find me plain and unremarkable as most tend to do."
The young healer escorts the elder matron to the door of the shop, walking hand in hand seeing her out, watching as she exits. "Take Elder Caranne... I look for to your next visit with us, stay well," she bows respectfully. As the older woman exits, Lilita reaches around and rubs her sore back and whispers to herself, "All the world is full of suffering. It is also full of overcoming."
The rest of the day proceeded as usual, busy enough to help keep Lilita’s mind focus. In one case the symptoms given by a patient were beyond her knowledge, something she easily excepted. She had a lot yet to learn but wanted the woman with the tenderness in her side to be helped so had recommended that she visit the Healer’s Guild and seek further advice. As Evenfest neared things slowed, enough so that she felt comfortable closing for the night.
Lilita takes a little extra time to clean and tidy the place up a bit more than usual. Thinking that with the master of the shop away and not underfoot it's a good time to get some extra cleaning in. Once she is satisfied gathers up some of his dirty clothes and shop linens, etc. separating everything out and leaving them to soak overnight so that she can clean them first thing in the morning and hang them out to dry. Finally, Lilita is able to pry herself away from her extra duties and closes the shop, locking it up tight for the night.
The next day, a new parchment in her crier’s tube, Livvi made her way to the same market to discharge her morning duties. The market was busy, filled with laborer’s stopping for quick morningfest’s before heading for work, or with house hold servants and wives of the residents of the quarter shopping for daily staples. The scroll’s contents were pretty much a repeat of the previous days, with an addition of descriptions of several men and a Half-Orc wanted for assaulting City Guards outside of the Eight Star, a particularly rough place, frequented by thugs, rogues, and other dangerous sorts. Livvi intended to complete her performance as quickly as was seemly in order to tract down this Karigaon. The only information she had on him was that Pigcton had said that he was a prominent silver smith.
Livvi tucked the announcements back into her metal tube and ducked into The Witch's Brew café, looking for Bilina. She had agreed to meet Livvi here - unless she was 'sleeping in.' Her new contact - err, friend - with the green hair noticed her and came over, a shy smile hidden beneath her long bangs hanging down like a mask over her face.
"I'm so glad to see you again!" Livvi says quickly, wanting to keep this girl coming back for praise and attention. "I'm sorry that I left yesterday before I had a chance to get your name. So here I am, before the sun is fully up, to rectify my error! I'm Livvi, by the way."
The girl blushed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “You are so kind, miss, to ask after the likes of me. Me names Nephele, miss.”
While making small talk with the girl, Livvi glances around the café again, looking for the raven hair of her companion. And as if on cue, Bilina strolled in looking a bit tired as if she had spent a good part of the night at something other than sleeping.
Sliding into a chair across from Bilina, Livvi greets her friend and teases, "Good morning, sunshine! Don't you look...a little rough! Long night? I'm surprised you made it here so early. Well, here's the news of the day. It's pretty much a repeat of yesterday, except for this one. It describes several men and a Half-Orc wanted for assaulting City Guards outside of the Eight Star. I don't know who is more stupid - the thugs assaulting the Guard, or those idiot Guards for being anywhere near the Eight Star late at night! Serves them both right, I say.
“Oh, it was something,” the older woman said as she smiled at Nephele and ordered a cup of morning tea and a plate nut filled pastries. “I was there, waiting for a – an acquaintance to make an appearance. An Overlorder by the name of Hadara came in instead. I suspect seeking a way out of the city.” Bilina smiled as Nephele returned with her order, “Thank you dear.”
Once the server had left again, Bilina continued, “The owner, Lep Stax, is well known as a handler for The Overlord, among other things.” At Livvi’s expression the older woman laughed. Tossing her head, Bilina’s hair flowed across her shoulders briefly. “Oh, it’s no surprise among those who need to know such things. You, however, best file that bit of knowledge away in the back of your head and keep out from under Lep’s feet.”
Swallowing a bite of pastry, Bilina’s blue eyes peered sternly across the table at Livvi. “I mean that, too. You are far from ready to be dancing in Lep’s league.
“But if he’s a known leader of the opposition, why let him continue?
“Because we know, and he knows we know. It’s part of the…game. Anyway, I’m not sure who the Half-Orc helping Hadara is, but he did manage to help the man escape the Eight Star, but not without Hadara taking an arrow to the back. Not sure who presented him with that, not yet, anyway.”
“Hey, yesterday I heard about a silversmith whose daughter was kidnapped and assaulted. Karigaon and his daughter Pithini. Have you heard anything about them? I think I'll look for them later this morning to see if this relates to the missing merchants. “
“Mmm, I’ve heard of him. One of the wealthiest merchant’s in the city these days.” The dark-haired woman nodded, “He has a shop in the Noble Quarter and his townhouse is one of the largest in the Merchant Quarter. I hadn’t heard that his daughter was one of the victims. Too bad, she’s a fun girl.”
“Oh, and last night I was in the Quarterhorse...a lot of foreigners there. And a lot of questions and rumors about murders - not just disappearances." Livvi gets so excited talking with her friend that the words almost merge together in one long verbal stream! Bilina listened with interest, keeping her questions few. Finally, she takes a breath and listens to Bilina's replies. And then she looks out the window and jumps up suddenly. "Oh piker! Look at the light - I'm late! I'll catch up with you later, sweetie! TTFN!" She dumps some coppers on the table and bolts out the door to make her morning announcements.
As the Half-elf began artfully reciting the day’s news an older, well-dressed man on a horse and accompanied by several armed escorts rode up to the doors of The Rose and dismounted. Without pause, he strolled determinedly up to the main doors and pulled hard on a rope. When nothing happened, he cursed and yanked twice more. After several more pulls one of the doors opened, revealing a woman of haunting beauty. Dressed in an obviously expensive white dress, one far more form fitting than common decency commanded, gave a slight bow before speaking with the man.
“…don’t care what your rules are, I demand to see Pithini. The woman, whose hair was a thick, lush black and tied up in a series of complex braids, smiled demurely, “Artisan Karigaon, did we not explain the rules of the House when your servants delivered your daughter unto our care? For her to recover fully, she must not be disturbed, not even by family. I assure – “
“Damnit, Melinia, it’s been two full days,” Karigaon interrupted. “How would a brief visit hurt?”
“She was seriously hurt, my good sir,” Melinia said in a tone that was used to sooth the agitation in others. A tone that Lilith worked to master for her own account. “I assure you, she is recovering well under the personal administrations of Lord Maigrinstaff himself, but she is still in a delicate condition and must not be bothered. If anything changes, word will be sent. Now, good day sir.” And before Karigaon could protest further, the door seemed to shut on its own. Cursing once more, Karigaon turned back for his horse.
“Do you wish for Argao and I ta insist on a visit, sir,” the shorter, wiry of the escorts asked with all seriousness.
Pulling himself up, onto his horse, Karigaon shook his head than glanced upwards at the shaded windows above. “No, no, Kant. It wouldn’t be a wise move, but I can promise, if I don’t hear from Pithini soon we’re coming back, with help, and I won’t be taking no for an answer. Noble connections or not.”
Livvi rushes after Karigaon, not really running but certainly not walking and nearly bouncing off of a slender, silver-haired girl in a cheap dress and day cloak. The young woman was gawking at the Healing House as if daydreaming.
"Sir! Master Silversmith! A word, if you please!" When she catches up to him, Livvi asks after his daughter and what the problem is. "I am Livvi Rahl, a minor official in the Lion's Pride (the haughty nickname for the Administration) and I am looking into the recent kidnappings and disappearances of prominent merchants and citizens. Would you mind answering a few questions?"
Karigaon’s eyebrows beetled slightly as he looked her over. “It’s about time that the officials began seeking answers to this travesty. What would you like to know, girl?”
Livvi proceeds to ask for a full accounting of his daughter's ordeal, including location, time of day, if anyone else was around, how and when she was recovered, if there were any witnesses or suspects, and finally, how she ended up in the Black Rose and why. (I know - a lengthy conversation!) She listens closely, watching both the man and his guards, looking for any potential omissions or twists of the truth or unusual looks from them. [Insight: 24]
Sitting on his horse the silversmith alternated his attention between Livvi’s attention and glaring at the Healing House as he spoke about how his daughter had been with friends a five-day past, visiting various shops and merchants dealing in luxuries. That the young women were excited about the upcoming festival – a full five-day of parties, balls, and ending in the royal masquerade at the palace, accompanied of course, by a chaperone and several well-armed escorts.
“The young ladies had left Rail's Shop on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage Quarter? Her companions insist that she was with them, then she wasn’t. It was growing dark and the fog had set in by the time I was able to enlist aide from some friends and associates to locate her. We found her wondering the back streets near the docks in a daze. She barely recognized her name or me,” her father said in anger. “My family leach couldn’t deign the cause of her malady and suggested The Black Rose. It is said that no one understands exotic illnesses better than Lord Maigrinstaff.”
"I couldn't help but overhear your encounter with Melinia - is there anything more you can tell me about the Black Rose or Master Maigrinstaff? Why would they not allow you to enter?"
“It’s the rules,” the silversmith snapped than took a deep breath and raised a hand. “I apologize, it is not your fault, Crier Rahl. Part of the agreement for accepting patients, especially patients that need a few days or more care, is that they are not allowed visitors of any sort. Lady Melinia is merely enforcing Maigrinstaff’s rules.”
"Thank you for answering my questions - I cannot even imagine how distraught you must have been when your daughter disappeared, or how she was returned. I will do my best to uncover what happened to her. Do you have any other information that may be of use? Anything odd or unusual about Pithini in the days leading to her disappearance? Anyone who might wish her, or you, harm? You may not think it is relevant, but clues are often overlooked until much later, when looking back over events you realize that small detail was the key to solving the problem."
“None. My little Pithini had no enemies in the world,” Karigaon said with a grim certainty.
As Mordecai helped Hadara navigate the narrow alleys they had a few things going for them. The Eight Star was located on the far side of the Poor Quarter from where they were heading which meant that they need not pass through one of the gatehouses connecting the city quarters from another. Gates meant City Guards, wanted posters, questions (or at least bribes) and with the fugitive’s current condition, it might have been difficult at best. Second, the thick mists flowing in from the sea had thickened into a serious fog, helping to conceal them from many prying eyes and the overly curious. The downside though, was that the fog also made it harder for the Half Orc to see more than a few strides. Still supporting Hadara, Mordecai could feel the man’s slowly weakening condition.
Mordecai notices Hadara stumble a few times. "Come on, Hadara. We'll be in the Poor Quarter soon enough and get you right," Mordecai says encouragingly. He then thinks to himself, his ancestral anger rising, "This was supposed to be easy. And now this poor bastard is going to die because some archer decided my coin wasn't good enough. I've had it with this night - but not before I get something for all my trouble. I swear, any more trouble and I'll be taking a pound of flesh."
[GM Perception Roll: 16+3 = 19] Coming onto a place where several alley’s converged, creating a fog shrouded space large, Mordecai heard something that sounded like metal scraping against stone or brick coming from the alley on his left.
Mordecai immediately puts Hadara behind him, taking a protective position. He steps them both back, away from the sound opening up some space between them and the source. He then lets loose a low, baritone growl. Hadara certainly heard it. Not many else would have. The glaive, loosened earlier in the bar, is now held firmly by Mordecai. His body is angled to block his hand, ready to sweep the glaive forward and upward.
“Wha –“Hadara started to say than went silent when he heard the same thing Mord did a moment later. Some floob’s voice snickered nearby.
A muttered curse responded, followed by the sound of somebody hitting somebody else hard enough to incite a grunt of pain. Then a shadow moved as a rough looking man came closer. His grin held a bit of trepidation than glanced backwards as to reassure himself that his fellow conspirators in crime were still with him.
“Okay you tarks,” the street thug grinned, “Let’s keep this ‘er bit of biz simple. Toss over yer coin pouches an’ any bling youse got an’ you’ll only get roughed up a little.”
Hadara’s laugh was cut short by a ragged cough. “You shit for brains picked the wrong lads to get yer glitter from.”
The thug emerged from the dark and fog was like a hundred others roaming the city at night. Unwashed, dirty, an eager gleam in his eyes that suddenly showed doubt as he looked at the Half-Orc, his eyes traveling upwards. Several more thug stepped out of an adjacent alley – more a short passage to the back door of some flop house or residence. One held a rusty sword, another a dagger that was too fine a weapon for the likes of its current owner, and their leader who, if the expression on his face was any indication, was seriously reconsidering his threat. His mouth started to open, the dagger in his hand coming up as if to parry. There is no thought. There is no retort. The moment the thug came within range of Mordecai's glaive, it flashed free in a brutal upward swipe - aimed for the thug's throat.
[Attack roll for Glaive 10 (+5) > Roll for hit location = 65 > Left leg (probably hip) > Thug Dex Save 2 > Falls, normal damage > Dam roll = 8+3=11 > Thug leader’s HP 9 -11 = -1]
Mordecai’s heavy weapon came free of its scabbard with an audible swish. The strike was swift but went lower than planned. The thick blade slashed deep into the thug’s side, nearly severing his leg at the hip. A spray of blood splashed across the face of the man’s nearest comrade. The thug, eye’s wide, screamed than collapsed, loosing consciousness in the process.
Behind the Half Orc, Hadara coughed than snorted, “That’s one, eh? A silver says the other two ain’t got the balls.” [Thug #2 – reaction > 88%] [Thug #3 – reaction > 5%]
The thug with the old sword screamed nearly as loud as the dying man had. A dark spot appeared on the front of the man’s trousers before he turns and fled back the way they had come. The one with the dagger hissed in anger and lunged towards Mordecai, slashing with his dagger. (Att +5 = miss)
“Yous’ kelled me brother!” he snarled, “I’m gonna stick ya, you filthy tusker!”
Mordecai parries the attack with his glaive. "Filthy tusker?" Mordecai snarls. He snaps his glaive around twisting to slice the man's chest from side to side.
< Attack: 9 vs. AC 10 = Miss> <Thug #3 attacks w/dagger 18 (+1)19 vs. AC 16 = Hit; Location 16 = Left Shoulder – Normal damage (3 points)>
Using the parry to carry him further to Mordecai’s left, the thug’s blade found a spot on the Half-Orc’s left shoulder where his chainmail was weak and managed to leave a stinging rebuke. The thug bared what was left of his rotted teeth and laughed, “Gonna peel ya an sell yer skin fer fritters, I am!”
Hadara coughed. “Want me to show you how?” The comment, Mordecai noted, could have been taken in several ways.
Mordecai gives Hadara a brief glance, and says through gritted teeth, "Sounds like it'll take too long - and you're short on time." He then bumps the thug back to create some space and swings his glaive at the man.
< Attack: 10 vs AC 10 = Hit > Damage: 11/2= 6 > Hit Location 36 = Stomach grazed, half damage>
Cursing, his free hand grasping at the bleeding slash across his belly, the thug lurched to one side than stabbed at Mordecai again, this time in silent hatred. <Attack 3 = miss>
Seeing the man still standing, Mordecai surges forward with another attack!
< Attack: 13 = Hit; Damage: 9, Hit Location 93 = Upper Torso Hit (Roll Torso Crit and Stun Charts > Torso Crit = 05 = internal damage (+15) GM Notes: Instant death, no need for stun rolls >
Behind him, Hadara’s mutter prayer was sincere but pointless. Shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, Mord found that the glaive had burst through the thug’s chest and that he had driven part of his hand into the gaping cavity. The corpse gave an involuntary gasp than slid off the blade and collapsed at the Half-Orc’s feet.
“Your bleeding, friend,” Hadara said. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to ask your name. What was it that flame haired ***** said back in the Eight Star? Mordici – “
"Mordecai. Bounty hunter by trade. Although I suspect tomorrow it'll be "Mordecai. Wanted."
Mordecai grabs whichever of the thugs' cloaks is cleanest and uses it to quickly sap whatever blood he can from his glaive and arm. It won't be perfect, but hopefully, in the dark, it won't be so noticeable. "This was not the plan," Mordecai thinks to himself, "but then again, when has anything ever gone to plan."
As he turned back towards Hadara, Mordecai’s boot kicked the thug’s dropped dagger, sending it spinning a stride away. The blade, though dulled slightly with his blood, still shined, indicating of a master work quality at the least.
"Well," Mordecai says calmly, looking down at the blade, "at least I have a souvenir of tonight's festivities." Then, thinking to himself, "Along with a scar and a price on my head - I wonder if Quig can make that paperwork disappear. It'll cost me if he can."
Just as he bent down to pick up the dagger for a closer examination Mordecai heard another scream nearby. A moment later he heard someone running in their direction, then a shadow appeared in the fog.
In a flash, Mordecai thinks, "Can't go back. Can't go towards the scream. Thug’s alley it is."
"Let's go Hadara, no more delays. Quickly." He pockets the knife and pulls Hadara in the direction that the thugs originally emerged from leaving the scene and the screaming figure behind them.
[GM Roll 9 (+4 from character’s perception) = +13]
As he moved, he thought he saw a shadow of a tall figure standing obscured behind a curtain in a third-floor window overlooking the market. A casual glance took in a large, three story building. A sign hanging above the front doors said that it was a House of Healing, the commonly used emblem for healing was backed by a black rose.
Erandal unconsciously angled his walk towards the hanging sign. Whilst normally a wary soul, Eran has never been one to think too deeply about his decisions, and merely questions himself, what am I getting myself into now? as he checks back on the crier to see where her attention is currently directed. Up on her perch the crier finished with a flourish. Artfully returning the parchment to its case the sandy haired woman gave a theatrical bow than half skipped, and half jumped, quickly disappearing into the crowd. A moment later a trio of city guard walked close by. For a moment an older fellow wearing the stars of a sergeant briefly glanced at him.
The glance of the guard caught Eran in the midst of a highly inappropriate thought regarding the crier, how fluidly she moved between the bow and a skip, and what the crier did with the proclamations after they were proclaimed... He recovered from a minor stumble by taking a knee as if to rub his feet. It was quite convincing as he had managed to stub his toe on a cobble only moments before. The thought that the crier had been talking about him quickly dissipated, but he wanted to try and catch any of the guard’s conversation before he completely put that thought to rest, so rose to position himself near to their path and discovered that the sergeant was attempting to chat up with the bard.
“Well now, “the sergeant was saying, getting warmed up to share some good gossip and rumors with the obviously pretty girl paying attention to him, “There’s – “
“Sergeant ?!”
“Not now, Amlack.”
At that moment a younger guard said to the sergeant, “Sir, I think I just saw Hadara. Over that way.” He gestured with his halberd towards the side of the market running south. “He just left the Black Rose.”
Almost reluctantly the sergeant and the bard looked in the same direction, as did Eran. Unfortunately, because of the large crowd beginning to disperse and his position he couldn’t see who this man was that might be important to someone. [Perception roll 3 (+4) 7 When he glanced back the young bard had also disappeared into the crowd, leaving the three guards who were heading somewhere with a purpose.
The blonde kid was lagging behind as the sergeant and other guard, a woman, were navigating the busy market. Without looking back the sergeant called out, “You sure ‘bout this, Amlack? This better not be another one of your wild kobold chases.”
“I’m sure of it, Sarg. I recognize him from the description of the BOLO the Captain put up on the notice board this morning – “
The female guard chimed in for the first time, “He’s worth twenty-five gold crowns.”
“Yeah, Cardili? Perhaps chasin’ some kobolds won’t be such a bad thing,” said the sergeant.
Amlack looked shocked. “The rewards only good if a citizen fingers or snags him, sergeant.”
“Details, details. You’ve got to see things from my position me lad.”
“Sergeant? “
The older guard snorted. “We’re citizens, too, lad an’ I can use the coin.”
The one called Amlack looked shocked again as the trio pushed through the last cluster of market goers and headed into a street and past the large healing house.
The phrases 'BOLO' and 'twenty-five gold' sparked Erandal's interest, and he congratulated himself on going with his gut, and further reminded himself that he should reward it with a decent meal sometime soon. He'd need to garner some more information on his own no doubt, but right now the guards seemed intent on making a chase of this Hadara, and Eran was going to stick to his best, and only, lead on that reward. At worst, they caught up with the person, and Eran plays the part of a convenient passer-by at the apprehension, and readily offers to ensure they see their just share of the reward and gets a little bit of something for essentially nothing other than being in the right place at the right time. The best case was to beat them to the prize and swipe twenty-five gold crowns to help line his own pockets; a scenario that was notably more appealing to his current circumstance.
Whilst the sensible course here is to go find a strong drink... Erandal thought as he followed along with the path of the guards, my gut feels something stirring here, so nice and cautious Eran, don't let this be the fire from the morning's frying pan.
With fair certainty that he wasn't being lured into a clever trap, Eran followed through the crowd and into the street after the guards. In the moment of space between the market crowd and the street entrance, he checks the crossbows as he entered, he quickly scanned the street for any features he could use to aid his concealment, knowing that he couldn't very well stroll behind the guards in plain sight. Where are you leading me, I wonder...?
Up ahead the young guard, still trailing behind the others let his Halberd rest against his shoulder as the crowd thinned and the trio picked up the pace. “How can someone like that be worth so much anyway, “He’d asked aloud. “I mean, how can bad talking our lord and city be so serious?”
“You're too naive for your own good, Amlack,” the sergeant grunted while the woman tossed an annoyed look back at the youth.”
“It’s how it starts, grunt. Someone starts complaining about how the price of bread is too high, emboldens another to protest the quality of city water. Others start *****ing that they’re not getting paid enough; or that our betters have it ‘too’ good. Next thing you know good citizens go bad. Burning, looting, taking up arms, an who do you think those arms will be pointed at? The merchants? The nobles?”
The young guard shrugged. “Us, I take it?”
“Yes – “
“But why would they do that? We’re all citizens.”
The sergeant cursed. “Don’t be a dolt, boy. Did that bit of soft fuzz steal your brain yesterday?”
Amlack’s back stiffened. “Lilita’s not like that – “
“—by the gods, boy, don’t tell me ya falling for that – “
The woman laughed. “She’s a quiet one to be sure. Not sure which part of the city she grew up in but I’m sure it wasn’t on the golden end.”
“Lilita’s a healer, Cardili. A member of the Healer’s Guild and works with that old Druid over on –
Cardili cut him off, “Damnit, where’d he go? He was just here, now he’s nowhere in sight!”
The following diatribe of colorful phrases and turn of words that issued from the sergeant was almost poetic after a fashion’ A slight smile caught on Eran’s mouth as he realizes the guard's Cursing himself for his lack of attention and resolves to get his own head back on track. They seem a bit too alert for the normal standards of 'city guards'. Even so, the rogue tried to position himself a few seconds behind the guards so that he didn’t miss anything and was rewarded.
“I think he went down that alley,” Cardili said, her voice dropping an octave as she slowed and looked over one metal clad shoulder. Gripping her own Halberd, the woman nodded at a narrow opening partially obscured by a stack of old, rotting crates. Across the way, several disreputable sorts took note of the guards as those who lived most their lives in back alleys and dark corners tended to do. Two discovered other places to be. One seemed unimpressed or indifferent and continued sitting on a three-legged stool, slurping something from a cracked bowl. [GM Roll: Perception +11 (+4) +15] Another shadowy figure was sitting on top of a nearby building. After a moment the shadow moved and disappeared, if any of the city guard noticed, Eran doubted it, for the sergeant turned and bulled forward, pulling the other two in his wake out of habit.
Hello hello... Who have we here then? Eran thinks to himself as he spies the shadowy figure, then looks around for a route up to the rooftops, and equally for the route that he would take coming down, not wanting to end up with his back exposed as he continues to follow the trio. The blondie, Amlack, seems to be the greenest in the group, he's the one to press if needs be. The sergeant sounds like a typically long in the job man, and the female officer doesn't sound like any sort of push over either.
Alleys were mostly the same the lands over. They snaked their way between buildings, often enclosed entirely as space was always at a premium and floobs built over them. Meant to allow access to the backs of shops and taverns so that supplies and to expedite the removal of wastes an unwanted stuff. Alley’s also served as secondary avenues of travel for those who knew them, including many in the shadowy professions. And like most alley’s Eran had been in, this one was filthy. Refuse, decaying manure (animal and human) covered the cobblestones and lined the walls in growing piles, several nearly choking off sewer grates and creating stands of stagnate, stinking water.
That route to the rooftops is almost appealing just for being out of this filth... Though not a particularly fastidious soul, Erandal always kept himself clean when the opportunity presented itself - long trips between places meant they had to take what he could get, but if he was ever at liberty to base at a tavern with a nearby bathhouse, he liked nothing more than to take a soak and wash his work away... Work like following guards and wanted men through dingy, waste-ridden back alleys. ...Wouldn't keep me close enough if anything interesting happens though. Don't want to put a foot wrong here, or any other part that I can avoid covering in something. Eran tried to pay attention so that he didn't foul any of his clothes, but also appreciated that the requirement of tracking the guards from relative concealment overrode that desire.
The guards kept some space between themselves, occasionally cursing their tall polearms in the confined space. Erandal heard the sergeant remind his patrol that if anything went down to drop the Halberds and use their shorts swords. Up ahead the alley opened slightly and ran true for about twenty paces where it ended in a door. On one side of the door was an unlit lamp box mounted to the wall. The buildings on either side rose two to three stories and offered plenty of places to stage an ambush. Coming to a stop, the sergeant’s head looked up and swept across many of the areas that Eran’s eyes had just been.
“Okay, leave the mulestickers,” he ordered, setting his own Halberd against a wall. “I know this place. It’s the back door to the Eight Star.”
As he passes the discarded Halberds, Eran lies them down across the floor of the alley, knowing a good trip can end a chase in short order. He glanced around again for the figure from above before moving up to the door.
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s the sergeant’s voice from inside. There was a muffled yelp of protest.
Upon hearing the shouts, Eran's hands instantly fall to his bows, raising and loading one as he moves inside the doorway, keeping his free hand ready should he need to draw the other. Here we go again... He keeps moving until he can see the guards, all the while keeping his back to the wall and readies himself as the scene unfolds.
Just ahead of him, the junior guard and woman blocked part of his view for a moment as they hesitated. The sergeant, typical of the sort, bulled his way forward with all the authority his rank and the habit of being used to other’s jumping at his commands, seemed to be addressing the entire bar, but his words were focused on the wanted man who, it seemed, had joined up with an associate. A very large, sneering half-orc who was attempting to clear a path for them to the front door.
So, Hadara's either enlisted the aid of this half-orc, or they were meeting here for something else...There's a rabbit hole to fall into here. Erandal edges closer to the action, set on a plan to charge through the two guards, hoping that the element of surprise will allow him to catch them off guard, should he need to take after either of the men.
While not quite between the pair of wanted fugitives, stood a Drow female with fire red hair and the ripe and erotic form typical of her race, as well as two mail wearing thugs that were typical for hired muscle. All muscle, no brains. The Drow glanced ever so briefly towards the city guard before sneering at the Half-Orc, she leaned closer and whispered something to the Half-Orc, something that brought a hopeful smile to Hadara’s face. The Half-Orc growled something back at the Drow that sent a fire of anger through her eyes.
Now that's a site! Don't come across Drow out in the day too often. Seems like she she ain't too keen on anyone else here either...
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied the Half-Orc as he places a hand on a chair recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way and whispered something to Hadara. Hadara’s face fell again.
Eran had seen this sort of scene play out before... in his short time with Ivera, she had stand-offs with others seeking the bounty, and the lawmen actually doing their job. Not that he can recall them both catching up with her at the same time, but inevitably it was going to end in either a fight or a chase. Judging by the half-orc's size and the presence of a drow female, Eran figured it was going to be the former. He keeps edging closer to the fore, wanting to make sure he can keep up if they make a break to the front.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Elan watched as the city guard approached Hadara and the Half-Orc, short swords ready.
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior companion before starting after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today." He spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go. For the few seconds it traveled halfway across the tavern, Elan realized it was aimed at him. The Half-Orc pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons.
As the chair flies towards him, Eran tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty sitting at a nearby table. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended.
So, Hadara's either enlisted the aid of this half-orc, or they were meeting here for something else...There's a rabbit hole to fall into here. Erandal edges closer to the action, set on a plan to charge through the two guards, hoping that the element of surprise will allow him to catch them off guard, should he need to take after either of the men.
Thoughts racing through his head now, Orc protecting Hadara, but not friendly - gotta be after the bounty, and on the run. Drow has her own interests, but not willing to throw down in front of the watch - unclear intentions. City guard seem the least of my concerns.
With a still protesting Hadara in the lead, the Half-Orc presses for the door, scattering a few bar patrons who are too slow to get out of the way. The female city guard shouted a warning as she and the younger guard ducked the flying chair while the sergeant, apparently confident that the chair was coming nowhere near him, gave a colorful curse about the Half-Orc’s lack of smarts and rushes after him.
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” His intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
Now that's a sight! Don't come across Drow out in the day too often. Seems like she ain't too keen on anyone else here either...
Amongst the chaos likely to follow, Eran tries to break past the two guards, and make after Hadara. Crossbow readied, if he gets a shot at the half-orc's leg, then he'll take it. No need to kill the guy yet, but that chair deserves payment in kind. Eran will try to take a path around the sergeant and drow... too many unknowns at this point and throwing his hat in the ring on the wrong team is a habit he could do with breaking... soon! Best to stick on his own for the moment and see how the chaos levels out.
As Erandal maneuvered through bar, he noticed the Drow named Firehair had joined an older man with gray hair at the long bar. The pair were shortly joined by a raven-haired beauty as the City Guard’s poured through the main entrance and into the dark and foggy street, shouting for the Orc and the man of interest to halt.
Eran slows his pursuit, stowing his crossbow, and picking his way through the floobs scratching for silver. He tries to find a path that will move him closer to the Drow, silver-haired man, and raven-haired beauty; his hope being to catch a snippet or two of their conversation, risking the few moments he'll lose in the chase to garner any more info that might help him later. The immediate chase is too fraught - that Orc knows his business, and I wouldn't want to go toe to toe with him close. I'll have to pay him back for the chair at some point though. Eran rubs his shoulder unconsciously, as he steps around another floob, knowing it will leave a mighty bruise and ache like an arthritic dame in short order, these people seem to know more of what is going on and the right piece of knowledge might save me a lot of legwork.
Perception: 1d20+4 (9+4=13) ((to catch any info from Firehair, Lep, or Bilina))
Stealth: 1d20+5 (7+5= 12) ((to pass by inconspicuously enough that they don't notice me eavesdropping))
Insight: 1d20+2 (12+2 = 14) ((judging the sincerity or truth of any words spoken))
Watching as the city guard, followed by a few rogue citizens still jeering and yelling at them and those eager to collect their coin waged on the outcome, the gray-haired man shook his head. Without turning to look at the raven-haired woman leaning against the tavern’s long, hardwood bar he said:
“If you wanted Hadara dead, we could have come up with a dozen easier ways of accomplishing it,” the tavern owner said.
The woman said, “Easier, yes, convincing? No, probably not.”
There was a soft hiss from the Drow sitting at the end of the bar. “I think that The Lion doesn’t want this ‘meat’ to be dead, just wounded and on the run for real,” Firehair commented with a bored yawn. Her eyes flickered towards a stair way where a cloaked man descended, unstringing a bow.
“The Lion? No, The Sage though…”
At the mention of the second most powerful position in Tarantis not sitting on the throne both the man and Firehair turned to look at the slender woman.
After a pregnant pause, the man asked slowly, as if choosing his words with care, “And the Half-Orc?”
“He’s exactly as he seems. Some tark who must have heard about the reward on Hadara’s head and got to him first. Other’s will be seeking him for that reward, or for what he knows – “
“I know of this Mordecai,” Firehair interrupted. “Young and muscled with a kernel of some thought in that thick Orc skull, but a nobody. Just last five day he was competing in “Infernal Hell” – one of several illegal arenas around the city – “in five-silver matches at that, yet he showed ambition, going after Hadara, as well as some wits, recognizing the better offer.” She smirked towards the man who shrugged.
“I’d like to know more about what prompted all this…drama,” he said but the woman was gone. A soft curse escaped man’s lips. “I hate it when her kind do that sort of shit.”
Stepping into the street Eran was just in time to watch Hadara stumble as an arrow lanced down from the rooftops. The shadowy figure that he had seen coming up the alley behind the Eight Star came to mind.
Immediately Eran looks for any way up to the roof. Silently cursing himself for not trying to get the higher ground earlier, but now confident that at least for now, he is not the target of these shadowy watchers. Mental note - get up to that roof and see if there's any clues left at the earliest opportunity, but best follow the gold for the moment. Still staying on the cautious side, Eran decides to stay quiet and chase at a distance. The Guard Sergeant was cursing somewhere deep in the shrouded alley across the way. Eran heard running boots and clanging of metal as well. Above, the archer was no where in sight. No doubt content with hitting his target, the archer had made an exit.
Following the sounds of the sergeant's voice, Eran moves a little deeper into the alleyway. He quickens his pace to close the distance, in the belief that he will be well enough covered by the other noises and clamor he can hear.
Shadowy figures ahead in the poorly lit alley were easy to identify as the sergeant was cursing even harder. Elan caught up to find the trio faced with a split in the alley. After a moment’s hesitation, the guards plunged down the narrower alley on the left. About to follow, Elan’s hand brushed against something sticky and wet on the edge of the building he was using for cover. Familiar with the feel of fresh blood, he had a hunch that the Half Orc and his wounded companion had turn right.
Eran wipes the blood on a nearby tattered cloth as he takes off following the trail of blood. Times like this I wish I had the nose of a hound... Almost ironically as the thought passes through his head, a waft of something rotten and fouled does catch in his nostrils and causes him to gag slightly. Ok, maybe there are times when heightened smell would be more of a hinderance. Eran increases his pace to try and close the gap up ahead, not recklessly, but certainly faster than he would like to travel. That conscious delay in the inn playing on his mind... again he questions his choices but plows onward.
A muttered curse ahead was followed by the sound of somebody hitting somebody else hard enough to incite a grunt of pain. Up ahead there was a sharp turn in the alley. A shadowy figure turned, and he heard:
“Okay you tarks. Let’s keep this ‘er bit of biz simple. Toss over yer coin pouches an’ any bling youse got an’ you’ll only get roughed up a little.”
Then the one named Hadara laughed, then it was cut short by a ragged cough. “You shit for brains picked the wrong lads to get yer glitter from.”
At the sounds of conflict, the dialect and phrasing all too familiar to his ears, Eran draws and loads his twin handbows as he moves forward. Checking for any more figures up above, or hiding in the alleyway, he moves to a position of cover and listens to the shakedown...
There was the sound of a heavy weapon clearing it’s scabbard, followed by a blade or ax driving deeply into flesh. A scream began than cut short, finished by a second, less final sounding scream as something heavy landed on the wet, dirty cobblestones somewhere nearby.
Hadara coughed than snorted, “That’s one, eh? A silver says the other two ain’t got the balls.”
“Yous’ kelled me brother!” someone snarled, “I’m gonna stick ya, you filthy tusker!”
Just than a shadowy figure appeared from the dark and foggy alley ahead. Rushing towards where Eran had positioned himself, the figure held some sort of sword in hand, aside from the weapon, the only clear thing Eran saw was the man’s eyes. They were dead set on him.
Reacting as much out of instinct as out of conscious thought, Erandal fires his crossbows at the charging man, then without waiting to see if they hit, he stows one back in his hip holster as he backs away from the charging man, back down the alleyway they entered through. "Don't make this harder than is needs to be. Drop the weapon!"
<Bonus Action: Attack: 16+7=23; Damage: 1d6=2; Location 99 = Clips head, roll on Head Crit = 65 = Severe puncture, +1 Blood loss/CR> Total Damage = 5/+1perCR
The thug cried out in pain and nearly fell. Wild eyed he spun and charged off back the way he had come, quickly swallowed up by the fog.
Reloading and seeing the shadow change direction, Erandal too reverses his motion and moves back towards the shakedown - not rushing, but quickly enough that Hadara's chance to flee is kept to a minimum. Well, that wasn't on the plan anywhere... Though I'd bank he'll think better of trying to rush me again!
Taking the time on his return to prepare both his handbows again and keeping one loaded and ready he returns to the scene. "Time to get some answers! Who in the nine hells are you people?!"
Comment(s)(from Lilita's Player): I am so enjoying reading everyone's stories... and for the Mordstoryline just posted above, I really like the use of 'tusker' slang, never heard that before but really suits as something to call an orc or half-orc in such a dark gritty setting and backdrop of your campaign world. Actually, the city all our characters are in... sort of reminds me a bit of a place one might find in Thieves' World an old book series that I was really into... way back when and loved a very happy to be in a similar gritty setting! So I appreciate the stories with Livvi and Mord just as great read! Thanks!
The woman’s clothes safely in one of several small bags and pouches Lilita wore or carried beneath her day cloak, the young woman made her way into a portion of the great city that she visited rarely. The sun was still up though the shadows in the streets were lengthening considerably, she was allowed to pass through the gate separating Merchant’s Quarter from the Noble’s Quarter. The patrol of City Guard manning the gate wore fancier armor and bright yellow cloaks that were far different from the plain armor and gray cloak that Amlack and his companions wore. The colors denoting the different companies that the guards were assigned too, the quality of armor also suggested that those in power gave the Noble’s Quarter a far higher priority for resources than the Laborer’s (Poor) Quarter.
Lilita always finds herself in awe when she finds an opportunity to travel through the city's Noble's Quarter, a rare treat for her, something that she does not get to do daily or even weekly. Rather, it is an event as rare as a blue moon in her otherwise drab little life. As Lilita walks along she admires this Quarter's Guardsmen uniforms... so bright and stylish, how handsome Amlack would look dressed in such finery. Perhaps someday she muses... Amlack for all his shortcomings ((guessing that he is a commoner like Lilita))) and lack of family connections he is a good and honorable man so she hopes that someday she will see his efforts recognized and rewarded.
Iltutmish Lane wound its way through a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time Lilita located Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Like her, perhaps, laborers, clerks, and so on, employed in the quarter, though most seemed to be heading in the way she had just come, probably for the gatehouse and other city quarters. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. At their feet sat a small barrel, most likely whale oil. Such lights were all but unheard of in the Laborer’s Quarter, only existing at the central market or outside of the odd tavern. From the open door and windows of a tavern came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
Lilita pauses to listen for a moment to the music coming from inside the tavern. Though she greatly enjoyed music she did not have the opportunity or leisure time to listen to such very often except on special occasions during street festivals or the like when performances are outdoors. Mostly Lilita did not go to other venues to listen to music as she is very shy and painfully inept in social situations and did often go into places... like taverns especially unescorted. Such she felt was unseemly for a young maiden such as herself, as it often invited unwanted attention or trouble especially for one such as she who has been sheltered from such places most of her life.
As she stood there looking at several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, Lilita mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Lilita blushed examining the wondrous garments... high fashion always confused her as she could scarcely imagine what sorts of situations required those attending to wear such attire... were she to wear such she would feel so every exposed and scandalized if anyone she knew where to look upon her dressed in such. Running her fingers over the gown that swept down to a dagger shape she was not even sure how something like that would stay upon a female's body with slipping off but then Lilita was very petite and not as well-proportioned as the women who no doubt wore such. Lilita giggled as she imagined that a female needs to be born and breed to wear gowns like that to do them justice whereas Lilita knew those like herself would forever be consigned to wearing simple styles having more in common with turnip stacks.
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. Standing in the shadow of the doorway Lilita watched as three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Lilita had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Lilita upon noting the snickering ladies in their teens makes sure to keep her distance, her eyes downcast respectfully not wishing to attract their attention or ire. Herself having just turned 19 and given her small stature to many who do not know her she has found herself at times being mistaken for one younger. Only her soulful pale blue eyes like ice seem to betray her actual age many commenting that they are her best physical feature but wasted on a maiden with an overly polite and meek nature.
As a result, Lilita found herself seeking to hide from their view behind the magnificent statues listening to the matron speaking to the shop servant. Lilita looks at the servant thinking that working in such high-class establishment like this must be both a blessing and a curse. Still, to the naive Lilita, the shop was as fascinating and exciting as it was frightening leaving her feeling a bit breathless and out of place.
While seriously thinking of retreating from the place, Lilita was drawn to a pair of very fine-looking slippers. They sat on a hardwood pedestal that was so finely carved to appear made from metal. Lightly touching one, Lilita was surprised to feel a slight spark of energy tickle her skin. [GM Rolled Arcana check: 18] They were imbued with some sort of magic.
Lilita marveled at the slippers immediately captivated by them... drawn to them by their magical nature. Lilita seemed to have a weakness and an affinity to magic or anything magical. Slowly she caressed the slippers, running her fingers lightly over them feeling deep within her own body a spark and tingle... almost like a wave of pleasure. She rather found herself enjoying the sensation of magical energy emanating from them. Oh, if only... she thought looking at them sadly knowing that something so fine, so magical would never ever grace her feet but she could at least imagine...
“Yes, you will find many items of attire and accessories within Avgrat’s to have a touch of the sparkle in them,” said a deep, cultured voice from nearby. So engrossed in the slippers, Lilita failed to hear him.
Slowly Lilita managed to pull herself free of the slippers and move off and away from their influence... such things are only for the wealthy, the powerful... nobles or perhaps some brave heroes and adventures like those found in legendary tales but for her, they would be found only in her dreams. Where was her fairy godmother, she wondered to herself, a slight smile of amusement on her face?
A tall, aristocratic man of intermediate age stood beside her, an amused smile on his face. Dressed like a noble, he oozed a venerable charm that sent a warm tingle down Lilita’s spine.
Caught off guard Lilita's cheeks flushed such shade of pink... then red... surprised by his sudden appearance out of nowhere. Catching her breath and holding her small hand to her chest she attempted to give him a polite respectful curtsy, "please forgive m'lord... I meant no disrespect, I should not have touched the slippers or failed to note and acknowledge your presence." Her eyes look down at her feet shyly... a bit fearful even... unable to meet his gaze or look him directly in the eyes... hoping that she had not gotten herself into trouble as she had not even gotten around to the task at hand... to speak to the shop owner about the dress. Whatever was she thinking her mind racing, a feeling of dread and fear that those finely dressed Guardsmen she fawned over earlier would suddenly appear and drag her off to the dungeons or worse...
“I did not detect any disrespect young miss, hardly at all. How can one with such obvious beauty and grace not be enamored in such a fine pair of slippers,” the man said with a slight wink. His hand reached out to run his fingers across the top of the nearest slipper, mimicking her earlier gesture. “I believe that these are an Elvish creation. Master Tailor Avgrat is known to carry many exotic items and luxuries. Would you like to try them on?”
Before Lilita had a chance to respond a young Half-Elf girl flounced in from the street, accompanied by a slightly older woman with raven-black hair and grey eyes that swept the shop. When those eyes greeted hers, Lilita got the impression that the woman had taken her measure, judged her in some odd way, then just as quickly dismissed her and moved on. Giving a squeal of delight, the Half-Elf though, spun and made for the red gown on display in the window. In moments, a protesting servant in pursuit, the Half-Elf charged off towards the nearest dressing room. Beside Lilita the nobleman smiled but hadn’t taken his attention off her.
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” he was saying.
Lilita timidly keeps her eyes respectfully downcast thinking that the half-elf female seemed familiar to her somehow but dared not look up at her and possibly invite even more unwanted attention. But secretly she hoped that the fey maiden's presence might somehow divert the nobleman's strange interest in herself causing Lilita to wonder if perhaps he might be playing some sort of game with her. Some nobles Lilita knew seemed to delight in causing mischief with powerless commoners such as she or simply to tease and bewilder them in which case with Lilita he had succeeded. Lilita was thankful at least the raven-haired woman found her to be beneath notice, unworthy of a second glance. That being a more typical reaction for Lilita, the type of reaction that the young girl is used to receiving having come to accept it as she has come to accept her own low-status position within society.
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to Lilita. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently Lilita accepts the slippers and slowly walks over to the padded bench and sits down. Giving in, Lilita slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence," yes m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Slowly and carefully Lilita positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal, fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Her small delicate hands trembling as she gently slides one foot and then the other into the slippers. Lilita just stared at the slippers feeling the tingling of their magic coursing from them up into her entire body, the sensation was not unpleasant, even pleasurable as she becomes lost in the moment.
As she sat there, marveling at the perfect fit and how the slippers were so soft and light that she could barely feel them on her feet, she was utterly conscious of the man’s almost fatherly smile peering at her, and a disapproving stare coming from the matronly lady nearby. Another shop servant meant to approach but halted in his tracks at a cool glance from the noble. Before Lilita could say more there was an explosion of exclamations and giggles the dressing rooms. Everyone turned as the Half-Elf stepped out wearing the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin.
"Lina - Please?” the Half-Elf said in a playful yet pleading voice, “Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." the Half-Elf said as she whisked towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps, her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” the raven-haired woman said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “the one named Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. His eyes briefly turned to take in the new arrival and Lilita felt as if a physical weight had been lifted off her slender shoulders. Enough so that she became aware of a magical tingle. Like the slippers, the man himself had a hint of magic about him.
Looking upward... Lilita's gaze falls upon the matronly lady with the disapproving stare... Lilita's cheeks blushing with shame and despair thinking that no doubt the lady thinks that she is a courtesan or worse yet dressed as she is... a common cheap street whore. Oh gawds, why me? Why am I so cursed? She thinks to herself.
Then suddenly the explosion of sound distracts everyone's attention and she silently thanks her lucky stars for the interruption looking on with awe as the half-elf maiden reappears out of the dressing room hearing the other woman call her Livvi. Lilita can only look on in awe at how stunning and beautiful the fey maiden looked in the exotic gown she had selected. Lilita trying her best not to listen to their conversation and keep her eyes respectfully downcast but found herself momentarily distracted by a strange hint of magic which seemed to emanate from the nobleman. It was then that Lilita noticed something else... she saw that like herself the nobleman was distracted by the half-elf maiden Livvi as she moved towards him... perhaps seeking his opinion, approval or something else.
Sensing an opportunity Lilita with one swift motion slides her feet OUT of the magical slippers she had just moments before putting on. No time to put back on her own shoes Lilita attempts to make a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind in the shop.
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
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Lilita's storyline continues...
Well past moonfest (midnight), Lilita’s search turned up an oddity. There was a small puncture on the woman’s neck, just beneath the hairline. So fine, she had passed over it once already without noticing. From casual inspection, the mark appeared to be some sort of sting or bite.
Knowing that a sting often leaves behind a sharp barb with an attached bag of poison or venom sac or least some remnant of such even if the woman had managed to remove it or rubbed it off by accident. Even so around the puncture, there would be signs of painful, itchy swelling with more severe reactions there would be a rash over the body, swelling of the throat or tongue, restriction of breathing, diarrhea, vomiting, etc. which one would think would be more apparent if it were a sting... of some kind. Besides her Detect Poison and Disease spell should have picked up any sort of traces of either poison or venom resulting from a sting, which Lilita finds very perplexing since she detected nothing.
So Lilita did what she could to clean the area of the small puncture as best she can and cast a Cure Wounds on her to see if it will have any general effect or slow things down a bit then apply an herbal poultice for pain, dress it and hope for the best. Lilita will continue to stay beside the woman, sitting close and watching her through the night to keep an eye on her for any changes, attending her... watchful for chills or fever or any other changes in her condition and do everything she can. As Lilita stays up she will consult any arcane healing tomes Arcana she may have on hand to research as well as reflect on her own memories of guild lectures, she attended concerning puncture marks like that which could appear as bites or stings and what sorts of creature or causes may be at work. In the morning if not better Lilita will find one of her former patients she has helped who lives nearby to sit with the woman while Lilita goes to Healing Guild to try to seek answers.
At some point during the night she dozed off. In the midst of a very disturbing dream where she was dressed in a wispy gown that left nothing to the imagination and was playing a very beautiful melody on her old viola while a tall, hauntingly handsome figure sat nearby, an amused look on his face, she woke with a start. The dream was surreal, as it lingered. Catching her breath Lilith turned to check on her patient and found the woman was gone. The bedclothes were tossed back hastily and the door to the Vardo wagon left slightly open.
Lilita attaches little or no significance to her dream and quickly pushes it out of her mind as her main concern is more on her now missing patient rather than herself and not on frivolous dreams... no matter how vivid or surreal. She hastily picks up then carefully folds the discarded bedclothes before going out to stand at the top of the narrow steps to her home.
The narrow street outside as well as the community garden across the way were veiled by a thick fog that seemed to eddy and swirl despite the lack of a breeze. Tarantis knew fog well, sitting on the edge of the sea as it did, so there was nothing unnatural about the weather outside. Even so, a shiver went through her, causing her arms to break out in goosebumps. Worried about the woman and feeling a chill as she grabs a shawl from her closet and wraps it around herself... After awhile she realized that the woman was gone and that there was nobody else about. Turning with a sigh she went back inside and closed the door.
Unable to return directly to sleep Lilita busied herself with cleaning up after her attempt to help the poor woman. Perhaps she had woken and slipped away in the middle of the night, it was the only thing that made sense. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman had been taken away somehow.
Every fiber of her being screams out to immediately dash out and search for the poor missing woman, Lilita is unable to explain and rationalize to herself why she doesn't do this!!! Why is she feeling and reacting so contrary to her nature... not feeling at all herself... acting in such a lethargic manner gives her pause?
While waiting for the water to steep her tea, Lilita sat on the bench beside a table for one, watching the street through the open window. The urge to close the shutter and bunker in was strong, a lingering fear or confusion that she couldn’t readily dismiss. Deciding to focus on everything that she had done to help the woman Lilith’s sharp mind visualized the condition and the wound. It had been as if the woman had suffered from some sort of blood disorder; something that left her weak and near deaths door, and the wound. There had been no signs or residue of a sting or thorn. No redness or swelling, either. Just a perfect puncture wound. She was reminded of some of the marks left behind when the instructors at the guild had used an artificial tool called a syringe to draw bodily fluids. Syringes were extremely rare and delicate, which also made them expensive.
Lilita lost in thought looks down at the cup of tea... she had leisurely taken the time to make... why she wonders, to calm her nerves? She picks it up, opens the window and flings the contents of the cup outside... without so much as taking a sip her thoughts still on the woman. Thinking in regards to the possibility of the puncture is from a syringe, perhaps someone had injected something into the woman... the question being, were they treating her for some unknown condition or was something else going on? Given how rare and expense syringes are why would someone go to such expense to treat a mere commoner... perhaps someone is experimenting, using commoners like the woman as guinea pigs???
She knew she had years of learning ahead of her and acknowledge her limitations. Surly, if not a syringe, then there were many magical beasts and aberrations that could possibly leave such marks and symptoms behind. With so little information, it was difficult. The more she thought about it the more details revealed themselves. The woman’s body had been clean, while not freshly scrubbed, but far cleaner than was the usual found in the Poor Quarter, and her fingernails had been even, well-tended to. Her eyes glanced at the woman’s dress sitting, neatly folded on top of a small cabinet. Sitting up, Lilita blinked. How had she missed that before? She recalled taking it off the woman and setting it where it was… The Vardo was a small space, hard to miss things that were not part of her own contents. It also meant that the woman had left wearing only her slip.
Lilita picks the woman's dress... closes up the Vardo and heads outside into the streets and alleys in search of the missing woman, upset with herself that she dallied far too long instead of going out immediately when she first discovered the woman missing... She goes nowhere particular, just wandering the streets, places someone like the woman might sight seek out for shelter or refuge.
Somewhere in the distance a bell chimes, marking it three past moonfest (midnight). The streets of the Laborer’s Quarter, also often referred to as the Poor Quarter by those who didn’t have to live in it, were quiet. The occasional drunk or group of drunks reeling down a street, many singing badly off key. Some bars and taverns remained open, day and night, their noise sounding dull in the heavy fog. Shadows moved and were distorted, more effects of the fog and poor lighting. Unlike the better quarters, this one was only lit at crossroads or by the fronts of various establishments still open. Passing by a three-story house overhanging the street Lilita heard sobbing from a second-floor window. There was a growling warning, followed by a harsh slap. The sobbing quieted.
As Lilita walks along the darkened back streets and alleys she picks up a small stone and casts a Light cantrip on it. She pauses briefly at the house looking up sadly at the second-floor window but there is nothing she can do. As much as she would like to be able to do something positive... helpful for the abused and downtrodden, sadly people make their own choices and mistakes in the world at large so she must be content to mind her place and do what she can for those who seek her out.
Wandering around the quarter, Lilita checked the more obvious places someone might go for help or healing. There weren’t many, especially outside the wealthier parts of the city or the temple quarter. Something else she noticed, the walking and air, damp thought it was, had helped to clear her mind. There was a lingering feeling that she hadn’t fallen asleep on her own. Whether it had been magically induced or something else, she couldn’t tell.
Three menacing forms emerged from a narrow alley, becoming shadows of rough looking men. One leered openly at her and made a remark to the others. Her path took her closer and into the dim light of a lantern mounted above a door to a shop selling clothing. One of the men stared at her than grimaced, his arm going out to grab his nearest companion.
“It’s tha’ healer girl, let ‘er be.”
Lilita feeling an initial wave of fear, she breathes a sigh of relief when one of the three men grabs one of his companions giving her some small measure of hope that the act will be enough to allow her to pass in peace unmolested... Still, the whereabouts of her missing patient pushes her onward. She gives them a respectful bow keeping her eyes downcast as she attempts to slip past them without incident.
As the men moved on, now singing a bawdy song, Lilita entered the clothing shop. While in smaller towns it might be shocking to find merchant, shops open at all hours, not so in cities as large as Tarantis. Business went on, regardless of the hour or day as different people kept different hours. The interior was moderate lit, which made sense. Open flame such as candles or torches could be fire hazards waiting to happen and produced a lot of soot that tended to get onto and into everything while lanterns burning oil tended to be cleaner, were expensive enough that most households considered themselves well off if they owned even one and could keep it fueled. An elderly man – probably part of the shopkeeper’s extended family – got up from a stool where he had been dozing.
“’ello, got a need missy?”
Lilita looks at the old man timidly yet respectfully, clutching her patient's dress in one hand and her Light stone in the other. "Excuse me, kind sir, I do not mean to disturb you at this late hour... I am called Lilita, a healer. Earlier this evening a woman ((briefly describing her age, dress, and general physical appearance)) came to me for help but later I must have dozed off and she was gone leaving only this ((holding up the woman's dress)), she is ill and mayhap delirious, thus I am greatly concerned for her wellbeing... and searching for her just to ensure that she alright. Have you... pray to tell... seen her or heard something from a customer perhaps... or recognize this garment of hers... that if not homemade... who might have made or sold it?"
“Well, your last guess is often the most correct in this part of the city, yes? Mm, yes. May I see the garment?”
As she handed it over Lilita’s senses took in the narrow shop. A doorway in the far corner led to another room, probably the clothier’s main work space. A few carved human figures were dressed in modest clothing made from average materials, not unexpected since most of the inhabitants of the Laborer’s Quarter could ill afford to commission attire. The balance of the shop’s goods catered to those who made their own. Rolls of uncut cloth lined one wall, ready to be pulled out and cut by length. Another wall was stacked with open faced baskets holding balls of yarn, while behind the counter multi drawered case held needles of varying materials, likely bone or wood. Metal would be expensive here, as well as buttons of all sorts. A few ready-made garments hung from pegs, ready for quick sale for those with the coin. Humming, the old, slightly gnarled fingers were going over the woman’s blouse. A pearl white in color with a detailed stitch creating a decorative banding at the color and cuffs. He grumbled something about his eyes and turned to hold the blouse closer to the lantern.
The kind hearted Lilita noting the old man's difficulty with seeing in the shop's poor light... quickly moves her glowing Light stone closer to help make it easier for him to examine the dress. Politely asking, "how is that? Is that better now, I hope?" Moving the stone about under his direction as needed... wanting to make it as easy on him as possible.
“Ah, yes, but thank ye, missy. My eyes are not as sharp as they once were, don’t cha know,” smiled the old man as he made use of the light from her stone. “Ah, hmmm…yes. You see, while most clothing is made of homespun and by the light of the hearth, our profession is one that takes pride in it’s work. Mostly anyway, even while knowing few, if any, would know our work once it’s sold. Still, those of us who belong to the Weaver’s Guild take special pride, enough so that each shop, yes indeed, even most individual crafters, adopt a stitch pattern unique to themselves. And, aside from that, many clients are wealthy enough or self-important enough to warrant additional customization.”
Lilita smiles and nods politely, "you are very welcome, kind Ser, you, after all, are taking the time to help me in this matter... so it is the least that I can do." She listens to him closely not knowing much at all about such things or of the Weaver's Guild so is very happy to be instructed on something new and interesting to her. Drawing closer to him Lilita is drawn to what he is trying to show her in order to better grasp the subject matter... taking it all in like a sponge! "Yes... I see... I had no idea, that is so very interesting but makes perfect sense now that you mention it."
Kindly eyes peered up at her as the old man traced the pattern again. “Can you see the flowering motif? Ivy intermixed with roses. And these” – he pointed at several swirling cross stitches – “suggest that these were made by Rail…Rail Avgrat or one of his people. Rail sells a lot of attire patterned after fashions from faraway lands; or clothing from such places, mmm, yes. Interesting, yes.”
Lilita looks very closely at the pattern, studying it seeing the flowering motif... fascinated with it all... pondering, how a simple weave could convey so much information! Thinking that the ivy intermixed with roses is somehow hauntingly familiar to her. "Oh, my yes, very interesting and very helpful. I am amazed at the information such a thing can convey to one with trained eyes in which to see, you are indeed a master in your chosen craft I am fortunate to have found my way to you."
Taking care to refold the clothes before returning them the old man pursed his lips. Rail’s shop is over on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage’s Quarter? Very expensive, yes. Many nobles visit there, as do pirates, probably for the outlandish costumes.” He gave Lilita a smile that showed his three remaining teeth. “Rail will be incredibly busy this time of the year, what with the Silver Festival approaching, mmm. Very busy creating new costumes for the various masquerade”
Lilita meets his gaze and smiles sweetly and politely back at him, not bothered by his lack of teeth or his age truly thinking him a very kind and wise man. She is however puzzled and somewhat surprised to learn that dress is made from expensive cloth as she had assumed coming to her the woman was like herself a mere commoner. Still, it's possible that the woman could be a commoner dressed by someone else in such finery... so it could still go either way. The woman, be she either a wealthy lady or a simple commoner came to Lilita for help. As result, Lilita feels an obligation to find a way to help her even though she has disappeared. Lilita diving fully into the rabbit hole... this mystery is quickly becoming... requiring her to dig deeper in order to get to the bottom of things.
The petite young healer nods, "yes Rail's Shop on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage Quarter. I am somewhat familiar with the general area but have not been inside any shops there," she sighs, "far too rich for my blood as you can no doubt tell from my humble attire," she giggles not all embarrassed by her lower-class origins. "Thank you very much for your assistance, you are right... with the festival no doubt he will be extremely busy to see someone like me... I am not even sure they would allow me inside the shop... festival or no festival to be honest, but I must try."
Following her as far as the door the old man pursed his lips again. “Oh, curious thing, nearly slipped my mind, yes. Hmm, yes. That other pattern, perhaps the patrons mark? It’s a black rose…”
As she walks with him, she takes both his hands into hers warmly... and thanks him with a smile and a hug, "thank you again for your assistance, you've helped me far more than you know. I am sorry that I have no coin in which to reward you but you know who I am and that live in the old Vardo... if you need an herbal remedy or healing... whatever I can do... please visit me or send a boy to fetch me and I will come whenever needed, I promise."
With the woman's dress in hand, Lilita turns to leave the shop... wondering if the pattern, the patron's mark... a black rose, it is somehow connected to the Black Rose Healing House. Lilita remembering when she was still but a student at the Healer's Guild... meeting and speaking to several elegant and fashionably dressed ladies... so beautiful and refined... who had been selected to serve that house, the house her current master... employer had warned to stay away from... As Lilita ponders this she walks outside, the hour is very late and the trail has grown cold, she can only return to her Vardo and get some needed rest. Tomorrow will be a new day... and hopefully, things will be clearer to her and after work, she can decide her next move.
<>
Livvi's storyline continues...
After nosing in and around the handful of bars, taverns, and inn’s surrounding the quarter’s market Livvi settled on The Quarterhorse Inn. Far from being in the same league as Kastle Keep, which was just outside the gate to the palace and had standards, the Quarterhorse had an advantage in that it was four stories high and that the tavern proper was located on the second floor. The large balcony stretching around two sides helped, too, as it gave an excellent view of the busy market.
The Quarterhorse Inn, although rougher around the edges, had other appealing qualities. The second-floor balcony with its view of the surrounding market areas was enough to draw the bard in, and the aromas wafting from the kitchen on the first floor was enough to keep her there. Livvi poked her head in to the kitchen area, giving it a quick visual inspection for general cleanliness and layout. She also listened and watched the head cook interact with the scullions and serving wenches, interested in the tone and manner of speech more than what was actually said. The plump mistress of the kitchens was efficient and wielded her wooden spoon like a mace, but it was quickly apparent that she loved her work and did not tolerate tom-foolery or slackers. Most of the workers knew Miss Lucy's manners and methods and had developed an easygoing working relationship with her. Livvi sensed a warm atmosphere here - one she hoped permeated the rest of the establishment. The inn was clean; food looked (and smelled) good and was reasonably priced. The owner had introduced himself as Kaneal Pigcton, an older man, Kaneal had waved away the two serving girls working at that time of day to tend to her personally.
Upstairs, when Kaneal Pigcton personally waited on her, her first instinct was to be wary. There were many lecherous men in a city and appearing too friendly invited unwanted and dangerous attention. Her normal response was that it was best to be professional and a bit standoffish until she learned more about the person.
“A new city crier,” he asked as he brought her a plate of cheeses and fresh bread. Kaneal smiled as he gestured to the parchment tube sitting on the table in plain view. “I caught part of your discourse, of course.” Assuming that a young and pretty girl, even a supposed government employee, would be more concerned about the upcoming festival than the rest of the daily news the innkeeper added, “you must be excited about the Silver Festival. All the costumes and revelry. Ahh, to be young again.”
"Yes, the festival is certain to be an excellent one. Do you host a celebration here? I imagine with this balcony and the view of the rest of the market, a party here could be the envy of any around. Seeing the costumed revelers up here in the open but above the street. What a wonderful vision in my mind! But I get ahead of myself. I am Livvi and thank you for your hospitality. You know, I will be working in the Market for a while and need a good place to sit and work from between my announcements. Perhaps the Quarterhorse could be a place where I may be safe and comfortable?"
“Oh, indeed, indeed,” the innkeeper said as he set down the platter and nodded. “While not the most prestigious of the yearly festivals it is one of the more important ones as you no doubt know. How could one not? Growing up in the provinces.” Pigcton nodded sagely, “From the slight hint of accent, can I assume it’s the Jarmeer? Of course, it must be.”
Livvi smiles at the innkeeper. "You have a keen ear, sir. As a lady, I have had many voice training lessons to smooth away any rough edges to my speaking, but a trace always remains. Sort of a birthmark, yes? But I keep you from your duties and these other guests. Farewell, for now. I will be seeing you!" (Not being familiar with provinces or areas, I'll assume the Jarmeer is an upper-class province or area, and that his comment would be seen as a compliment... I would agree)
At first glance the Quarterhorse and its occupants seemed pleasant, even comforting. Even her first suspicions of Pigcton’s intentions had eased and yet, and yet, that inner little voice in her head was singing caution and was dancing in circles. There were deeper things going on here, in this place. As the innkeeper went on in detail about the masquerade parties most of the city embraced during the week of silver; how his was nearly equal to those put on by the nobles in their grand estates and townhomes…
Although Livvi had been hoping to learn some more information about the missing merchants and their wagons, the clientele here stood out. It wasn't that the young bard wasn't used to seeing many different races and foreigners, but something about this place made the little silver bells in her head ring their silent, but insistent, alarm. So, as she ate her evening meal Livvi casually looked around at the place, noting physical characteristics like doors and the layout of tables, and the other patrons. What about them caught her attention? What kind of groupings were they in - twos and threes, or larger parties? Was there a pattern or any similarities? Could she overhear any conversations? These were all things that Bilina would ask her to recall, and so Livvi focused on gathering as much passive information as she could through observation and eavesdropping. She would order a bowl of the lamb stew with root vegetables and rice, savoring the spicy curry and sipping the cool water, all the while alternating her eyes from her bowl, to the tavern interior, to the market view beyond the balcony, trying to piece together as much as she could. Investigation: 12
More than a few of the guests were from out of town. Some, judging by their dress, came from far away, perhaps even as far as the City State of the World Emperor (self-proclaimed). Several were exotic, humans and half-humans that might be from the southern isles or even further away. That warning on her parchments about being mindful of potential foreign agents leapt to mind. More than half of those in the Quarterhorse would easily meet the requirements at first glance. [Insight: 15]
Lingering over the last of her meal, Livvi was about to leave when Pigcton delivered some fresh drinks to a pair of older men at the next table. Judging by their dress, they were probably traveling merchants. Successful, if their garments were anything to measure by, yet not wealthy if measured by some floobs standards. One had a goatee that curled slightly at the tip, the other was paunchy and jovial in appearance but there was a hardness in his eyes. Goatee nodded his thanks to the innkeeper before saying, “We expected to see more trader’s and merchant ships in port, what it being this close to a major festival.”
“It’s the murders, no doubt,” commented his companion. “Isn’t it so, Kaneal.”
The innkeeper sighed. “Now, now, Geeve. You know that every large city has it’s share of ill news, but to suggest that there was some serial killer on the loose – “
“Bad for business,” Goatee said.
“Indeed,” the one named Geeve added.
Pigcton shook his head. “It’s simply disappearances,” he said, “there’s been no proof that anyone’s been murdered. Isn’t that so, Miss?”
The innkeeper turned to Livvi and gestured to the two visiting merchants. “You’re a city official, tell them I’m not wrong in this.”
"The announcements, read only this morning, speak of disappearances only. I assure you that Tarantis is the safest city in the world, with exemplary guards and officials who seek only to increase prosperity for all. Like any city, or even any town larger than fifty souls, there are some who try to eke out a living by stealing the hard-earned coin of others. Like vermin, they are unwanted and hunted, but nigh impossible to completely eradicate. Your business is hale and well here." [Persuasion: 9]
All three were drawn to her opinion. Geeve took a sip from his wine glass before looking at Livvi and saying, “Is the city officials doing anything about this? Word’s spreading that it’s a bad time to visit Tarantis – “
“- especially if you’re in the trade,” Goatee added.
“Too many malcontents,” Pigcton groused, settling down on the bench opposite of Livvi. “To many of the Overlord’s men or Emperor’s men. Stirring up rumor and random fears, I think. Why, just three nights ago, Karigaon the Silver smith was reported missing; his shop trashed. Probably work of the Seven Knives or some other criminal group.
“Another example,” Goatee said.
Geeve added, “Another good reason to get out of the city; least until after the Festival”
“Bah, but it wasn’t Karigaon that went missing, it was his daughter, Pithini,” Pigcton said. “She was found the next day, pale and sick. Took her to one of the healing houses. She’s probably still there.”
Livvi knew there were dangers and shady characters here, to be sure. And most of the city officials were slimy toads who wanted nothing more than to be paid for doing nothing of any value but be assured of the importance of their position and oversight. But it troubled her that these foreigners would speak so openly and readily of murders, and know of the issue already... [Insight: 19]
It was common knowledge that in any city of significant size people went missing every day, some simply seeking a change of life, perhaps a taste of adventure. Other’s went missing for far more insidious reasons, there were many dark souls living within the shadows of the city who thought nothing of robbing someone of their valuables and then committing murder to cover their tracts or taking their victims for other nefarious reasons. Then there were the many ships putting into port every five day. Press gangs were an occasional plague, one that even she needed to be cautious of. But apparently there was a growing concern in the higher levels of the city populace because the latest disappearances and murders had some un yet discovered tie.
As the conversation continued, the latest bit of information piqued her curiosity, and she questioned Pigcton about the silversmith, his daughter, and where she was taken. "Oh my, that poor girl! Perhaps I could help to brighten her night by paying her a visit and conveying her plight to the city officials above me. And I should visit Karigaon, too. He must be terribly upset over his daughter! Can you tell me anything more about the ordeal, or about the silversmith and Pithini? It will help me to approach and comfort them if I know more about their situation, where the shop is located, which healing house the young girl was taken to, and any details of the kidnapping." [Investigation: 16]
The innkeeper was only ready to discuss the situation. And after a lengthy discourse, occasionally interrupted by one or another of the merchants, Livvi discovered that Pithini was reported to be recovering in The Rose, one of the cities larger (and reputed wealthier) healing houses. Pigcton had gone off track a bit, discussing the particularities of The Rose, it’s current owner, Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, was part of one of the cities oldest noble houses and renowned for his ability to treat most diseases and illnesses caused by poisons. Livvi mused over that while Pigcton regaled the two merchants with tales of beauty of The Roses’ healers, and how Lord Maigrinstaff was so busy with matters of his House that he was rarely seen unless it was in the late hours.
After listening as the rumors and innuendo grew fantastical, Livvi thanked Pigcton for the wonderful meal, complements him on his tavern, and promises to call on him again in the very near future. She then walks through the rapidly thinning streets as night falls towards the office of Flander to turn in her tube and collect her silvers.
<>
Mordecai's storyline continues...
Mordecai eased his back against the hard chair that he’d been sitting in for better part of the afternoon. Sitting midway along Trollhraun Row, a side street cutting through the worst part of the Poor Quarter, the Eight Star Bar was a bawdy place with a vile reputation. Cheap drinks and cheap customers, most of which were either recovering from an all-night bender or winding up for one as the evening hours approached. Fairly large as bars went, there was a stage in one corner. Empty for now, but Mordecai was familiar enough with the establishment to know that would change come sunset, though he had avoided the place until now and for good reason. The owner, one Lep Stax was rumored to be well connected with the local underworld, some rumors even suggesting that he headed a powerful thieves guild. Other, more dangerous rumors were circulating that there were, perhaps, even darker things in play at the Eight Star. Things that could get a person killed, if they weren’t careful.
"I told myself I wouldn't come here no more," Mordecai thought to himself, "Yet here I am. Figures that the day crowd would have no idea about this 'Daris Hadara' fella. At least the drink is serviceable. And for once, I'm not actually looking for trouble." [GM roll +14 (+3 Perception) = +17]
Sitting at a nearby table was a raven-haired beauty with an air of confidence that was slightly out of place for the Eight Star. There was a hardness lurking behind her blue-gray eyes, and something else, something threatening in the right circumstances. While he never considered himself as a great judge of character, Mordecai had a knack for knowing a killer when he saw one. There was something else, something that itched at the back of his neck. Taking a drink from the surprisingly good homebrew that the bar produced, that tickle became a warning. A brief recognition and then he remembers. He had seen her loitering outside of the Government Quarter, as if waiting for someone when he had gone in. A brief recollection of that vivacious, bouncy half-elf waving her copper tube linking arms with this woman…
"And there's trouble," Mordecai thinks after noticing the raven-haired woman. He continues drinking hoping that she doesn't note the recognition in his eyes when he saw her.
He sighs, "This is going to get complicated. No chance she's NOT a government agent. And if there's one, there's many. Whatever I do, it's going to have to be fast."
His second glance was greeted with a cool smile and those threatening blue-gray eyes. Eyes that just as quickly dismissed him as they darted towards a narrow hallway leading into the back alley via a door. One that he had used earlier to visit the jakes outside. A thin, somewhat harried looking man fitting the description of one Daris Hadara squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the bar.
Mordecai doesn't think twice. He leaves his drink at the bar and makes a beeline for Daris, calling out with a huge smile, "Daris? Daris, is that you? Daris, it's been so long. Come now, friend, we have much to catch up on, and I am staying nearby. The drink is not as good, but it makes up for it with some other fineries."
Hadara jumped nearly out of his boots. “Do I know yo – “
Mordecai grunts, muscles bulging as he physically attempts to hurry Daris out the front door walking alongside him with hands around his shoulders. Hurry him out. Knock him out. Collect."
“But – “
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s a voice from behind them. The door to the alley bounced off the wall as a trio of city watch poured in. A stout, older man wearing the stars of a sergeant in the lead. He glared at the half orc – “Step aside citizen, that man is wanted on a dozen charges… including murder!”
“What? I never – “Hadara’s protest cut off.
Mordecai gives a quick sigh. Then, managing to straighten himself up and seem even bigger, says, "Perfect, then you lot can accompany me to the headquarters. As a member of the IGCPM I claim my bounty on Daris Hadara per right of first capture. Now, I'll be leaving with my bounty now."
He turns Daris towards the door whispering to him, "Trust me - better me than anyone else in here."
“I ain’t done nothing to no one!”
"I don't know what you did," starts Mordecai, "but all the wrong people are after you. Move. Now."
Mordecai loosens a strap along his chest that'll allow him to unsheathe his glaive and strike with it in one fell movement.
Things in the bar were about to get froggy. By the bar the owner was having a short, serious conversation with a flame haired Draw female, the sort of conversation that Mordecai didn’t need to hear to understand its intent. A glance in the direction of the raven-haired woman showed that she was still sitting in her chair, watching with obvious interest. So were most of the room’s occupants.
Mordecai urges Daris to the door. He thinks to himself, "The situations I get into just for 35 crowns."
Followed by a pair of bruisers in mail employed by the bar’s owner, the dark-skinned elf with red hair was attempting to keep him from hustling Hadara out through the front door. The Drow known as Firehair had a reputation of her own, one that only fools and the dead didn’t know. He was surprised though, at last he had heard, the Drow was employed by the Seven Knives, one of the cities four underworld cabals. Firehair
Another figure, one he didn’t know, came in on the tail of the guards. An older man with a roguish look stopped, eyes taking in everything to sort the situation out.
In front of him Hadara moaned, “Oh, we’re going to die now…”
Mordecai grunts, "Not today."
Staying out of range of the weapons he assumes the goons are carrying, but within range of his glaive, Mordecai states coldly, addressing Firehair, "I respect your craft work and reputation, but I agreed to a contract and I make it a point that all my contracts get executed to the letter - and this is no exception. Daris Hadara is under my protection until I deliver him."
Baring his tusks, "So. Kindly. The lot of you. Out of my way." (Intimidation check? 9)
The sergeant eyed Mord and shook his head, “I represent The Lion’s Law, friend. Do yourself a favor an’ turn the murderer over and return to the bar.
All eyes turned, some in shock, more than a few briefly and unimpressed, towards an older man wearing the armor of the city guard. More appeared in the door leading to the alley. Behind them came another older man, one dressed in well-traveled clothing’s with a distinctive foreign look.
With a slight sneer, Firehair turns her full attention on the half-orc and resumes trying to reach the front door before he did. “Mordecai of little renowned,” she said with a sultry tone flecked with her race’s contempt for anything not Drow. Turning her red tinted eyes on Hadara, she whispers so only Mord and Hadara, “Stax is offering sixty gold crowns if you can get this…piece of meat, to the docks. A ship by the name of the Winged Crow is waiting.”
Mordecai responds, "Of little renown is no insult - the end goal is to affect without being seen." Firehair merely smirked. Mordecai puts on a thoughtful look and whispers back, "Technically, I don't have a contract per se for this one - seems Stax's option is best for both of us."
Mordecai smiles and a hopeful look came to Hadara’s face.
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Mord’s glance took in the city guard approaching him, short swords already in hand. Behind them their tail had come fully into view. He had a loaded, handheld crossbow in hand and was pointing it in his general direction.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied Mordecai. As he says this, he places his hand on a chair next to him recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way. He whispers to Hadara, "I hope you're fast."
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior most guard than started after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today."
Mordecai spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go in the direction of the soldier with the hand crossbow.
He pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons. “Out the door, Hadara - run if you want to live." Ignoring the man’s protests, Mordecai powers him towards the exit. Across the room the chair flies towards the archer who tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The man was good, but not quite good enough. The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty that Mord had assumed might be some government lacky. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended. Unlike many in her situation, this one merely smiled encouragingly instead of hurling insults at either him, the archer, or both. Bilina
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” The intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
Lilita's storyline contines...
On her way to Pencelot’s, Lilita found her steps taking her on the longer route, one that took her through the Shopkeeper’s Quarter and along a street intersecting with Black Rose Lane and the Healing House of a similar same name. A curious coincidence perhaps? She realized that she knew very little about the Maigrinstaff family aside that it was one of the older noble lines.
Lilita ponders the curious coincidence in the similar names but chalks it up to her firm belief that the wealthy elites of the city are a bit overly obsessed with the idea of leaving behind a legacy of some sort or another... such as the construction of grand parks or libraries that bears their name. Still others, its tombs, and monuments with many having streets and such named after themselves or by others seeking to honor them or curry their favor. So perhaps it is the same with House Maigrinstaff with its Black Rose sigil inspiring place names like Black Rose Lane... Black Rose Healing House.
Mayhap the roadway came first long ago and then the High Lord or one to come after decided to construct a grand Healing House along its way and for the sake of name recognition used the name of the roadway as well making it all the easier for folks to place it and its location in their minds. Perhaps this is out of pure pride and vanity... or just to ensure the common folk never forget the works and the names of their betters.
Suddenly Lilita's racing mind slows as she considers that someone like herself could never truly know the mind and motivations of the city's elite. She is no great learned sage and it's all conjecture and speculation at best on her part. She knows that she should not concern herself with such things and instead be content to fix her mind towards more mundane and practical matters, keep to her place, to her assigned station as she has been taught.
The young Healer sighs as instead of getting a tighter grip on herself, her mind slips deeper into fanciful thoughts as she wonders how grand life must be for those born to such a noble house like Maigrinstaff or privileged enough to be permitted work in such a household where luxury and dreams become reality. But a plain low-born maiden such she will never know such a life. She giggles at the thought of herself dressing in such finery as she wore in the dream, she had the night before. Starting to blush again remembering the wispy unseemly gown that left nothing to the imagination she wonders if perhaps the person she thought was herself was, in fact, her mother... her real mother, a beautiful sought-after courtesan who had been forced to give her up and leave her on the steps of the Healer's Guild.
Lilita ponders this new fantasy of hers and talks to herself saying out loud, "oh Lilita where do such bawdy thoughts come from... your fantasy last week about being the illegitimate daughter of a Princess is far more desirable... not to mention much more acceptable in polite society... you are better than that... be practical... sensible." She scolds herself sharply... even so, she couldn’t stop her eyes from looking up at one of the grandest Houses of Healing outside of the Guild itself or the temples in the Temple Quarter.
The Rose House of Healing took up an entire corner with one side facing the quarter’s central market. More of a collection of interconnected buildings than a single structure, the Rose was three stories high, making it one of the taller structures in the quarter as well. From her position on the corner Lilita noted a five-story tower behind the house that was probably connected as well. It was a well-tended place, with no windows opening out onto the street level, only a pair of thick, white stained oak studded with iron bolts. At the back, where the Rose pressed up against a narrow alley was what she thought might be a wall about ten feet high. An intricate series of iron spikes and metal work capped the wall, intended to keep floobs from climbing over it. On the side facing Black Rose Lane was another set of heavy double doors, these carved lavishly with a pattern of ivy and rose vines. In both cases, large, expensive lanterns of Tenari crystals hung above the doors, flanking the white, gilded sign commonly used by Leaches and Physicians the city over and shared with her guild. There was enough silver and cut gems in those signs to have fed a score of families for a year.
Lilita's gaze fell upon the massive structure... such wealth, such opulence, and such splendor... it made her feel all the smaller and insignificant. There was a dark beauty to it but also a feeling of dread. Though well-tended, with no windows it seemed more prison to her than a palace. Feeling, or rather sensing that the place was designed as much to keep people inside as to keep them out, how sad, how dreadful she thought.
All the good that she could do with the wealth of a handful of those gems. Never has she ever stolen a thing in her life, not even so much as a single bread crumb, never once feeling temptation until now. Is this what temptation feels like she thinks to herself? Is it a temptation to want not for yourself but only for others truly in need?
A single tear runs down her cheek as a feeling of guilt and wickedness fall over her like a shadow. Lilita turns and moves quickly away averting her gaze... thoughts of the strange woman's dress coming back to her now. How much the pattern of ivy and roses here reminded her of what the old man in the shop had shown her. Was the strange woman she encountered the night before a patient or employed here? How could such a thing be possible, if she were how could she just wander off in her condition... from a place so sealed up and why of all people would she seek out someone like Lilita, the whole thing seems to now make less and less sense to her.
As she began to resume her morning walk to Pencelot’s several things occurred. A very young-looking half-elf climbed up onto a nearby railing in the market and flourished a large piece of parchment from a copper tube embellished with the Ministry of Internal Communications emblem. As the Half-elf began artfully reciting the days news an older, well dressed man on a horse and accompanied by several armed escorts rode up to the doors of The Rose and dismounted. With out pause, he strolled determinedly up to the main doors and pulled hard on a rope. When nothing happened, he cursed and yanked twice more. After several more pulls one of the doors opened, revealing a woman of haunting beauty. Dressed in an obviously expensive red dress, one far more form fitting than common decency commanded, gave a slight bow before speaking with the man.
Lilita paused to watch and admire the beauty of the Half-Elf, how exotic she seemed to someone like Lilita... When the door opened and the woman of haunting beauty revealed herself Lilita could only gasp in awe... and look on unmoving, captivated by the regal beauty and radiance of a real, true Lady of style and refinement... Lilita feeling like a dirty street urchin in comparison she found herself frozen in place... watching and listening as the scene unfolded before her like something out of a storybook.
“…don’t care what your rules are, I demand to see Pithini.”
The woman, whose hair was a thick, lush black and tied up in a series of complex braids, smiled demurely, “Artisan Karigaon, did we not explain the rules of the House when your servants delivered your daughter unto our care? For her to recover fully, she must not be disturbed, not even by family. I assure – “
“Damnit, Melinia, it’s been two full days,” Karigaon interrupted. “How would a brief visit hurt?”
“She was seriously hurt, my good sir,” Melinia said in a tone that was used to sooth the agitation in others. A tone that Lilith worked to master for her own account. “I assure you, she is recovering well under the personal administrations of Lord Maigrinstaff himself, but she is still in a delicate condition and must not be bothered. If anything changes, word will be sent. Now, good day sir.” And before Karigaon could protest further, the door seemed to shut on its own. Cursing once more, Karigaon turned back for his horse.
“Do you wish for Argao and I ta insist on a visit, sir,” the shorter, wiry of the escorts asked with all seriousness.
Pulling himself up, onto his horse, Karigaon shook his head than glanced upwards at the shaded windows above. “No, no, Argao. It wouldn’t be a wise move, but I can promise, if I don’t hear from Pithini soon we’re coming back, with help, and I won’t be taking no for an answer. Noble connections or not.”
As Lilita watched the Lady Melinia even with a healer's tone of voice intended to soothe and comfort for some reason came off a bit cold and distant to Lilita... which she could sense but could not explain even to herself... a gut instinct perhaps. Lilita could only feel empathy and sorrow for the poor man Karigaon, feeling... sharing his deep concern, and worry for the wellbeing of his daughter... so very sad. Lilita hoped that his daughter was alright and that they would be reunited...
Then all at once it hit her, Lilita felt a sense of overwhelming guilt and alarm... what was she doing here... of all places... she had promised Master Foonse she would stay well away from the Black Rose Healing House and yet here she was breaking her promise. Her eyes downcast in shame for the wicked creature she feels herself to be... then as Lilita looks back up... her gaze falling directly on the Lady Melina, in Lilita's fevered mind their eyes locked upon one another... as if the Lady was looking at her, directly at her, through her, penetrating down to Lilita's very soul.
Lilita let out a low whimper of embarrassment... she was imagining it all, she knew a Lady like that would never... not for a moment look directly on one such as Lilita for any reason. Distraught and becoming even more ill-at-ease, the young Lilita found herself turning away abruptly, pushing through the crowd in an attempt to get away from the Lady, from the Black Rose Healing House...
<>
Mordecai's storyline continues...
Mordecai eased his back against the hard chair that he’d been sitting in for better part of the afternoon. Sitting midway along Trollhraun Row, a side street cutting through the worst part of the Poor Quarter, the Eight Star Bar was a bawdy place with a vile reputation. Cheap drinks and cheap customers, most of which were either recovering from an all-night bender or winding up for one as the evening hours approached. Fairly large as bars went, there was a stage in one corner. Empty for now, but Mordecai was familiar enough with the establishment to know that would change come sunset, though he had avoided the place until now and for good reason. The owner, one Lep Stax was rumored to be well connected with the local underworld, some rumors even suggesting that he headed a powerful thieves guild. Other, more dangerous rumors were circulating that there were, perhaps, even darker things in play at the Eight Star. Things that could get a person killed, if they weren’t careful.
"I told myself I wouldn't come here no more," Mordecai thought to himself, "Yet here I am. Figures that the day crowd would have no idea about this 'Daris Hadara' fella. At least the drink is serviceable. And for once, I'm not actually looking for trouble." [GM roll +14 (+3 Perception) = +17]
Sitting at a nearby table was a raven-haired beauty with an air of confidence that was slightly out of place for the Eight Star. There was a hardness lurking behind her blue-gray eyes, and something else, something threatening in the right circumstances. While he never considered himself as a great judge of character, Mordecai had a knack for knowing a killer when he saw one. There was something else, something that itched at the back of his neck. Taking a drink from the surprisingly good homebrew that the bar produced, that tickle became a warning. A brief recognition and then he remembers. He had seen her loitering outside of the Government Quarter, as if waiting for someone when he had gone in. A brief recollection of that vivacious, bouncy half-elf waving her copper tube linking arms with this woman…
"And there's trouble," Mordecai thinks after noticing the raven-haired half elf. He continues drinking hoping that she doesn't note the recognition in his eyes when he saw her.
He sighs, "This is going to get complicated. No chance she's NOT a government agent. And if there's one, there's many. Whatever I do, it's going to have to be fast."
His second glance was greeted with a cool smile and those threatening blue-gray eyes. Eyes that just as quickly dismissed him as they darted towards a narrow hallway leading into the back alley via a door. One that he had used earlier to visit the jakes outside. A thin, somewhat harried looking man fitting the description of one Daris Hadara squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the bar.
Mordecai doesn't think twice. He leaves his drink at the bar and makes a beeline for Daris, calling out with a huge smile, "Daris? Daris, is that you? Daris, it's been so long. Come now, friend, we have much to catch up on, and I am staying nearby. The drink is not as good, but it makes up for it with some other fineries."
Hadara jumped nearly out of his boots. “Do I know yo – “
Mordecai grunts, muscles bulging as he physically attempts to hurry Daris out the front door walking alongside him with hands around his shoulders. Hurry him out. Knock him out. Collect."
“But – “
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s a voice from behind them. The door to the alley bounced off the wall as a trio of city watch poured in. A stout, older man wearing the stars of a sergeant in the lead. He glared at the half orc – “Step aside citizen, that man is wanted on a dozen charges… including murder!”
“What? I never – “Hadara’s protest cut off.
Mordecai gives a quick sigh. Then, managing to straighten himself up and seem even bigger, says, "Perfect, then you lot can accompany me to the headquarters. As a member of the IGCPM I claim my bounty on Daris Hadara per right of first capture. Now, I'll be leaving with my bounty now."
He turns Daris towards the door whispering to him, "Trust me - better me than anyone else in here."
“I ain’t done nothing to no one!”
"I don't know what you did," starts Mordecai, "but all the wrong people are after you. Move. Now."
Mordecai loosens a strap along his chest that'll allow him to unsheathe his glaive and strike with it in one fell movement.
Things in the bar were about to get froggy. By the bar the owner was having a short, serious conversation with a flame haired Drow female, the sort of conversation that Mordecai didn’t need to hear to understand its intent. A glance in the direction of the raven-haired woman showed that she was still sitting in her chair, watching with obvious interest. So were most of the room’s occupants.
Mordecai urges Daris to the door. He thinks to himself, "The situations I get into just for 35 crowns."
Followed by a pair of bruisers in mail employed by the bar’s owner, the dark-skinned elf with red hair was attempting to keep him from hustling Hadara out through the front door. The Drow known as Firehair had a reputation of her own, one that only fools and the dead didn’t know. He was surprised though, at last he had heard, the Drow was employed by the Seven Knives, one of the cities four underworld cabals.
Another figure, one he didn’t know, came in on the tail of the guards. An older man with a roguish look stopped, eyes taking in everything to sort the situation out.
In front of him Hadara moaned, “Oh, we’re going to die now…”
Mordecai grunts, "Not today."
Staying out of range of the weapons he assumes the goons are carrying, but within range of his glaive, Mordecai states coldly, addressing Firehair, "I respect your craft work and reputation, but I agreed to a contract and I make it a point that all my contracts get executed to the letter - and this is no exception. Daris Hadara is under my protection until I deliver him."
Baring his tusks, "So. Kindly. The lot of you. Out of my way." (Intimidation check? 9)
The sergeant eyed Mord and shook his head, “I represent The Lion’s Law, friend. Do yourself a favor an’ turn the murderer over and return to the bar.
All eyes turned, some in shock, more than a few briefly and unimpressed, towards an older man wearing the armor of the city guard. More appeared in the door leading to the alley. Behind them came another older man, one dressed in well-traveled clothing’s with a distinctive foreign look.
With a slight sneer, Firehair turns her full attention on the half-orc and resumes trying to reach the front door before he did. “Mordecai of little renowned,” she said with a sultry tone flecked with her race’s contempt for anything not Drow. Turning her red tinted eyes on Hadara, she whispers so only Mord and Hadara, “Stax is offering sixty gold crowns if you can get this…piece of meat, to the docks. A ship by the name of the Winged Crow is waiting.”
Mordecai responds, "Of little renown is no insult - the end goal is to affect without being seen." Firehair merely smirked. Mordecai puts on a thoughtful look and whispers back, "Technically, I don't have a contract per se for this one - seems Stax's option is best for both of us."
Mordecai smiles and a hopeful look came to Hadara’s face.
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Mord’s glance took in the city guard approaching him, short swords already in hand. Behind them their tail had come fully into view. He had a loaded, handheld crossbow in hand and was pointing it in his general direction.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied Mordecai. As he says this, he places his hand on a chair next to him recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way. He whispers to Hadara, "I hope you're fast."
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior most guard than started after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today."
Mordecai spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go in the direction of the soldier with the hand crossbow.
He pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons. “Out the door, Hadara - run if you want to live." Ignoring the man’s protests, Mordecai powers him towards the exit. Across the room the chair flies towards the archer who tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The man was good, but not quite good enough. The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty that Mord had assumed might be some government lacky. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended. Unlike many in her situation, this one merely smiled encouragingly instead of hurling insults at either him, the archer, or both.
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” The intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
"Why am I doing this? For sixty crowns. Well, Quig will disavow all knowledge of me," Mordecai thought to himself.
Mordecai sees the crowd more engaged, reaches into one of his pouches and pulls out a handful of silver pieces, and says to Hadara, "Keep running!" and tosses the coins towards the floor between the oncoming guard and the door. Mordecai thinks, "Here's hoping some of these drunkards dive for the coins."
The archer was still on his feet and, like the rest, making for the door, his bow in hand. At a glance, Mordecai got the idea that the man was holding back, probably looking for a clean shot that wouldn’t hit the mark. While the rewards on Hadara were significant, it seemed that the value was set on the man remaining alive at the end of the day. The door was close, and open, thanks to some ragged looking sort who was jeering the guards. Beyond the sun was setting, the streets darker than when he’d come in and if true to form for Tarantis, the sea mists would be rolling in soon, further darkening the city.
As they approach the door, Mordecai nods a thanks to the ragged looking individual. "Move Hadara, I know a few cuts and alleys we can take to shake them loose. The city at night will swallow us whole - maybe we'll get lucky and come out for the better."
Mordecai, examining the situation, does not believe his own lie.
<>
Meanwhile...
<>
Watching as the city guard, followed by a few rogue citizens still jeering and yelling at them and those eager to collect their coin waged on the outcome rush out into the street, Lep Stax shook his head. Without turning to look at the raven-haired woman leaning against the tavern’s long, hardwood bar.
“If you wanted Hadara dead, we could have come up with a dozen easier ways of accomplishing it,” the tavern owner said.
Bilina said, “Easier, yes, convincing? No, probably not.”
There was a soft hiss from the third person sitting at the end of the bar. “I think that The Lion doesn’t want this ‘meat’ to be dead, just wounded and on the run for real,” Firehair commented with a bored yawn. Her eyes flickered towards a stair way where a cloaked man descended, unstringing a bow.
“The Lion? No, The Sage though…”
At the mention of the second most powerful position in Tarantis not sitting on the throne both Stax and Firehair turned to look at the slender woman. More questions in their eyes. Instead, lips tightened as thoughts turned inward. The Chief Advisor, Monach the Canny, was the power behind the throne, or so it was rumored. It was also rumored that there was some sort of power struggle going on at the highest levels. Altar the Lion had a reputation for over turning his entire council, except for Monach, his most trusted servant. Was the ruling class ripe for another purge and if so, what part was this Daris Hadara meant to play.
After a pregnant pause, Stax asked slowly, as if choosing his words with care, “And the Half-Orc?”
“He’s exactly as he seems. Some tark who must have heard about the reward on Hadara’s head and got to him first. Other’s will be seeking him for that reward, or for what he knows – “
“I know of this Mordecai,” Firehair interrupted. “Young and muscled with a kernel of some thought in that thick Orc skull, but a nobody. Just last five day he was competing in “Infernal Hell” – one of several illegal arenas around the city – “in five-silver matches at that, yet he showed ambition, going after Hadara, as well as some wits, recognizing the better offer.” She smirked towards Stax who shrugged.
“I’d like to know more about what prompted all this…drama,” he said, turning an eye towards Beliani but the woman was gone. A soft curse escaped Stax’s lips. “I hate it when her kind do that sort of shit.”
Firehair merely laughed.
<>
Mordecai storyline continues...
There was a brief silence as the shine of a score of coins flickered in the tavern light. Spinning they fan across the space between the Half-Orc and his bounty and those intent on reliving him of his charge. Then a roar went up as nearly as many floobs dove for the coins, causing the city guards and sundry to shout and curse. A brawl broke out as the sergeant tried to clear a path to the door. Mordecai heard the man’s curses even as they made the door. Hadara stumbled but the Half-Orc’s strong grip kept the man upright and moving forward. They were far from in the clear.
<GM Roll: Perception 19 (+3) = 22>
<DEX Roll 9..... Not sure what the assumption the second requested roll is based on, but if Acrobatics then it's 1, if it's [skill]Athletics[/roll] add 5 to that roll. GM Note: It’s an assumption that if the Dex result is (was) high enough, Mord may have been able to do something fancy about the incoming arrow>
"If we survive long enough, I'm going to want to know what you know. I ain't that smart, but I'm smart enough to know that there's way too many people after you," Mordecai comments to Hadara.
For a moment Hadara looked as if to protest his innocence, then an almost sly smile crossed his face. “I can tell you, but than you might find yourself embroiled in things far over your pay grade, Bounty Hunter,” the man half grunted as they rushed forward, into the street. The nightly mists swirled as it flowed around their knees, following some unseen current. Just about to let out a breath Mord hadn’t realized he’d been holding the Half-Orc spots a figure standing on top of the two-story shop next to the Eight Star, a bow in hand.
"By Erragal's storms, why is everyone after you?!?" Mordecai whispers harshly to Hadara. At this point, Mordecai is willing to split profits just to survive; he thinks to himself, "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...."
"Oy, archer - stay your hand and I'll cut you in on the profits!"
Mordecai doesn't stop guiding Hadara, only yelling his offer to the archer blindly as he knows his distraction inside the tavern will buy him only a few moments. Mordecai decides the docks is the goal and thinks of every back way there - sewers included - to avoid detection. He may stick out in a crowd, but if he takes routes few know about....
"You better hope that archer is either greedy like most here or is a bad shot," Mordecai says flatly to Hadara.
If the archer heard, the only response was the twang and whistle of an incoming arrow. Steps away from the nearest alley and temporary safety. The missile passed beneath Mord’s arm to bury itself deeply into Hadara’s side. The wanted man hissed in pain and would have collapsed, had the Half-Orc not maintained his grip on the man. Above the archer cursed, his voice sounding almost bored as the thickening mists played with the sound. Back in the Eight Star came another shout from the sergeant as the City Guard made the tavern’s front door.
“You, halt!” followed Mordecai as he half pushed, half carried Hadara into the alley and out of view.
"Ninazu be damned, death will not have you," an exasperated Mordecai states. He thinks to himself, "Arrows from rooftops. Guards suddenly interested in work. A world that greed can no longer affect. What in Erṣetu is going on here?!?"
Mordecai grabs a tighter hold of Hadara, more carrying him now then running alongside with him, but urging him to continue, "Keep going Hadara, we need to get a lead on these guards before I can check you out."
Rushing down the alley, Mordecai paused than pulled Hadara into a bisecting alley than paused to access the man’s wounds. A dead Hadara was worthless, that was obvious. The man’s breath was labored.
“Gods but I’ll live,” Hadara groaned through gritted teeth while the Half-Orc checked the wound. The arrow was embedded too deeply to remove, not and risk the man’s imminent death. While Mord was no veteran adventurer or solider, the Half-Orc had heard plenty of stories and saw some similar wounds in the cities fighting pits to know it was unlikely that Hadara would made the docks, let alone live through the night, not without a healer. Blood pumped slowly but steadily around the shaft, soaking the man’s undershirt, empathizing the probability.
"He's no good to me dead," Mordecai internalizes.
"Hold still," orders Mordecai, stuffing a part of Hadara’s own robes in the man's mouth. He presses the wound with one hand and breaks a part of the shaft off. He then removes his own cloak and wraps it around Hadara and ties it off to keep pressure on the wound.
"I need to know what you know," Mordecai reminds Hadara.
Hadara gave a raspy cough. “What’s the value in spilling the beans now? I talk, then you leave me for the rats, eh?” Another cough, then the man spit some phlegmy blood onto the filthy ground. “Gads, but healing’s expensive at the Temples, and those kneelers are worse than the bureaucrats when it comes to turning their cloaks. While one’s healing me, two more are rushing to finger the both of us, eh? And no, before you ask, I don’t have a hoard of crowns, silver or gold, to offer you.”
"Points taken, Hadara" replied Mordecai. After dressing the wound best, he can, he maneuvers Hadara down the alley, half carrying him, deeper into maze of alleys and backstreets. "There's only a few of them," says Mordecai with a tinge of hope, "we should be able to lose them."
“I may know of someone who can help,” Hadara replied in pain, “I’ve heard a rumor of a young woman over by the east wall of the Poor Quarter who offers healing to any, regardless of the ability to pay.”
Mordecai looks at the man incredulously, then thinking to himself, "Well, that's too good to be true - but I'm out options. Hadara is only worth something while he's breathing." With a sigh, he says, as much to Hadara as to himself, "Right then. Poor quarter. East wall. Pray to Gula that this girl is still taking house calls."
<>
Lilita's Storyline continues...
When she had arrived at the shop it was to find that Pencelot was not there. He had left a note saying that he would be away for a few days to fetch a few rare herbs. Just as likely, he had returned to whatever groove he considered is true home to meditate and commune with his nature God. She had become used to his absences after a few months. Most days the routine at Pencelot’s was enough to keep her mind busy as a seemingly unending line of people came, seeking healing. Most were minor issues, a physical hurt or some ‘evil’ vapor that made their heads or stomach or other parts hurt. A bit of that herb or a light touch of a healing spell and the grateful patient made their way out of the shop. Not so this day. This day her thoughts were a swirl as she struggled with the mystery of her late-night visitor, the strange dream, and those knowing eyes of Lady Melina that seemed to gaze at her out of every mirrored surface she glanced at.
Lilita felt a sense of relief given that she blatantly disobeyed her master's wishes in visiting the Black Rose Healing House... she had been somewhat concerned that Pencelot would somehow discover her disobedience... the idea of disappointing him would be something more than she could bear. Lilita having few real friends... at least that she could talk to and confide in... nor any family being foundling so old Pencelot was the closest thing to a father she would ever have or know. His being away is something of a blessing to her. Perhaps her indiscretion will be safely left behind her and forgotten.
Breathing a sigh of relief Lilita busies herself getting the shop ready for the day... she could not begrudge Pencelot's need to get away from the shop, his patients, the turmoil and politics of the city. Given his advancing years, she feels that he is deserving of any time and peace that he can manage to find. If only she could shake off her sense of guilt and the memory earlier events that have left a little rattled and flustered. Still haunted by the knowing eyes of the Lady Melina... Lilita wants only to put it all behind her and lose herself in her work and her patients.
“Young woman? Did you hear, the sitting disease is worse in my knees this day,” said an old woman sitting, slightly hunched over on the stool. Elder Caranne was a regular. Her family were well known wood carvers in the quarter, and she was the oldest of her line. Her husband and two of her three sons had died of age or accidents. Now her eldest grandson ran the family business with the help of a dozen cousins and apprentices. At the venerable old age of ninety-three, the stiffness in the elder’s joints was expected and a natural occurrence in one so aged. Of course, Master Pencelot had explained it to Caranne numerous times but the old woman wasn’t having it. “I’m not old,” she’d say, expecting relief.
Lost in her thoughts Lilita becomes aware of Elder Caranne's words... "of course not... you are not old... far from it. You are as fit and spry as a woman half your age and then some, I should be so fortunate," Lilita says smiling up at the elder woman as she inspects and examines the woman's knees, "sadly pain is a part of life, young or old... it is what makes us human; it shapes us the same as love and laughter. I need not tell you that being able to walk pain-free is a blessing. Being able to walk without showing the pain is a skill. You and I both know that there no true cure for what ails you... I will not insult your intelligence saying otherwise but still, there are some things that I can do, that we can we do to better manage your pain and discomfort. You know that I am here for you... always and will do my best! Meanwhile, are you following the program that Master Pencelot has proscribed?”
“Yes, yes, trice daily,” Elder Caranne said with an exasperated frown, one hand rubbing her left knee. “Hot compresses, soaked in that foul weed, just as that Druid said.” The old woman snorted, then leaned forward, “I think he’s got moss growing between the ears because it’s never worked, you know. Just a touch of the warmth the Goddess gave you child is what’s needed.”
Lilita massages the elder's knee as she shares a small portion of radiant energy deep within herself, not true healing but rather Lilita attempting to draw some portion of the old woman's pain into herself... bearing some of the burden the pain the old woman is experiencing and making it her own... her young body and spirit more able to deal with it... though at a temporary cost of some of her own health that over time Lilita will recover for the most part. Such a thing is frowned upon by the Healer's Guild but sometimes in certain cases, Lilita is driven by a sense of empathy to help those that need it. To her it’s a way of giving more of herself to those she cares about but mostly it's a way for her to make amends for any wrongs, real or imagined she feels responsible for.
The relief in the elder’s face was immediate. So was the nodding sigh she gave. “Most grateful, I am, child. Thank you.” She sat up as if the healing spell had eased the crimp in her back as well. It was all temporary, as only the rarest, most powerful magic’s could fix age. It was known, though often spoken of in the classes and hallways of the Healer’s Guild, the eldest Leaches would hold up fingers and then recite a story or fable of someone who’d pursued such magic who discovered that the price was equally high.
Lilith looked up and saw a familiar look in Elder Caranne’s eyes and knew what was coming next. “With your youthful beauty and talents, Lili, you shouldn’t live alone like that. Now, I have a grandson a few seasons older than you. He’s finished his apprenticeship and joined the Builder’s Guide.” She gave a smug sounding chuckle. “The two of you would give the world some beautiful, talented children, I think, yes. You should come by Enday for supper and I can introduce you two.”
Lilita politely listens to the old woman's words and smiles up at Elder Caranne, meeting her gaze as the young healer struggles a bit as she adjusts herself to the pain in her own knee and nagging crimp in her back but it is worth and in a few hours with rest will subside, until then it will be manageable and perhaps keep her mind off the Lady Melina.
"That is most kind of you to offer Elder Caranne, you honor me and give me more credit than is due me. I am a foundling, unworthy of such a kind and generous off... I have no kin, nor know my own bloodline and I fear such a taint would dishonor your family. Your grandson can do much better than someone like me no matter how skilled I may be at my craft. I am wed to my craft... in the hope of making up for the circumstance of my birth and the sins of a family, a mother whom I will never know. Your grandson deserves to be united with a woman from a family, a real family to join with your own family that will strengthen both."
“You sure? What a pity, “sighed the old woman as she got up. Patting Lilith’s shoulder, Elder Caranne winked, “perhaps I shall send him by on an errand so you can view his physique. He’s sharp in the mind and as powerful as a stallion, eh?” That smug chuckle rippled from the elder’s chest. “We shall see, dear, we shall see.” With that Elder Caranne left through the door.
Lilita smiles at her, "I do not doubt your words or your sincerity... you mean well, and I think you for your persistence. I am rather petite as you can see, no doubt the runt of the litter... your grandson coming from such fine strong stock would only find me plain and unremarkable as most tend to do."
The young healer escorts the elder matron to the door of the shop, walking hand in hand seeing her out, watching as she exits. "Take Elder Caranne... I look for to your next visit with us, stay well," she bows respectfully. As the older woman exits, Lilita reaches around and rubs her sore back and whispers to herself, "All the world is full of suffering. It is also full of overcoming."
The rest of the day proceeded as usual, busy enough to help keep Lilita’s mind focus. In one case the symptoms given by a patient were beyond her knowledge, something she easily excepted. She had a lot yet to learn but wanted the woman with the tenderness in her side to be helped so had recommended that she visit the Healer’s Guild and seek further advice. As Evenfest neared things slowed, enough so that she felt comfortable closing for the night.
Lilita takes a little extra time to clean and tidy the place up a bit more than usual. Thinking that with the master of the shop away and not underfoot it's a good time to get some extra cleaning in. Once she is satisfied gathers up some of his dirty clothes and shop linens, etc. separating everything out and leaving them to soak overnight so that she can clean them first thing in the morning and hang them out to dry. Finally, Lilita is able to pry herself away from her extra duties and closes the shop, locking it up tight for the night.
<>
Livvi's story continues....
The next day, a new parchment in her crier’s tube, Livvi made her way to the same market to discharge her morning duties. The market was busy, filled with laborer’s stopping for quick morningfest’s before heading for work, or with house hold servants and wives of the residents of the quarter shopping for daily staples. The scroll’s contents were pretty much a repeat of the previous days, with an addition of descriptions of several men and a Half-Orc wanted for assaulting City Guards outside of the Eight Star, a particularly rough place, frequented by thugs, rogues, and other dangerous sorts. Livvi intended to complete her performance as quickly as was seemly in order to tract down this Karigaon. The only information she had on him was that Pigcton had said that he was a prominent silver smith.
Livvi tucked the announcements back into her metal tube and ducked into The Witch's Brew café, looking for Bilina. She had agreed to meet Livvi here - unless she was 'sleeping in.' Her new contact - err, friend - with the green hair noticed her and came over, a shy smile hidden beneath her long bangs hanging down like a mask over her face.
"I'm so glad to see you again!" Livvi says quickly, wanting to keep this girl coming back for praise and attention. "I'm sorry that I left yesterday before I had a chance to get your name. So here I am, before the sun is fully up, to rectify my error! I'm Livvi, by the way."
The girl blushed and pushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “You are so kind, miss, to ask after the likes of me. Me names Nephele, miss.”
While making small talk with the girl, Livvi glances around the café again, looking for the raven hair of her companion. And as if on cue, Bilina strolled in looking a bit tired as if she had spent a good part of the night at something other than sleeping.
Sliding into a chair across from Bilina, Livvi greets her friend and teases, "Good morning, sunshine! Don't you look...a little rough! Long night? I'm surprised you made it here so early. Well, here's the news of the day. It's pretty much a repeat of yesterday, except for this one. It describes several men and a Half-Orc wanted for assaulting City Guards outside of the Eight Star. I don't know who is more stupid - the thugs assaulting the Guard, or those idiot Guards for being anywhere near the Eight Star late at night! Serves them both right, I say.
“Oh, it was something,” the older woman said as she smiled at Nephele and ordered a cup of morning tea and a plate nut filled pastries. “I was there, waiting for a – an acquaintance to make an appearance. An Overlorder by the name of Hadara came in instead. I suspect seeking a way out of the city.” Bilina smiled as Nephele returned with her order, “Thank you dear.”
Once the server had left again, Bilina continued, “The owner, Lep Stax, is well known as a handler for The Overlord, among other things.” At Livvi’s expression the older woman laughed. Tossing her head, Bilina’s hair flowed across her shoulders briefly. “Oh, it’s no surprise among those who need to know such things. You, however, best file that bit of knowledge away in the back of your head and keep out from under Lep’s feet.”
Swallowing a bite of pastry, Bilina’s blue eyes peered sternly across the table at Livvi. “I mean that, too. You are far from ready to be dancing in Lep’s league.
“But if he’s a known leader of the opposition, why let him continue?
“Because we know, and he knows we know. It’s part of the…game. Anyway, I’m not sure who the Half-Orc helping Hadara is, but he did manage to help the man escape the Eight Star, but not without Hadara taking an arrow to the back. Not sure who presented him with that, not yet, anyway.”
“Hey, yesterday I heard about a silversmith whose daughter was kidnapped and assaulted. Karigaon and his daughter Pithini. Have you heard anything about them? I think I'll look for them later this morning to see if this relates to the missing merchants. “
“Mmm, I’ve heard of him. One of the wealthiest merchant’s in the city these days.” The dark-haired woman nodded, “He has a shop in the Noble Quarter and his townhouse is one of the largest in the Merchant Quarter. I hadn’t heard that his daughter was one of the victims. Too bad, she’s a fun girl.”
“Oh, and last night I was in the Quarterhorse...a lot of foreigners there. And a lot of questions and rumors about murders - not just disappearances." Livvi gets so excited talking with her friend that the words almost merge together in one long verbal stream! Bilina listened with interest, keeping her questions few. Finally, she takes a breath and listens to Bilina's replies. And then she looks out the window and jumps up suddenly. "Oh piker! Look at the light - I'm late! I'll catch up with you later, sweetie! TTFN!" She dumps some coppers on the table and bolts out the door to make her morning announcements.
As the Half-elf began artfully reciting the day’s news an older, well-dressed man on a horse and accompanied by several armed escorts rode up to the doors of The Rose and dismounted. Without pause, he strolled determinedly up to the main doors and pulled hard on a rope. When nothing happened, he cursed and yanked twice more. After several more pulls one of the doors opened, revealing a woman of haunting beauty. Dressed in an obviously expensive white dress, one far more form fitting than common decency commanded, gave a slight bow before speaking with the man.
“…don’t care what your rules are, I demand to see Pithini.
The woman, whose hair was a thick, lush black and tied up in a series of complex braids, smiled demurely, “Artisan Karigaon, did we not explain the rules of the House when your servants delivered your daughter unto our care? For her to recover fully, she must not be disturbed, not even by family. I assure – “
“Damnit, Melinia, it’s been two full days,” Karigaon interrupted. “How would a brief visit hurt?”
“She was seriously hurt, my good sir,” Melinia said in a tone that was used to sooth the agitation in others. A tone that Lilith worked to master for her own account. “I assure you, she is recovering well under the personal administrations of Lord Maigrinstaff himself, but she is still in a delicate condition and must not be bothered. If anything changes, word will be sent. Now, good day sir.” And before Karigaon could protest further, the door seemed to shut on its own. Cursing once more, Karigaon turned back for his horse.
“Do you wish for Argao and I ta insist on a visit, sir,” the shorter, wiry of the escorts asked with all seriousness.
Pulling himself up, onto his horse, Karigaon shook his head than glanced upwards at the shaded windows above. “No, no, Kant. It wouldn’t be a wise move, but I can promise, if I don’t hear from Pithini soon we’re coming back, with help, and I won’t be taking no for an answer. Noble connections or not.”
Livvi rushes after Karigaon, not really running but certainly not walking and nearly bouncing off of a slender, silver-haired girl in a cheap dress and day cloak. The young woman was gawking at the Healing House as if daydreaming.
"Sir! Master Silversmith! A word, if you please!" When she catches up to him, Livvi asks after his daughter and what the problem is. "I am Livvi Rahl, a minor official in the Lion's Pride (the haughty nickname for the Administration) and I am looking into the recent kidnappings and disappearances of prominent merchants and citizens. Would you mind answering a few questions?"
Karigaon’s eyebrows beetled slightly as he looked her over. “It’s about time that the officials began seeking answers to this travesty. What would you like to know, girl?”
Livvi proceeds to ask for a full accounting of his daughter's ordeal, including location, time of day, if anyone else was around, how and when she was recovered, if there were any witnesses or suspects, and finally, how she ended up in the Black Rose and why. (I know - a lengthy conversation!) She listens closely, watching both the man and his guards, looking for any potential omissions or twists of the truth or unusual looks from them. [Insight: 24]
Sitting on his horse the silversmith alternated his attention between Livvi’s attention and glaring at the Healing House as he spoke about how his daughter had been with friends a five-day past, visiting various shops and merchants dealing in luxuries. That the young women were excited about the upcoming festival – a full five-day of parties, balls, and ending in the royal masquerade at the palace, accompanied of course, by a chaperone and several well-armed escorts.
“The young ladies had left Rail's Shop on Iltutmish Lane, in the Sage Quarter? Her companions insist that she was with them, then she wasn’t. It was growing dark and the fog had set in by the time I was able to enlist aide from some friends and associates to locate her. We found her wondering the back streets near the docks in a daze. She barely recognized her name or me,” her father said in anger. “My family leach couldn’t deign the cause of her malady and suggested The Black Rose. It is said that no one understands exotic illnesses better than Lord Maigrinstaff.”
"I couldn't help but overhear your encounter with Melinia - is there anything more you can tell me about the Black Rose or Master Maigrinstaff? Why would they not allow you to enter?"
“It’s the rules,” the silversmith snapped than took a deep breath and raised a hand. “I apologize, it is not your fault, Crier Rahl. Part of the agreement for accepting patients, especially patients that need a few days or more care, is that they are not allowed visitors of any sort. Lady Melinia is merely enforcing Maigrinstaff’s rules.”
"Thank you for answering my questions - I cannot even imagine how distraught you must have been when your daughter disappeared, or how she was returned. I will do my best to uncover what happened to her. Do you have any other information that may be of use? Anything odd or unusual about Pithini in the days leading to her disappearance? Anyone who might wish her, or you, harm? You may not think it is relevant, but clues are often overlooked until much later, when looking back over events you realize that small detail was the key to solving the problem."
“None. My little Pithini had no enemies in the world,” Karigaon said with a grim certainty.
<>
Mordecai's story continues...
As Mordecai helped Hadara navigate the narrow alleys they had a few things going for them. The Eight Star was located on the far side of the Poor Quarter from where they were heading which meant that they need not pass through one of the gatehouses connecting the city quarters from another. Gates meant City Guards, wanted posters, questions (or at least bribes) and with the fugitive’s current condition, it might have been difficult at best. Second, the thick mists flowing in from the sea had thickened into a serious fog, helping to conceal them from many prying eyes and the overly curious. The downside though, was that the fog also made it harder for the Half Orc to see more than a few strides. Still supporting Hadara, Mordecai could feel the man’s slowly weakening condition.
Mordecai notices Hadara stumble a few times. "Come on, Hadara. We'll be in the Poor Quarter soon enough and get you right," Mordecai says encouragingly. He then thinks to himself, his ancestral anger rising, "This was supposed to be easy. And now this poor bastard is going to die because some archer decided my coin wasn't good enough. I've had it with this night - but not before I get something for all my trouble. I swear, any more trouble and I'll be taking a pound of flesh."
[GM Perception Roll: 16+3 = 19] Coming onto a place where several alley’s converged, creating a fog shrouded space large, Mordecai heard something that sounded like metal scraping against stone or brick coming from the alley on his left.
Mordecai immediately puts Hadara behind him, taking a protective position. He steps them both back, away from the sound opening up some space between them and the source. He then lets loose a low, baritone growl. Hadara certainly heard it. Not many else would have. The glaive, loosened earlier in the bar, is now held firmly by Mordecai. His body is angled to block his hand, ready to sweep the glaive forward and upward.
“Wha –“Hadara started to say than went silent when he heard the same thing Mord did a moment later. Some floob’s voice snickered nearby.
A muttered curse responded, followed by the sound of somebody hitting somebody else hard enough to incite a grunt of pain. Then a shadow moved as a rough looking man came closer. His grin held a bit of trepidation than glanced backwards as to reassure himself that his fellow conspirators in crime were still with him.
“Okay you tarks,” the street thug grinned, “Let’s keep this ‘er bit of biz simple. Toss over yer coin pouches an’ any bling youse got an’ you’ll only get roughed up a little.”
Hadara’s laugh was cut short by a ragged cough. “You shit for brains picked the wrong lads to get yer glitter from.”
The thug emerged from the dark and fog was like a hundred others roaming the city at night. Unwashed, dirty, an eager gleam in his eyes that suddenly showed doubt as he looked at the Half-Orc, his eyes traveling upwards. Several more thug stepped out of an adjacent alley – more a short passage to the back door of some flop house or residence. One held a rusty sword, another a dagger that was too fine a weapon for the likes of its current owner, and their leader who, if the expression on his face was any indication, was seriously reconsidering his threat. His mouth started to open, the dagger in his hand coming up as if to parry. There is no thought. There is no retort. The moment the thug came within range of Mordecai's glaive, it flashed free in a brutal upward swipe - aimed for the thug's throat.
[Attack roll for Glaive 10 (+5) > Roll for hit location = 65 > Left leg (probably hip) > Thug Dex Save 2 > Falls, normal damage > Dam roll = 8+3=11 > Thug leader’s HP 9 -11 = -1]
Mordecai’s heavy weapon came free of its scabbard with an audible swish. The strike was swift but went lower than planned. The thick blade slashed deep into the thug’s side, nearly severing his leg at the hip. A spray of blood splashed across the face of the man’s nearest comrade. The thug, eye’s wide, screamed than collapsed, loosing consciousness in the process.
Behind the Half Orc, Hadara coughed than snorted, “That’s one, eh? A silver says the other two ain’t got the balls.” [Thug #2 – reaction > 88%] [Thug #3 – reaction > 5%]
The thug with the old sword screamed nearly as loud as the dying man had. A dark spot appeared on the front of the man’s trousers before he turns and fled back the way they had come. The one with the dagger hissed in anger and lunged towards Mordecai, slashing with his dagger. (Att +5 = miss)
“Yous’ kelled me brother!” he snarled, “I’m gonna stick ya, you filthy tusker!”
Mordecai parries the attack with his glaive. "Filthy tusker?" Mordecai snarls. He snaps his glaive around twisting to slice the man's chest from side to side.
< Attack: 9 vs. AC 10 = Miss> <Thug #3 attacks w/dagger 18 (+1)19 vs. AC 16 = Hit; Location 16 = Left Shoulder – Normal damage (3 points)>
Using the parry to carry him further to Mordecai’s left, the thug’s blade found a spot on the Half-Orc’s left shoulder where his chainmail was weak and managed to leave a stinging rebuke. The thug bared what was left of his rotted teeth and laughed, “Gonna peel ya an sell yer skin fer fritters, I am!”
Hadara coughed. “Want me to show you how?” The comment, Mordecai noted, could have been taken in several ways.
Mordecai gives Hadara a brief glance, and says through gritted teeth, "Sounds like it'll take too long - and you're short on time." He then bumps the thug back to create some space and swings his glaive at the man.
< Attack: 10 vs AC 10 = Hit > Damage: 11/2= 6 > Hit Location 36 = Stomach grazed, half damage>
Cursing, his free hand grasping at the bleeding slash across his belly, the thug lurched to one side than stabbed at Mordecai again, this time in silent hatred. <Attack 3 = miss>
Seeing the man still standing, Mordecai surges forward with another attack!
< Attack: 13 = Hit; Damage: 9, Hit Location 93 = Upper Torso Hit (Roll Torso Crit and Stun Charts > Torso Crit = 05 = internal damage (+15) GM Notes: Instant death, no need for stun rolls >
Behind him, Hadara’s mutter prayer was sincere but pointless. Shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, Mord found that the glaive had burst through the thug’s chest and that he had driven part of his hand into the gaping cavity. The corpse gave an involuntary gasp than slid off the blade and collapsed at the Half-Orc’s feet.
“Your bleeding, friend,” Hadara said. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to ask your name. What was it that flame haired ***** said back in the Eight Star? Mordici – “
"Mordecai. Bounty hunter by trade. Although I suspect tomorrow it'll be "Mordecai. Wanted."
Mordecai grabs whichever of the thugs' cloaks is cleanest and uses it to quickly sap whatever blood he can from his glaive and arm. It won't be perfect, but hopefully, in the dark, it won't be so noticeable. "This was not the plan," Mordecai thinks to himself, "but then again, when has anything ever gone to plan."
As he turned back towards Hadara, Mordecai’s boot kicked the thug’s dropped dagger, sending it spinning a stride away. The blade, though dulled slightly with his blood, still shined, indicating of a master work quality at the least.
"Well," Mordecai says calmly, looking down at the blade, "at least I have a souvenir of tonight's festivities." Then, thinking to himself, "Along with a scar and a price on my head - I wonder if Quig can make that paperwork disappear. It'll cost me if he can."
Just as he bent down to pick up the dagger for a closer examination Mordecai heard another scream nearby. A moment later he heard someone running in their direction, then a shadow appeared in the fog.
In a flash, Mordecai thinks, "Can't go back. Can't go towards the scream. Thug’s alley it is."
"Let's go Hadara, no more delays. Quickly." He pockets the knife and pulls Hadara in the direction that the thugs originally emerged from leaving the scene and the screaming figure behind them.
<>
Erandal's story continues...
[GM Roll 9 (+4 from character’s perception) = +13]
As he moved, he thought he saw a shadow of a tall figure standing obscured behind a curtain in a third-floor window overlooking the market. A casual glance took in a large, three story building. A sign hanging above the front doors said that it was a House of Healing, the commonly used emblem for healing was backed by a black rose.
Erandal unconsciously angled his walk towards the hanging sign. Whilst normally a wary soul, Eran has never been one to think too deeply about his decisions, and merely questions himself, what am I getting myself into now? as he checks back on the crier to see where her attention is currently directed. Up on her perch the crier finished with a flourish. Artfully returning the parchment to its case the sandy haired woman gave a theatrical bow than half skipped, and half jumped, quickly disappearing into the crowd. A moment later a trio of city guard walked close by. For a moment an older fellow wearing the stars of a sergeant briefly glanced at him.
The glance of the guard caught Eran in the midst of a highly inappropriate thought regarding the crier, how fluidly she moved between the bow and a skip, and what the crier did with the proclamations after they were proclaimed... He recovered from a minor stumble by taking a knee as if to rub his feet. It was quite convincing as he had managed to stub his toe on a cobble only moments before. The thought that the crier had been talking about him quickly dissipated, but he wanted to try and catch any of the guard’s conversation before he completely put that thought to rest, so rose to position himself near to their path and discovered that the sergeant was attempting to chat up with the bard.
“Well now, “the sergeant was saying, getting warmed up to share some good gossip and rumors with the obviously pretty girl paying attention to him, “There’s – “
“Sergeant ?!”
“Not now, Amlack.”
At that moment a younger guard said to the sergeant, “Sir, I think I just saw Hadara. Over that way.” He gestured with his halberd towards the side of the market running south. “He just left the Black Rose.”
Almost reluctantly the sergeant and the bard looked in the same direction, as did Eran. Unfortunately, because of the large crowd beginning to disperse and his position he couldn’t see who this man was that might be important to someone. [Perception roll 3 (+4) 7 When he glanced back the young bard had also disappeared into the crowd, leaving the three guards who were heading somewhere with a purpose.
The blonde kid was lagging behind as the sergeant and other guard, a woman, were navigating the busy market. Without looking back the sergeant called out, “You sure ‘bout this, Amlack? This better not be another one of your wild kobold chases.”
“I’m sure of it, Sarg. I recognize him from the description of the BOLO the Captain put up on the notice board this morning – “
The female guard chimed in for the first time, “He’s worth twenty-five gold crowns.”
“Yeah, Cardili? Perhaps chasin’ some kobolds won’t be such a bad thing,” said the sergeant.
Amlack looked shocked. “The rewards only good if a citizen fingers or snags him, sergeant.”
“Details, details. You’ve got to see things from my position me lad.”
“Sergeant? “
The older guard snorted. “We’re citizens, too, lad an’ I can use the coin.”
The one called Amlack looked shocked again as the trio pushed through the last cluster of market goers and headed into a street and past the large healing house.
The phrases 'BOLO' and 'twenty-five gold' sparked Erandal's interest, and he congratulated himself on going with his gut, and further reminded himself that he should reward it with a decent meal sometime soon. He'd need to garner some more information on his own no doubt, but right now the guards seemed intent on making a chase of this Hadara, and Eran was going to stick to his best, and only, lead on that reward. At worst, they caught up with the person, and Eran plays the part of a convenient passer-by at the apprehension, and readily offers to ensure they see their just share of the reward and gets a little bit of something for essentially nothing other than being in the right place at the right time. The best case was to beat them to the prize and swipe twenty-five gold crowns to help line his own pockets; a scenario that was notably more appealing to his current circumstance.
Whilst the sensible course here is to go find a strong drink... Erandal thought as he followed along with the path of the guards, my gut feels something stirring here, so nice and cautious Eran, don't let this be the fire from the morning's frying pan.
With fair certainty that he wasn't being lured into a clever trap, Eran followed through the crowd and into the street after the guards. In the moment of space between the market crowd and the street entrance, he checks the crossbows as he entered, he quickly scanned the street for any features he could use to aid his concealment, knowing that he couldn't very well stroll behind the guards in plain sight. Where are you leading me, I wonder...?
Up ahead the young guard, still trailing behind the others let his Halberd rest against his shoulder as the crowd thinned and the trio picked up the pace. “How can someone like that be worth so much anyway, “He’d asked aloud. “I mean, how can bad talking our lord and city be so serious?”
“You're too naive for your own good, Amlack,” the sergeant grunted while the woman tossed an annoyed look back at the youth.”
“It’s how it starts, grunt. Someone starts complaining about how the price of bread is too high, emboldens another to protest the quality of city water. Others start *****ing that they’re not getting paid enough; or that our betters have it ‘too’ good. Next thing you know good citizens go bad. Burning, looting, taking up arms, an who do you think those arms will be pointed at? The merchants? The nobles?”
The young guard shrugged. “Us, I take it?”
“Yes – “
“But why would they do that? We’re all citizens.”
The sergeant cursed. “Don’t be a dolt, boy. Did that bit of soft fuzz steal your brain yesterday?”
Amlack’s back stiffened. “Lilita’s not like that – “
“—by the gods, boy, don’t tell me ya falling for that – “
The woman laughed. “She’s a quiet one to be sure. Not sure which part of the city she grew up in but I’m sure it wasn’t on the golden end.”
“Lilita’s a healer, Cardili. A member of the Healer’s Guild and works with that old Druid over on –
Cardili cut him off, “Damnit, where’d he go? He was just here, now he’s nowhere in sight!”
The following diatribe of colorful phrases and turn of words that issued from the sergeant was almost poetic after a fashion’ A slight smile caught on Eran’s mouth as he realizes the guard's Cursing himself for his lack of attention and resolves to get his own head back on track. They seem a bit too alert for the normal standards of 'city guards'. Even so, the rogue tried to position himself a few seconds behind the guards so that he didn’t miss anything and was rewarded.
“I think he went down that alley,” Cardili said, her voice dropping an octave as she slowed and looked over one metal clad shoulder. Gripping her own Halberd, the woman nodded at a narrow opening partially obscured by a stack of old, rotting crates. Across the way, several disreputable sorts took note of the guards as those who lived most their lives in back alleys and dark corners tended to do. Two discovered other places to be. One seemed unimpressed or indifferent and continued sitting on a three-legged stool, slurping something from a cracked bowl. [GM Roll: Perception +11 (+4) +15] Another shadowy figure was sitting on top of a nearby building. After a moment the shadow moved and disappeared, if any of the city guard noticed, Eran doubted it, for the sergeant turned and bulled forward, pulling the other two in his wake out of habit.
Hello hello... Who have we here then? Eran thinks to himself as he spies the shadowy figure, then looks around for a route up to the rooftops, and equally for the route that he would take coming down, not wanting to end up with his back exposed as he continues to follow the trio. The blondie, Amlack, seems to be the greenest in the group, he's the one to press if needs be. The sergeant sounds like a typically long in the job man, and the female officer doesn't sound like any sort of push over either.
Alleys were mostly the same the lands over. They snaked their way between buildings, often enclosed entirely as space was always at a premium and floobs built over them. Meant to allow access to the backs of shops and taverns so that supplies and to expedite the removal of wastes an unwanted stuff. Alley’s also served as secondary avenues of travel for those who knew them, including many in the shadowy professions. And like most alley’s Eran had been in, this one was filthy. Refuse, decaying manure (animal and human) covered the cobblestones and lined the walls in growing piles, several nearly choking off sewer grates and creating stands of stagnate, stinking water.
That route to the rooftops is almost appealing just for being out of this filth... Though not a particularly fastidious soul, Erandal always kept himself clean when the opportunity presented itself - long trips between places meant they had to take what he could get, but if he was ever at liberty to base at a tavern with a nearby bathhouse, he liked nothing more than to take a soak and wash his work away... Work like following guards and wanted men through dingy, waste-ridden back alleys. ...Wouldn't keep me close enough if anything interesting happens though. Don't want to put a foot wrong here, or any other part that I can avoid covering in something. Eran tried to pay attention so that he didn't foul any of his clothes, but also appreciated that the requirement of tracking the guards from relative concealment overrode that desire.
The guards kept some space between themselves, occasionally cursing their tall polearms in the confined space. Erandal heard the sergeant remind his patrol that if anything went down to drop the Halberds and use their shorts swords. Up ahead the alley opened slightly and ran true for about twenty paces where it ended in a door. On one side of the door was an unlit lamp box mounted to the wall. The buildings on either side rose two to three stories and offered plenty of places to stage an ambush. Coming to a stop, the sergeant’s head looked up and swept across many of the areas that Eran’s eyes had just been.
“Okay, leave the mulestickers,” he ordered, setting his own Halberd against a wall. “I know this place. It’s the back door to the Eight Star.”
As he passes the discarded Halberds, Eran lies them down across the floor of the alley, knowing a good trip can end a chase in short order. He glanced around again for the figure from above before moving up to the door.
“You! Daris Hadara!” Bellow’s the sergeant’s voice from inside. There was a muffled yelp of protest.
Upon hearing the shouts, Eran's hands instantly fall to his bows, raising and loading one as he moves inside the doorway, keeping his free hand ready should he need to draw the other. Here we go again... He keeps moving until he can see the guards, all the while keeping his back to the wall and readies himself as the scene unfolds.
Just ahead of him, the junior guard and woman blocked part of his view for a moment as they hesitated. The sergeant, typical of the sort, bulled his way forward with all the authority his rank and the habit of being used to other’s jumping at his commands, seemed to be addressing the entire bar, but his words were focused on the wanted man who, it seemed, had joined up with an associate. A very large, sneering half-orc who was attempting to clear a path for them to the front door.
So, Hadara's either enlisted the aid of this half-orc, or they were meeting here for something else...There's a rabbit hole to fall into here. Erandal edges closer to the action, set on a plan to charge through the two guards, hoping that the element of surprise will allow him to catch them off guard, should he need to take after either of the men.
While not quite between the pair of wanted fugitives, stood a Drow female with fire red hair and the ripe and erotic form typical of her race, as well as two mail wearing thugs that were typical for hired muscle. All muscle, no brains. The Drow glanced ever so briefly towards the city guard before sneering at the Half-Orc, she leaned closer and whispered something to the Half-Orc, something that brought a hopeful smile to Hadara’s face. The Half-Orc growled something back at the Drow that sent a fire of anger through her eyes.
Now that's a site! Don't come across Drow out in the day too often. Seems like she she ain't too keen on anyone else here either...
“The BOLO didn’t mention mur – “The young guard’s comment was cut off as the female guard stepped on his foot.
“See?” Hadara waved a hand towards the young, blonde haired guard even as he was unconsciously moving towards the exit, motivated by Mord’s grip on the back of his jacket.
"I didn't doubt that. Murder wasn't on the docket when I found out about you, replied the Half-Orc as he places a hand on a chair recently vacated by one of the bar's denizens trying to get out of the way and whispered something to Hadara. Hadara’s face fell again.
Eran had seen this sort of scene play out before... in his short time with Ivera, she had stand-offs with others seeking the bounty, and the lawmen actually doing their job. Not that he can recall them both catching up with her at the same time, but inevitably it was going to end in either a fight or a chase. Judging by the half-orc's size and the presence of a drow female, Eran figured it was going to be the former. He keeps edging closer to the fore, wanting to make sure he can keep up if they make a break to the front.
Keeping the Drow and her two goon’s insight, Elan watched as the city guard approached Hadara and the Half-Orc, short swords ready.
The Sergeant tossed an annoyed look at his junior companion before starting after Mordecai. “Technicality. If you don’t leave off and step aside, I’m going to arrest you for interfering with the King’s business!” His glare at Firehair seemed far more hesitant but he swallowed and added, “Goes for anyone who helps this tark escape The Lion’s Claws!” The Drow’s head tilted as she eyed the senior city guard like a tiger eyes a potential meal then gave a mock bow.
The half-orc sighs, saying, "I'll likely need to go into hiding after today." He spins suddenly the momentum taking the chair that was firmly in his grasp and lets it go. For the few seconds it traveled halfway across the tavern, Elan realized it was aimed at him. The Half-Orc pushes Hadara forward muscling his way past Firehair and her goons.
“Out the door, Hadara - run if you want to live."
<>
Erandal's story continues...
As the chair flies towards him, Eran tries to dodge the side and charge forwards. [GM roll for Acrobatics 3 (+5) = 8] The chair clips his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble into a dark-haired beauty sitting at a nearby table. The woman leapt up and back with the grace of a cat, her midnight hair bouncing in a way suggesting it was recently cleaned and tended.
So, Hadara's either enlisted the aid of this half-orc, or they were meeting here for something else...There's a rabbit hole to fall into here. Erandal edges closer to the action, set on a plan to charge through the two guards, hoping that the element of surprise will allow him to catch them off guard, should he need to take after either of the men.
Thoughts racing through his head now, Orc protecting Hadara, but not friendly - gotta be after the bounty, and on the run. Drow has her own interests, but not willing to throw down in front of the watch - unclear intentions. City guard seem the least of my concerns.
With a still protesting Hadara in the lead, the Half-Orc presses for the door, scattering a few bar patrons who are too slow to get out of the way. The female city guard shouted a warning as she and the younger guard ducked the flying chair while the sergeant, apparently confident that the chair was coming nowhere near him, gave a colorful curse about the Half-Orc’s lack of smarts and rushes after him.
“Cardili! Amlack! Get yer arses forward,” the sergeant barks, “the door!” His intent was clear, get to the door and cut the fugitives off, if they could. Shouts and encouragement broke out around the bar as patrons hooted and took bets, most, it seemed, was in favor of the fugitive, especially since it was apparent that the Drow was stepping down. For the moment, anyway, who could ever tell what a devious and unpredictable dark elf would do next in a given situation.
Now that's a sight! Don't come across Drow out in the day too often. Seems like she ain't too keen on anyone else here either...
Amongst the chaos likely to follow, Eran tries to break past the two guards, and make after Hadara. Crossbow readied, if he gets a shot at the half-orc's leg, then he'll take it. No need to kill the guy yet, but that chair deserves payment in kind. Eran will try to take a path around the sergeant and drow... too many unknowns at this point and throwing his hat in the ring on the wrong team is a habit he could do with breaking... soon! Best to stick on his own for the moment and see how the chaos levels out.
As Erandal maneuvered through bar, he noticed the Drow named Firehair had joined an older man with gray hair at the long bar. The pair were shortly joined by a raven-haired beauty as the City Guard’s poured through the main entrance and into the dark and foggy street, shouting for the Orc and the man of interest to halt.
Eran slows his pursuit, stowing his crossbow, and picking his way through the floobs scratching for silver. He tries to find a path that will move him closer to the Drow, silver-haired man, and raven-haired beauty; his hope being to catch a snippet or two of their conversation, risking the few moments he'll lose in the chase to garner any more info that might help him later. The immediate chase is too fraught - that Orc knows his business, and I wouldn't want to go toe to toe with him close. I'll have to pay him back for the chair at some point though. Eran rubs his shoulder unconsciously, as he steps around another floob, knowing it will leave a mighty bruise and ache like an arthritic dame in short order, these people seem to know more of what is going on and the right piece of knowledge might save me a lot of legwork.
Perception: 1d20+4 (9+4=13) ((to catch any info from Firehair, Lep, or Bilina))
Stealth: 1d20+5 (7+5= 12) ((to pass by inconspicuously enough that they don't notice me eavesdropping))
Insight: 1d20+2 (12+2 = 14) ((judging the sincerity or truth of any words spoken))
Watching as the city guard, followed by a few rogue citizens still jeering and yelling at them and those eager to collect their coin waged on the outcome, the gray-haired man shook his head. Without turning to look at the raven-haired woman leaning against the tavern’s long, hardwood bar he said:
“If you wanted Hadara dead, we could have come up with a dozen easier ways of accomplishing it,” the tavern owner said.
The woman said, “Easier, yes, convincing? No, probably not.”
There was a soft hiss from the Drow sitting at the end of the bar. “I think that The Lion doesn’t want this ‘meat’ to be dead, just wounded and on the run for real,” Firehair commented with a bored yawn. Her eyes flickered towards a stair way where a cloaked man descended, unstringing a bow.
“The Lion? No, The Sage though…”
At the mention of the second most powerful position in Tarantis not sitting on the throne both the man and Firehair turned to look at the slender woman.
After a pregnant pause, the man asked slowly, as if choosing his words with care, “And the Half-Orc?”
“He’s exactly as he seems. Some tark who must have heard about the reward on Hadara’s head and got to him first. Other’s will be seeking him for that reward, or for what he knows – “
“I know of this Mordecai,” Firehair interrupted. “Young and muscled with a kernel of some thought in that thick Orc skull, but a nobody. Just last five day he was competing in “Infernal Hell” – one of several illegal arenas around the city – “in five-silver matches at that, yet he showed ambition, going after Hadara, as well as some wits, recognizing the better offer.” She smirked towards the man who shrugged.
“I’d like to know more about what prompted all this…drama,” he said but the woman was gone. A soft curse escaped man’s lips. “I hate it when her kind do that sort of shit.”
Firehair merely laughed.
<>
Erandal's story continues...
Stepping into the street Eran was just in time to watch Hadara stumble as an arrow lanced down from the rooftops. The shadowy figure that he had seen coming up the alley behind the Eight Star came to mind.
Immediately Eran looks for any way up to the roof. Silently cursing himself for not trying to get the higher ground earlier, but now confident that at least for now, he is not the target of these shadowy watchers. Mental note - get up to that roof and see if there's any clues left at the earliest opportunity, but best follow the gold for the moment. Still staying on the cautious side, Eran decides to stay quiet and chase at a distance. The Guard Sergeant was cursing somewhere deep in the shrouded alley across the way. Eran heard running boots and clanging of metal as well. Above, the archer was no where in sight. No doubt content with hitting his target, the archer had made an exit.
Following the sounds of the sergeant's voice, Eran moves a little deeper into the alleyway. He quickens his pace to close the distance, in the belief that he will be well enough covered by the other noises and clamor he can hear.
Shadowy figures ahead in the poorly lit alley were easy to identify as the sergeant was cursing even harder. Elan caught up to find the trio faced with a split in the alley. After a moment’s hesitation, the guards plunged down the narrower alley on the left. About to follow, Elan’s hand brushed against something sticky and wet on the edge of the building he was using for cover. Familiar with the feel of fresh blood, he had a hunch that the Half Orc and his wounded companion had turn right.
Eran wipes the blood on a nearby tattered cloth as he takes off following the trail of blood. Times like this I wish I had the nose of a hound... Almost ironically as the thought passes through his head, a waft of something rotten and fouled does catch in his nostrils and causes him to gag slightly. Ok, maybe there are times when heightened smell would be more of a hinderance. Eran increases his pace to try and close the gap up ahead, not recklessly, but certainly faster than he would like to travel. That conscious delay in the inn playing on his mind... again he questions his choices but plows onward.
A muttered curse ahead was followed by the sound of somebody hitting somebody else hard enough to incite a grunt of pain. Up ahead there was a sharp turn in the alley. A shadowy figure turned, and he heard:
“Okay you tarks. Let’s keep this ‘er bit of biz simple. Toss over yer coin pouches an’ any bling youse got an’ you’ll only get roughed up a little.”
Then the one named Hadara laughed, then it was cut short by a ragged cough. “You shit for brains picked the wrong lads to get yer glitter from.”
At the sounds of conflict, the dialect and phrasing all too familiar to his ears, Eran draws and loads his twin handbows as he moves forward. Checking for any more figures up above, or hiding in the alleyway, he moves to a position of cover and listens to the shakedown...
Stealth: 1d20+5 (9+5=14) Perception: 1d20+4 (3+4= 7)
There was the sound of a heavy weapon clearing it’s scabbard, followed by a blade or ax driving deeply into flesh. A scream began than cut short, finished by a second, less final sounding scream as something heavy landed on the wet, dirty cobblestones somewhere nearby.
Hadara coughed than snorted, “That’s one, eh? A silver says the other two ain’t got the balls.”
“Yous’ kelled me brother!” someone snarled, “I’m gonna stick ya, you filthy tusker!”
Just than a shadowy figure appeared from the dark and foggy alley ahead. Rushing towards where Eran had positioned himself, the figure held some sort of sword in hand, aside from the weapon, the only clear thing Eran saw was the man’s eyes. They were dead set on him.
Reacting as much out of instinct as out of conscious thought, Erandal fires his crossbows at the charging man, then without waiting to see if they hit, he stows one back in his hip holster as he backs away from the charging man, back down the alleyway they entered through. "Don't make this harder than is needs to be. Drop the weapon!"
<Action: - Attack 18+7=25> Damage: 2+3=5/2 = 3; Location 49 = Knee grazed; ½ damage>
<Bonus Action: Attack: 16+7=23; Damage: 1d6=2; Location 99 = Clips head, roll on Head Crit = 65 = Severe puncture, +1 Blood loss/CR> Total Damage = 5/+1perCR
The thug cried out in pain and nearly fell. Wild eyed he spun and charged off back the way he had come, quickly swallowed up by the fog.
Reloading and seeing the shadow change direction, Erandal too reverses his motion and moves back towards the shakedown - not rushing, but quickly enough that Hadara's chance to flee is kept to a minimum. Well, that wasn't on the plan anywhere... Though I'd bank he'll think better of trying to rush me again!
Taking the time on his return to prepare both his handbows again and keeping one loaded and ready he returns to the scene. "Time to get some answers! Who in the nine hells are you people?!"
<>
Comment(s) (from Lilita's Player): I am so enjoying reading everyone's stories... and for the Mord storyline just posted above, I really like the use of 'tusker' slang, never heard that before but really suits as something to call an orc or half-orc in such a dark gritty setting and backdrop of your campaign world. Actually, the city all our characters are in... sort of reminds me a bit of a place one might find in Thieves' World an old book series that I was really into... way back when and loved a very happy to be in a similar gritty setting! So I appreciate the stories with Livvi and Mord just as great read! Thanks!
Lilita's Story continues...
The woman’s clothes safely in one of several small bags and pouches Lilita wore or carried beneath her day cloak, the young woman made her way into a portion of the great city that she visited rarely. The sun was still up though the shadows in the streets were lengthening considerably, she was allowed to pass through the gate separating Merchant’s Quarter from the Noble’s Quarter. The patrol of City Guard manning the gate wore fancier armor and bright yellow cloaks that were far different from the plain armor and gray cloak that Amlack and his companions wore. The colors denoting the different companies that the guards were assigned too, the quality of armor also suggested that those in power gave the Noble’s Quarter a far higher priority for resources than the Laborer’s (Poor) Quarter.
Lilita always finds herself in awe when she finds an opportunity to travel through the city's Noble's Quarter, a rare treat for her, something that she does not get to do daily or even weekly. Rather, it is an event as rare as a blue moon in her otherwise drab little life. As Lilita walks along she admires this Quarter's Guardsmen uniforms... so bright and stylish, how handsome Amlack would look dressed in such finery. Perhaps someday she muses... Amlack for all his shortcomings ((guessing that he is a commoner like Lilita))) and lack of family connections he is a good and honorable man so she hopes that someday she will see his efforts recognized and rewarded.
Iltutmish Lane wound its way through a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time Lilita located Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Like her, perhaps, laborers, clerks, and so on, employed in the quarter, though most seemed to be heading in the way she had just come, probably for the gatehouse and other city quarters. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. At their feet sat a small barrel, most likely whale oil. Such lights were all but unheard of in the Laborer’s Quarter, only existing at the central market or outside of the odd tavern. From the open door and windows of a tavern came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
Lilita pauses to listen for a moment to the music coming from inside the tavern. Though she greatly enjoyed music she did not have the opportunity or leisure time to listen to such very often except on special occasions during street festivals or the like when performances are outdoors. Mostly Lilita did not go to other venues to listen to music as she is very shy and painfully inept in social situations and did often go into places... like taverns especially unescorted. Such she felt was unseemly for a young maiden such as herself, as it often invited unwanted attention or trouble especially for one such as she who has been sheltered from such places most of her life.
As she stood there looking at several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, Lilita mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Lilita blushed examining the wondrous garments... high fashion always confused her as she could scarcely imagine what sorts of situations required those attending to wear such attire... were she to wear such she would feel so every exposed and scandalized if anyone she knew where to look upon her dressed in such. Running her fingers over the gown that swept down to a dagger shape she was not even sure how something like that would stay upon a female's body with slipping off but then Lilita was very petite and not as well-proportioned as the women who no doubt wore such. Lilita giggled as she imagined that a female needs to be born and breed to wear gowns like that to do them justice whereas Lilita knew those like herself would forever be consigned to wearing simple styles having more in common with turnip stacks.
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. Standing in the shadow of the doorway Lilita watched as three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Lilita had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Lilita upon noting the snickering ladies in their teens makes sure to keep her distance, her eyes downcast respectfully not wishing to attract their attention or ire. Herself having just turned 19 and given her small stature to many who do not know her she has found herself at times being mistaken for one younger. Only her soulful pale blue eyes like ice seem to betray her actual age many commenting that they are her best physical feature but wasted on a maiden with an overly polite and meek nature.
As a result, Lilita found herself seeking to hide from their view behind the magnificent statues listening to the matron speaking to the shop servant. Lilita looks at the servant thinking that working in such high-class establishment like this must be both a blessing and a curse. Still, to the naive Lilita, the shop was as fascinating and exciting as it was frightening leaving her feeling a bit breathless and out of place.
While seriously thinking of retreating from the place, Lilita was drawn to a pair of very fine-looking slippers. They sat on a hardwood pedestal that was so finely carved to appear made from metal. Lightly touching one, Lilita was surprised to feel a slight spark of energy tickle her skin. [GM Rolled Arcana check: 18] They were imbued with some sort of magic.
Lilita marveled at the slippers immediately captivated by them... drawn to them by their magical nature. Lilita seemed to have a weakness and an affinity to magic or anything magical. Slowly she caressed the slippers, running her fingers lightly over them feeling deep within her own body a spark and tingle... almost like a wave of pleasure. She rather found herself enjoying the sensation of magical energy emanating from them. Oh, if only... she thought looking at them sadly knowing that something so fine, so magical would never ever grace her feet but she could at least imagine...
“Yes, you will find many items of attire and accessories within Avgrat’s to have a touch of the sparkle in them,” said a deep, cultured voice from nearby. So engrossed in the slippers, Lilita failed to hear him.
Slowly Lilita managed to pull herself free of the slippers and move off and away from their influence... such things are only for the wealthy, the powerful... nobles or perhaps some brave heroes and adventures like those found in legendary tales but for her, they would be found only in her dreams. Where was her fairy godmother, she wondered to herself, a slight smile of amusement on her face?
A tall, aristocratic man of intermediate age stood beside her, an amused smile on his face. Dressed like a noble, he oozed a venerable charm that sent a warm tingle down Lilita’s spine.
Caught off guard Lilita's cheeks flushed such shade of pink... then red... surprised by his sudden appearance out of nowhere. Catching her breath and holding her small hand to her chest she attempted to give him a polite respectful curtsy, "please forgive m'lord... I meant no disrespect, I should not have touched the slippers or failed to note and acknowledge your presence." Her eyes look down at her feet shyly... a bit fearful even... unable to meet his gaze or look him directly in the eyes... hoping that she had not gotten herself into trouble as she had not even gotten around to the task at hand... to speak to the shop owner about the dress. Whatever was she thinking her mind racing, a feeling of dread and fear that those finely dressed Guardsmen she fawned over earlier would suddenly appear and drag her off to the dungeons or worse...
“I did not detect any disrespect young miss, hardly at all. How can one with such obvious beauty and grace not be enamored in such a fine pair of slippers,” the man said with a slight wink. His hand reached out to run his fingers across the top of the nearest slipper, mimicking her earlier gesture. “I believe that these are an Elvish creation. Master Tailor Avgrat is known to carry many exotic items and luxuries. Would you like to try them on?”
Before Lilita had a chance to respond a young Half-Elf girl flounced in from the street, accompanied by a slightly older woman with raven-black hair and grey eyes that swept the shop. When those eyes greeted hers, Lilita got the impression that the woman had taken her measure, judged her in some odd way, then just as quickly dismissed her and moved on. Giving a squeal of delight, the Half-Elf though, spun and made for the red gown on display in the window. In moments, a protesting servant in pursuit, the Half-Elf charged off towards the nearest dressing room. Beside Lilita the nobleman smiled but hadn’t taken his attention off her.
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” he was saying.
Lilita timidly keeps her eyes respectfully downcast thinking that the half-elf female seemed familiar to her somehow but dared not look up at her and possibly invite even more unwanted attention. But secretly she hoped that the fey maiden's presence might somehow divert the nobleman's strange interest in herself causing Lilita to wonder if perhaps he might be playing some sort of game with her. Some nobles Lilita knew seemed to delight in causing mischief with powerless commoners such as she or simply to tease and bewilder them in which case with Lilita he had succeeded. Lilita was thankful at least the raven-haired woman found her to be beneath notice, unworthy of a second glance. That being a more typical reaction for Lilita, the type of reaction that the young girl is used to receiving having come to accept it as she has come to accept her own low-status position within society.
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to Lilita. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently Lilita accepts the slippers and slowly walks over to the padded bench and sits down. Giving in, Lilita slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence," yes m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Slowly and carefully Lilita positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal, fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Her small delicate hands trembling as she gently slides one foot and then the other into the slippers. Lilita just stared at the slippers feeling the tingling of their magic coursing from them up into her entire body, the sensation was not unpleasant, even pleasurable as she becomes lost in the moment.
As she sat there, marveling at the perfect fit and how the slippers were so soft and light that she could barely feel them on her feet, she was utterly conscious of the man’s almost fatherly smile peering at her, and a disapproving stare coming from the matronly lady nearby. Another shop servant meant to approach but halted in his tracks at a cool glance from the noble. Before Lilita could say more there was an explosion of exclamations and giggles the dressing rooms. Everyone turned as the Half-Elf stepped out wearing the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin.
"Lina - Please?” the Half-Elf said in a playful yet pleading voice, “Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." the Half-Elf said as she whisked towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps, her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” the raven-haired woman said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “the one named Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. His eyes briefly turned to take in the new arrival and Lilita felt as if a physical weight had been lifted off her slender shoulders. Enough so that she became aware of a magical tingle. Like the slippers, the man himself had a hint of magic about him.
Looking upward... Lilita's gaze falls upon the matronly lady with the disapproving stare... Lilita's cheeks blushing with shame and despair thinking that no doubt the lady thinks that she is a courtesan or worse yet dressed as she is... a common cheap street whore. Oh gawds, why me? Why am I so cursed? She thinks to herself.
Then suddenly the explosion of sound distracts everyone's attention and she silently thanks her lucky stars for the interruption looking on with awe as the half-elf maiden reappears out of the dressing room hearing the other woman call her Livvi. Lilita can only look on in awe at how stunning and beautiful the fey maiden looked in the exotic gown she had selected. Lilita trying her best not to listen to their conversation and keep her eyes respectfully downcast but found herself momentarily distracted by a strange hint of magic which seemed to emanate from the nobleman. It was then that Lilita noticed something else... she saw that like herself the nobleman was distracted by the half-elf maiden Livvi as she moved towards him... perhaps seeking his opinion, approval or something else.
Sensing an opportunity Lilita with one swift motion slides her feet OUT of the magical slippers she had just moments before putting on. No time to put back on her own shoes Lilita attempts to make a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind in the shop.
<>
Livvi's Story continues...
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
<>
Well, this one's new to me. Not sure how the previous posting is considered spam - anybody?
Livvi's Story continues...
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
<>
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade, but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.
Livvi barely noticed as her companion did a quick but thorough look about the store. Bilina’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the nobleman and before she could give Livvi a quiet warning look the Half-Elf had rushed off to try on the red gown, soon followed by one of the shops servants who was having a hard time keeping up.
Stepping out of the dressing in the dress - which fit her surprisingly well for coming off the mannequin, Livvi caught the eye of a tall, aristocratic man in intermediate age dressed like a noble and oozing charm that sent a warm tingle down her spine. Or perhaps it was the chill air on her exposed flesh. Either way, when he looked at her and smiled - not the pleasant smile of a day in the courts or the fake smiles of administrators and politicians, but the hungry smile of a man who desires a woman - Livvi knew that this was the dress for her.
"Lina - Please?” Think of the mischief I can have in this dress. And those shoes..." she says as she whisks towards a pair of delicate black shoes with a steep heel and intricate straps. Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the tall man, looking for his approval. Only then did she notice the young woman speaking with him. Upon closer examination Livvi could see that the young woman in the worn, gray street cloak, talking to the noblemen had a natural beauty and the poise of one who truly did not understand just how much natural charisma she possessed. The pair were discussing some Elvish made slippers sitting on display. The young woman – a mere girl, judging by her size and looks – was flushed, shaking her head and explaining something to the noblemen as if whatever it was should explain…something. her action bringing her close to where Lilita and the noblemen stood.
“But such cost, Livvi,” Bilina said from the other side of the shop where several servants were preparing to follow her into a private room to take measurements.
“But Lina, look – “Livvi picked up the shoes and turned towards the noblemen, seeking his approval. She peered at the handsome, yet older man and used a well-practiced mixture of coy young woman and vampish Elvish tease, at the same time, she directed part of her desires towards her friend who, having invited her to attend the Royal Masquerade, surely would want her to be properly presentable.
"Lina - Please?
Intrigued by this young girl, Livvi tried to listen in from across the room. What was she trying to explain? Was she looking for a new pair of shoes? She obviously needed a new dress, too - those elvish slippers would totally be out of place with her plain homespun sack dress! It's like the girl had no sense of fashion at all!
“Surely you want to at least see if the slippers will fit your feet,” the nobleman was saying in the sort of tone men – powerful men use on impressible young girls. A mixture of the patient fatherly figure and expectant master.
Livvi was even more interested in the girl now. You see, Livvi was a student of intent, motivation, action, and drive in people. She had learned years ago how important these were to get what she wanted. If she knew what motivated someone, either desires or fears, she could manipulate their impressions to get them to act in her interests. But she also had learned to spot incongruities in actions and appearances. In fact, these little seams between appearances and inner realities were the best to observe - although not always to exploit. It was in these dissonances that Livvi knew were true motivations. And Livvi saw in this girl a huge chasm between appearance, style, actions, and her presence in this high-end mercantile. Why she was looking at the elven slippers was perplexing. Livvi's initial propositions to explain this were that 1) the girl had wandered in here by accident and the man was trying to work an impressionable young customer into buying one of the most expensive items in the store; 2) the girl was actually noble and dressed this way to present an image of lowly stature and barely adequate means, looking to score a discounted price on slippers she had noticed previously; or 3) this girl was the decoy for another in the store who was at this moment hiding something or another and intended to walk out without paying for it - a classic ruse for shoplifting. Livvi scanned the other customers quickly to see if she could notice anyone acting secretively or hustling out of the store. Perception: 5 <oooff...completely distracted by the fancy clothes and hot older guy!>
Not that she hadn't done this exact ruse in her younger days, and not that she wanted to turn the pair in, but she did want to keep tabs on up and coming grifters in the city, because you never knew when you might need help pulling a caper...
“Nonsense,” the Nobleman was saying, “is this not the whole point of visiting such places as this but to sample the merchandise?” Gesturing towards a nearby, thickly padded bench, the aristocrat picked up the slippers and held them out to the beautiful young woman. “Go ahead, try them on. I think that you will find that they fit. It’s part of the nature of their magic.”
Obediently she accepted the slippers and as Livvi watched out of the corner of one eye while openly posing in front of a nearby mirror to see how the gown fit her curves, the woman walked, almost reluctantly, over to the padded bench and sat down. She slowly nods her head politely her voice falling to a barely audible whisper as she looks up at the nobleman in wide-eyed innocence:
" yes, m'lord but only to please you... I have no desire to cause offense when you have only shown me kindness. Thank you." Livvi took the show all in. If it were some sort of performance, then this woman was a master. With slow and careful motions, she positioned the slippers close to her feet as if they were made of delicate crystal and were fearful that she might somehow accidentally damage them. Small delicate hands trembled as they gently slid one foot and then the other into the slippers. Such was the demonstration, even Livvi found herself drawn into the drama on display.
The Nobleman beamed with obvious pleasure, his stare at the young woman almost obscene from where Livvi stood. There was…something else there, some sort of hunger. One that was familiar to her and yet something entirely else was going on in that man’s eyes. I cold shiver went down her spine. Even as Livvi gave a spin, still verbally appealing to her friend’s largesse and since of fashion the Half-Elf felt, ever so briefly, the man’s cool, amused seeming stare. It was soulless.
As if sensing an opportunity that Livvi’s display had presented the young woman made one swift motion to slide out of the magical slippers. Without pausing to put back on her own shoes, the young woman made a mad but stealthy Dash barefoot out of the shop leaving both the magical slippers and her own old and well-worn shoes behind. By the time the nobleman had noticed the young woman’s exit, his expression flared into anger. Without another look, at Livvi, or anyone else, the man turned and stalked out. It was a distinctively predatory move if the Half-Elf had ever seen one. Insight: 8
Livvi froze. She had personally witnessed, on several occasions, lustful stares from mean-spirited boys and men, but what she saw in that nobleman's look was something entirely different. Something cold and vicious and utterly without a soul. Something not human. There was now one more thing Livvi was afraid of - and she immediately hated him. Then she thought of the poor innocent girl that monster set off to pursue. "Lina, we have to go. Now. Dresses can wait!" Livvi grabs the plain shoes of the girl from the floor, runs to the dressing room to get out of the (beautiful!) red dress and back into her everyday outfit as quickly as she can without tearing anything that wasn't hers.
Head’s all over the shop turned her way. She barely heard Bilina’s voice calling out from the fitting room. “Yes, yes, of course you may have the dress. We’ll figure out some way for you to pay me back.”
Mostly dressed (she was carrying her corset and stockings - it would have taken too long to get those back on...) Livvi rushes out the door after the girl and the man/monster. She glanced once to see if Bilina was following but didn't wait for her if she didn't. Her friend did have another appointment, after all. But Livvi felt a tug in her very soul that forced her to try and find the girl before that nobleman did - to try and protect her from the creature he was on the inside. Thoughts of all those missing people suddenly came to mind. Was there a connection here somehow? One thing for sure, she had no doubt that the young woman was in terrible danger.
Livvi's story continued (Part 1)
With her free time between reciting the day’s news, Livvi worked at gathering information about the Black Rose Healing House. Casually asking around, she discovered that the Black Rose was the oldest House of Healing in the city state, that the noble family that owned it also owned a considerable amount of property, both in the city and in the two provinces. As Livvi listened to various rumors and story, trying to sort out truth from exaggeration she came to understand a few things. The Black Rose only took wealthy or powerful patients. That it was rumored that the house was, in reality, an elaborate ruse for a posh bordello; that, aside from the Lord Basha Maigrinstaff, Chief Physician, the staff and servants of the Black Rose were all women, each more beautiful than the next; that many of those staff and servants were members of various Noble Houses within the city state at the most; daughters of the wealthier Merchant Houses at the least. She had even uncovered a rumor that the place was a cover for a coven of vampires, how crazy was that?
An hour past Evenfest, Livvi stepped out of the Government Quarter after turning in the day’s parchments and receiving her silvers, the young Half-Elf was surprised when an expensive coach pulled by a pair of matching horses pulled up.
The door opened and Bilina waved a ‘come here’ gesture and smiled. “Hi sweets, come, get in, we’re heading up town.”
Livvi eagerly climbed up into the coach, feeling equal parts jealous, joyful, and entitled. Although Livvi had never truly wanted for anything, she was one of the many young ladies infected with a virulent form of 'affluenza' - a disease running rampant in the middle and upper classes that made them feel entitled to the best things in life - like the world owed them a good and easy life. Livvi felt the little tug in her mind comparing what she didn't have with the imagined things this lady did have. And then she started feeling jealous that she didn't have a private coach to carry her around the city in comfort and style.
The interior of the couch was plush and well appointed. As the door closed behind her, Livvi settled into the seat across from her friend with an expectant look. Rolling her eyes, Bilina said, “It belongs to a friend. Well, to be more precise, a friend’s mistress, but she went out to the provinces for a five day. Anyway, I have some important errands to run this evening and visit a certain noble’s townhouse later and I figured that you should come along for the first part, anyway.” The raven-haired woman eyed Livvi’s attire critically. “You need a few things, too. Plus, we need to get you fitted for the upcoming festival, if you are to attend the Royal Masquerade.” That last part had been said in a tone as if one were discussing taking tea with a neighbor instead of partaking in the most lavish, most excessive party of the year.
Still, Livvi decided to focus on the joy of the caper she was about to embark on with Bilina. The two of them were always conspiring something or other, often with an element of danger. (Well - an element of being discovered and maybe being reprimanded...but their little escapades were increasing in complexity and true danger to get the same rush that lesser things used to given them.) Plus, the young half-elf now had the very real possibility of getting a new dress for the festival bestowed upon her by her friend. It was going to be a great evening!
As they rode along, Livvi told Bilina everything she had learned today, focusing on the Black Rose facts and rumors. A nagging question had formed in her mind during her investigations, and it wasn't all that crazy of a thought. So, she takes a deep breath and asks, "Lina, what do you know of the Black Rose? Could they be using young women, who are supposed to be there for their own healing, as prostitutes for high-class customers? Maybe even cause little incidents to have them kidnapped or injured and thus come to the Rose for 'legitimate' means? Why else would their rules not let family visit the girls while they are there? I know Maigrinstaff is an old and rich and powerful family, but this - if it's true - cannot be allowed to continue. What if it was me, or you, they wanted as a 'patient'?!? I would burn the entire Market District to the ground if I found out they kidnapped and drugged you and forced you to be a slave for some old man's sex fantasies!" The anger boiled and frothed in Livvi, and as she went along in her tirade, the absolute coldness in her eyes would have been terrifying to behold....
“Such a little tigress,” the older woman said with an amused smile at the determination and seriousness in Livvi’s tone. Bilina’s smile became warmer, one that Livvi was accustomed to seeing and few else, had she known. “Well, the Black Rose is the most prestigious House of Healing outside of the Healer’s Guide itself. It rivals anything any of the temples support within the city, though the same cannot be said for the provinces.” A slight frown came to the raven-haired woman’s lips, one that was instantly banished by an obvious act of will.
“Truth be told, I know little of the Maigrinstaff’s, as they are all fairly reclusive and secretive in their dealings. None hold official office, though many of their ancestors have. I’ve heard some…rumors…but of course, there are lost of sorts who would spread (and do spread) such things to discredit rivals or to burnish a family’s reputation within the social picking order. For many old blood families in Tarantis, reputation is everything.”
An eager gleam filled Livvi’s eyes. The young Half-Elf leaned forward as the couch made its way through the city towards the Noble’s Gate and the quarter beyond it. “What sort of rumors?”
It was rare to see her friend to be openly uncomfortable about a simple question.
"I'm sorry..." Livvi exhaled, and took three deep, cleansing breaths like her dueling master had taught her. "You know how I feel about that... Distract me. Tell me what we're up to and where we're going tonight." She relaxed the tension in her face and smiled her little smile reserved for those closest to her.
Bilina dismissed her apology with a gentle pat on Livvi’s knee. “All I can say is that it would be very…unwise…to delve into the dealings of the Maigrinstaff’s, especially Basha Maigrinstaff. He ‘owns’ The Black Rose and is one of the most prestigious Leaches’ in the city. One strange thing though, is that I remember reading one of the books of the heralds. Researching something else, mind, but I ran across an entry for a Lord Basha Maigrinstaff from two centuries ago. Possibly a namesake, you know? But the man was a Leach as well and administrated the Black Rose.” Bilina shook her head, “Somehow I doubt that the cities wealthiest ladies are being used to ‘entertain’ their peers. Besides, men are also known to take healing behind the ivy walls of The Rose.” She seemed to dismiss the idea with another wave of her hand.
“As for tonight? I have an appointment at Avgrat’s – it’s only the most prestigious clothier and dealer of luxuries in the city. Very posh. I was given an invitation for the Masquerade at the Palace, so I am having a costume fitted. And…” There was a teasing twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. “The invitation is for me plus one. Since I do not have a significant other at the moment, I figured that you might want to come.”
Livvi nearly squealed like a schoolgirl at Bilina's invitation to the Palace Masquerade but managed to keep back the embarrassing sound and let only a gasp of shock and excitement escape. "Oh, Lina! Are you sure that you wish to use this invitation on me? Surely, you must have a handsome young stud on your lunge line eager to be broken by the mysterious and beautiful Bilina. Or are you planning to use the Ball as a new hunting ground, searching for a fresh conquest? That must be it. Well, then - I will be your shield maiden and assist you in this quest to acquire a fresh mount!" Livvi laughs as she finishes the equestrian analogies.
The older woman giggled and flushed slightly. “Oh, your bad, but then, that’s what I love about you, Livvi,” she said and brushed a tear from one eye while taking care not to smudge her eye makeup. About to add more Bilina glanced out the window as the coach rolled to a stop in front of a large shop. “Ah, we’re here.”
Iltutmish Lane had taken them from the gate to a small but posh neighborhood of shops, restaurants, and specialty services catering to the wealthy and nobility, which were often the same. By the time they arrived at Avgrat’s Fine Clothing it was dark, and the sea mists were working higher into the city, beginning to reach the quarter. There were many folks out at the hour past Evenfest out for a stroll or on business. More than a few wore the livery of one noble family or another though as many or more were dressed far plainer. Further along Iltutmish Lane a pair of tall men were lighting street lights. One carried a ladder, holding it for the other who held a smoldering pug, used to ignite several wicks. From the open door and windows of a tavern across the street came the sounds of a group of minstrels retained to provide entertainment, no doubt.
As they climbed down from the coach Livvi spotted several very fine gowns and matching shoes on display through the large, lead paned windows flanking the door to the clothing shop. One was pure white with cloth so fine that it shined like fish scale. The other was red, tinged in black, the neck line cut so deeply that, for a moment, she mistook it to be the back of the gown. Upon deeper inspection, it was clear that there was no back at all, that the gown swept down to a dagger shape ending just above one’s tailbone.
Gazing upon the wondrous, and scandalous, gowns, Livvi felt a flush come to her cheeks as she pictured herself in the red dress. As they entered the shop and looked around at the other beautiful colors and styles, Livvi's eye kept wandering back to the dress in the window. She would turn heads for certain - and it WAS a Masquerade Ball, so behind her mask she could be anyone she wanted to! "Lina - can I try on that red dress in the window? With the black edges?" She didn't even look away when Bilina glanced at the dress, then back at her with an amazed, and then amused, look.
“Well, of course you must try it on,” Bilina agreed as she followed the Half-Elf’s determined steps that led her through the gilded front doors and past a liveried guard. “Red is so your color.”
The interior of the shop was so exotic that it appeared magical. Lit by a half dozen glowing crystals suspended from fine silver chains, the shop was, in fact, a series of rooms and alcoves, with a gently curving stairway leading upwards, suggesting that there was more on the floor above. As Livvi all but skipped into the shop and glanced around and saw three snickering ladies in their teens commenting on several even more risqué outfits draped over anatomy correct marble statues of both sexes and several races, including a short, slender ebony form of a pouting dark elf. Each statue was flawless, and no doubt absurdly valuable. A few strides away, a matron of some noble house stood, frowning as a shop servant was holding several cloth and silk samples while a middle-aged man with a wide, swooping mustache recited the lineage of the material. Yes, they were from a land Livvi had never heard of. No, they were not dyed, but natural colors. Yes, it had taken half a year and travelled by caravan and ship to reach Tarantis. No, the materials were in short supply and that several so-and-sos had already commissioned gowns for the upcoming festival.