As he suspected, Holden found the quartermaster railing at a group of laborers who where loitering around several delivery wagons. Mostly, Kam was growling at how they were only supposed to deliver the goods, not take the opportunity to case the nob’s grounds. Just get in, make the delivery of firewood, lumber, sawdust, and whatever else that had been ordered.
“…dolts! Tha Loridarie’s chamberlain was watchin from a second-floor window when Delf an’ Vandarian here decided ta snoop around the townhouses’ larder.”
“Told ya Kam, I was only lookin’ for a drink of water. This ‘er’s hard work,” Delf complained as he slapped a half-loaded wagon. “Too much like honest work, too.”
As Kam and Delf went on arguing, grumbling and growling at each other’s, Jacob tentatively approached Zam and exchanged with him what he thought would pass as a knowing glance. "Ah, Quartermaster." Holden crossed his dark leather clad arms before his chest, shoulders kind of close to his neighbor "While these two dolts figure out who's done what ****up, I need an upgrade. Deposit's just been made with the upstairs lady, and I'm good for about a hundred coins, plus future incoming..."
Kam grunted and nodded. “Understood. What’d you have in mind, Holden?”
Jacob opened his gloved palm and started counting the stuff on his fingers "I need a left handed knuckle duster to pair up with my blackjack, a lightweight window-hook for my rope, and something more resistant than the leather I'm currently wearing, but it can't impede my sneaking." Holden paused, then added with a grimace "-Kinda nervous from all these floobs and kooks out and about lately."
A raised eyebrow was the quartermaster’s response. After a moment the man gestured, ‘follow’ and headed towards one of the doors leading into the lower levels.
As they walked Kam asked, “Cities full of kooks, but I get the impression you’ve had a run in with some of the kookier.”
Holden answered in a slightly clipped manner "You bet. The extra kooky kind." This could go two ways, Jacob reasoned; he was about to get some hand me downs of an arrested pad-foot, or maybe the Quartermaster wanted some peace & quiet away from the courtyard buzz and would give him something proper straight out of the complexes' more secluded vaults.
They came to an iron bound door with a large lock. The quartermaster pulled out a key and let them into the guild houses’ main armory. Once a series of storerooms used to store turpentine and other wood-based byproducts, the armory was just that. A large depository of all things lethal and defensive. Kam led Jacob past Danken, a retired fighter and guild enforcer turned armorer. Danken glance up briefly from a set of throwing knives he was sharpening and nodded.
Holden nodded back respectfully. Danken and his armory were a time-honored guild institution in and of themselves.
“I’ve got a nice selection of knuckle wear,” Kam was saying as he came to a series of dark wood storage bins. Pausing in thought, a frown on his face, Kam looked at Jacob. “I’ve heard some…rumors, myself. There was an attack on a tavern wench I know last night. She was blathering about vampires, too, before they took her off to the Black Rose for healing. Perhaps it’s just kooks, like you say. The big festival brings ‘em out every year, or so I’ve noticed…still.”
Reaching into the back of one of the bins the quartermaster pulled out a red cloth and unwrapped it to reveal a pair of tarnished silver knuckle busters shaped like owls. Tiny emeralds were embedded in the owl’s eyes, gleaming in the light of the armory.
Holden, with the instinct of a thieving magpie, couldn't possibly resist a lean in and hover "If Quartermaster wouldn't be offering these for rent, I would have to steal them, this is some dapper looking hardware!"
“There’s a bit more to ‘em,” Kam said and slid one on. Moving over to where some stuffed target dummies were stored the quartermaster hit one with a quick jab, sending a short burst of white lightning arcing into the dummy. “I know your keen on avoiding doing lethal damage if you can. These fire off some sort of stunning magic a couple times a day.”
Jacob slipped one on himself, testing the grip and deftly hitting the air a couple of times "Killing's bad for business. Except for when killing IS the business. Luckily it isn't and hasn't been for a long time at the Garnet Hands, and I would do my best to honor that tradition." Holden glanced thoughtfully at Danken, the man came from a very different time, those violent times where people like his own father, and with him the Night Stalkers of Tarantis, came into power. "I guess I'll have to kill somebody just to afford interest on these, will I?" Jacob half seriously joked.
Kam waved off the mention of cost. “We know your good for it. ‘sides, sooner or later you’ll find other weaponry worth donating to the guild, I don’t doubt. Besides, blood sucking kook’s warrant something extra.”[knuckle dusters (+1); Magical; Silver; Shocking Grasp x3/day]
Holden kept one of the magnificent pair, and disappeared it into a pocket of his, very near where he stored the wooden vial and its deadly contents. He left his hand cupped over that particular pocket, as if wary of what it contained. "And what about something to protect this latest guild investment?"
“I’ve given that some thought, too.” The man said as he led Jacob into an adjacent room. Armor of all sizes and sorts lined the walls and hung from numerous posts. Moving towards the back, Kam found what he was looking for. Hanging on a hook is a knee length leather coat made of hand tooled hide of some sort. Taking it down Kam points to an attached hood with a built in half mask.
“Used to belong to a fellow guild member. It’s reversible.” As he spoke Kam flipped one sleeve inside out, showing a grease and dirt stained, worn looking gray. “Has a double advantage of blending into the fog and mists. Has a half dozen hidden pockets and” – he jabs a finger into the softer grey side where it stopped suddenly – “Elfin links, very small and fine fit. Looks to be your size, too.” He holds it out. [Non magical, master work (AC 13) +1 Stealth]
Holden drew in a quick breath and flexed his abdominal muscles, holding up the piece of tight kit right in front of him "And how lucky that is, too. I'll have to give up breakfast sausages only to keep fitting." Jacob was not a small man by any means, in another life he could've very well been in Danken's shoes. Not a word was wasted on the former owner of this fine piece of equipment, and some stains that might have been from a bloody origin. Such were the ways. "I'd be best on my way now; I've dilly-dallied enough as it is with you taffing lot." Muffled laughs were heard in the armories' dank darkness, then a door of light opened to the world waiting back outside.
As she strolled down the Merchant Quarter’s modestly lit streets (which was quite a bit compared to the Laborers Quarter where she lived), the mists swirled and drifted. Thickening here, thinning there. Even though it was late evening there were quite a few citizens out, running errands, hurrying home from a long day’s work. Most ignored her or at best, gave her a passing nod or insincere smile before hurrying on. At a glance behind her, there was no sign that Mordecai or the fey goddess had followed her lead.
Lilita gave a low sigh, a little saddened and surprised not seeing any sign of Mordecai following. The fey goddess did say she would meet Lilita at the Witches Brew but Mordecai she wasn't exactly sure. Maybe he doesn't want to get involved or like the fey goddess has an errand to attend to first. Drawing a deep breath Lilita pushes on alone making her way through the merchant's quarter. Once, very briefly, she thought she heard someone calling her name, but the mists and the noise of the city made it uncertain.
In fact, Lilita wasn’t wholly positive where this Witches Brew was. Odd name for an eatery or had Livvi implied it was some sort of winesink. Maybe the place was one of those gentlemen’s clubs she had heard scandalous gossip about from the women visiting Pencelot’s.
As Lilita got further along it suddenly hit her. She thought she knew where the Witches Brew was located but now, she isn't so sure thinking she must have confused it with another eatery. She had been certain that the fey goddess had referred to it as a cafe but now she was starting to worry a little that it could be something else entirely different... something unsavory. Trying her best to push such wicked thoughts out of her head, Lilita desperately tries to cling to the hope that her fey goddess would never do something like that, send to her to a disreputable establishment... would she?
As Lilita walks, the further she went, the more apprehensive she became. She was also starting to doubt both herself and her fey goddess. Still, she had made a promise, so she continues to walk along seeking out any passersby, vendors, shopkeepers and the like, asking for directions to the Witches Brew.
"Pardon me, sir, I have lost my way, I am looking for the Witches Brew cafe, the place with a green-haired girl named Nephele who works there, can you help me, please?" Moving from person to person asking, her mind continues to race as she questions herself out loud, "who has green-hair?" Thinking it to be a very odd color for hair she starts to recall reading fairie stories of green-haired nymphs and dryads that frolicked and cavorted about. "Oh, my," Lilita groans remembering the attire the fey goddess had worn the other night, like a naiad or mermaid... kin to nymphs and dryads.
“Eh, what?” snapped one tall, potbellied floob in the stained aprons of a butcher. He glanced at her as he was closing his shop.
"Oh, dear me!" Lilita gasps...
Just then a shadow flitted overhead. Looking up she saw the red-splotched crow swoop down and scramble to find a perch on a heavy beam jutting from the second floor of a closed dry good store. The bird cocked its head and stared at her.
Lilita stops in her tracks, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts! She looks timidly up at the crow trying to determine if it is the same one that Mordecai had pointed out to her back at the Whispering Mane. The crow Mordecai claimed to be a bad omen, that something nearby was dead or on its way to being dead!
Lilita…
Lilita stands in place as she gazes up at the crow intently studying it. Then she begins talking to it, asking, "are you a messenger of death, are you here for me," looking nervously about wondering if Mordecai was nearby? Wasn't the crow following him before, maybe it was still following him now? She calls out looking around at her surroundings and any people who might be nearby, "Mordecai, are you there?"
“Who you talkin’ too?” As he asked the butcher glanced up and spotted the crow. “Bloody birds, always hangin’ around. They steal, you know…you hearin’ me girl? Them birds, worse than pigeons. You can eat pigeons. Eatin’ crow, however, tis bad juju.”
A feeling of dread slowly begins to creep into Lilita's thoughts as she turns her gaze back to the crow and softly asks, "I am going to die, aren't I?"
Both the crow and the butcher cocked their heads and stared at her. His concerned that she was unstable in the head. The crow’s soulless eyes never blinked. The bird made a muttering sound, drawing a curse from the butcher.
“Bloody crow!”
Remembering an old song, Lilita begins to sing... hoping the song might somehow placate the crow and it will fly away and leave her be...to both of their amazement the crow’s head started to bob in time with her song. Wings fluttering and rustling once, opening just enough so that the red and black feathers of his under wing resembled a familiar sigil.
Lilita stares at the sigil and immediately lets out a gasp of surprise, "that looks just like the one I drew... twice! So, you are not really a crow then... but an owl?" She pauses a moment and scratches her head as if trying to make sense of it... a look of excitement building as she loudly blurts out, "A crow pretending to be an owl, or is that an owl pretending to be a crow, either way, that is something you don't see every day!"
Turning to the butcher jumping up and down excitedly unable to contain herself, "You see that! I didn't dream it, it's really real!!! Mordecai will be so surprised when I tell him that his crow not only isn't a crow, or a bad omen but an owl! What about you then my good sir, are you an owl too? Where is your mark, do you have a mark? Are there other owls? Does this mean I am an owl too?" Prattling on like a lunatic...
“Ain’t normal, either of ya,” muttered the butcher. He made some crude ward with a finger as if waving off danger and death, turned his back and hurried away, leaving them alone. The crow qorked cocked its head, then swooped down and attempts to find a perch on her shoulder.
Lilita gives him a questioning look as the fellow ignores her questions and does the ward thing with his finger. Her excitement falling flat somewhat as he starts to hurry away. Raising her arm, waving, trying to get his attention, Lilita calls out to him, "wait come back, I'm sorry, is it a secret? I can keep a secret, just ask anyone," all to no avail as he just keeps going, until at last, he is out of sight.
As the crow swoops down towards her, Lilita quickly leans her body to one side as she also tilts her head slightly, one hand lightly patting the shoulder in response. Hoping that the crow will view this as a signal that she isn't scared and that it's perfectly alright to roost there if it likes.
Once the crow steadies itself there Lilita smiles at it as she whispers and coos, "what a pretty bird," attempting to slowly and lightly pet it, kissing and nuzzling its beak. "Did you say my name before; I am not sure if you did or I just imagined it? Am I supposed to do something or go somewhere? The fey goddess Livvi told to meet her at the Witches Brew but I can't remember where it is and no one will stop long enough to give me directions or help me," she says sadly... fearing that maybe she might end up disappointing her friend.
The crow’s feather ruffled as she felt it’s small talons kneading her shoulder before settling down. A soft mutter issued from its throat, then cocking its head, the bird gave a sort caw, beak seeming to point the way.
Lilita takes note of the crow's actions, and smiles, "my... but you are indeed a clever one... thank you so much, my sweet owl," she coos and starts walking again... heading in the direction indicated. Innocently trusting this strange and mysterious creature.
The owl in disguise would mutter or caw whenever she came to an interaction. Between the bird and her ramblings other floobs she passed either gawk at them or are quick to cross to the other side of the street.
Lilita yammers on incessantly to the crow as she continues to walk along the street seemingly oblivious to those around her who might be gawking, whispering or pointing at the strange pair as they pass by. The trusting little healer remains supremely confident that the crow is her friend who has come to help her in her time of need. "You know later... after I speak to Livvi's friend I will need to be heading home to bed. I do hope you might consider coming home with me. If you like that is. I have plenty of food and I am sure that Tulip will take to you as I have, and I can also see about finding you a suitable perch or helping with a nest if you like. Think it over, you don't have to decide just yet and of course, you are always free to come and go as you please. I am not one that believes in cages or such. But then, maybe as an owl, you have other duties and obligations that keep you busy, so I will understand if that is the case. I just thought that I would be polite and extend the offer to you."
Fey. Lilita.
Lilita gives the owl-crow a surprised look, "that is you isn't it? Before you just said my name and now two words... Fey and Lilita. How are you doing that I wonder? Are you a Fey creature or are you referring to my friend Livvi, the fey goddess? She is Fey you know, maybe you wish me to introduce you to her when we arrive at the cafe? Is that it? Would you like to meet Livvi? Maybe that is it? Maybe you are looking to make a home with Livvi? If so, I will be happy to put in a good word for you. Have no fear, anything I can do to assist you, I will. Also, I can see about getting you a bite to eat once we arrive. I am sure they will have something on the menu that will suit you."
Lilita continues walking as she chatters away... keeping her eyes open for the Witches Brew, hoping that they are starting to get close to their destination but is a patient sort and is in no great hurry.
After about thirty minutes of walking and passing through a gate between quarters, the city guards on duty eyeing her with mixed reactions as she continued conversing with the owl. At one point the officer on duty, a knight in city guard colors started to beckon her over to ask some questions but he stopped when the crow’s black eye turned on him. To Lilita it sounded as if the owl was explaining to the knight why she was not worth his time. To those present, the owl merely qorked and stared briefly and the knight’s head cocked with a slightly confused look, slowly nodded and waved them on.
Lilita was about to respond to the knight beckoning her but stopped when the owl spoke to him and explained the situation so paused a moment waiting and watching the exchange then continued again on her merry way feeling somewhat relieved that she didn't have to speak to the guard as she has proven herself not very confident or competent when dealing with authority figures, gate guards or the like. As Lilita walks along she sings and strokes the clever bird's feathers wishing she had something to feed it as she was concerned that it might be hungry.
Lilita
Fey
Another fifteen minutes they crossed part of the merchant quarter, turned down a smaller side street that was lit on the corners by oil lamps casting muted light in the dark mist blanketing the city. Passing one of dozens of small townhouses lining the street the owl muttered then leapt off her shoulder to take a perch on an ivy-covered stone wall enclosing a small green space before the townhouse. As she watched he (she got the feeling it was male) walked along the top of the wall until reaching the arched over iron gate leading inside. There were no lights beyond the wall or in the upper stories of the three-story house that she could see. From what flora she could see in the dark, beyond the gate, the little garden looked ill kept and overgrown.
“Home” croaked the owl before bobbing its head.
Home.
Lilita stopped at front of the gate, outside the wall of the three-story house looking at it closely... more than little confused she whispers to the owl-crow, "this doesn't look much like a cafe to me. Not any that I have been to anyway, and there isn't even a sign for the Witches Brew. And what do you mean home? Whose home? Your home? I thought you were helping me find the Witches Cafe so I could meet the fey goddess?"
The owl masquerading as a crow bobbed its head.
Standing there looking around nervously Lilita stares up at the owl-crow where it was perched over her head on the arched iron gate. Slowly she walks closer to the ivy-covered stone wall, running her fingers over the ivy to determine if the plant's overall health and if it was living, dead or dying. Still not making a move to go beyond the gate just yet... she squints her eyes and leans forward against the iron bars of the gate trying to get a better view of the little garden on the other side that to her looked ill kept and overgrown. Then she slowly opens the gate, hesitates for a moment, then proceeds cautiously inside. Once inside she moves directly to the garden. There Lilita kneels to run her fingers over the plants to determine their condition and health, etc. as she did before with the ivy. While doing this she glances back and asks the owl-crow, "it doesn't look like anyone is home and why is the garden in such a deplorable state? Maybe we should go back and keep looking for the Witches Brew and I can see your home tomorrow during the day. Is that alright? I really promised my friend that I would meet her, and I don't want to be late or disappoint her."
The loam beneath her fingers smells healthy, and the various flora she examines does too, just that they hadn’t been tended too in many, many years. The grass was waist high and many flowering plants bare of flowers due to the overcrowding conditions. Nothing some serious care wouldn’t fix. Overhead the owl-crow croaked and walked slowly along the wall then glided over to perch above the ancient looking front door. There he was joined by a second, than a third owl-crow, each displaying similar markings and gazing at her intently. Expectantly.
Lilita sniffs the fistful of cool damp soil she holds in her hand feeling something awaken deep inside her that she cannot describe, a sense of deja vu coupled with a strong ache of loss and deep longing. Tears slowly begin to flow from her eyes and run down her cheeks as she experiences both incredible happiness and unbelievable sadness causing her heart to yearn for something or someone she has never known. Through her tear stained eyes, Lilita looks up at the owl-crow, watching silently as others join its ranks, all gazing down at her as she, in turn, gazes up at them.
After several long minutes, Lilita manages to at last struggle to her feet and stand up. Her head slowly turns and looks back and forth as all thoughts of her promise to meet the fey goddess vanish from her mind, replaced with a compulsion, a desperate need to look inside the house that fate and an owl-crow has brought her to.
Taking in a deep breath Lilita begins to walk from the garden up to the front of the house where she pauses for a moment, staring intently at the double-doors.
Cobwebs crisscross the doorway suggesting that no one had opened it in some time. There is a pile of dead leaves blown up against the door jam and half covering the short set of stone steps leading up to a set of double doors. Centered in the middle of each door is a knocker shaped like a perched owl.
Lilita reaches out and slowly runs her hands over both owl-shaped door knockers caressing them as they remind her of the sigil she had drawn, been drawing. Her eyes still misty with tears overwrought with emotion Lilita attempts to open the doors to see what awaits her inside. Pausing briefly to look back at the owl-crows for a moment before proceeding.
Door
The ornate handles felt cool to the touch. Her light push is rewarded, the doors open inwards on softly protesting hinges. Darkness lay beyond. Darkness that was broken by a lone ray of moonlight making its way through the thick fog and dirty window to splash across a huge, colorful painting hanging on a wall just beyond the foyer. What little she could see of the painting showed silver blonde hair.
Seeing the image of a silver-haired woman Lilita walks inside, passing through the doorway moving forward until she stands just in front of the painting itself. Reaching up, wanting to touch it, Lilita's legs suddenly buckle and she drops to her knees and starts to weep, a flood of tears. Her soul aches inside her as her body trembles. A wave of the emotion courses through her as images flash before her of all the moments that could have been but were not. Never to be. A single dream that both had long been denied, all lost in time, like tears in the rain...
Leaving the Eight Star behind, Boo flits her way across the city to the Sage’s Quarter where her Arcana Tutor, Oberyn Khatri maintains his residence. As towers went, the green spire was about average in height and size. Nothing compared to some of those owned by the cities archmages.
Boo circles around the residence once before circling again slowly descending before finally coming to a landing outside the gatehouse at the main entrance of the estate along the street. There she announces herself to the guards seeking permission to enter asking, "is Master Khatri at home and available to receive visitors?" She then patiently waits to either be turned away asked to return another time and day or escorted to the main house for an audience.
The servant recognized her immediately and opens the door fully while bowing deeper. “Lady Belfrye, yes, please come in. Make yourself comfortable in the parlor while I run and inform the master of your arrival.”
Boo smiles at the servant, "no need to rush my dear, I am in no hurry. Take your time, as you well know, I so delight in looking about" she says politely as her watchful gaze moves over the contents of the hallway for anything new since her last visit adding. "If Master Khatri is busy or otherwise engaged, I can always return another time for my lesson."
Master Khatri had long fascinated Boo since she was just a small child, many years before she became a student. As an avid collector, he was always acquiring this or that. Displaying newly acquired items throughout his residence. Paintings, tapestries, strange and wondrous little trinkets, bric-a-brac and nicknacks. Everything and anything it seemed. Collected items that manage to find their way inside his home instead of being sold in the bazaar are always intriguing in one fashion or another. Each with its own unique history, its own story to tell. While most of his pieces are relatively mundane, some of the rarer pieces are deliciously mysterious. From clock-work mechanical toys and objects to magical arcane creations designed to delight, amuse, and astound!
Familiar with the place Boo easily found the parlor nearby. A room for greeting visitors and for holding casual social encounters in most residences, in Master Khatri’s it looked more like a museum with seating. Glassed cabinetry held exotic and often indescribable items from around the world, and if the servants were to be believed, from places beyond, past, and the future. Like throughout the townhouse and attached tower, lighting came in the form of softly glowing spheres the size of her small fist. Some mounted-on scones on the walls, others in elaborate lamps on tables.
Deep in thought, fond childhood memories bubbling up Boo enters the parlor. This has always been her favorite area, the room where the best pieces were kept on display, save perhaps for the master’s private study, the fabled sanctum sanctorum which very few visitors are ever invited to enter. Boo herself has only been permitted inside once, and that was a long time ago when she was still very young, hand in hand with her mother so sadly Boo does not remember much about it, except one very specific piece that caught a child's eye, the horn of a unicorn which she will never forget as long as she lives. To this day, every time she visits, she always thinks about it and wonders after all these years, if it is still there.
It was a lingering itch, that unicorn horn. Often at odd times, especially when she was utterly bored or felt a bit melancholy the itch to find that horn, to hold it, to examine it closely came over her, tormenting her somewhat chaotic nature.
But there are also whispers and rumors of a secret vault said to be hidden in some unknown part of the estate where evil, dangerous and deadly things, and objects are locked away. The Master himself has never mentioned it to her or in her presence, nor has Boo ever had the courage to ask about it. Some things are better left unknown and unsaid.
She imagined what strange and dangerous things that might lie in such a vault. Such curiosity caused its own itch as well. Because of her interaction with her arcane teacher, Boo couldn’t help but wonder what sort of secrets and or treasures other arcane masters kept hidden away whenever she met one at some social function.
Boo leisurely wanders around the parlor, her eyes slowly moving over the collected pieces on display, letting out a child-like gasp whenever she comes across something new or that she had not noticed before which given the size and scope of his ever changing, ever expanding collection is very easy to do. Boo herself has never been what one would call a very good or dedicated student, but besides honoring her promise to her mother the master’s collection always keeps her coming back again and again. Those two things being the primary reasons that Boo has kept up her lessons over the years. Many of her friends and acquaintances are green with envy of her as so few visitors are ever invited inside. Just being allowed inside this magnificent residence, in itself is considered by many residents of the city to be a great privilege and honor.
A new addition catches her eye. High above in the center of the parlor ceiling rotates a fan of lacquered wood fins and exotic blue and green feathers half the size of her wings. Moving just fast enough to circulate the air, the fan was being powered by a slender silver chain linked to a silver lined, lacquered wooden box a foot square mounted on the ceiling. After a moment of study Boo noted a hexagonal shaped slot in the middle of the box where, possibly, a long-handled key could be inserted to wind the device.
Boo stares up at the marvelous device with a wide child-like smile, taking it all in concluding that it must be some sort of mechanical clockwork mechanism of some sort by the look of it, but she could not be totally sure since that was not really her thing. Still, Boo has long had a fascination for such wonders to have at least developed a rudimentary understanding of the basic principles involved over the years. This device she thought is not only inspired but very practical thinking one of those would be ideal hanging over her bed! Just the thing for those long hot summer nights. But then what would she do with the grand mirror she had affixed to the ceiling over her bed a few months back. Her own rather inspired idea that had proven itself to be most entertaining since its installation proving her guardian wrong when he had complained that such a silly idea would only prove itself to be a waste of good gold.
“Nothing so remote, I assure you, Boo,” said the voice of her master as he entered the parlor. “I’ve heard of a fellow in the city specializing in some fairly exotic technology, so I paid his shop a visit.”
Boo quickly turns about, "Master Khatri," she flashes a friendly excited smile in his direction as she gives him a rushed but polite curtsy, "not a gnome by any chance? I just recently heard about a gnome inventor and saw a marvelous tube device that enabled communications at a distance between separate rooms. And this, wind-fan of yours, that I have just been admiring. I was thinking that it might possibly be his handiwork as well. But I fear I never got his name, only that he had opened a shop somewhere in the city, so it is not at all surprising that you got there first!"
A flicker of surprise lit up the wizard’s eye. “Yes, in fact. The Gnome in question is a very curious fellow, in and of himself. He is from a place called Kyrinn, a world not far from this one, as the multiverse goes. Tinker Gnomes are known for crafting some very clever technology. Sometimes deadly, as deadly to themselves as to everyone around them.” There had been a few late nights where Boo had lounged, listing to Master Khatri explain the complex cosmology of the universe. Planes of existence, worlds floating like rare gems in a sea of nothing filling something called the prime material plane.
Khatri’s knowing eyes came to rest on hers. “Are you here for another lesson or just to pass some time?”
Boo meets her tutor's questioning gaze, "a little of both, you might say," she replies with a playful seductive smile, "after all you have always enthralled and fascinated me since I was a young girl who used sit on your lap," she adds with a wistful look as she seats herself on the bench as close as she is able beside him.
“The quest for knowledge is always worthy,” he says, gently patting Boo’s thigh. “The mysteries are worth trying to understand, as is learning that there is a vast cosmos around us, even sharing the same space or within us.”
"I do recall previous lessons in which you merely spoke in general terms of the existence of the multiverse itself and its structure. But this is the first time that I can recall that you have spoken of someone actually traveling between worlds. I had no idea that such was even possible or that the Gnome was such a traveler. How did he come to be here; I wonder? Have you yourself traveled to other worlds? Such would explain some of the more intriguing and mysterious pieces you have acquired over the years? I had assumed all of it was of this world, brought into the city by the various traveling caravans in your employ. But now I wonder if perhaps some of your caravans move between worlds?" Boo stares at him awestruck at the very idea of such a thing, wondering what the Wizard Sage was truly capable of and the true extent of the vast treasure of knowledge at his command.
“Yes, to all your questions my dear.” Khatri’s hand lifts from her thigh and with a slight gesture and a murmured incantation a sphere of unknown materials rose from its case as if held by an invisible hand, drifts over to hover an arm’s length from them. “Just as your liniage can be traced back the blood of Asmodeus and the Nine Hells, many others have such divergent beginnings. Most mages of worth possess spells that allow for planer travel or to open gates between them. Other spells can effect time and space. Still more find otherworldly arcane to traverse the cosmos. “
Moving his hand slowly across the top of the sphere as if stroking it without touching, Khatri coaxes it with another, more complex incantation. Some words Boo recalls from the lesser spells that her master had taught her, others were fully alien for now. He continues muttering and coaxing for nearly five minutes before images began to form and swirl around within. She saw a Gnome bent over a workbench filled with clockworks: Another creature, half man, half squirrel pulling a concealing cloak over his face: A tall half-orc and slender half-elf rushing down a narrow alley: A terrified crew of a sailing ship battling some massive deep water beast: Another ship, one seemingly flying through the air, surrounded by clouds: an image of roiling fires and angry looking devils suddenly swarming around, as if aware they were being spied upon.
Boo watched with fascination as images swirled about in front of her moving more quickly than she was able to keep up with. Shifting like patterns produced by a kaleidoscope, forming and twisting, reforming then shifting from one scene to the next. Apparently, each representing a different world, a different universe, one after the other, though she could not be certain one or more were not just scenes of her own world or a mirror or variation of it. The last two locations, however, were very different and caught her eye immediately! The first captured her imagination as she found herself transfixed by the sight of a majestic flying ship surrounded by clouds. The image shattering like glass to abruptly reform becoming a hellish realm of rolling fire inhabited by angry devils. Those two at least Boo could be confident could only exist in another universe, other than her own!
As the last image faded Boo turned to her teacher, looking at him in stunned amazement, impressed to such an extent she found herself lusting and craving him, to be close to him. Her very being to the core tingled, the rapture she felt was akin to experiencing a little death. Just to be near a being of such raw power, such knowledge. His demonstration excited her beyond words. Boo being one especially attracted to power, intoxicated by it, drawn to it. Like a moth to a flame.
“Some are in the now, some were yesterday or many yesterdays before, others may be tomorrow, the visions can be conflicting and often confusing. Only through lengthy study can we divine that which we seek from that with the cosmos would show us.”
Listening to his words as he elaborates Boo is able to at least grasp the basic concepts involved, understanding his meaning, "so time, as well as dimensional space, is pierced? Are you able to control and select which one? Choose at your whim, yesterday or tomorrow in which to view or travel to? How to differentiate between endless worlds, endless variations of the same world that comprise the multiverse? So, when you visit another universe, how do find your way back to the correct home universe, world and time you left behind? It all seems rather daunting and more than a little frightening!"
Khatri seems to caress the sphere again, sending it to sleep. “Yes, that is part of the lesson. Once we divine that the cosmos is like a complex sea, that it can be entered, traversed, that it has depths and currents, even tempests and deadly calms, that it can be navigated. Some floobs, some of the most powerful wizards, barely manage to tap into the unlimited source pool of the multiverse. It is the basis of some of the most powerful of spells, the source of power of so many artifacts, as well as the ultimate challenges of mind and body.”
Slowly Boo reaches out to her tutor, placing her hand lightly on his arm, as what she witnessed begins to truly sink in, "such knowledge is the ultimate expression of power but a dangerous one I would imagine. No doubt many covet such power, so why reveal your secret to me? That you are capable of bending time and space to your will. I would think mages of such power would prefer to keep such knowledge to themselves. If I have, I learned anything from you is that magic always comes at a cost and magic breeds rivalry."
“Because to understand such power one must be tested, teased by it, even corrupted by it, if that is one’s fate.” He turns slightly to meet Boo’s gaze, one hand lifting to brush against her arm until his hand clasps hers. “It is how it begins, Boosandie. The cost is great, I cannot deny that, for such knowledge can consume you, claim everything you have to offer and more. But, to see sights that few others know. To sail distant seas and cavort with exotic beings from the myths and mythologies of a thousand cultures, such delights. Of course, for some, access to such powers often are the end of them for they seek power for the sake of more power. It can be a trap.”
Boo slowly nods taking in and hanging on his every word, "I see and understand your meaning. There is no doubt that you are the greatest of masters, the best this city has to offer which makes it all the more a pity that I am not the most adept of apprentices. I realize that sometimes I can try even your endless patience, but I so do appreciate your attention, your time and effort," she says sweetly as she gives his hand clasping her own a playful squeeze and a slight tug.
"So then, when are you going to permit me to accompany you on one of these grand interdimensional jaunts? I may not be the most diligent of apprentices, but I am a most attentive and pleasing of traveling companions, able to guarantee that in my company you will never be bored. How about a spot with better weather, say a tropical beach along one of those distant seas or someplace more advanced in the arcane arts, you know, with excellent shopping? I can have my bags packed at a moment's notice! Just say the word." She adds, flashing him a hopeful smile curling up closer beside him.
Khatri chuckles and winks. “Eventually, I think that would be a good idea. Of course, there’s still much to learn. Costs to pay. But then, you always seem ready and willing to pay your way, in some fashion or another.”
Boo gives her mentor a coy little smile, "am I? Whatever gave you that idea? Maybe I am just the sort of girl that naturally enjoys having a good time! As I mentioned, I am an excellent traveling companion who has learned to please and rarely if ever disappoints. Must be my infernal heritage. No doubt I would have made some lucky mage a great familiar."
“One of the lessons we learn is that for reasons unknown to even the greatest of sages, Tarantis seems to be a hub or waypoint for both planer and dimensional travel. Because of this, we must be ever vigilant. There are some things, some terrors, that would consume this world. So, we learn spells and arcane knowledge that helps to warn us of beings not of this world; this time; or this plane. We study so that we know how to confront them, how to send them back to wherever and whenever it was, they come from.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I am sorry, Boosandie, I tend to become rather fervent about this topic. Here, let us retire to my study and I will show you some methods for boosting your stamina.”
Boo giggles, "no apologies necessary, I enjoy men, especially mages who are passionate about their work. Usually, it is a good indicator they need someone like me to help them relax a bit, you know all work and no play, as they say." She gracefully stands up, "your study? Sounds more like another lesson, but I have plenty of time," once again taking his hand she eagerly follows his lead.
It was midday, local time and the streets were busy without being crowded. They appeared moderately clean, but Khatri had assured him that wasn’t the case in other parts of the city. Since the sage quarter housed the royal university and several private centers of learning, such as the Citadel of Knowledge, it was cleaner and safer. The air was heavy with the smell of the nearby bay and the sea beyond. Occasionally sea birds flew overhead, intermixing with other local fauna. Flying lizards and flying cats in addition to the many avians’ native to this world.
Before he took the time to rent a room, Arphaxad decided he needed local currency to avoid snafus. Staff in hand, hood up to mask his inhuman visage as much as possible, the Hybrid set forth to make the exchange.
Following the directions that Khatri had given him Arphaxad approached the gate leading out of the Sage Quarter and into the adjacent Merchant’s Quarter. Several guards in black and yellow surcoats stood or lounged nearby, watching those passing through. One gazes keenly at him but didn’t make a move to question or restrain his passage. That might change after dark, though. The gatehouse itself was large with several stories and protected by portcullises (withdrawn into the ceiling) and heavy, iron bound gates. Above closed trapdoors marked murder holes where the defenders could rain any number of nasty gifts down on those below. The stones themselves showed occasional repairs and varying ages, both in coloration, materials, and style of surfacing. The arch sage had said that the city was very old, and it wasn’t hard to believe it to be true.
It was possible that this city even predated Ravnicas 10 millennia, but it was unlikely. However, as most of the world city had been renovated or rebuilt several times in the last few thousand years, the structure might have been older than anything still in use. Even one as uninterested in history as Arphaxad was somewhat awed by the weight of years it carried.
Half a block past the gate, located between an open fronted shop selling fruits and vegetables and a shop selling footwear (if the oversized boot hanging above the entrance was any indication) he found the money changer that Khatri had recommended. A set of metal scales hung above the heavily bound door.
The door looked secure, heavy, but when he grasped the handle it swung open on well-oiled hinges. It was obviously well balanced. Apparently, money exchange was a lucrative business.
Inside the shop lobby was small. Perhaps large enough for three normal human sized floobs, probably intended as a security measure. A simple desk with stools on either side, behind which lie another heavily bound door, this one with a pass-through hatch. A single narrow window set above the door provided light. On the table lie a well-made set of scales and a small brass bell. Ringing the bell summoned an elderly man wearing spectacles.
He closes the inner door behind him than started at the hooded figure summoning. “Oh, my…”
On the brief walk over, Arphaxad hadn’t seen any floob that came close to being as unusual as he was. Humans, elves, dwarves... but he hadn’t even seen any vedalkin. He was strange to look at. Eyes a moon-like yellow. Nose a pair of vertical nostrils without any bridge. Skin slightly damp and a blue so pale it was almost white. His figure subtly misshapen beneath the loose robes, and the fingers around the staff were too perfectly curled to have the proper number of bones within. He couldn’t blame the man for staring.
“Excuse me sir... the ArchSage Khatri said that I could exchange my coins for local currency here...”
“Eh, he did, did he? He would,” the old man mutters, still staring openly at Arphaxad’s face, then his hands. “Khatri is always good for business; I’ll grant him that. Sit, if you are willing, and we’ll be on with business. Please tell me it’s precious metals or gems that your wanting to exchange and not colorful paper, wooden beads, or fish heads…at least I was able to make a stew out of the fish heads, but I had to visit the Arch Sage over the paper. Least he was interested enough to buy them back, at a loss, I might add. Are you a Sir or Ma’am, or do I need to explain the difference?”
The cautious manner of speaking brought amusement to the Hybrid. He was not a self-conscious individual, even though he knew he had not been aesthetically pleasing to the eyes even before his transformation. Now his face looked very much like what he imagined those fish heads might have.
“I hope that gold is a valuable mineral here. I brought 10 coins with me... as for gender, I am a sir, thank you.”
The old man’s smile might have been a response to Arphaxad’s words or for the gold rated coins that the traveler sat down on the table before him. Taking one coin and slipping it onto his scale, the old man made a few adjustments. He picked up a second and studied it for a bit, nodding slowly.
“I have heard of this style, though it is my first time holding one,” he said after a moment. Glancing at the scale he adds, “About double the weight of our own Crowns, which isn’t uncommon. The value is not just in the precious metal content. You see, Tarantis is the trade center of the world and there are many collectors out there. Some will pay more than face and weight value for exotic coins. I can give you a fair rate, and your welcome to try one of my competitors if you wish. Allowing me to profit, let’s say one point seven five percent. (10 coins for 17.5 local coins)
It was a pleasant surprise to learn that he was going to get a slight monetary increase... then the realization that he had no idea what the cost of things here were set in. If things were twice as expensive here, he was operating at an overall loss... Still, It wasn’t as if he had many options. “I think we can make a deal.”
“I can give you your coins in a mixture of copper, silver, and gold crowns if you wish, or I can do so in gemstones if you prefer.”
“I believe that a mix of local coinage would be wisest. Strangers showing large volumes of currency are often viewed as targets.”
“Wise choice, sir, wise choice.” As the old man made the exchange, taking care to keep everything separated but clearly displayed on the tabletop until the transaction was completed.
The whole process had only taken a few minutes since arriving in the man’s small office. As Arphaxad returns to the street he’s reminded of what the money exchanger had said about the city being a center of trade. From the commentary of the Archsage, it was clear that Tarantis was not unfamiliar with even wider regions of trade. The old man hadn’t balked at his appearance and once business was engaged, seemed to ignore his possible origins altogether. Of course, Khatri had directed him to the old man, and from how the old man’s responses to that had been, suggests that the two have had business dealings on a regular basis. If the Archsage was dabbling in planer trade, as he had implied, then perhaps more of that was going on within Tarantis.
Planeswalking wasn’t unheard of for Ravnicans, as their living Guildpact, Jace, had arrived from a different plane, but it also wasn’t something everyone was doing. If he had found a method to travel to and from the two worlds, becoming a planar merchant was an option. Of course, it wasn’t a life that greatly appealed to him, but it might fund significant research projects. He’d have to keep his eyes open for anything he could put to use, or possibly buy here for sale at a profit once he returned.
Pockets now carrying a little more currency than before, with his valuable gold in a pouch under his waistband, he headed back to find a room for the next few nights.
Walking back to the inn that Khatri had recommended Arphaxad took some time to see the sights. The Archsage had mentioned that they were within a quarter of the city earmarked for ‘sages’, which could mean just that, or in a broader view, the quarter could be the home of the cities inteligenica <spelling>. There could be a university and colleges of various sorts. Libraries and other centers of learning. If the city was as large as he was being told, the quarter could hold all of that and more. There would be opportunities to learn and explore. There might even be opportunities to earn some coin from those eager to know more about his own world.
There was much he could teach about his world. Ravnica was ancient and almost wholly cultivated. Only small pockets of wilderness remained, carefully protected by his own guild and a couple of lesser segments, practically animals themselves. Even the seas were home to sections of the City.
Arphaxad didn’t pretend that he wasn’t able to learn something from this city, however. One either learned or died. The libraries that might be tucked here and there were an eventual target, but he needed a base of operations first. He needed a room.
"If we meet Razgui, I'm not sure the magic I have left will work as well as it seemed to do against the Hamster. I used up a lot of my energy attacking him...still, we have to at least try and find the girl. Nice blade work, by the way. Good to know you can handle your pole so well."
"Thanks, but all I really do is make sure the sharp end is on the end closest to whatever I'm fighting," replies Mordecai. "Don't sell yourself short - any magic, even if it's not a lot, is more effective than my glaive."
"Regardless," continues Mordecai, "we have a task to see through. Let's get to it."
Retracing the path once more Livvi and Mordecai pass by the butcher’s shop and the entrance to the alley and had only gone a few strides when a low qork comes from the sign above the butcher’s shop behind them. A large, black crow perch there, his soulless eye turned their way. The bird rustles it’s wings slightly, enough to reveal the red coloring beneath.
Mordecai points the crow out to Livvi, "Seems I've been seeing a lot more of those lately, and when I do... I typically find something dead soon thereafter."
The sound of heavy wheels moving slowly over the street’s cobblestones precedes a large, ornate black coach drawn by four matching black horses. One either side glowing lanterns were mounted beside the doors and just behind the driver sitting on top. Trotting easily alongside are two huge Minotaur’s dressed in black leather armor and packing a variety of weapons. A single floob sits high on the driver’s bench. As the coach draws alongside the shadowy figure is revealed to be a short haired woman wearing well used leathers and knee-high leather boots. She smirks, turns her head and spit’s a bit of tobacco juice, than cocks her head. “Oye, The Widow wan’s a word with you two.”
Mordecai sighs under his breath, "Perhaps we're the dead ones."
He straightens up a bit and replies, "I don't suppose this could wait until tomorrow could it? We're in the middle of something."
“It might, but’n The Widow says ta tell you tha’ if’n your lookin’ for your little friend, she may have some information ‘bout her whereabouts tha’ might save youse some time.”
Livvi looks to Mordecai and shrugs. "Looks like we're going for a ride." She had spent several years in one of the underground guilds and had heard of The Widow and her crows. One of the true Lords of the Dark, when The Widow commanded something, it was done. Always. Or else the offender was fed to the crows and someone else found to accomplish the task. Livvi had no desire to be bird food tonight...
The bard climbs deftly into the huge carriage, commenting as she does, "Do you have anything to drink in there? The last carriage I rode in had liquid refreshment and silk-covered cushions." From her seat above the woman in dark leathers laughed.
Just about to take a seat Livvi watched the opposite door open but instead of revealing the side of the street she had just left it revealed warm yellow lights, the sound of someone playing a pleasant melody that she recognized as popular from a few decades ago: “The yellow rose for you,” it was called. Standing a stride inside what was obviously a well-appointed foyer stands a tall, slender woman with dark skin and long, silken hair. Not The Widow by every rumor she had heard. Probably a servant of some sort and, as if in answer to her query of a moment ago, the woman held a lacquered wooden tray holding several crystal goblets.
Seeing the obviously magical portal on the carriage open onto a scene from one of her stories, and the woman holding the tray with the crystal goblets, Livvi let out a pleasant laugh. It was rich and innocent, full of wonder and pleasant surprise, musical and magical of its own accord. The half-elf climbs easily out into the room, graciously accepts a drink, and turns expectantly back towards the carriage. "Come on, Mord! They actually DO have refreshments! Plus, it's bigger on the inside..."
“Please, come in,” the servant says with a smile. “We should wait for your stalwart friend before proceeding.”
As she waits for the half-orc to come through, she looks around the room they are currently in, humming absent-mindedly with the tune, adding a counter harmony that blended perfectly with the tune but added a hint of sadness and longing. As Livvi surveyed the foyer, she also studied the woman without outright staring at her. With that dark skin, was she a human from the desert regions whose skin had adapted to the burning sun, or perhaps a drow elf from the vast Underdark, also adapted for the habitat but for different reasons. Either way, Livvi held her tongue, opting to reserve questions or conversations until her new partner was there.
“Please, enjoy,” the woman says as she offers the tray. There was a faint aroma of spices and grape. The contents sparkled but looked as clear as water within the goblet. The goblets’ themselves were crystal, probably the finest she’s ever seen outside works of art. From the inside of the carriage behind her she heard a resigned grunt as the Half-Orc climbed inside, his weight causing the carriage to tilt slightly, the motion did not translate itself to the foyer. Three strides (15’) away a pair of ornately carved doors sit open, displaying another room, one holding a staircase as well as a hallway moving deeper into the magical space. It wasn’t much of a stretch of her imagination to envision a tall townhouse or even a country estate. In any case, it was magic of the highest order. A moment later the dark beauty looks towards the entrance with a warm, well-practiced smile.
“You must be Mord, please, come in and welcome. My mistress, a great Lady of Tarantis, begs forgiveness for seeking you out in this manner but time grows short and a great many things are afoot within our beloved city.”
Mordecai offers a polite gesture of refusal towards the drinks, saying, "Not while I'm on the job."
"Yes, the name's Mordecai - although I find it worrisome that my name seems so well known," the Half-Orc replies. "And yes, I do agree, there seems to be a great many number of ... plots.... propagating through the city."
"What did I tell you?! It's definitely bigger on the inside!" Livvi says as she sips the drink. Although it was only a tiny sip, she feels the warmth of the alcohol blended with the sweetness of the spices in her mouth and down her throat. Luckily, she was anticipating the potency and had refrained from taking a regular sip - otherwise it would surely have burned and maybe even made her cough. Now that she had tempered her system, though, the bard was able to handle a larger amount of the sweet liquid, fully savoring the complexity of the flavors. She was not a connoisseur by any stretch, but the girl had sampled many fine wines and liquors - this was far and above anything she had sampled before. The perfect blending must have taken many years to achieve this unique flavor - which undoubtedly meant it was extremely rare and ridiculously expensive.
"Uh huh... Next, I suppose you'll say there's something timey wimey about it, too..." Mordecai retorts. Then under his breath, with his eyes rolling slightly, "All this magicis about..."
"Well, let's not keep your Lady waiting any longer. Things to do and people to find, you know..." she was relaxing more and more - perhaps it was the setting. Perhaps it was the brandy...
"Finding people is in my literal job description, yet this young woman has proven harder to keep tabs on than the red queen in three card ante," Mordecai responds. "Hopefully, our host points us in the right direction."
“Yes, please, this way.” As the dark-skinned woman turns and leads them from the strange foyer the door closes quietly behind them. From this side, it looked like any other front door one might find in a wealthy house.
The woman was met by another, slender, blonde with waist long braids and dressed in a form fitting skirt and puffy sleeved blouse who takes the tray without a word. As she turned a red-headed Halfling fem strolls out of another door, turns to look at them curiously. While dressed in quality clothing this one had the attentive air and grace of one who might be equally comfortable in thieves’ leathers.
Following their guide deeper into the house it was clear that The Widow was a person of many tastes and qualities. Ancient and modern art decorates the walls or spaces, interposed with planters of exotic plants and greenery. Turning a corner and descending a set of wide, curving stairs, they pass a pair of imposing Minotaur’s standing guard. Both Bullmen eye Livvi speculatively, rather weighing her as a potential threat of a potential bedmate was hard to say. Their eyes flick towards Mordecai, clearly weighing the threat he might present with a respect that wouldn’t have been noticed in someone less trained than Livvi was in reading body language.
Livvi files this fact away in her mind. She had seen the half-orc in battle only an hour ago, so she knew he was capable. But the subtle tensing of the minotaur’s' muscles and narrowing of their eyes as they evaluated Mordecai was another thing altogether. She was going to have to keep this one close - he would be a valuable ally and a fearsome adversary. She looked down at her plain dress and smirked - appearances were a tool to deceive others and achieve an advantage, which she clearly had. The bullmen discounted her at their peril.
Mordecai comments off handily, "I've me tusks and you your horns... Let's call it a draw for now, eh gents?" Mordecai presses forward with purpose but doesn’t do so in a way that would be disrespectful to the proud minotaur’s.
The one on the left nearly smiles, the other gives a slight nod. Fellow professionals. Coming to an open door the dark-skinned woman turns and gives a slight curtsey and indicating with her hands that they should proceed without her. Beyond the door lies a large solar, well appointed with only the best and managing to do so without seeming snobbish. Standing beside a miniature tree is a woman with a timeless beauty. She was neither young nor old, nor was she exotically beautiful. There was a plain beauty, one so natural seeming that it immediately trips Livvi’s alarms. If this Lady, this Widow, was a Bard, she would be a mistress of the highest laureate.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” The Widow says with a warm smile and grave eyes. “I apologize if I am taking your valuable time.”
Nodding her head and bowing slightly, Livvi folded the fingers on her left hand in the unique pattern she had learned during her years associated with the underworld circles, a sign of respect but not subservience. A bold statement to The Widow that Livvi was not to be intimidated or easily awed by the display of wealth and power. It was not so bold to intimate she may be an equal to the woman, and certainly Livvi would not dare to give the signs of a superior standing. No - this was a calculated risk backed by her sheer attitude and her tight friendship with Bilina.
"No disrespect, ma'am, but I think we'd all feel better if we were honest with each other on who we are. We've seen, too many... oddities... and would prefer if we were all just open about who and what we are," Mordecai responds.
"It is no waste of our time to honor your invitation, m'lady. On the contrary, we are eager to hear what you would offer. And my compliments on the brandy - truly exquisite! Like everything else in your abode - rare and of exceeding value. Although you already know, decorum dictates an introduction. I am Livvi, daughter of his honor Lord Richard Rahl, former apprentice to Garyx Stonegate, and member of the Lion's Pride." She then motions to Mord and looks him in the eye to give him a signal to be polite...
If The Widow was offended by his direct ways she showed no signs. Turning she gestures towards some nearby plush chairs. “Please, be comfortable if you will. To sooth your concerns about your Healer friend I can assure you she’s safe for the moment. Though, to be honest, she has been dancing with a terrible fate and with powers she is only beginning to comprehend. I feared for her life but the pair of you, singly and together, have managed to save her despite her own actions.”
"Well, I can't speak for the times she was with Livvi, but as far as I saw, she was able to take care of herself plenty - I offered only moral support... and a target for her enemies," responds Mordecai.
"With that said, may I ask, if you don't mind, what is your interest in her? Sure, she seems to have magic plenty, but that doesn't make her necessarily unique. Sure, it could just be that your using her as a conduit to get to these vampires, but I suspect there's more," the Half-Orc continues.
Livvi glares at the big oaf of a half-ork and silently mouths, "I said be nice!" But she makes no move toward or away from him, standing still and carefully observing the Widow to gauge her reactions. When she doesn't stab him in the face or spew a string of magic-laced insults, the bard breathes a sigh of relief and continues to quietly observe the interplay.
Crossing to a large backed padded chair flanked by a pair of well sculpted flowering plants The Widow sits gracefully, smoothing the thin material of her dress to remove any wrinkles. “Lilita is trying to uncover her past and while I would gladly assist some quests must be conducted on one’s own and in the manner which one can cope with. There is a tragedy in her past, when she was a mere toddler and too young to remember.”
"Right - well, what's in her past that's so important? I've heard of you, ma'am, and I know two things: first, don't cross you, secondly, you do things for a gain - so, and I don't need details, but generally, why are you so interested in Lilita?" Mordecai frankly asks.
The Widow studies Mordecai with cool eyes and slightly pursed lips. “My interest is…complicated,” the woman gives a sardonic sigh. “Some of it is personal, and of a nature I am not inclined to share, at least, not at this time. But you are not wrong, Bounty Hunter. She is peripherally tied into this resurgence, if you will. As you both probably suspect, there has been an infestation of Vampires within this city for a long, long time. It ebbs and flows like the tide of the great bay, of course and there have been various groups, lone vampire hunters, and organizations over the centuries. Some more successful than the others. So, to the rumors that say I do things for mere gain, there is truth in that, and falsehoods…after all, some gains cannot be weighted or measured in material things.”
"Fair enough," responds Mordecai. "You have an obviously successful organization so I'm not one to comment and what not. Just questioning as a matter of good business practice. As you noted, I'm a bounty hunter and I get the feeling my services, one way or another, are going to be used. I tend to want to know more rather than less of a task I'm about to get conscripted to do."
"Yes, we have been witness to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
"So," Mordecai continues, "what's the next step?"
The Widow glances from Mordecai to Livvi and back. “It’s more than a resurgence I am afraid. From my observations and those of my associates we’ve concluded that the dark powers are pushing for a more dominate form of control.” Looking at Mordecai she says, “You have touched on part of the larger conspiracy, inadvertently aided it some as well. The assassination conspiracy is aimed at one of Altar the Lion’s senior advisers. I believe that the replacement will be one of the undead. If that occurs, then they will be in a position to infect the monarchy directly at worst; influencing it at best.”
After listening to The Widow's answers, and gauging how much more she could push, Livvi plunges on with her interrogation. "What do you know of Lord Rakia Rezgui from the Karzulun, the vampire who Lilita seems so attached to. Almost like a father-figure the way she spoke of him...and what of the Black Rose? Is Lord Basha Maigrinstaff a vampire, too? Evidence I have uncovered points to this. And finally, excuse my boldness, but what do you request of us this night? For as lovely as it is to be here in your home, I am certain that we are not here for a social visit alone. What is the task, the price, and your interest? Are you so altruistic that you with to protect the common folk of the city, or are the vampires bad for business?"
A slight frown came to The Widow’s pert lips. “I know too much, it seems,” the timeless woman said with a sigh. “It’s a complicated tale but I shall endeavor to keep it brief and pertinent. The vampire menace has been a problem for Tarantis since it’s earlies days, but this has come and gone. Half a century ago there was a coalition if you will, of like-minded individuals and groups that conspired to drive the vampires from the city. It was successful, more or less, at least until about two decades ago when Lord Rezgui and Lord Maigrinstaff staged an expedition to a certain hitherto hidden island in the south sea where the mortal remains of several vampire lords had been disposed of. Powerful magics had been employed to bind the remains to the ancient temple that was to be their tomb for eternity. When Rakia came to me intending to garner my support in the endeavor I heavily advised against the expedition, though, at the time, I had withheld the knowledge of what I knew to be buried there, much to my regret.
“I also failed to give good counsel. Rakia’s family line; my family line, as well as Lord Maigrinstaff’s bloodline, and a fair amount of other ancient noble lines within the city it is sad to announce, have connections to the inflicted. Basha – Lord Maigrinstaff is five hundred years old, give or take a decade.” She gives Livvi a confirming nod. “He is a very powerful creature, powerful enough to mask his true self to the majority. Unbeknownst to Rakia, the Rezgui bloodline is ancient and it was one of the Rezgui’s remains that had been interned into the island temple. I believe that Lord Maigrinstaff’s intent was to lure Rakia to the island, bring him into contact with the undead remains in hopes of reviving another powerful line.”
"Well," comments Mordecai, "his plan seems to have worked. It's unfortunate that you didn't properly prepare Rakia on what he would find on that island and regarding what Marginstaff really is."
Livvi listens intently to the sordid tale being revealed to her. So many pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her brain - obvious connections once you had the correct pieces. "Interesting. Lilita seemed to imply that Rezgui and Maigrinstaff were at odds now - and the vampire we killed earlier spoke of Rezgui as a disgraced one. Is it possible they could turn on each other? Would that be helpful, or only wreak more havoc in Tarantis?"
The Widow looks away, a mixture of shame and repentance. “Lilita Rezgui is in terrible danger, but she might also be the key to destroying, or at least, diminishing the vampric threat facing the city. Lord Maigrinstaff has been busy this past year, cherry picking new blood if you will. Many of the cities more powerful noble and merchant families have had younger family members, women mostly, go missing, only to return a few five days or months later. I suspect that many of these are meant to inflict their sires, but I cannot be sure. The conspiracy goes deeper as well. Lord Maigrinstaff is not the only Vampire Lord inhabiting the city. Several others are present, but I haven’t determined just who, or their stances on the current situation. At least one bloodline has deep claws into Tarantis’ bureaucracy but which, I don’t know…yet. Each clan effects its own sigil or markings, often in the form of tattoos. This way their minions can identify each other.”
"Lilita REZGUI?!?" Mordecai says with widening eyes. "That explains the man's interest, but how does she not recognize him?"
“She was a toddler when her world fell apart,” The Widow replied with a hint of emotion in her voice, “her only memories are buried deep and are those of a young child. Most would have disappeared, which is why she must discover her heritage in her own way. Simply sitting her down and burying her under it might be too fantastic. It might also drive her to rash acts, acts that could destroy her. As it is, she has little support, aside from yourselves.”
As if struck with a sudden thought, Mordecai blurts out, "We might have some allies. Those elves in town seeking their female compatriot. I'm pretty sure she's dead in the sewers - drained of her blood and left to rot. I am sure they would want revenge."
A brief flicker of surprise crosses the older woman’s face. She cocks her head slightly and looks at Mordecai. “Elves. Which elves do you speak of? Drain – “The Widow looks troubled at the thought, “and yet another victim of this foul curse.” She sighs.
Turning to Livvi The Widow’s sad face brightens slightly. “To answer your earlier question as to why I have asked you here tonight, I wish to help. As powerful as I may seem there are boundaries I am not allowed to cross, some politics that I am not allowed to dabble in, least it upsets the fragile balance within the city.” The Widow’s cool expression focuses on Livvi. “I suspect, with your own ambitions, you understand my position. It is part of the great game, and one that I relish, but there are always prices for playing. I do not care to rule, nor do I care to oversee the faith, etc., etc. I am not a merchant, nor am I a war lord. At best, I’m a dabbler.”
"The balance? I'm sure Monach establishes all the balances," Mordecai says under his breath.
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
"In any case, given your tendency to dabble, has your dabbling allowed you to determine where Lilita is currently?" asks Mordecai.
“Yes, I do know where she’s at,” replies The Widow. “Lilita has been led to her family’s townhouse and is exploring it in search of its secrets. As I said, some things have to be discovered in their own way and time. Still, before you leave, I will give you the address.” She pauses for a moment than looks the Half-Orc in the eye. “You have brought up another part of the problem, noble hunter. Monach the Canny, a power behind the throne, may be involved. Most likely is, I am sure, with both the on going coverup of Vampiric activities and the plot to assassinate one of his chief rivals on Alar’s small council.”
"Right, so do we go pick her up or let her discover in her own way and time?" Mordecai asks. He continues, "You gotta understand, I prefer the direct. When I started noticing all this political intrigue, I tapped someone else for assistance... I don't have the vision for it."
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
The Widow smiles and glances from Mordecai to the Half-Elf Bard. “Yet your companion here was born for “all this political intrigue”.” To Livvi she says, “Yes, that sigil used to carry great power in the city for it is that of an ancient order of Vampire hunters. The Order of the Owl.” She pauses again for a long moment as if deliberating how much to share than continues, “For many centuries the Order was more of a secret society than an active determinant. But it remakes itself, from time to time. Anita, Lilita’s mother, was a member, as were the matrons of her family’s house since it’s conception. There are clues in the townhouse that I hope will lead Lilita to that conclusion as well, for she will need them. It was her mother who tried to save her husband and destroy Maigrinstaff but sadly, failed.”
Livvi turns to Mordecai and asks, "Well, big one. what do you think? Shall we join the ranks of the vampire hunters and rid this city of the impending doom about to strike? I bet the Lion would reward you greatly for your service to the crown!"
"My service would be for Tarantis," Mordecai replies rather cryptically. "However, a payment for my services would be nice, but I don't expect to be rewarded by the Crown."
“I will reward both of you as well,” The Widow said. “I will also aid you, as best I can, in this pursuit. If I may counsel you, Mordecai, seek out those last two conspirators of Daris Hadara for they hold the key to prove whose behind the plot, and more importantly, who the real target is.”
"Well, it sounds like Lilita is safe enough for now. And her current quest is just for her. I would like to get some rest before we continue hunting down vampires and traitors, but I am not sure we can afford that. So... let’s investigate this Hadara fellow and find his associates to work out this plot to overthrow the Lion and subjugate us all to the vampires. Or at least do some more digging tonight..." Livvi says to Mordecai.
Mordecai, picks up on the Widow's cues and turns to face Livvi, he tells her rather bluntly, "You, who work for the Ministry, needs to understand something clearly now: The Crown is the Lion. Monach is the Lion Tamer.... and Monach could be part of the problem, as the Widow just said. If you think you had contacts in ANY of the Ministries, officially or unofficially, you take care in what you tell them and how you tell them... especially within the Blue Cobras. You're a half-elf, so who knows how young or old you are, but you behave young - your passionate and impetuous - ripe to be used, led astray, and betrayed. Don't let that happen."
Livvi gasps at the half-orc's proclamation. Not about her age - the gods' knew that Livvi was barely past adolescence in elven time - nor at the accusation of Monach. No, Livvi had never considered that her best friend in the entire world, her confidant and co-conspirator, could possibly be using her. She and Bilina had been through so much together...was she an agent of the Lion - or the adder? Before this very moment the young bard was planning a way to find the Blue Cobra agent and tell her everything that she had learned, plus all that she surmised. And then her mind shifted focus, and started questioning who she should trust - the woman who she had known for over five years, who had survived a traumatic experience with her, who had proven her friendship to Livvi time and again - or this stranger, a half-orc she had never met before and knew absolutely nothing about?
All of these things flash through the bard's mind in a matter of moments, and before he turns back to the Widow, Livvi mutters, "And how do I know that you aren't planning to use me, or lead me astray, or betray me?"
Mordecai turns his said to the side as he looks at Livvi, almost inquisitively. He then shakes his head and turns back to the Widow and simply asks, "So - where to?"
“As I suggest, follow up on the two leads Daris Hadara gave you. And, it bothers me that there was a subliminal plot to allow Daris to escape. My ears within the government mutter that someone is working both ends of the candle, but for what gain, I cannot unravel. It will be no easy task, especially since there’s only six days left before the Royal Masquerade at the palace. Not to mention that the growing strigoi (vampire) problem. Bad enough to have one clan but two? Two leads to four all too soon. Perhaps one of you should visit the Eleian Qarteith, that is the name of the Elven ambassadorial delegation to Altar the Lion and Tarantis. If for no other reason than to see if the dead Elf you came across in the sewers is of their clan. Mardiat the Dwarf is in the city, but I do not know where but the one known as Fuzzface’s whereabouts I do know. He’s been seen frequenting Big Jugs Tavern in the Tradesmen Quarter. There’s a death warrant on him, though, but by whom isn’t clear though I suspect it is related to his participation in the conspiracy, though just what his part is, is also unclear.”
At the mention of Mardiat the dwarf, Livvi pipes in. "I met Mardiat just last night in The Topless Tavern! A drunken lecher, and a careless one at that. I managed to lift his coin purse while he tried to grab my @$$. It seemed as though he might frequent the place, intent on showing off his own tattoos and leering at the women who were there. And what is this about elves in the city and a dead one in the sewers? Are you sure she was dead, and will not come back as one of them? A Strigoi?"
"Regarding the Elf, she was most certainly dead. I'll not go into details, but it was not a pleasant sight." Mordecai pauses - seemingly disturbed by the recollection. He continues, "She had this Broach on her." Mordecai produces it from his pack and makes no effort to pass it over. "She also had a magic wand of lightning - I couldn't use it so I gave it to Lilita - and thank the gods I did - that wand is the only reason I'm here. While I kept the weretiger distracted, she singed its fur - badly. If I remember, right the Elf must have been a noble, or at least rich, she wore the latest fashion, Vandsari silk with golden threads. She also had... a pouch."
He fishes around for it, commenting, "Oddly enough, I never opened it - might as well do so now." Mordecai looks into the pouch.
As he examines the contents of the pouch he says, there were some Wood Elves’ over at Glisber’s Inn seeking an elven princess - I suspect that I found her."
After examining the contents of the Elf's pouch, Mordecai looks at both Livvi and the widow, as if something locked away had been knocked loose.
"Mardiat the dwarf. Fuzzface. Garse the Gaffer, employed by a baker. These are all individuals who are a part of this plot," Mordecai states. "I believe that the Gaffer was taken into custody and I have the feeling that he was prematurely silenced. The plot involves the festival, the bakery, and some sort of... additive... being, literally, placed into the mix."
Mordecai’s eye lingers on the Widow for a moment, he gets ready to ask something, but holds his tongue for a moment longer.
Livvi pauses and considers the potential leads before them. "Well, we might as well pursue this Fuzzface at The Big Jugs Tavern, since it's night-time. I won't revisit The Topless Tavern until I have a chance to prepare..." she declares, flushing red.
Mordecai interjects, "Tonight? It's been a long day. I think it better if we rest tonight, heal up some, and start tomorrow fresh. It'll also give you time to check in on your friend - the green haired one."
After they talk, Livvi turns once more to The Widow. "Mistress, you spoke of aiding us. Do you have any suggestions on ways to kill vampires? Mordecai struck mighty blows on Hamsto tonight, and I saw Rezgui flick away crossbow bolts like pesky flies. My magic seemed to affect both of them, though it is not strong enough yet to be as effective as I hope it will be. Do we need silvered, or hardened weapons of some sort? Do they have any weaknesses that we can exploit? I've only ever read the stories and pretend tales...Although I can confirm that they cast no reflection in a mirror."
The Widow respond as if she was already prepared for such a question. “Indeed. Most magic that can inflict damage can harm a vampire, as well as one inflicted with Lycanthropy. When you leave, I will provide you with some items that will be of use to you, I hope.”
"Aye," Mordecai affirms, "Something... more... would be needed. The other night my blades managed to cleave a murderous thug in nearly two, but I've fought a weretiger and a... strigoi... tonight and they both shrugged off the keen end of my weapon. I've seen more damage done by a barber with a shaky hand shaving a man's face."
The Widow waves a languid hand and nods. “I have a pretty extensive armory at my disposal. When you agreed to speak with me, I sent one of my servants to fetch a few things. They will be waiting for you when you leave.”
"Thank you, again," Mordecai tells the Widow, then continuing, "I do have one more question: Where is the raven-haired Bilina?"
For the second time tonight, Livvi gasps. It was as if the half-orc could read her mind - or knew more than she did about things the bard thought she knew the most about. Livvi knew Bilina kept her own counsel, and as an agent of the Blue Cobras had many contacts and dealings she was not privy to. Was Mordecai one of her informants? One of her 'missions'? Or one of her enemies?
As a bard, this was disturbing - not knowing. A bard was supposed to be the one 'in the know.' A master bard planted information like seeds, tending them like a gardener to cultivate the desired garden. Sometimes you plant, sometimes you prune. Sometimes you let the garden grow wild. And sometimes, you burn it to the ground, dig it up, and start over. Ahh, but every gardener must first start by preparing the soil and gathering the seeds of all kinds of plants. So Livvi took a deep breath, kept her mouth shut, and continued to gather seeds of knowledge. Because the only thing worse than not knowing something, was letting others KNOW that you didn't know it.
The Widow stands and walks so smoothly across the room her feet barely touch the floor.
Mordecai's eyes flit in Livvi's direction…
Picking up a crystal globe about the size of Mordecai’s fist the timeless woman passes her free hand over it and says something that sounds musical, almost otherworldly. “Bilina Carapria,” The Widow says as she holds up the crystal. Within a series of colors swirl and pulse until they begin to form brief images and snippets of action. In one the raven-haired woman was speaking to a hooded figure over a table. She set something in between them, a small wooden vial, then suddenly everything went foggy and the image flickered to the same figure, that of a lithe but handsome man stretched out on a bed, Bilina’s head bobbing up and down. At this The Widow caressed the crystal, causing it to change the image yet again, this time the woman was in a dark alley speaking with another cloaked figure. This one was obviously female, a wisp of red hair peeking out from under her hood.
“Senior Agent Provocateur and member of the Blue Cobra’s, Tarantis’ secret police. An accomplished mage with street skills and a wild list of associates, informants, and nobles in her pocket. Possibly a lieutenant to the Lord Commander of the Blue Cobras, which would make her twice removed from the Grand Advisor’s office.” Coaxing softly The Widow causes the crystal to return to the scene of with the wooden vial. “A curious object, that. I asked one of my people, an accomplished acquirer of things, to retrieve it from Garse the Grouse’ flat several nights ago. She was accosted by the handsome stranger Bilina was…talking too…who, it appears, had been retained to recover the same item. Both my girl and this man were in Garses’ flat when a troop of the Blackhearts arrived to search the building. I suspect the timing.”
A bell chimes in the back of Livvi’s head as she recognizes the handsome man with Bilina and even though she had only a few brief glimpses of him, it’s the same cloaked figure who had appeared out of the night when she was trying to save Lilita from that vampire she thinks is her father or something. The young man had blown through, chased by a lot of Blackhearts, his hand extended in a ‘come with me’ gesture to the grey lady, only she had refused, and he had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
“Bilina Carapria,” Livvi thinks. "I've always known her as Bilina Jazzadra, middle daughter of a minor noble from the Provence of Jarmeer. Is Carapria her cover name, or her real one? Is either one her real name?" She kept this to herself, though, deciding to speak only of the first masked man. "That man - the one with the wooden vial. I saw him the other night, when I rescued Lilita from Rezgui. He was running on the rooftops, with a troop of Blackhearts after him. He tried to help Lilita - briefly - then used the scene to draw the troopers chasing him to a new target before slipping off into the dark. He must have been coming from this baker's house, then. At the time, I thought how skilled and smart he was, using the distraction caused by the vampire and a half-naked woman to make good his escape! What was so important about the vial that two people wanted it?"
Mordecai interjects, "I suspect that vial has something to do with the poisoning plot at the festival - although I had thought it was simple glass beads - this seems more... insidious."
He then faces the Widow, and bluntly asks, "Did you contract, Hadara and the rest?"
The Widow’s eyes flash slightly as she turns to meet his stare. “No, I only observed what I could. I did send someone to Garse the Gross’ flat to see if she could retrieve that vial, but she was intercepted and…delayed, by the handsome stranger that Agent Bilina seems to be controlling so adeptly, as we all saw. At the point when they began discussing the vial miss Bilina used a spell or enspelled item to block my scrying. I would dearly love to know what was in the vial. While wooden vials are uncommon for most potions and poisons, they are not unheard of in the right circles. In many cases they’re made from treated wood so that they may be disposed of thoroughly via fire. Or, I am told, the contents may react poorly to metal, ceramics, or glass so wood or stone are used. As for Hadara, I only came to know of his existence in Tarantis about the time you were contracted to see him safely out of the city.” She sighed and returned to her chair. “While I have used force when necessary, I am loath to do so otherwise I would send a team after this Hadara and question him…closely. In the end though, I am convinced that he was hired to create the cell of floobs needed to gain access to the Lion’s advisers. Confronting Agent Bilina directly would also be counterproductive as doing so would most definitely let others know I am…dabbling here which could start yet another conflict in the shadows of the city.”
"You didn't?," Mordecai asks with an eyebrow raised.
“No, I did not.”
"Well, that's odd... because Bilina was the one who hired Hadara. In fact, she was even there that night - along with Firehair - at the tavern where I was supposed to pick up Hadara to turn him in to the Ministry. I changed my mind for two reasons - first, I was offered a better contract, and, two, guards showed up before the bolo was posted and were drumming up charges of murder - which were NOT on the bolo. Only way that happens is if someone in the Ministry made it happen. There is definitely a plot being put together and part of its origin is coming from within one of the Ministry. Whoever this 'Fuzzface' is, has a decently prominent and influential post in the government and HE's Bilina's handler."
Keeping in mind that in her experience – and via her Bardic training – that someone The Widow’s caliber can manipulate their body language and emotions so that they convince others of whatever it is that needs convincing, the Lady’s cocking her of head and raising both eyebrows slightly implied that Mordecai’s information was news to her.
"How much do you trust her because it seems that she's been in the business for so long that she no longer sees friends and enemies - just marks she can use to influence her way into a better position for herself."
“I think that you have answered your own question, good sir,” The Widow says. “I do not trust her, in anything less than what serves her designs. That said, I will add a little more of mostly guess work and a feeling. The Blue Cobra is wearing many cloaks now, some less noticeable than others. Too many for my comfort and I believe that several are merely tools that allow her to operate even deeper then we may think. She’s dangerous, of course. Just how dangerous…”
Livvi bows her head and, when Mordecai seems finished asking questions, will say to the Widow, "You have given me much to think on, and new leads to follow. If you have no further questions or requests of us, we shall take our leave. Thank you, Mistress, for this opportunity." The bard bows more deeply this time - honoring The Widow with a true sign of respect among the noble families of Tarantis. Showing true deference could indicate many things - Livvi intended to truly display her gratefulness.
But she was also trying to process conflicting information from people she did not know about someone whom she was very close to. These thoughts would take some meditation and time to work their way through her mind and yield any kind of actionable result. A strong drink and solid night's sleep would go a long way to helping her arrange these puzzle pieces in her mind...
"If we meet Razgui, I'm not sure the magic I have left will work as well as it seemed to do against the Hamster. I used up a lot of my energy attacking him...still, we have to at least try and find the girl. Nice blade work, by the way. Good to know you can handle your pole so well."
"Thanks, but all I really do is make sure the sharp end is on the end closest to whatever I'm fighting," replies Mordecai. "Don't sell yourself short - any magic, even if it's not a lot, is more effective than my glaive."
"Regardless," continues Mordecai, "we have a task to see through. Let's get to it."
Retracing the path once more Livvi and Mordecai pass by the butcher’s shop and the entrance to the alley and had only gone a few strides when a low qork comes from the sign above the butcher’s shop behind them. A large, black crow perch there, his soulless eye turned their way. The bird rustles it’s wings slightly, enough to reveal the red coloring beneath.
Mordecai points the crow out to Livvi, "Seems I've been seeing a lot more of those lately, and when I do... I typically find something dead soon thereafter."
The sound of heavy wheels moving slowly over the street’s cobblestones precedes a large, ornate black coach drawn by four matching black horses. One either side glowing lanterns were mounted beside the doors and just behind the driver sitting on top. Trotting easily along side are two huge Minotaur’s dressed in black leather armor and packing a variety of weapons. A single floob sits high on the driver’s bench. As the coach draws along side the shadowy figure is revealed to be a short haired woman wearing well used leathers and knee-high leather boots. She smirks, turns her head and spit’s a bit of tobacco juice, than cocks her head. “Oye, The Widow wan’s a word with you two.”
Mordecai sighs under his breath, "Perhaps we're the dead ones."
He straightens up a bit and replies, "I don't suppose this could wait until tomorrow could it? We're in the middle of something."
“It might, but’n The Widow says ta tell you tha’ if’n your lookin’ for your little friend, she may have some information ‘bout her whereabouts tha’ might save youse some time.”
Livvi looks to Mordecai and shrugs. "Looks like we're going for a ride."
He watches as the bard climbs deftly into the huge carriage, commenting as she does, "Do you have anything to drink in there? The last carriage I rode in had liquid refreshment and silk-covered cushions."
A soft, cultured voice relies, ““Please, come in. We should wait for your stalwart friend before proceeding.”
"Come on, Mord! They actually DO have refreshments! Plus, it's bigger on the inside,” the Half-Elf calls out, excitement clear in her voice.
Mordecai sighs, again, and enters the carriage without further word or complaint.
Looking up he discovers that the opposite door open, but instead of revealing the side of the street he had just left it revealed warm yellow lights, the sound of someone playing a sappy melody that might have been popular from a few decades ago though he couldn’t recall the name. Standing a stride inside what was obviously a well-appointed foyer stands a tall, slender woman with dark skin and long, silken hair. She held out a lacquered wooden tray holding several crystal goblets, offering one to the Fey Goddess who, though graced by half-elven blood, seemed rather pale when compared to the woman with the tray. Seeing his arrival, she smiles and gives a slight bow of her head.
“You must be Mord, please, come in and welcome. My mistress, a great Lady of Tarantis, begs forgiveness for seeking you out in this manner but time grows short and a great many things are afoot within our beloved city.”
Mordecai offers a polite gesture of refusal towards the drinks, saying, "Not while I'm on the job."
"Yes, the name's Mordecai - although I find it worrisome that my name seems so well known," the Half-Orc replies. "And yes, I do agree, there seems to be a great many number of ... plots.... propagating through the city."
"What did I tell you?! It's definitely bigger on the inside!" Livvi says as she sips the drink. Although it was only a tiny sip, she feels the warmth of the alcohol blended with the sweetness of the spices in her mouth and down her throat. A grin came to her lips as she looked admirably at the beverage in her hand before taking a larger sip.
"Uh huh... Next, I suppose you'll say there's something timey wimey about it, too..." Mordecai retorts. Then under his breath, with his eyes rolling slightly, "All this magicis about..."
"Well, let's not keep your Lady waiting any longer. Things to do and people to find, you know..."
“Yes, please, this way.” As the dark-skinned woman turns and leads them from the strange foyer the door closes quietly behind them. From this side, it looked like any other front door one might find in a wealthy house.
The woman was met by another, slender, blonde with waist long braids and dressed in a form fitting skirt and puffy sleeved blouse who takes the tray without a word. As she turned a red-headed Halfling fem strolls out of another door, turns to look at them curiously. While dressed in quality clothing this one had the attentive air and grace of one who might be equally comfortable in thieves’ leathers.
Following their guide deeper into the house it was clear that The Widow was a person of many tastes and qualities. Ancient and modern art decorates the walls or spaces, interposed with planters of exotic plants and greenery. Turning a corner and descending a set of wide, curving stairs, they pass a pair of imposing Minotaur’s standing guard. Both Bullmen eye Mordecai, clearly weighing the threat he might present with a respect that wouldn’t have been noticed in someone who wasn’t eyeing them back.
Mordecai comments off handily, "I've me tusks and you your horns... Let's call it a draw for now, eh gents?" Mordecai presses forward with purpose but doesn’t do so in a way that would be disrespectful to the proud minotaur’s.
The one on the left nearly smiles, the other gives a slight nod. Fellow professionals.
The Half-Elf’s eyes flick towards the Bullmen though the bard pretends to avoid looking at them outright, looking down towards her feet for the moment it takes to pass by.
Coming to an open door the dark-skinned woman turns and gives a slight curtsey and indicating with her hands that they should proceed without her. Beyond the door lies a large solar, well-appointed with only the best and most expensive materials. Standing beside a miniature tree is a woman with a timeless beauty. She was neither young nor old, nor was she exotically beautiful. There was a plain beauty, one so natural seeming that it immediately trips Mord’s alarms.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” The Widow says with a warm smile and grave eyes. “I apologize if I am taking your valuable time.”
Nodding her head and bowing slightly, Livvi seems to fiddle with her fingers out of nervousness.
"It is no waste of our time to honor your invitation, m'lady. On the contrary, we are eager to hear what you would offer. And my compliments on the brandy - truly exquisite! Like everything else in your abode - rare and of exceeding value. Although you already know, decorum dictates an introduction. I am Livvi, daughter of his honor Lord Richard Rahl, former apprentice to Garyx Stonegate, and member of the Lion's Pride." She then motions to Mord and looks him in the eye to give him a signal to be polite.
"No disrespect, ma'am, but I think we'd all feel better if we were honest with each other on who we are. We've seen, too many... oddities... and would prefer if we were all just open about who and what we are," Mordecai responds.
If The Widow was offended by his direct ways she showed no signs. Turning she gestures towards some nearby plush chairs. “Please, be comfortable if you will. To sooth your concerns about your Healer friend I can assure you she’s safe for the moment. Though, to be honest, she has been dancing with a terrible fate and with powers she is only beginning to comprehend. I feared for her life but the pair of you, singly and together, have managed to save her despite her own actions.”
"Well, I can't speak for the times she was with Livvi, but as far as I saw, she was able to take care of herself plenty - I offered only moral support... and a target for her enemies," responds Mordecai.
"With that said, may I ask, if you don't mind, what is your interest in her? Sure, she seems to have magic plenty, but that doesn't make her necessarily unique. Sure, it could just be that your using her as a conduit to get to these vampires, but I suspect there's more," the Half-Orc continues.
"Yes, we have been witness to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
Crossing to a large backed padded chair flanked by a pair of well sculpted flowering plants The Widow sits gracefully, smoothing the thin material of her dress to remove any wrinkles. “Lilita is trying to uncover her past and while I would gladly assist some quests must be conducted on one’s own and in the manner which one can cope with. There is a tragedy in her past, when she was a mere toddler and too young to remember.”
"Right - well, what's in her past that's so important? I've heard of you, ma'am, and I know two things: first, don't cross you, secondly, you do things for a gain - so, and I don't need details, but generally, why are you so interested in Lilita?" Mordecai frankly asks.
The Widow studies him with cool eyes and slightly pursed lips. “My interest is…complicated,” the woman gives a sardonic sigh. “Some of it is personal, and of a nature I am not inclined to share, at least, not at this time. But you are not wrong, Bounty Hunter. She is peripherally tied into this resurgence, if you will. As you both probably suspect, there has been an infestation of Vampires within this city for a long, long time. It ebbs and flows like the tide of the great bay, of course and there have been various groups, lone vampire hunters, and organizations over the centuries. Some more successful than the others. So, to the rumors that say I do things for mere gain, there is truth in that, and falsehoods…after all, some gains cannot be weighed or measured in material things.”
"Fair enough," responds Mordecai. "You have an obviously successful organization so I'm not one to comment and what not. Just questioning as a matter of good business practice. As you noted, I'm a bounty hunter and I get the feeling my services, one way or another, are going to be used. I tend to want to know more rather than less of a task I'm about to get conscripted to do."
"Yes, we have been witnessing to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
"So," Mordecai continues, "what's the next step?"
The Widow glances from Mordecai to Livvi and back. “It’s more than a resurgence I am afraid. From my observations and those of my associates we’ve concluded that the dark powers are pushing for a more dominate form of control.” Looking at Mordecai she says, “You have touched on part of the larger conspiracy, inadvertently aided it some as well. The assassination conspiracy is aimed at one of Altar the Lion’s senior advisers. I believe that the replacement will be one of the undead. If that occurs, then they will be in a position to infect the monarchy directly at worst; influencing it at best.”
"What do you know of Lord Rakia Rezgui from the Karzulun, the vampire who Lilita seems so attached to. Almost like a father-figure the way she spoke of him...and what of the Black Rose? Is Lord Basha Maigrinstaff a vampire, too? Evidence I have uncovered points to this. And finally, excuse my boldness, but what do you request of us this night? For as lovely as it is to be here in your home, I am certain that we are not here for a social visit alone. What is the task, the price, and your interest? Are you so altruistic that you with to protect the common folk of the city, or are the vampires bad for business?"
A slight frown came to The Widow’s pert lips. “I know too much, it seems,” the timeless woman said with a sigh. “It’s a complicated tale but I shall endeavor to keep it brief and pertinent. The vampire menace has been a problem for Tarantis since it’s earlies days, but this has come and gone. Half a century ago there was a coalition if you will, of like-minded individuals and groups that conspired to drive the vampires from the city. It was successful, more or less, at least until about two decades ago when Lord Rezgui and Lord Maigrinstaff staged an expedition to a certain hitherto hidden island in the south sea where the mortal remains of several vampire lords had been disposed of. Powerful magics had been employed to bind the remains to the ancient temple that was to be their tomb for eternity. When Rakia came to me intending to garner my support in the endeavor I heavily advised against the expedition, though, at the time, I had withheld the knowledge of what I knew to be buried there, much to my regret.
“I also failed to give good counsel. Rakia’s family line; my family line, as well as Lord Maigrinstaff’s bloodline, and a fair amount of other ancient noble lines within the city it is sad to announce, have connections to the inflicted. Basha – Lord Maigrinstaff is five hundred years old, give or take a decade.” She gives Livvi a confirming nod. “He is a very powerful creature, powerful enough to mask his true self to the majority. Unbeknownst to Rakia, the Rezgui bloodline is ancient and it was one of the Rezgui’s remains that had been interned into the island temple. I believe that Lord Maigrinstaff’s intent was to lure Rakia to the island, bring him into contact with the undead remains in hopes of reviving another powerful line.”
"Well," comments Mordecai, "his plan seems to have worked. It's unfortunate that you didn't properly prepare Rakia on what he would find on that island and regarding what Maigrinstaff really is."
"Interesting. Lilita seemed to imply that Rezgui and Maigrinstaff were at odds now - and the vampire we killed earlier spoke of Rezgui as a disgraced one. Is it possible they could turn on each other? Would that be helpful, or only wreak more havoc in Tarantis?"
The Widow looks away, a mixture of shame and repentance. “Lilita Rezgui is in terrible danger, but she might also be the key to destroying, or at least, diminishing the vampric threat facing the city. Lord Maigrinstaff has been busy this past year, cherry picking new blood if you will. Many of the cities more powerful noble and merchant families have had younger family members, women mostly, go missing, only to return a few five days or months later. I suspect that many of these are meant to inflict their sires, but I cannot be sure. The conspiracy goes deeper as well. Lord Maigrinstaff is not the only Vampire Lord inhabiting the city. Several others are present, but I haven’t determined just who, or their stances on the current situation. At least one bloodline has deep claws into Tarantis’ bureaucracy but which, I don’t know…yet. Each clan effects its own sigil or markings, often in the form of tattoos. This way their minions can identify each other.”
"Lilita REZGUI?!?" Mordecai says with widening eyes. "That explains the man's interest, but how does she not recognize him?"
“She was a toddler when her world fell apart,” The Widow replied with a hint of emotion in her voice, “her only memories are buried deep and are those of a young child. Most would have disappeared, which is why she must discover her heritage in her own way. Simply sitting her down and burying her under it might be too fantastic. It might also drive her to rash acts, acts that could destroy her. As it is, she has little support, aside from yourselves.”
As if struck with a sudden thought, Mordecai blurts out, "We might have some allies. Those elves in town seeking their female compatriot. I'm pretty sure she's dead in the sewers - drained of her blood and left to rot. I am sure they would want revenge."
A brief flicker of surprise crosses the older woman’s face. She cocks her head slightly and looks at Mordecai. “Elves. Which elves do you speak of? Drain – “The Widow looks troubled at the thought, “and yet another victim of this foul curse.” She sighs.
Turning to Livvi The Widow’s sad face brightens slightly. “To answer your earlier question as to why I have asked you here tonight, I wish to help. As powerful as I may seem there are boundaries I am not allowed to cross, some politics that I am not allowed to dabble in, least it upsets the fragile balance within the city.” The Widow’s cool expression focuses on Livvi. “I suspect, with your own ambitions, you understand my position. It is part of the great game, and one that I relish, but there are always prices for playing. I do not care to rule, nor do I care to oversee the faith, etc., etc. I am not a merchant, nor am I a war lord. At best, I’m a dabbler.”
"The balance? I'm sure Monach establishes all the balances," Mordecai says under his breath.
"In any case, given your tendency to dabble, has your dabbling allowed you to determine where Lilita is currently?" asks Mordecai.
“Yes, I do know where she’s at,” replies The Widow. “Lilita has been led to her family’s townhouse and is exploring it in search of its secrets. As I said, some things have to be discovered in their own way and time. Still, before you leave, I will give you the address.” She pauses for a moment than looks the Half-Orc in the eye. “You have brought up another part of the problem, noble hunter. Monach the Canny, a power behind the throne, may be involved. Most likely is, I am sure, with both the ongoing coverup of Vampiric activities and the plot to assassinate one of his chief rivals on Alar’s small council.”
"Right, so do we go pick her up or let her discover in her own way and time?" Mordecai asks. He continues, "You gotta understand, I prefer the direct. When I started noticing all this political intrigue, I tapped someone else for assistance... I don't have the vision for it."
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
The Widow smiles and glances from Mordecai to the Half-Elf Bard. “Yet your companion here was born for “all this political intrigue”.” To Livvi she says, “Yes, that sigil used to carry great power in the city for it is that of an ancient order of Vampire hunters. The Order of the Owl.” She pauses again for a long moment as if deliberating how much to share than continues, “For many centuries the Order was more of a secret society than an active determinant. But it remakes itself, from time to time. Anita, Lilita’s mother, was a member, as were the matrons of her family’s house since it’s conception. There are clues in the townhouse that I hope will lead Lilita to that conclusion as well, for she will need them. It was her mother who tried to save her husband and destroy Maigrinstaff but sadly, failed.”
Livvi turns to Mordecai and asks, "Well, big one. what do you think? Shall we join the ranks of the vampire hunters and rid this city of the impending doom about to strike? I bet the Lion would reward you greatly for your service to the crown!"
"My service would be for Tarantis," Mordecai replies rather cryptically. "However, a payment for my services would be nice, but I don't expect to be rewarded by the Crown."
“I will reward both of you as well,” The Widow said. “I will also aid you, as best I can, in this pursuit. If I may counsel you, Mordecai, seek out those last two conspirators of Daris Hadara for they hold the key to prove whose behind the plot, and more importantly, who the real target is.” As she says this, he note’s the flicker of eye movement as The Widow glances from him to the Half-Elf and back. In the depths of his gut the bounty hunter knew that the woman was holding something back, something she didn’t want to say in front of Livvi.
"Well, it sounds like Lilita is safe enough for now. And her current quest is just for her. I would like to get some rest before we continue hunting down vampires and traitors, but I am not sure we can afford that. So...let's investigate this Hadara fellow and find his associates to work out this plot to overthrow the Lion and subjugate us all to the vampires. Or at least do some more digging tonight..." Livvi says to Mordecai.
Mordecai, picks up on the Widow's cues and turns to face Livvi, he tells her rather bluntly, "You, who work for the Ministry, needs to understand something clearly now: The Crown is the Lion. Monach is the Lion Tamer.... and Monach could be part of the problem, as the Widow just said. If you think you had contacts in ANY of the Ministries, officially or unofficially, you take care in what you tell them and how you tell them... especially within the Blue Cobras. You're a half-elf, so who knows how young or old you are, but you behave young - your passionate and impetuous - ripe to be used, led astray, and betrayed. Don't let that happen."
Livvi gasps at the half-orc's proclamation. A flicker of emotions plays over the elf’s features, further cementing his opinion about her young age. Livvi’s mouth opened several times, as if to exclaim something but closed, showing that she possess a hint of wisdom, and before he turns back to the Widow, Livvi mutters, "And how do I know that you aren't planning to use me, or lead me astray, or betray me?"
Mordecai turns his said to the side as he looks at Livvi, almost inquisitively. He then shakes his head and turns back to the Widow and simply asks, "So - where to?"
“As I suggest, follow up on the two leads Daris Hadara gave you. And, it bothers me that there was a subliminal plot to allow Daris to escape. My ears within the government mutter that someone is working both ends of the candle…
Mordecai nods his head at the widow as he looks at Livvi with an "Exactly what I'm saying" expression.
… but for what gain, I cannot unravel. It will be no easy task, especially since there’s only six days left before the Royal Masquerade at the palace. Not to mention that the growing strigoi (vampire) problem. Bad enough to have one clan but two? Two leads to four all too soon. Perhaps one of you should visit the Eleian Qarteith, that is the name of the Elven ambassadorial delegation to Altar the Lion and Tarantis. If for no other reason than to see if the dead Elf you came across in the sewers is of their clan. Mardiat the Dwarf is in the city, but I do not know where but the one known as Fuzzface’s whereabouts I do know. He’s been seen frequenting Big Jugs Tavern in the Tradesmen Quarter. There’s a death warrant on him, though, but by whom isn’t clear though I suspect it is related to his participation in the conspiracy, though just what his part is, is also unclear.”
At the mention of Mardiat the dwarf, Livvi pipes in. "I met Mardiat just last night in The Topless Tavern! A drunken lecher, and a careless one at that. I managed to lift his coin purse while he tried to grab my @$$. It seemed as though he might frequent the place, intent on showing off his own tattoos and leering at the women who were there. And what is this about elves in the city and a dead one in the sewers? Are you sure she was dead, and will not come back as one of them? A Strigoi?"
"Regarding the Elf, she was most certainly dead. I'll not go into details, but it was not a pleasant sight." Mordecai pauses - seemingly disturbed by the recollection. He continues, "She had this Broach on her." Mordecai produces it from his pack, but not passing it to anyone for a closer look. "She also had a magic wand of lightning - I couldn't use it so I gave it to Lilita - and thank the gods I did - that wand is the only reason I'm here. While I kept the weretiger distracted, she singed its fur - badly. If I remember, right the Elf must have been a noble, or at least rich, she wore the latest fashion, Vandsari silk with golden threads. She also had... a pouch."
He fishes around for it, commenting, "Oddly enough, I never opened it - might as well do so now." Mordecai looks into the pouch.
As he examines the contents of the pouch he says, there were some Wood Elve’s over at Glisber’s Inn seeking an elven princess - I suspect that I found her."
After examining the contents of the Elf's pouch, Mordecai looks at both Livvi and the widow, as if something locked away had been knocked loose.
"Mardiat the dwarf. Fuzzface. Garse the Gaffer, employed by a baker. These are all individuals who are a part of this plot," Mordecai states. "I believe that the Gaffer was taken into custody and I have the feeling that he was prematurely silenced. The plot involves the festival, the bakery, and some sort of... additive... being, literally, placed into the mix."
Mordecai’s eye lingers on the Widow for a moment, he gets ready to ask something, but holds his tongue for a moment longer.
Livvi pauses and considers the potential leads before them. "Well, we might as well pursue this Fuzzface at The Big Jugs Tavern, since it's night-time. I won't revisit The Topless Tavern until I have a chance to prepare..." she declares, flushing red.
Mordecai interjects, "Tonight? It's been a long day. I think it better if we rest tonight, heal up some, and start tomorrow fresh. It'll also give you time to check in on your friend - the green haired one."
Livvi turns once more to The Widow. "Mistress, you spoke of aiding us. Do you have any suggestions on ways to kill vampires? Mordecai struck mighty blows on Hamsto tonight, and I saw Rezgui flick away crossbow bolts like pesky flies. My magic seemed to affect both of them, though it is not strong enough yet to be as effective as I hope it will be. Do we need silvered, or hardened weapons of some sort? Do they have any weaknesses that we can exploit? I've only ever read the stories and pretend tales...Although I can confirm that they cast no reflection in a mirror."
The Widow respond as if she was already prepared for such a question. “Indeed. Most magic that can inflict damage can harm a vampire, as well as one inflicted with Lycanthropy. When you leave, I will provide you with some items that will be of use to you, I hope.”
"Aye," Mordecai affirms, "Something... more... would be needed. The other night my blades managed to cleave a murderous thug in nearly two, but I've fought a weretiger and a... strigoi... tonight and they both shrugged off the keen end of my weapon. I've seen more damage done by a barber with a shaky hand shaving a man's face."
The Widow waves a languid hand and nods. “I have a pretty extensive armory at my disposal. When you agreed to speak with me, I sent one of my servants to fetch a few things. They will be waiting for you when you leave.”
"Thank you, again," Mordecai tells the Widow, then continuing, "I do have one more question: Where is the raven-haired Bilina?"
For the second time tonight, Livvi gasps in surprise, yet softly, enough so that anyone not observing the Half-Elf might have missed the reaction. There was a lot going on behind those gray flecked blue eyes. She glances ever so slightly at him before turning her focus on The Widow who stands and walks so smoothly across the room her feet barely touch the floor.
Mordecai's eyes flit in Livvi's direction, unsure if he saw her react to his question... Perception Roll, rolled offline... 15 // he saw something in her eyes but it is hard to be sure. As a Bard, the Half-Elf was probably trained to control outward signs of emotions and/or to manufacture convincing ones when desired. She has a thoughtful, attentive look. GM’s Note: Mord would have notice that slight glance his way.
Picking up a crystal globe about the size of Mordecai’s fist the timeless woman passes her free hand over it and says something that sounds musical, almost otherworldly. “Bilina Carapria,” The Widow says as she holds up the crystal. Within a series of colors swirl and pulse until they begin to form brief images and snippets of action. In one the raven-haired woman was speaking to a hooded figure over a table. She set something in between them, a small wooden vial, then suddenly everything went foggy and the image flickered to the same figure, that of a lithe but handsome man stretched out on a bed, Bilina’s head bobbing up and down. At this The Widow caressed the crystal, causing it to change the image yet again, this time the woman was in a dark alley speaking with another cloaked figure. This one was obviously female, a wisp of red hair peaking out from under her hood.
// Does Mordecai recognize any of the others in the images? He suspects he knows exactly who the red head is... // He recognizes Bilina as that raven-haired beauty sitting in the background at the Eight Star the night he took charge of Hadara. The male she’s with doesn’t ring a bell but has the mannerisms of a half-hundred thieves he’s encountered over time. And while many females have red hair Mordecai’s gut says it’s the Drow that was present in the Eight Star. The vision might suggest that Firehair is working for more than one source.
“Senior Agent Provocateur and member of the Blue Cobra’s, Tarantis’ secret police. An accomplished mage with street skills and a wild list of associates, informants, and nobles in her pocket. Possibly a lieutenant to the Lord Commander of the Blue Cobras, which would make her twice removed from the Grand Advisor’s office.” Coaxing softly The Widow causes the crystal to return to the scene of with the wooden vial. “A curious object, that. I asked one of my people, an accomplished acquirer of things, to retrieve it from Garse the Grouse’ flat several nights ago. She was accosted by the handsome stranger Bilina was…talking too…who, it appears, had been retained to recover the same item. Both my girl and this man were in Garses’ flat when a troop of the Blackhearts arrived to search the building. I suspect the timing.”
"That man - the one with the wooden vial. I saw him the other night, when I rescued Lilita from Rezgui. He was running on the rooftops, with a troop of Blackhearts after him. He tried to help Lilita - briefly - then used the scene to draw the troopers chasing him to a new target before slipping off into the dark. He must have been coming from this baker's house, then. At the time, I thought how skilled and smart he was, using the distraction caused by the vampire and a half-naked woman to make good his escape! What was so important about the vial that two people wanted it?"
Mordecai interjects, "I suspect that vial has something to do with the poisoning plot at the festival - although I had thought it was simple glass beads - this seems more... insidious."
He then faces the Widow, and bluntly asks, "Did you contract, Hadara and the rest?"
The Widow’s eyes flash slightly as she turns to meet his stare. “No, I only observed what I could. I did send someone to Garse the Gross’ flat to see if she could retrieve that vial, but she was intercepted and…delayed, by the handsome stranger that Agent Bilina seems to be controlling so adeptly, as we all saw. At the point when they began discussing the vial miss Bilina used a spell or enspelled item to block my scrying. I would dearly love to know what was in the vial. While wooden vials are uncommon for most potions and poisons, they are not unheard of in the right circles. In many cases they’re made from treated wood so that they may be disposed of thoroughly via fire. Or, I am told, the contents may react poorly to metal, ceramics, or glass so wood or stone are used. As for Hadara, I only came to know of his existence in Tarantis about the time you were contracted to see him safely out of the city.” She sighed and returned to her chair. “While I have used force when necessary, I am loath to do so otherwise I would send a team after this Hadara and question him…closely. In the end though, I am convinced that he was hired to create the cell of floobs needed to gain access to the Lion’s advisers. Confronting Agent Bilina directly would also be counterproductive as doing so would most definitely let others know I am…dabbling here which could start yet another conflict in the shadows of the city.”
"You didn't?," Mordecai asks with an eyebrow raised. // OOC Insight Check on the honesty of her response to hiring Hadara (rolled offline)... 7 /He can’t be sure she is lying or not but he’s smart enough to know her types, like the Bard (and far more experienced) would be adept at making it appear however she wanted it too./
“No, I did not.”
"Well, that's odd... because Bilina was the one who hired Hadara. In fact, she was even there that night - along with Firehair - at the tavern where I was supposed to pick up Hadara to turn him in to the Ministry. I changed my mind for two reasons - first, I was offered a better contract, and, two, guards showed up before the bolo was posted and were drumming up charges of murder - which were NOT on the bolo. Only way that happens is if someone in the Ministry made it happen. There is definitely a plot being put together and part of its origin is coming from within one of the Ministry. Whoever this 'Fuzzface' is, has a decently prominent and influential post in the government and HE's Bilina's handler."
Keeping in mind his thoughts on how someone The Widow’s caliber can manipulate their body language and emotions the woman cocking her head and raising both eyebrows slightly implied that his information was news to her.
"How much do you trust her because it seems that she's been in the business for so long that she no longer sees friends and enemies - just marks she can use to influence her way into a better position for herself."
“I think that you have answered your own question, good sir,” The Widow says. “I do not trust her, in anything less than what serves her designs. That said, I will add a little more of mostly guess work and a feeling. The Blue Cobra is wearing many cloaks now, some less noticeable than others. Too many for my comfort and I believe that several are merely tools that allow her to operate even deeper then we may think. She’s dangerous, of course. Just how dangerous…”
Livvi bows her head and, when Mordecai seems finished asking questions, will say to the Widow, "You have given me much to think on, and new leads to follow. If you have no further questions or requests of us, we shall take our leave. Thank you, Mistress, for this opportunity." The bard bows more deeply this time - honoring The Widow with a true sign of respect among the noble families of Tarantis. Showing true deference could indicate many things - Livvi intended to truly display her gratefulness.
GM Notes: Pretty much have reached most of what The Widow can offer at the moment, unless there’s still questions from Mord and Livvi.
Following her search for books, Lilita will head back to the Anilia's bedroom and check her wardrobe to find a suitable dress to replace the dirty soot-covered dress that the Lady Domonique at the Black Rose had given her. Entering the large room, the pale light of dawn was filtering its way through those windows that are un-shuttered. How many hours had she spent carefully searching her possible father’s private study? She had dozed for a while in that chair but how long? During the search it was the lack of books and items that might give name to the townhouses owners that was curious. There were signs that someone had removed select items from the room, as they had from the master bedroom. Gaps in the books and scroll cases. A lockable draw in the desk open a crack, empty save a few spare quills and several general goods parchments. There had also been signs that someone, perhaps her noble monster, had flung items of clothing and small brickbrac about, possibly in a fit of fury or despair.
Lilita respectfully and dutifully went about and picked up the scattered bric-a-brac and items of clothing guessing where best to place them or return them to. Doing this thinking that in some small way she is trying to be a good daughter and keep things neat and tidy as no doubt Anilia (her mother???) would have liked. Then before leaving the room, Lilita takes out a quill and piece of parchment, writes the following message.
Dear Father, I do not know if you are living, dead or in a cursed state somewhere between life and death. I do not know for sure if I am even your true daughter or just a confused mistaken foundling searching for her family or what has become of them. I believe this house once belonged to Rakia and Anilia and they loved each other very much. No matter what happened, I sense love in this house. I love you, father... I love you both, and I forgive you, father... it is never too late. I will never stop looking for you.
-A loving daughter, Lilita (-she then cuts off a lock of her silver hair and places it atop the letter out in the open on the desk should someone come back so it and letter can be easily found-)
She found a door leading to a small bath with an attached privy. It was something that she could only imagine as most the floobs in the Poor Quarter either used pots or buckets and dumped them into the streets or simply went in the streets. Something that several of her teachers at the guild had decried as an unhealthy practice for the city, one that others had rolled their shoulders and muttered, “What else is the poor to do?”.
Lilita removes the soot-covered dress and does her best to clean it and herself, leaving the dress hanging up to dry and puts on one of Anilia's dresses that she had borrowed. Tidying up the privy before leaving thinking such a wonderful room, everyone should have such, rich or poor.
Hopping off her shoulder the crow flew back into the main chamber where she heard him mutter and peck at something. Peeking around the corner she watched as he ruffled his feathers and pecked against a ceramic container with a flowery lid.
Lilita followed the crow and noted the ceramic container the creature seemed very interested in. Walking up to it, she opened it and looked inside.
“Treat…” he qoarked.
Beneath the lid is half a handful of decades old pecans.
Lilita giggles, "so this what you like to eat, well then, I am not sure they are still good but if you are willing to risk it." She scoops out the handful of remaining pecans and offers them to the crow unsure if he will accept them or not. If not she attempts to locate a refuse container about to properly dispose of them and offer the crow a Berry Bloom Goodberry from her pack instead to tide him over, "don't worry little one, I will find you some fresh pecans later if you stay with me and bring some back in the future to refill the ceramic container, how does that sound?"
After sampling one the bird seemed to disapprove of their age. When offered the Berry Bloom Goodberry he cocked his head, gazed at it for a moment, then snatched it out of her palm and tossed it down his gullet. Fluttering his wings, his head bobs side to side.
“Treat!”
Lilita smiles at the crow pleased that it was satisfied with the berry in lieu of pecans, "there you go then my dear one, that should keep you for a while. Now that I know what you like I can see to it you get plenty of treats." One thing struck her though about the crow and its friends, what was the life span of crows anyway? Could this crow really have been a family pet or was there more to it than that? Still, the crow had been very helpful to her, no matter its origins Lilita found herself becoming very fond of it! She bends down to kiss it and whisper to it, "thank you so much for leading me here, I don't know if I will ever be able to repay your kindness."
Glancing in the mirror Lilita noted how perfectly the dress fit. It was as if it had been tailored to her size and form. And though the most plain looking in her mother’s wardrobe it still was of high quality. Without thinking about it she examined the stitch pattern, recalling what the old tailor had said, and discovered that there was a double eye stitch that that was cleverly patterned to resemble an owl’s face, if one stretched a bit.
Lilita gasped in astonishment she loved the dress so much; she had almost forgotten what the kindly old tailor had taught her. Maybe with luck, the dress might prove helpful to discover who had made it and if she is very lucky who it had been sold to. But given how many years had passed that might be asking too much. Such would be a long shot but still worth possibly looking into if the other clues lead her to dead ends.
At the moment Lilita was more hopeful in seeking out and visiting a Temple of Kuluth and surely there must be records and a deed attached to the house. So that would be another possible avenue to investigate and take up with the proper city officials. Still, Lilita could not help but wonder about the owl stitching, did it mean that there might really be a Counsel of Owls or did Anilia (her mother?) merely fancy such creatures.
Still driven by something more than simple curiosity Lilita resumed exploring the house. Towards the back she found the kitchen and servants area. A narrow staircase leads up to the upper two floors and down to a cellar. There was a pantry half filled with long spoiled foodstuffs and a curious device that held a small platform with a rope and pully system, connecting all the levels of the house, she assumes. Another door, heavy and iron bound, opens onto a backyard of sorts. Walled like the front, there is a carriage house built into the wall with a pair of doors wide enough for even her Vardo to pass from the back alley beyond. She did find a pecan tree, as well as a mulberry and peach tree. All three in serious need of some TLC.
Lilita taking a closer look around the back, she finds that she had not even considered that servants were employed but it makes sense and there looked to be plenty of room if she was an heir to the house, if she wanted to or needed to, she could bring her Vardo here. Lilita did not wish to get ahead of herself. Her life had always been full of disappointments, no doubt, in the end, this all could prove to be the case as well. There was still a lot to do, so many unanswered questions that she needed to investigate no matter where the trail leads.
Making sure that the main house and the carriage house, etc. are closed back up, not wanting to expose anything further to the elements Lilita though she could not bear to leave needed to go now. She was fearful that once she left sight of the house, it would fade away, vanish as if it were all a dream and she would never find her way back.
Tearing herself away Lilita headed into the city in search of a Temple of Kuluth.
Behind her the two crows with red feathers beneath their wings sat perched on top the garden wall. Both rustled their feathers as the third joined them. Something seemed to pass between the three before they took to the air. One followed Lilita, another winged off over the city while the third circled the townhouse twice before flying north, over the city and then further, out over the provinces…
It took better part of an hour to cross from the edge of the Noble’s quarter to the gates leading into the temple quarter. As she passed through bells across the city chimed, announcing the noonfest hour. Many laborers put down their tools and went in search of a meal. Some shops closed as the shopkeepers and servants did the same. The inn’s, venders, and winesinks filled, most to capacity as regulars poured in.
The rumble in Lilita’s belly reminds her that it had been what? A day at least since she last ate. It was reinforced by the smells coming from a small collection of street venders set up just past the gate and near the looming Temple of Argentahl.
Lilita having been far too busy exploring most of the night her mind had been focused on more important things but now seemingly back out in the world the delicious smells surrounding her had awoken the hunger that she had been unconsciously suppressing. She needed something to eat. Lilita laughed to herself thinking the crow had more sense than she did... it didn't need the smell of food to know it had been hungry for pecans. She walked up and down the row of street vendors looking for something suitable to eat.
Her copper bought Lilita a large vegetarian samosa stuffed with potatoes and a chickpea filling seasoned with fresh garlic and ginger. Lilita, after purchasing the samosa sought out a comfortable spot to enjoy it and rest.
As she sat in the shade of an overhanging statue to some forgotten hero of the city eating, Lilita watches the various floobs coming and going through the nearby gate. Many dressed in colors or with sigils denoting this faith or that church, others the regular sorts common in all the quarters of Tarantis. About halfway through her meal she spots a familiar figure come through the gate. For a moment she didn’t recognize Amlack for the lack of his usual City Guard attire. The young man wore a simple but clean white tunic and leggings, common to the younger men of the city, he wore a codpiece and had a knife in a long sheath hanging from a wide leather belt wrapped around his waist. His sandy brown hair worn short cut.
Lilita looked at him several times before recognizing who it was before waving her hand in the air and calling out to him, "Amlack!"
The young man’s head turned her way and a smile breaks out on his face. “Lilita,” he calls back and easily alters his path until he joins her in the shade. She saw brief concern flash over his eyes, and perhaps something a little more, as he looks her over, his smile turning to a warm grin.
“It’s been a few days, but you look great, you do,” he says. “How are you? Is that a new dress? It fits you like a glove and…” Amlack suddenly blushes and closes his gaping mouth.
Lilita smiles at Amlack as he approaches, "I almost didn't recognize you out of uniform. I am not sure that I ever recall seeing you in civilian attire, it suits you." Looking down at her dress she giggles, "thank you. Yes, it is I suppose if second-hand can truly be considered new. And yes, it is somewhat form-fitting my bosoms more prominent than usual I suppose but I can assure you that they have always been there... hidden under the potato sacks I usually wear." She laughs playing it all off as a jest to avoid causing him too much embarrassment.
At her comment the young man’s gaze is drawn directly to her breasts. He blushed again, grinned, and looked down at the cobblestones a moment later.
"You look well Amlack, how have you been? Are you enjoying a day off or are you working undercover? I have been well but busy with things. Right now, I just stopped for a bite to eat before heading on to the Temple of Kuluth."
“Yes, my day off,” he agrees, daring to meet her eyes again. “I always visit the Temple to Oakider once each five day to seek ‘His’ blessings. Temple of Kuluth? Life and Death? I, ah, I would assume you’d pray to Duna or KodKod.”
Lilita smiles and shakes her head, "actually I have always worshipped Eldath Goddess of Peace. I am just going to the Temple of Kuluth to deliver a journal to the High Priest who I hope might be able to provide some answers concerning some of the entries. Boring stuff actually. I don't want to keep you from your prayers but if you are not in a hurry you are welcome to join me and have our noon meal together."
“No, no hurry at all.” The young man said it so fast that his eagerness to spend time with her was evident and almost silly. So was the effort he was making to keep from grinning like an excited young boy.
Falling in step beside her Amlack grins again. “How have you been since I last saw you? Did the woman you helped recover? I have little doubt that she didn’t thrive and bloom under your care.”
Lilita gives Amlack a sad look, "I don't know. I took care of her late into the night and she seemed to do alright, at least holding her own then being exhausted myself I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was gone. I searched everywhere for her but couldn't find her, so I fear the worst. This relates in part to why I am now on my way to the Temple of Kuluth."
Lilita then gives Amlack a seriously concerned look, "I need to tell you something and you are probably going think that I am a superstitious nervous Nelly or just plain crazy, but I need you to listen and keep an open mind. Please, I need you to be on your guard and be very careful at night on the streets. The girl I was treating, I am certain that she was bitten and partially drained by an undead creature, a vampire. I even saw his majesty's special elite guards battle such a being and their arrows had no effect on it so it escaped them but there are more out there and the Black Rose House of Healing is somehow involved or shielding them, beware those connected to the House. So please promise me Amlack, that you and your fellows will be careful out there and should you encounter such a creature, be wary, be mindful, take precautions, avoid getting too close, withdraw if need be, don't take chances alone or underestimate them even when you have the proper backup! They are extremely dangerous; I swear to you that I am telling you the truth!"
Instead of laughing or giving her an incredulous look Amlack looked troubled, even worried. They walked in silence for a half dozen strides before he says quietly, “There…there have been reports, more coming in each day it seems. Floobs attacking floobs, only not with words or weapons, but physical attacks. Many are getting bitten. My captain addressed our troop yesterday, warning us to be wary, especially at night. I…” He hesitates.
Lilita listens carefully nodding her head not overly surprised when Amlack talks about the various reports. At least word is getting out and the brave men on the Watch are being informed.
Pausing under the sweeping boughs of one of the massive oak trees lining the wide street the young City Guard glanced off at nothing in particular. “Two nights ago, one of our patrols was attacked by, well, a pair of Panthers if you can believe that. Only one out of a patrol of five survived. Sarge had gone to speak with the survivor and came back shaken. He bought some silver edged daggers and handed them out to us.” His hand unconsciously drops to a handle in the middle of his back then stops as if he wills it. “The Blackhearts are out in force at night as well, which is unusual. We’re being assured it’s added security for the upcoming festival but…”
"Panthers, I saw a girl named Nicci at the Blackrose able to transform into a tiger so sounds like there might be a number of people able to transform into such beasts, not like Druids though, darker and more sinister. Just be careful out there Amlack, look after yourself and your friends. I wouldn't want to hear about you or any of you companions getting injured or killed. I should get going now and make my way to the temple. Take care of yourself and I will see you later." Lilita gives him a quick friendly innocent kiss on the cheek before partying ways.
He watched her go.
It took three quarters of an hour and asking a passing priest where the Temple of Kuluth was. When she arrived outside, she found a small, ancient looking place set behind a field stone wall covered in ivy. When compared to many of the other temple complexes it was almost quaint. Behind the wall rise several small buildings, one taller then the others and topped by a bell tower. Several workmen are busy pruning the ivy vines away from the walls while a team of masons work at patching the wall. Or, so it seemed so, though to Lilita’s untrained eye there was little wrong with the walls that she could see.
Lilita pauses and looks at the wall and the workmen closely... a little puzzled and is left wondering what exactly they are up to thinking that perhaps the temple requires protection beyond the mundane or the physical. Even though she is unable to perceive it she reckons they must be shoring up the wall to protect against dark creatures like Nicci and her kin not to mention the Sanguisuge.
Walking about to the eastern side she found a simple, heavy wood gate with an ancient symbol for Kuluth emblazoned upon the door.
Lilita walks respectfully up to the heavy wooden gate and stands there in front of it. Lilita slowly runs her hand over the ancient symbol for Kuluth as if tracing it out as she whispers in the Celestial tongue, "the night is dark and full of terrors...but light burns them all away." As she speaks those words her hand glows softly with radiant light.
“Almost immediately the door opens slightly, revealing a bald monk about twice her age. “Yes?”
Lilita looks up at the monk and uses Prestidigitation to create an illusory image of the owl sigil that fits in her hand holding her palm up before him and simply says, "I am Lilita Lulitu, an owl sent me to deliver a book to the High Priest of Kuluth regarding the Sanguisuge... Lord Basha Maigrinstaff and Lord Rakia Rezgui. May I please have an audience with the High Priest or arrange to make an appointment to see him as soon as possible? I can wait here outside the door as long as it takes if that is permissible. Please, it's extremely important!"
“Just a minute.” The door closes as quickly as it had opened. If the monk had been surprised or confused, he had shown no sign in his expression. Nor had he questioned her request or made any other indication that he had found her request outrageous.
The door opens again, wider to allow her entry.
Lilita not sure how long it's going to take sits down and leans against the wall as she waits patiently for the door to open back up again trying to figure out in her head exactly what she is going say without appearing too crazy. When the door does open again, Lilita quickly stands up and brushes herself off and walks inside unsure of what to expect.
Inside she is greeted by the same monk as well as an older priest of Kuluth. His beard salt and pepper in color, he holds up his holy symbol and without word of explanation or request he waves it at her in a quick but careful pattern while murmuring a prayer to his god. Lilita felt a warmth flow over her, like that of a midafternoon’s breeze on a hot day. Both the monk and priest watch her expectantly but when nothing happens, they physically relax.
Lilita innocently looks up at the pair and smiles at them thinking that she must have successfully passed some sort of test and that they were satisfied.
As the monk closes the gate in the wall the older priest smiles gravely. “I do apologize young miss, but as a rule, we do not allow strangers entry onto the temple grounds in the best of times. Brother Timmind there, tells me that you are seeking a meeting with the High Priest about the Sanguisuge. Please, this way.”
Lilita bows and nods, "there is no need to offer any apology, I understand that in these times certain precautions must be taken. As a stranger here, I do thank you for graciously allowing me entry." She follows behind them as they lead the way, "you could have easily just sent me away and had done with it, so I do appreciate your patience and kindness."
Moving through the garden, the temple grounds seems like an ancient garden, a place for contemplation and meditation. Artful use of bushes and small fruit trees cordon off areas, creating hidden spots. In some are statues of the God, Kuluth, in others lie simple stone benches or bubbling fountains.
Lilita looks around in awe as she walks along behind the pair. She is more than a little surprised by what she sees. She had not expected so much nature and beauty to be found in a temple devoted to Kuluth rather she imagined something more spartan. The temple grounds were very peaceful and relaxing which helped to put her more at ease.
“Few come these days, asking…nay, even mentioning the Sanguisuge. Most prefer ignorance, even though it has been a plague on Tarantis since its inception.”
Lilita solemnly nods in agreement, "yes I imagine that most of the common people of the city are ignorant of the Sanguisuge, but this is starting to change now isn't it? I have to admit that it was not all that long ago that I was blissfully unaware of them myself. Is the work being done on the walls surrounding your temple because they are growing bolder as their numbers increase, they no longer see a need to operate in absolute secrecy as they used to, at least since Lord Basha Maigrinstaff first brought this plague to the city from the island?"
“You may call me Alfonse, Miss,” the older priest replies with a smile. “And your observations are astute. We are preparing for whatever may come, as best as we may. The indications are that a war that is usually contained within the shadows is coming to the light of day. I was a younger priest when the last infestation flared up, though if was mostly in the shadows. This time feels different, so Corlone, our current High Priest, orders that our order prepare.”
Lilita gives the priest a sad look, "and I am called Lilita your eminence, not so astute I fear, please forgive my ignorance. Much of this is new to me as I have only managed to put together bits and pieces here and there. A war? Do you mean a civil war between the forces of Lord Basha Maigrinstaff and Lord Rakia Rezgui? I should warn you now that I suspect that I may be the daughter of Lord Rakia Rezgui though I cannot be certain."
Alfonse looks at her with an amused smile at her declaration.
Reaching into her pack Lilita carefully takes out the small hand-painted portrait of a man and a woman holding a silver-haired baby... and shows it to the priest and the monk, "I believe that I am the baby pictured here, the woman Anilia which I believe to be my mother and the gentleman Lord Rakia Rezgui whom I suspect is my father."
The smile tightened slightly. “I will confess, Lilita, that you are the only one I’ve ever heard of to make such a claim. I never encountered any of the Sanguisuge Lord’s personally. Only the high priests of our temple and several of those of our allies tried to defeat, or at least, contain the Lords. One was destroyed, but the other three were too powerful. I was a lay brother at that time, not a monk, so I and my brothers worked to destroy the Sanguisuge minions and fought our counter parts in faith who side with Darkness. Even so, our elders educated us that the last outbreak was a minor one.” From his tone, it sounds as if he didn’t agree, but then, as he had said, he had been young and in the front lines, such that they were. “So much that is hidden, even from those of my position. Such secrecy works against us, I fear.”
She looks up at them her hope, starting to fade as the priest's words begin to sink in, "this is the primary reason that I came here... I am in search of answers that I had hoped your High Priest could shed some light on since he was mentioned in the book."
“His eminence should be able to help you in some way, though how much, only he can say.”
A look of disappointment begins to fall like a shadow over Lilita's once hopeful face, her voice wavers as she asks, "you said your current High Priest? I am looking for the man who would have served as High Priest some 18 years ago give or take when I was but a baby in my mother's arms. You see, the book, or rather the journal mentions the High Priest of Kuluth but did not provide an actual specific name, but two other names were also mentioned, The Widow whoever she may be, and someone called Tan Gregarari. There was also a large painting of Anilia, the artist who signed it was a Casmial Orseran. I am hoping someone on this list can provide me with the answers that I seek. So, I don't mean to waste your time or the time of your High Priest but that is why I have come all this way. Can you help me please?"
The priest led her into one of the smaller outbuildings on the grounds instead of the temple proper. Turning down a corridor framed by wooden beams that shine with such deep patina that it was not hard to imagine them being thousands of years old. Plaster smoothed the walls between the beams which are pierced with the occasional door or archway leading elsewhere in the building. The air has a woody, dry smell, one mixed with the smells of men and cloth.
“To answer the first question, you must be speaking of Talis Panou. He was High Priest at that time,” Alfonse said with a shake of his head. “His Eminence, Talis Panou suffered a series off heart attacks seven years ago and stepped down. He resides in our order’s retreat in Jarmeer Province, about a four-hour ride from the city. The Widow, I’m afraid, is a fictional persona. One popular within Tarantis but probably doesn’t really exist. So many wild stories are attached to this persona. That she roams the city in her black carriage that contains an endless mansion, attended by a flock of blood crows that are her ears and eyes within the city.” He chuckles at the thought. “Once, during the last infestation, there was someone claiming to be ‘The Widow’, who aided those who confronted the Sanguisuge, but the cities history books mention variations on this ‘Widow’ person going back twenty-five hundred years. Surely a fiction.”
“I have not heard of this Tan Gregarari, though the Artist Casmial Orseran is well known. His studio is still located in the Artists section of the Sage’s Quarter, I believe.”
Lilita eyes grew wide and darted about once inside the smaller outbuilding something about the place was familiar to her or was this what she had expected of a Temple of Kuluth. She looked at her priestly guide Alfonse and asked, "forgive me but are there no females of your order? Somehow I feel like I might well be the only female to have walked these halls for ages."
“You are correct. Few women or females of the other races seem to hear the call of Kuluth. This isn’t to suggest that we are not open to admitting them when they do come to answer the call, only that they are few. Unlike many of the other faiths, we do not distinguish a difference between the sexes. If you are called, and you answer, then you share all the duties, labor, joys, inner peace, and physical amenities equally.”
Lilita quietly listens as the Cleric Alfonse responds to her many questions, trying to be patient and to keep still as with each answer many more questions arose. "I am sorry to hear of the poor health of His Eminence Talis Panou. Even though it is a long way to Jarmeer Province especially for one as I, who does not have a horse at my disposal may I ask that if I were to travel to your order's retreat do you think I would be permitted inside for an audience with his eminence?"
“Without a doubt, young miss,” he replies with a nod.
His response regarding the nature of the Widow had Lilita perplexed. Lilita could not understand how it was possible that the Widow was not a real person as she had seemed to figure so prominently in the journal. Lilita eyes moved about looking around for crow that had been traveling with her... becoming agitated and somewhat upset with herself that she had failed to keep track of it wondering if it was outside the temple waiting for her or if it had left her entirely. Her heart sunk knowing she would have to wait until later, after her meeting before she could look for it.
She looked at Alfonse, "are you certain that The Widow isn't real? I came here with a crow with a red mark under its wing shaped like an owl, I thought it was a messenger of the council, it was what lead me to the small portrait, journal, and the mirror shard! There were others too, a whole flock but the one was special and kind to me, it liked to eat pecans. If it was real, so wouldn't that mean that Widow is real too? I don't know about her or a carriage but the crows they were real, I swear!"
The priest looks at her with mild surprise. “Probably just a crow. The city is rife with them, which is odd considering Tarantis is a seaport and sea birds dominate the skyline,” he says. “What you describe sounds like some wizard’s familiar.” He hesitated for a moment before giving a slight shrug as they draw close to a door at the end of the hall. “There was a special breed that used to be used as messengers back in the day. I saw only one and it had intelligence beyond mortal birds for it led me and several of my associates to a place where several new blood vampires had their resting places. When we defeated the sleeping beasts the crow was gone. It is said that this Widow uses them as spies, if you believe all the rumors.”
Lilita was not sure what to think, the mystery seems to have no answers, only more questions. Falling silent... deep in thought, Lilita continued to follow Alfonse as he leads her forward hoping that the current High Priest can offer additional insight.
They stop in front of a simple door at the end of the hall. Giving a light knock, Lilita hears a muffled ‘enter’ from inside. Alfonse turns the handle and steps aside to allow her to enter ahead of him. The smell of…cheese…greets her, as dose cool air. The door opens into a long, low chamber made from heavy bricks. The walls arch inward, joining a vaulted brick ceiling. The place reminds her of the ‘cold rooms’ back at the Healer’s Guild’s main chapter house. Deep cellars meant to keep vegetables and other perishables cool until used. At no point did she feel the floor angle down, nor had there been any indications of hills within this section of the city. Not far away stands a fellow in simple white work clothes and wearing a faded apron at a low table rubbing something onto the side of a modest sized wheel of cheese. Wheels sitting on shelves or tables, some stacked while other cheeses are round, like gourds and hang from racks or hooks in the ceiling. Several alcoves and side rooms can be seen from where she stands.
“Thank you, Alfonse, you may leave our guest with me for a while…say, an hour?”
Alphonse looks hesitant than gives a respectful nod and leaves, closing the door behind him. “Welcome to the Temple of Kuluth, well, the cheese cave, anyway,” he says with a laugh, “You may call me Corlone while in private.”
Lilita easily intimidated looks shyly towards the High Priest, her eyes respectfully downcast... bows formally as if unsure what to do and then quickly curtsies trying to be respectful of his status and person, "yes Eminence, thank you for seeing me. I am called Lilita Lilitu and I will try my best not to take up any more of your valuable time than is absolutely necessary."
He smiles and reaches for a towel and wipes off his hands.
Glancing at all the cheese surrounding them her hands trembling slightly and nervously fishes into her pack and carefully removes the small hand-painted portrait of a man and a woman holding a silver-haired baby... and shows it to Corlone, "as I revealed to the good priest and monk, I believe that I am the infant pictured here, the woman Anilia which I believe to be my mother and the gentleman Lord Rakia Rezgui whom I suspect is my father."
“May I see it?”
Placing it into his hands Lilita reaches back into her pack again and pulls out the journal and then places it into the hands of the High Priest Corlone.
"Though there is no name I believe this to be the journal of my father before he became one of the Sanguisuge. I've taken the liberty of marking a number of entries of interest but please peruse its contents as you think best. Some pages I know are missing, sadly, the book was like that when I found it."
With sympathy in his eyes the high priest of Kuluth takes the journal and carefully looks through its pages, a slight frown forming on his lips.
Lilita stands there nervously fidgeting and adds, "you will note that the journal mentions the High Priest of Kuluth who I have been told may be referring to his Eminence Talis Panou. Other names mentioned include The Widow though I have been informed that she is fictional, but I just don't believe that to be the case. Also, someone called Tan Gregarari as well as Lord Basha Maigrinstaff."
That said Lilita falls silent and patiently waits for the High Priest to examine the journal and read it all at his leisure without interruptions from her and come to his own conclusions.
Moving closer to one of several lanterns providing light in the cheese cave Corlone studied different parts of the journal for some time. He sighs and seems to nod understandingly. Before handing both the portrait and the journal.
“I cannot say if they are your parents or not, though I do see some resemblance. Eminence Panou stepped down some years ago because of health reasons and resides at one of our monasteries. As for Lord Maigrinstaff, he is a prominent figure among the city’s nobility and a highly respected Healer with a reputation for being able to cure many exotic and rare malaises. Something most priests can do,” the High Priest says wryly then frowns again.
“There were rumors, accusations leveled against Lord Maigrinstaff during the last infestation, that he is one of the Sanguisuge Lords, though it was never proven. As a lord of a wealthy and powerfully connected family, he has a lot of protection and was never proven to have been involved.”
Lilita politely nods and reveals her Healer's Guild Signet Ring to him, "yes your Eminence, I am an acolyte of the Guild, so I know a little bit about Lord Maigrinstaff and have been inside the Black Rose Healing House though I have never met his lordship personally. However, I did meet one of the girls at the Black Rose named Nicci, a shapeshifting Weretiger who serves him. After my short visit to the Black Rose recently, Nicci followed me outside and attempted to harm myself and a companion, a great warrior who managed to fight her off forcing Nicci to flee."
A look of surprise crosses the high priests face at that.
Looking around nervously Lilita continues her story, "though I have no proof that Lord Maigrinstaff is a Sanguisuge Lord besides the journal I did also speak to a woman named Domonique of the Black Rose more highly placed than Nicci I think but not a shapeshifter. I am not sure what she is, but I saw that she has a rather strange and distinctive tattoo of a blue star located just behind her left knee. In speaking to her she confided in me that Lord Maigrinstaff is a Sanguisuge as is Lord Rakia Rezgui and that the two had a falling out and Lord Rezgui is no longer welcome in the Black Rose or city for that matter which leads me to suspect there is some infighting going on between them and perhaps two or more factions of the Sanguisuge."
The look of surprise hardens a little. “Shapeshifter…weretiger. That would be fitting,” he says, “Many such beasts rose to the call the last time. It was they who spilt the most blood in the streets. Worse because their bites, not unlike those of the Sanguisuge, inflict their curses on their victims if the victims are not killed outright. And you say this Nicci attacked you and your bodyguard?”
Lilita nods, "yes your Eminence though I am not exactly sure if Nicci intended to truly harm me, frighten me or return me to the Black Rose. The warrior, a Half-Orc named Mordecai whom I owe a great debt is not my bodyguard as I am not one able to afford to hire retainers or bodyguards. I had imagined that we could have been more to one another but one as plain as I cannot hope to compete with the exotic beauty and charms of the seductive Livvi the Fey Goddess." Lilita sighs and gives the High Priest a forlorn look, "that is alright, they are together now I suppose looking to discover more about the Sanguisuge and their plans though for the life of me I cannot imagine why an exotic dancer would be so interested in such creatures. But to be fair Lord Rakia Rezgui seemed as captivated with her bosoms as Mordecai. Elfmaids, what's a girl to do, am I right your Eminence?" Lilita shakes her head and throws up her arms as if exasperated, "such is life, best I devote to myself fully to my calling rather than idle girlish dreams of romance."
Corlone rubbed a hand over the side of his neck as if remembering some close call. “Many organizations, cults, clubs, and guilds sport various tattoo’s so that they might be recognized by other members which makes it difficult to say that this blue star has a related to what you are saying. Others’ might know more than I, when it comes to that, but this possibility of infighting is troubling, especially this close to the festival of silver. Lord Rezgui may be pushing to regain some sort of status from his rival, or perhaps, is plotting to eliminate Maigrinstaff completely. If so, he must be building a powerbase of his own, or seeking to topple Maigrinstaff’s support.”
"I could not say, your Eminence," Lilita agrees, "whatever their relationship, they are rivals but even rivals can agree upon a common cause if the situation should warrant it. Let us hope that they remain divided their attention more focused on each other."
“Tan Gregarari is Magelord, well, back then he was a wizard,” His Eminencies says, “but was elevated to the Council of Mages. Led by the Head Sage, the council advises Altar the Lion on matters of the arcane. They also oversee registration and police the city’s resident wizards, sorcerers, etc.”
Lilita carefully listens and is surprised to hear that Tan Gregarari is a Magelord. So many highly placed figures involved in her mystery gives Lilita pause becoming somewhat concerned that she is a bit out of her depth, like a fly on a great elephant's backside. Still, she is desperate to unravel proof of her origins, so Lilita is not about to give up just yet.
"Tan Gregarari and his Eminence Talis Panou I must speak to both of them, show them the portrait and the journal. I need to first make my way on foot to your order’s retreat in Jarmeer Province to visit his Eminence Talis Panou before trying to gain an audience with the Magelord upon my return."
“On foot? It would take the greater part of a day. I know since I have walked it several times myself, though you may be able to wrangle a ride on one of the fright wagons traveling to and from the city along the way.” The high priest looks thoughtful. “Gaining entrance to see the Magelord may be far more difficult as, I would assume, he is a busy man.”
Lilita thinks for a moment and asks politely, "with all due respect your Eminence would it be too much to ask you for two official letters of introduction with your seal? One addressed to Tan Gregarari and other to his Eminence Talis Panou as I am not sure that I would be permitted to speak with either of them on my own. Letters from you would I believe give me a better chance to get through the door without revealing too much information to their servants and retainers especially Tan Gregarari as to why exactly a girl like myself needs a private audience. I mean, there is no telling how far the Sanguisuge influence extends into the council of mages or the council of advisers as it does with the Healer's Guild."
A benign smile comes to Corlone’s face. “It is the least I can do to aid you in your search. Things are becoming more…hectic, with the eve of the festival coming. I would send a party with you to visit the Branswan Monastery but there’s no one to spare, not until after the festival. Here, let’s find some parchment and quill.” He removes his apron and starts for the door.
"Thank you very much, your Eminence, the letters will prove helpful," Lilita bows respectfully and follows closely behind, "I will be alright traveling on foot alone no need for an escort but I will keep my eyes peeled for any wagons headed that way, your kindness is most appreciated, you have been very helpful."
The Cosmic Cart Café is a small but popular Inn and tavern, frequented mostly by Mages, Sages, and Alchemists the Archsage had said, though on occasion a fighter or two might drop in seeking advice from the others in matters of the occult. The proprietor of the nicely decorated establishment introduced himself as Redbone Ash. At the mention of Khatri, Redbone was keen on making Arphaxad welcome. As the inn keep chattered Arphaxad glanced around at the interior. Paneled in glass with cut crystal accents, the place had charm and an air of elitism. Dominating the center of the central room was Redbone’s prize possession, something he was only to willing to explain, is a large crystal statue of a Pegasus in flight.
“Tis my most favorite possession, this,” Redbone gently caressed the waist high statue sitting on a pedestal. “Pegasi are my most favorite of creatures and someday I hope to find one” To ride or to make a pet out off, the Inn keep didn’t bother to say. He was, Arphaxad noted, quick to point out that his rooms were clean, dry, and cost one silver crown per day. “Ale is 2 coppers, a glass of decent wine runs a silver crown, and…”
The innkeeper continued with the practice of a man well versed in his litany, while Arphaxad listened with half his attention on the elegant surroundings. While not a hedonist, the Hybrid wasn’t an ascetic either. He enjoyed a certain amount of luxury in life. Many scholars preferred to devote their energies to their studies. He felt that abject squalor was a waste, and a few comforts allowed him to stay sharp.
When he had heard the prices of everything and paid for a couple of days, he headed to his room.
His room was as advertised, about three strides (15’) deep and two wide. [GM’s note: a stride equals 5 feet square). A narrow but comfortable looking bed lines one wall, a small square table and padded chair sits near a closed, lead paned window overlooking the street below. At the foot of the bed is a decent sized chest, banded with a clasp but no lock.
A quick examination of the chest revealed nothing. It would be suitable for a few square feet of storage, valuables or clothing. After thorough examination he decided not to leave his gold inside. Instead, he left most of his random equipment there. His rope was looped about his shoulder, his rod was in his belt and his waterskin was at his belt. These precautions in place, the sorcerer felt ready to walk about the area looking for things of note.
The question is, now that he’d managed to translocate to this new world and strange place, what his goals were. It was something that hadn’t been fully covered before he had left.
Arphaxad was sure of one thing; everything about this place fascinated him. From a world that had been fully civilized to a world not only unknown to him but largely unexplored... he was excited.
Precisely what his next move was, he didn’t know yet. Perhaps he could find something to direct his curiosity in one of the libraries. Taverns might have folks with stories of strange occurrences... he pulled out one of the copper coins and flipped it to decide...
The copper piece whirled upwards and he decided that heads was library and tails was the bar... a bar... whatever. He didn’t decide what would happen if it landed on edge or vanished entirely, and it was fortunate that it came up heads, rather than one of the unlikelier possibilities. Staff in hand and curiosity whetted, the Hybrid set out to one of the libraries.
It was late afternoon as he set out. Unfamiliar with the local conditions Arphaxad couldn’t judge how many hours of sunlight were left. Even so the air was a bit tepid but there was a mild breeze coming in from the great bay. He could smell the mixed aromas of saltwater and the lesser pleasant smells common to most seaports. Since he was already in the Sage’s Quarter, it wasn’t overly difficult to find the nearest library. Part of a complex of buildings and towers one passerby had called the Tarantis Royal Center for Higher Complexities.
As he walked, he studied the floobs filling the streets and smaller alleys. Many of the shops were heavily slanted towards the district’s needs. Among the usual greengrocers, butchers, small wine sinks and taverns are shops selling parchments, inks and quills, used books and scrolls, arcane necessaries and components. There were quite a few shops devoted to the ‘scribe for hire’. Literate men and women willing to write a letter, read a scroll, or otherwise help those who lacked the ability themselves. Other shops advertised copying of works, minor magics produced (usually elder mages or wizards willing to conduct minor magics for a fee).
While already possessed of the components for several castings of each of his spells, Arphaxad decided to scope out the prices being charged locally.
The nearest such shop has a sign with a carved and painted mortar and pestle on it. In an elaborate script, one in which Arphaxad could understand, which in and of itself was a curious thing. Oh, there were common trade languages, but typically other worlds and other planes have languages all their own. Many worlds have diverse, local languages as well. That he happened to enter a world where the local basic was basic enough for him to understand was…curious. Perhaps a side effect of the. Fascrade Inthihil. The sign reads, Mnemad, Alchemist, proprietor.
Entering the shop, the first thing Arphaxad noticed was the familiar (and unfamiliar) smells of herbs, concoctions, ingredients, common and rare components filling bins, jars, hanging in clumps and bundles from ceiling hooks. In addition is a modest selection of the sort of accoutrements both a chemist and arcane user might want or need. The next thing he notices is a large sign just inside the door reading: Everything half-off, No Refunds or Guarantees!
A rather curious sale pitch. What sort of desperate individual was willing to trust his fate to a potion that wasn’t guaranteed to perform as expected? Aside from those lunatics with the Izzet League. But half price was a compelling motivator... The Hybrid quietly entered then moved among the stock to see what was in the offing.
Among the potions, salves, powders, elixers, essences, and gasses of many types sit smaller signs, mostly with figures denoting price. Potions of Healing only 260GP, Undead 990 GP (Which and what Undead wasn’t posted), Breathe Water 260PG, Shrinking 600GP and so on.
Arphaxad had never heard of sticker shock, but he was experiencing it all the same. A lowly researcher had little cause to fret over potions, and the cost for some of these elixirs was amazing. Perhaps they were less expensive in his home world, or maybe gold was easier to come by here. Either way, it was unlikely that, even at half price they were mostly out of his price range. Curiosity hit him hard. What sort of being shopped here?
[GM Notes: LOL, the prices and descriptions are straight from the Tarantis city guide and reflect the actual costs of creating potions back in the day. Not sure how they’d translate to the current editions. Here’s what google turned up: I use twice the creation cost from XGtE, but half the purchase cost per rarity in DMG works too. Healing 50gp Greater 200-250g Superior 2000-2500gp Supreme 20000-25000gp. There’s a story behind the warning sign but Arphaxad would need to ferret it out IC to understand why]
There were two floobs currently in the shop. One had the look of a part time fighter; he was busy sweeping the back part of the shop. The other was a man in his middle fifties and wore a turban that once might have been a bright yellow, but age and use has reduced it to the color of mustard. He stands at a large table carefully measuring ground fire lizard scales into a ceramic bowl. Noticing Arphaxad’s arrival in the store the man set the jar down in such a manner that it appeared that he was trying to cover up a bit of parchment.
“Greetin – ah,” the man stumbles over his opening spiel as he gets a good look at Arphaxad. “Ah…can I help you?”
He was not often given to mirth, but it was difficult to resist the urge to burble incoherently at the startled man. His renewed curiosity at what might be hidden on the parchment helped him keep his face sober. [GM makes a perception check to see if Arphaxad can see the parchment. 18+0=18] Even as the shop keeper was setting the jar down Arphaxad caught enough of the scribbling on the parchment to realize it was instructions on how to make some sort of potion.
“I’m looking for a few spell components, mostly. I’m... new to the area, and not familiar enough with availability to be comfortable with my current stock.”
“Yes, we have many basic components at a fair price. Good quality, too,” the man replies, head bobbing and smiling encouragingly. “I, ah, I’m sure we have something you require. Any…any specifics?”
“Oh, indeed... I hope you have phosphorescent moss, lodestones, soot and salt, cured leather, bird eggs or bitumen, spiders...” Arphaxad trailed off. “I figure I can pick much of it up around, but it’s nice to have it handy in an emergency... Would you or your assistant be able to direct me to these ingredients?”
Towards the back the clerk with the broom glances toward Mnemad and Arphaxad with mild concern evident on his face but makes no move to come and assist.
“Or... I could wander around and find it myself...”
“Everything’s clearly labeled, if you wish to browse sir, otherwise I would be happy to help. Tangaorth there reads well enough so he could assist, if you need such. I believe we have everything you mentioned, and at a fair price I assure you.”
“I think I can manage,” the Hybrid murmured calmly. He looked at the shelves, hoping to find out what sort of system they used to organize, if any and is quickly rewarded by a series of clearly marked storage containers, bins, and small placards. Most of what he found he readily recognizes but there are a few that must be unique to this world, or whose purposes he wasn’t sure of. Components or prepared potions, salves, etc, of value are secured behind closed, glass cases and would require assistance. While peering at one such cabinet Arphaxad became aware of Tangaorth, the shop’s assistant leaning on his broom close by.
“See anything particular?” the man asks.
Arphaxad hesitated before daring to ask. “I... couldn’t help but notice that your employer is working on some sort of potion. I could understand if he was in some hidden laboratory trying to turn lead into gold or some such, but he’s hiding his potion ingredients while working in a rather public area... what is the story here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Tossing a causal glance over to where Mnemad had returned to brewing the potion he is working on, muttering soft curses, mostly directed at himself, as he works. “There was an incident a few five days ago (weeks),” Tangaorth said. “Mnemad was commissioned to create a number of rare and expensive potions for a client. One of the cities’ lord healers. Shortly after completing the order the healer, who is also a Wizard of sorts, cast some sort of spell on him, as best we can unravel. Since then Mnemad’s been suffering from loss of memory.”
A mage cleric tampering with the memory of the individual who brewed specialty potions for him. Intriguing. “And the potion he’s working with is one of the commissioned ones?”
“In a way, yes, though I fear that it is as unstable as the previous batches.”
If a well-known healer was acting contrary to an expected set of standards, something interesting was in the works. “Does this memory loss involve anything other than the potions?”
Tangaorth rubbed his stubbled chin. In doing so Arphaxad couldn’t help but smell the aroma of garlic cloves coming from beneath the man’s tunic. “For the most part, yes. The memory loss extends slightly into his knowledge of the city and some short-term loss. He may or may not remember your visit tomorrow.”
It seemed an extreme measure, likely born of desperation. Most mages that tampered with the mind prided themselves on discretion and subtlety. This was anything but subtle. Of course, his experiences were limited, and were further restricted to those from his own world. Perhaps mind magic was less studied here. There was a mystery here. Several, if he was right. He liked mysteries.
“Is that the only recipe he retains? What does it do?”
“Actually, there’s several potions on his list for Lord Maigrinstaff. The one he’s currently working on is supposed to be a protection from lycanthropy, only when he tests it the potion seems to have a forty percent chance of causing a temporary transformation. The other potion is one for Protecting oneself from the Undead. When tested, it seems to be lethal instead. At least several rats died a few days ago and, well, didn’t quite die…”
Arphaxad made a slight face. That might explain the garlic. A potion that endowed undeath upon the recipient... Not quite his cup of tea. He was not one interested in so called eternal life. The restrictions were too great. But it would be interesting to interview someone who was recently changed. Not a rat, of course; they lacked wit as well as language. But others...
“Do I take it that vampirism is the unanticipated side effect? Or is it some other form of undeath?”
“The garlic?” The clerk tugged at the front of his tunic, sending up a thicker odor of the potent herb. “Yes, and a bit more.” His voice lowers an octave. “You must be new to the city if you haven’t heard all the rumors. Shape changers roam the back alleys at night and the vampire lords of old seek to reclaim the city as their own. Wealthy and Noble keep going missing. Some two dozen, mostly young women, it is said, although most of those missing have returned but are sick or withdrawn, only going about after dark.”
“You can say I’m new... that’s for sure.” Arphaxad tried a small smile that looked more like a grimace. “It’s my first day here” Shapeshifters and vampires? He’d met several of each before. Undead made a phenomenal labor pool and weren’t exactly uncommon back home. But if they were anathema here, likely they were more aggressive too.
It had by now occurred to the Hybrid that the unanticipated side effects were, in fact, NOT errors, but rather were the unspoken intent of the potions. This healer was having potions of lycanthropy and undeath made, in the name of preventing such, then erasing memories of it. But why…
“Is this something that has happened before? I realize you’re not a historian, but if we can identify some sort of pattern...”
“Usually we hear such nonsense about this time each year. That the strigoi have arisen; that the dead walk the streets seeking blood. It’s the Festival of Silver you know.”
Festival of... “No, I’m unfamiliar with this celebration... honestly I’ve never heard of it. Silver is known to be a weakness of many supernatural creatures, but that’s only a guess at the purpose.”
Tangaorth became a bit more animated. “Oh yes, silver is reputed to work that way, although I can’t claim to have put it to the test during my days with the Merc company. Still, it’s kinda odd just how many floobs don’t make the connection. As best as I can remember my granman’s stories, the Festival of Silver was begun by Great ole’ Bansaor ‘The Lion” some two thousand years ago to celebrate the eradication of the Strigoi Lords and their minions. I suppose it was meant as both a celebration and to keep the warnings in the minds and hearts of the citizens. Been so long, most seem to have forgotten that part.”
It wasn’t unusual. In his limited experience, floobs tended to want to forget the bad in life. Far more pleasant to recall only the good, or to make something positive from a negative occurrence. And time did the rest.
“So, these... Strigoi lords... Vampires? Liches?” Many undead we’re present in Ravnica; most acceptable, some not.
“Vampires. Myth and history claim that they have always been present in the city since it’s earliest day. Infestations crop up from time to time, or rumors do.” For a former mercenary, Tangaorth appeared to have become knowledge about the city’s history, especially dealing with these vampires. It might explain why his employer had picked him.
This infestation was something to look into. The mystery behind it stroked at his curiosity like a playful courtesan looking for a generous tip. He wanted to know more. This assistant wasn’t likely to be of much more help, it seemed, but the Hybrid has thoughts about where more answers might be found. “Do you or the alchemist know where I might find a library that holds historical records of the area?”
“The Royal University most likely,” Tangaroth said. “It holds much of the surviving city records and is famed for having the second largest library outside of the Imperial Library in the City of the World Emperor. Just take the street out front and follow it to Ivy street. Turn left, you can’t miss it.”
Purchases paid for and tucked away for later, the Simic Hybrid thanked both men and eased out the door to seek the Royal University.
Hours later Boosandie finds herself laying beside her arcane mentor on his large, four poster bed. One of the many advantages arcane powers gave were a seemingly never-ending way of creatively using magic in the naughty and stimulating ways. The simple cantrip Mage Hand for example, powered up using metamagic, created a spectral hand that was tireless, adept, and obedient. It could pluck a diamond ring from a wealthy Dame’s dressing table from a quiet perch in a tree across the street from an open window, assuming someone might use it for such purposes. It could also be put to some very intimate tasks. So could Haste, Suggestion, and numerous other spells, if the receiver were receptive to their magics. Khatri had demonstrated many such things over the years. Illusions could be made, spells to command, to control, to bind and restrain. Other spells increased stamina, enhanced body parts or created exotic environments, temporary playgrounds.
Boo ponders the various spells and how they might be put to use, especially during amorous encounters but quickly dismisses such idle thoughts. Boosandie to her very core is something of an old-fashioned girl, preferring a direct tactile, hands-on approach to pillowing, considering it, as an art form on to itself to be enjoyed and savored! But to each their own, who is she to judge.
Still, what Boo truly wonders about is how it was that they were headed to her mentor's study and ended up in his bedchamber. Now that is real magic, she smiles to herself as she slips adeptly out of bed to retrieve her discarded garments scattered all about the room.
As she gathers up her things, Boo gazes back at her snoring tutor and blows him a tender kiss knowing full well it's all empty meaningless words and promises men say to women. From stable boys to archmages, they are all the same in the end so she won't hold her breath that she will be visiting another world anytime soon. Boo quickly and quietly dresses then proceeds to tiptoe silently out of the room seeking to avoid the awkwardness associated with a post-pillowing departure. Thus, Boo following her own brand of boudoir etiquette withdraws unobtrusively, seeing herself out.
Her way out took Boo past Khatri’s study. Though it was late, the city never truly slept, and she had planned on visiting one of Tarantris’ best weapon smiths in order to discuss some adaptations she had in mind for a whip, her favored weapon. The door to the study was open. As she passes by Boo can’t help but notice half a dozen scrying balls of varying materials. Two glows with inner light, suggesting that they were attuned to someone or someplace of interest to her arcane master.
Boo stares at the open study door and bites her lip as she struggles with the temptation of what to do. Cursing to herself she looks upward and groans. "Oh gods, what did I ever do to you?" Torn between a desire to sneak a peek against a sense of obligation that tells her that a good apprentice respects a teacher's privacy.
In the end, sadly, Boo's wicked curious nature gets the better of her as she slinks inside the study for just a quick peek knowing full well that she is going to end up regretting her rash decision. Once inside the study, she tiptoes up to the glowing orbs and gazes upon them in wonder.
Within the first crystal ball was an image of a humanoid that defied description. Some being that was like nothing that she had ever seen or heard of. Part human, but with what might be described as amphibious skin and odd protrusions from its joints. It appeared to be male but with the heavy, hooded cloak he wore, she couldn’t be certain. Even the clothes – the cloak, seemed off somehow, made from foreign materials she wasn’t familiar with. The settings around the floob looked familiar. One of the quieter taverns in the Sage’s Quarter, perhaps. Why Khatri was interested enough to keep a long-term scrying spell on him was hard to say. Maybe it was one of those extraplanar travelers he’d spoken about.
Boo is fascinated by the creature, surely it is a traveler from one of the other worlds of the multiverse! She could understand her tutor's interest in it, the only question did Khatri bring it here as one of his minions or did it somehow come on its own? Glancing at the other orbs, it strange that her tutor did not mention this when he had talked about the multiverse earlier but then he has many secrets. Boo starts to wonder if he keeps regular tabs on her as well thinking if he does then he is going find out she was nosing about without his permission causing her to worry that he would stop teaching her entirely if he felt that he could not trust her! Standing where she was now, she knew that she had betrayed that trust and he in all likelihood was going to find out about it sooner or later.
The second crystal ball was larger, perhaps the size of a watermelon, sat on a low marble table with a padded bench before it. Within was the image of a tall, muscular half-orc dozing on a bed too small for him. Laying within easy reach is a well-used glaive, the weapon sharp, it’s edge lightly reflecting the yellow light of a low burning lamp somewhere within the room. As she peered at him his eyes snapped open and slowly peered about, as if aware someone was watching. Or not, perhaps he was merely a light sleeper and something outside the room caught his attention. He stood, a light sweat cover his bared, scarred chest and moved towards the rooms only window. The scrying spell followed as it was attuned to the half-orc and not the room. He stood, slightly to the side of the window and peered out cautiously. Beyond was a dark, misty rooftop of some large building, maybe a warehouse.
Boo glances at the second orb but not for long as she hurries out of the study and towards the front door then stops and doubles back to her tutor's bedroom seeking to confess what she had done and seen in his study hoping that Khatri would take pity on her and not seek to discharge her as a student. She could only hope.
He stared at her through sleepy eyes for a moment, listening to her confession and apologies for a several long moments before waving a hand to cut her off. “I applaud your honesty, Boosandie. It shows integrity but there’s nothing to worry about. If I held any suspicious about you, I wouldn’t have left the study unlocked.”
Boo breaths a sigh of relief, "well if I am being honest then, I was more motivated by fear than a sense of integrity. I didn't want to risk losing my place as your student. You are by far the best and you take on so few apprentices. I know full well that I am really a rather terrible student, academically speaking at least to merit having you as a teacher. But I enjoy my lessons with you as well as your company, I just didn't want to risk losing all that. Besides, I figured that somewhere you have one of those little orbs of yours keeping an eye on me too. If you don't, then I am a bit insulted! I am so very watchable you know, and I find that I sort of like the idea of having an audience. It makes me feel even more naughty," she says with a coy impish smile.
“What is your opinion of the traveler in the first sphere?” he asked, sitting up and running a hand through his wild hair.
Boo looks around and spies an ivory comb on a nearby dresser. She snatches it up and playfully slaps his hand away from his head, "here, allow me. Whoever styles your hair should be horsewhipped!" She complains as she moves up closer to him and meticulously begins to comb his hair. "While we on the subject, you could use a good manicure as well, you should really consider taking time some time off and hitting a day spa with me and get the works done. It would very enjoyable, something we could do together."
Considering his question about the traveler in the first sphere Boo shrugs, "I don't know, definitely not from our world, I think. Looking at him I could not help thinking of a toad. I know, I know, so judgmental on my part. Especially being that I have bat wings but, in my defense, I think they are rather striking and pleasing to the eye. The majority of males I encounter seem to have something of a Succubus fetish and find me exotic often complimenting my wings more so than my bosoms. Is he one of yours then? Did you bring him here or did he find his own way? Based on his attire he seems to be keeping a low profile either a criminal or not wishing for others know that he is an Outlander. Why are you interested in my opinion about him? I am not the best judge of character especially when it comes to men you know. Sort of my curse you might say."
The Arch Sage looked at her thoughtfully for several pregnant moments before responding. “Your assessments are astute, young apprentice. He is from another world, I believe in another plane as well, but I cannot be sure. Not without further observation. He claims to be a willing experiment of some sort. Not bred, mind, not like you and I, but crafted. Grafted, magically I assume. From just what, I am not sure. He is partially human but also shows signs of some sort of aquatic genetics. It’s common on his world, he claims, but I am not sure. Nor am I sure what his purpose here is. Once again, he claims to be a simple scholar, an explorer, but who knows?”
Boo listens as she works her hair styling magic on her mentor's unruly locks, "eww, a product of experimentation," she mutters as she wrinkles of up her nose appalled at the thought of such experimentation and rolls her eyes, somewhat skeptical of the notion someone would voluntarily choose to be a subject of something like that. Coerced, forced, bribed, tricked, sure but volunteer? The very idea was as alien to Boo as the creature's world. "Claims you say? So, you have met him in person and spoken to him then, not just observed him through your orbs?"
“Why? Well, I could simply say that I am curious about him and why he came here, but I know that won’t salve your curiosity,” Khatri smiles, watching in a nearby mirror as she works his hair into something less crazed. “There are ways, and there are ways, of traveling between the worlds and planes. We have touched on these a few times now. Some less mysterious than others, but even so, our world seems to be a magnet for such travelers. Because of this, and other reasons, some associates and I make it our business to…watch over…the more potent of these portals.” Clearly there were secrets going unsaid.
Boo carefully considers her tutor's words, "well I would think travelers from other worlds could provide oodles of useful information especially those from more advanced universes. By the same token, they could also wreck a great of harm so I can understand your interest in our mysterious visitor there. So, you are saying that there are natural portals or ancient constructs left open in the city or environs nearby? Did our toadyish friend travel here through one of those?" Boo's eyebrows seemed to arch curiously at the mention of others, "associates... I always thought you were a lone wolf type; do you and your associates operate as some sort of guild or secret brotherhood? I always had the impression that most of the other mages, well those of any note were all jealous and envious of your considerable arcane prowess. Competitors, not to be trusted I seem to remember you uttering those very words from to time if I am not mistaken. I find that little nugget even more intriguing than the intentions and motives of our traveler!"
Her master’s eyebrow arched a bit in the mirror as he studied her for some time before responding. “Such astute questions, my apprentice. See, this is why I agreed to teach you, you are full of potential even if you often mask it behind an air of saucy frivolity,” he said with a grin. “Yes, there are portals, some so ancient none who have studied them can determine just when they were crafted. Others, as best those who have probed claim, are products of failed magics. As for…associates…yes, I have a few though none I would consider friends” – as he spoke Khatri’s hand runs lightly down the side of Boo’s bare leg – “in some things, anyway. There are mysteries and magics that cannot be pursued without assistance. In other cases, especially in a city thick with masochism and intrigue, it pays to ally oneself with those who may prove useful in a crisis.”
Boo giggles listening to her mentor's smooth flowing compliments, one after the other, gazing down at his skillful hand as it lightly caresses her bare leg. Boo responds by allowing her thighs to casually fall open in invitation, her eyes twinkling wantonly, "such a honey-tongue you have Master Khatri in more ways than one," letting out a low whimper of pleasure as she bites her lower lip.
As his hand slips over her thighs in response to the open invitation a smirk creases his face. “It has served me well over the years, I will confess.”
A moment or so later with a coy teasing smile, she meets his gaze and whispers, "but I am certain that you only took me on as a personal favor to my dear sweet mother, who no doubt you seduced into visiting your private bedchamber. Just as you did with me. Robbing me of the flower of my innocence like a thief in the night," she giggles teasing him.
“As if a thief, while spending the night as a welcome guest, finds himself beset by a curious and eager innocent slipping into his bed when he was asleep is considered robbing,” Khatri says with a sardonic grin.
Highly amused by their conversation Boo adds almost as an afterthought, "astute questions or saucy frivolity, which do you most covet? No doubt it is my ability to bestow a flawless Elvish Kiss that you most relish. But it is alright, I cannot fault you that, can I now?"
“I would hope not. After all, as flawless as Elven lasses can be, they are ever full of teasing play, often drawn out over such time that unless one has extended years they soon despair of sampling elvish honey.”
Boo runs her nimble slender fingers over his hand, "still, I cannot help but wonder what you have really been trying to get at, that you have been dancing around since last night. I sense that you want something from me? A favor? Does it involve the uninvited traveler or something else entirely? Did you need a companion to accompany you to one of the upcoming balls? I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw you in attendance at one of those. The ever mysterious and reclusive Grand Archmagus, you tend to keep yourself out of the public eye which leads me to assume if that is the favor. That it is for one of your so-called friends?"
A grimace creased the mans face. “Ah yes, social engagements. Most I find so trying, as it’s layer upon layer of innuendo and false politeness. Either fancy covering for groveling and boot licking, depending on one’s status.” He sighs and shakes his head, “and I have received more than a few invitations.”
Suddenly without warning Boo wrinkles up her nose in disgust as a thought hits her, "Oh, no, not that dreadful Warlock again is it? The extremely tall skinny fellow with the large bulbous nose and the absurdly tiny codpiece? What was his name again?" Boo struggling to remember the name. "Oh, yes, the scandalous Lord Maynard Magpie! Because if that is the case, then my answer is no, absolutely not, never again and I mean it this time!"
Khantri looks at her in amusement, which is quickly covered in stern admonishment, even though a grin ruins the effect. A Bard, the arch mage was not.
“Perhaps it is best then, that you are avoiding toying with the good Warlock. I have…observed…remotely and by accident, mind, that his tastes run more towards the undead which, I assume, was the reason for his chosen arcane path. You dear” – his fingers caress as to add emphasis – “are far too warm and lively.”
Boo groans, amused, "yes I am, aren't I? To be honest, I toy with everyone! It’s what I do after all. Warm, lively and oh so moist but you still dance about and avoid my question. Does my sweet master need my assistance with something? I don't wish to overstay my welcome and take up too much of your extremely valuable time. I admit that I don't have any plans so if you wish I can stay and play some more, or we could enjoy a nice breakfast together. Whatever you like."
“Whatever I like,” repeats Khatri with an amused laugh. “Oh, but wasn’t that the first thing you said to me when I woke up to find you sitting on my lap that first night?”
Boo gives Khatri a coy teasing smile of amusement as she cries out in a feigned indignant voice, "I am sure that I have absolutely no idea! Are you sure you are not confusing me with someone else? Did you seduce some other Tiefling apprentice you are not telling me about? If I thought for even a moment that you did, I would, of course, be very jealous!" She teases curling up closer against him.
“By yourself you are a sweet morsel at any time of the day or night,” he says. Khatri’s hand moves over her bare hip to tease the side of her tail. “I would like to know more about this hybrid from so far away, mainly what his true intentions are on our fair world. Scholarly pursuits are often used as a cover for more militaristic intents, though in truth” – his grip on her tail tightens and slowly begins to stroke – “I doubt it’s some prelude to invasion. An army hasn’t come through the FascradeInthihil in five centuries.”
"HA!!! I knew it! I knew you were trying to butter me up to do yet another little favor for you," Boo gives out a little groan of delight as Khatri strokes her sensitive tail, "whenever you do not wish for prying eyes to see your hand in things, you always seem to call upon me to be your little errand girl. Why should I, especially after the Warlock Magpie? The traveler has you that curious or concerned, does he? What is this Fascrade Inthihil, is that how he came to our world? A portal, maybe, where is it? Not inside the city I hope."
“Oh, but I thought you enjoy the idea of my fingers, buttered or not, getting into all sorts of things,” he said with a laugh. “More curious than concerned for he does not seem the war type but who knows? The Fascrade Inthihil is an artifact of great age. A keystone portal, as I understand it and a great secret. It’s location even more so,” he winks.
Boo titters and gives her portly mentor a cheeky questioning stare. "I enjoy and take a great deal of pleasure in most things, buttered or not, but I think that we can do better, don't you?" Boo purrs like a kitten nuzzling her face against his neck, drawing even closer. Unseen, without warning in one swift fluid motion Boo shamelessly straddles Khatri.
“Do better?” he asks teasingly.
Boo lets out a triumphant squeal of delight and sneers, "is this what you wanted? The trap is sprung but who has caught whom?"
His laugh is thick. Khatri’s grunts slightly, both hands coming to rest on Boo’s hips.
Squirming Boo teases and taunts her master as she questions him further seeking to take full advantage of his distracted state, "and what specifically do wish to know with regard to the traveler besides any vague intentions he may have planned for our world or will you be satisfied with mere generalities I manage to uncover? Do wish your identity and your interest in him kept out of it entirely or am I at my discretion to extend a discreet invitation for this traveler to meet with you in person?"
“Oh…Well…”
“Name dropping may cause this being to be open mouthed, or it might cause him to close up and be wary. Of course, I’m only suggesting that you meet with him, if you happen to come across him in your, ah, wanderings.”
"And how am I to be rewarded for this little task you wish me to undertake my most kind and generous master? After all, I do so much for you and ask for so little. Surely, you can spare a tiny bauble from your collection?"
“What? Aren’t these little training sessions rewards enough?” It was Khatri’s turn to tease.
Boo lightly nibbles his earlobe and whispers into Khatri's ear. In a honey-sweet voice she suggests, "how about a Ring of Feather Falling, as I have had a few close calls flying of late and it would ensure that I don't accidentally damage the goods that you seem to enjoy so much. I thought I saw one collecting dust on a shelf in the hallway."
“Oh ho? Such a tiny bauble indeed, and for one so lithe, so skinny, that she nearly dances on air with every swing of her delectable hips? Surely you glide on the air like a gossamer goddess without the need for such magics,” he teased.
Boo smiles and nods, "you would think so," she titters. "I may be light as a feather in your arms to maneuver into all manner of your arcane tantric positions that you are so fond of but hundreds of feet up in the sky, well that is a different matter entirely!"
In the limited space of the bedchamber, Boo extends her wings partially causing them to flutter, "gliding can help and allow me to land safely true but, in a cityscape, with my wingspan, it is not always going to work in my favor. Sooner or later my luck is going to run out and I won't have enough room to glide, or a wing could become injured as to inhibit or prevent my ability to glide. Worse yet I could be rendered unconscious and unable to perform a controlled glide at all and go splat. I am sure that you wouldn't want that on your conscience now, would you? Besides with such at my disposal, I could land easier, in much closer quarters, just fold up my wings and drop where I please, like a feather!"
“Indeed, you are precious and worth of keeping safe,” Khatri agrees. “Yes, it is a small thing, merely collecting dust. A valuable bauble at that, but perhaps you need to inspect it closer. Ring though it may be, it isn’t meant to be worn on a finger.” He pinches playfully, possibly suggesting one such place it might be worn.
Boo folds her wings back up tightly and wiggles about crying out in mock pain, "oh one of those rings is it? You are indeed proving yourself to be the type of old reprobate that the cheap painted strumpets' in the back alleys whisper about! Only low-class females wear such jewelry or allow their bodies to be painted with tattoos. I do believe that you and my dear guardian Vizzini have much more in common than you both care to admit. You would be satisfied with only the one? Won't I be unbalanced, asymmetrical or did you have something in mind for the other one too," Boo teases? "Still, I suppose if I just happen to come across your traveler, I could possibly seek to learn more about him and his intentions if such would make you happy. I do so like to see a smile on your face like the one there now."
When she bends down to whisper coyly into his ear Khatri’s grin became smug, self-assured he chuckles. Then, after a pregnant moment of thought he looks thoughtful.
“Now…did you say that you were interested in attending Maynard’s party next week? Maybe if you were to wear a disguise, perhaps something pale, all ripe in body and blank in mind? It is, after all, to be a masquerade, you might learn more of the Warlock’s…darker talents…” He pauses than adds as if a second thought, “Oh, and you are right…about that ring, that is. It has a mate and there’s a rather bawdy story behind them…”
Boo looks at Khatri slightly confused, "I only recall mentioning the dread Warlock Maynard's name in passing, nothing of his party. I have received a flood of invitations for parties next week. Several if I am not mistaken are in direct competition with Lord Magpie's little soiree I believe." Shrugging her shoulders, she gives Khatri an odd look, "You know full well that the man disgusts me! So, it should come as no surprise that I really had not been planning on attending the Magpie's masquerade with so many others to choose from. Regarding his darker talents, I am all too familiar with his tastes and talents the first and last time I entertained him at your request, remember?"
She studies her mentor's expression closely, "and you forget my rather unique and distinctive look, there are not many of my kind about, at least with wings or for that matter as beautiful. Masked or in a more elaborate disguise there is just no hiding my wings. Even with magic, say a Disguise Self spell. You can't change your body type, so you must adopt a form that has the same basic arrangement of limbs. Thus, my wings counting as limbs utterly ruins its effect. Perhaps a magical bauble like a Circlet of Human Perfection might work on one such as me, I don't know. Magpie knows me well enough to easily recognize me in a mundane or lesser magical disguise. Even so, I doubt knowing who I am will deter him in any way as I think he is rather taken with me and it would make no real difference to him. I don't think that one fears even the Lion himself! What is your interest in the Magpie then, I thought you two were colleagues of a sort?"
“Shifting alliances,” was all he said about Magpie, drawing her down closer he says, “Such expensive gifts, my dear. Have you considered polymorph? I may have a wand of such laying around.”
Boo smiles and shakes her head, "I am an expensive girl, after all, it’s only fitting that I delight in extravagant trinkets. Polymorph, wand, I believe that is of limited duration. What is it? A mere hour or so. I imagine if I used such on myself to fool the Magpie he would just be warming up and poof I would run out of time, most likely, at a very inconvenient moment. You are the one that suggested I attend his party in disguise, I was merely offering suggestions. If I do attend, I don't see the need of attending in disguise greater than a mundane mask and gown as I don't really care if the Magpie knows who I am or not but I guess that depends on what you were needing me to do for you."
He parodies a poor man’s expression than laughs. “I shall ask around, perhaps one can be found in time for the party. Meanwhile, the ring you have your eye on is yours, as it’s matched pair, assuming your up to wearing them as intended.”
Boo giggles with delight and climbs up on to his lap showing her gratitude by giving her mentor several quick kisses, "but of course I don't mind wearing them as intended knowing how much doing so will please you," she says sweetly giving him a seductive look, "but I must insist that you put them on me yourself to better appreciate them."
Getting up from the bed Boo walks over to the nightstand and pours them both a glass of wine, offering a glass to her master, "shifting alliances, attend the Magpie's ball in disguise you seem to be getting rather vague and mysterious in your old age my sweet master," she groans taking a drink of wine. "If you really need my help with something, just come out with it. You know I am always willing to do whatever I can to assist you, reward or no reward. First this traveler, now the Magpie, is there a connection that I am just not seeing? Or are you trying to just keep me distracted and busy with an empty meaningless task? Am I that poor of an apprentice," she asks as she slides back into bed beside him?
Accepting the glass Khatri merely stare’s appreciatively at her. “The Traveler is more of a concern, as he’s largely unknown, as is the world from which he came. His purposes here are worthy of unraveling, my sweet. Magpie is merely a diversion, go or don’t go. Several of my other associates have expressed concerns that the good Warlock may be mucking with some Eldritch magic for unknown purposes. Typical of most floobs of arcane power, he’s reluctant to share.
Boo nods in understanding, "see, that wasn't so hard was it," she purrs pleased that her teacher is finally sharing just a bit more information. "Master, I would be delighted to pay your traveler a visit to check up on him and see what he is up to and if possible, befriend him in order to gain his trust and cooperation. Regarding your interest in the devious Magpie, I will, of course, attend his costume ball and see what I can uncover. He is secretive and as tight-lipped as they come but I will see what I can do. Anything for you master, you have but to ask and provide sufficient details so that I will know how best to serve your interests!"
He chuckles and begins to reply but whatever he said was lost as she finishing off her glass of wine and climbs off her mentor's lap and makes a dash out of the room to fetch his very generous gift and returns with them, placing them into his hand to put on her himself wincing slightly at the thought of the initial pain they will cause when he pierces her sensitive parts.
Her anticipation was rewarded. There is pain, and there is pain.…
Leaving the city by the Lion’s Gate, Lilita took care to avoid being ran over as a steady stream of waggoner’s drove heavily laden wains along the paved road. Intermixed were patrols of The Lion’s men though none wore the badges or fly the banners of the Blackhearts. Lord’s and their retainers, some riding in carriages, others on fine horses, deep chested retainers in the lead bellowing ‘Make way! Make way for Lord-so-and-so!” compete with small groups and large companies of adventures heading out to far away, perhaps exotic places, or arriving to take advantage of the cities amenities, loaded with chests, sacks, and other items. She knew that larger over land caravans left by other gates, endless seeming lines of beasts of burden, guards, and merchants and traders, either arriving to deliver goods to the waiting ships of the vast port quarter or leaving on journeys of a year or more inland. Amongst all this were farmers with carts or loaded beasts, many with loads on their backs and accompanied by family, or lone travelers such as her.
Lilita looks in awe at the comings and goings not often traveling through one of the gates leading out of the city, in fact, she could not remember the last time she had left the city proper, it has been so long. Lilita kept looking to and fro as she darted about trying her best to avoid all the wagons, carriages and the like. It wasn't easy since she was a bit distracted thinking about what she learned at the temple. That and since she left Lilita had been desperately looking for the crow as she walked, feeling a little sad that she had gotten separated from it or it had left her to perform some other vital task for the mysterious Widow, that is if it was her familiar and the Widow was, in fact, an actual person!
This close to the city the main highway was well tended and segregated slightly. The center, paved with heavy flagstones of hard rock, layered on top of a thick roadbed, was wide enough for two heavy wagons to pass each other, if the drivers understood that such roads were meant for two-way traffic and not solely devoted to the direction they wanted to travel. On either side of this was a stretch of finely packed gravel some three strides (15 feet) wide, meant for lighter carts, foot travel, and lightly burdened beasts. It wasn’t long before Lilita noticed that few travelers seemed to care as wagons, carts, horse and riders, several camels at one point, and scores of floobs such as herself, on foot, were all trying to get where they were going even if it meant going against the flow.
The final portion is a wide stretch of mostly grass and weed covered stretches some four strides wide on either side. By decree no construction was allowed to proceed within the bounds of the highway, including the shoulders as the grassy parts were often called. Though, in truth, most of the stretch was more packed dirt (or mud if it rained) as traffic moved along these as well. It was good that Altar the Lions’ predecessors had decreed no construction otherwise it would have been just as packed as many of the city’s quarters within the walls. Instead, she was greeted with a sprawl of shanti’s, lean-tos, tents, slapdashes and the occasional permanent structure. A city outside the city.
Upon her first glance backwards, she was treated to how high and strong the outer city wall looked. Some ten strides high and supported by bastons and towers that rose even higher, the walls were sandy brown in color with a stripped pattern created from darker, reddish stone. A few soldiers above looked like small birds.
Getting her bearings Lilita continued on in the direction she needed to go on foot feeling determined to get the bottom of her mystery no matter how long it took or how far she had to walk. As late morning turned to mid-day, her feet had carried her over a league from the gates. The shanty city had dwindled, giving way to huge pastures and dusty lots. Many held caravans, including tents of all shapes and colors. Others were empty, yet to be claimed. At no point did she pass a single tree, though shrubs and bushes were clustered here and there and the one small river that bared the way had a grimy look to it as she waded across, up to her knees at the center. The highway had dipped down, forcing a wet crossing for everyone one on it. Apparently, the river had not been deep or wide enough to warrant the expense of a bridge.
After crossing the knee-deep muddy water once Lilita reaches the other side and out of the way of other travelers crossing she will quickly cast Prestidigitation in order to clean and dry her clothes and shoes and proceed on her way again not wanting to waste too much time but thinking to herself that she will travel faster if she is clean and dry. Lilita is happy and in good spirits, in a way feeling that it is nice to be out of the city for a change seeing the sights, watching the other travelers. For her at least this is all somewhat very exciting.
On the far bank stands a small village – a thorp, really. The dozen mud-brick homes containing the families devoted to running and working the large inn that dominates the crossing. Three stories high with a large tap room open to the air. The smells of food mingling with that of humanity, it’s domesticated animals, and sundry. At the top of the riverbank Lilita can see a pair of smaller paved roads jutting off at angles, running northwest and northeast while the main road continues ahead. Remembering the instructions that his eminence had given her, she wanted the northwest road.
Trusting in the directions provided by his Eminence... Lilita takes the northwest road and continues her journey only stopping along the way to take a short break and rest here and there. During one of these rests, Lilita will consume one of Tulip's Berry Bloom Goodberry for sustenance in order to keep up her energy. Additionally, from time to time, she will check the sky to see if the crow has come back and is following her still missing its company feeling a little alone on her own. Lilita hopes that she will be able to reach her destination before dark so hurries along also keeping an eye out for any carts or wagons that she might be able to catch a ride on.
Having only gone a hundred strides or so down the northwest road Lilita hears shouts coming from the inn. Several figures rush out, one shaking his fist, another waving the long-handled spoon in her hand. A third, much smaller figure outran them. Clutching something large, round, and green tightly, the floob ran in her direction. For a moment the creature pauses and slaps the ground around her feet with a short, thick tail, sending both noises through the air and vibrations that Lilita could feel in the souls of her feet before resuming her run. That the creature was a female was in little doubt as she has a figure feminine in nature and poorly covered by a hide and fur skirt and what might be considered a vest, if it wasn’t more tatters than garment. Other straps of leather held crude pouches and implements that were hard to define. The fist shaking man had taken up pursuit, though his size, shaking belly, red face, and wheezing made it highly doubtful he’d ever catch up. When he spots Lilita he gasps and shouts, “Stop it! Stop the little melon steeling thief!”
Lilita frowns looking at the man and then back to the strange being not exactly sure how to handle the situation, trying her best to think of something.
As if seeing Lilita for the first time the creature squeals, grins and rushes straight for her. As she closed Lilita could discern two things. One was that she was some sort of lizard person. Fine, slightly beaded sandy colored scales cover her body with a row of lumps or bumps starting on her forehead and following her spine, growing smaller as they disappear a foot from the end of a muscular, whip quick tail. Second, clutched to her chest was a dew melon. In seconds the lizard girl was hissing and weaving slightly as she runs a circuit around the healer.
“Fat man chase! No, not fair, not fair! He off’d to share melons if Melu shared melons wit’ his hand!” The language was heavily accented, as much whistling and hissing sounds as common words yet this Melu managed to make herself understood. Slapping her tail as if in emphasis, she lifts the melon above her head like some hard-won prize and in doing so, causes her vest to gape open, sealing any doubt about her gender. “Mine! Yours – mine, share! Send fatman, go, get, shoo, we share!”
Lilita looks sadly at the lizard-girl understanding her meaning and calmly talks to her, "please go Melu, hurry run away... out of sight, as far as you can with your melon... it’s all yours, no need to share with me and don't worry, I will deal with the man for you. GO! SHOO!"
Without another word, Lilita turns and starts walking towards the man in question, reaching into her pack and pulling out her Cook's Utensils calling out to him smiling in a friendly manner as she keeps walking in his direction, "I am very sorry for the loss of your melon sir, I don't have any funds to reimburse you but I do have these fine cook's utensils, almost new... to offer you in restitution. I paid a whole gold piece for them when I bought them brand new, so they should easily be worth at least half that... far more than a single overripe melon so please accept this peace offering and forget about the lizard-girl, she meant no harm or offense I am sure." [GM Roll for man’s reaction to the offer: 62% > They appear interested but hope to gain more)]
Wheezing and grunting to catch his breath the man slows to a walk as he see’s Lilita’s approach. Glancing at the cook’s utensils in her hand he wipes his mouth with the back of a greasy sleeve, than runs his eyes over her form.
“You in need of a meal, girl? ‘ow ‘bout a job? Our last server ran off ta join a circus headin’ for the city for tha festival. Wha’ you say, ‘eh?”
Lilita smiles respectfully and responds in an open and friendly manner, "that is a very generous offer good sir but I am gainfully employed with the Healer's Guild as an apprentice with Pencelot Foonse," holding up her Guild Signet Ring, "so I respectfully must decline your kind offer, but I thank you for asking."
From somewhere nearby comes a distinctively hiss sounding raspberry. “No, no not believe! He only want/demand to milk you!”
An annoyed look joined the man’s already red-faced expression. “Filthy little beasts, scavenger’s and liar’s tha’ lot of ‘em.”
Lilita turns and frowns in the direction of the sound made by the lizard-girl and turns back to look at the man, "my apologies kind sir, don't mind her the poor sad creature doesn't understand civilized ways nor it seems is fully versed in the common tongue. I am sure she means no disrespect to you. Now that I have provided restitution to more than compensate you for your melon I will be on my way. I am on an errand for the Guild and do not wish to be late. Thank you again for your kindness and understanding."
The man’s eyes flicked towards her ring, but it was the mention of Pencelot that drew his attention. “Foonse tha Druid? A somewhat regular customer, an’ one tha’ I owe a bit o’ debt too.” Wringing his hands and looking a bit guilty, the innkeeper refuses to take the offered utensils. “No, no, I nae can accept those, t’woud be ba’ manners. Tha’ old Druid comes through ‘er every month or so, headin’ up tha NW road. Couple o’ visits past ‘e cured several o’ my staff when they’d gotten ill with tha Fluge.” Another raspberry floats on the wind causing the man to roll his eyes.
“Melon’s are cheap, I’ll consider it even if’n you take tha’ creature with ya’ an’ leave it somewhere ‘way from ‘er.”
Lilita is somewhat surprised that this rather unsavory individual knows or has had dealings with Pencelot Foonse but if it helps defuse the current situation then all the better, she cannot argue with the results.
Thinking a moment Lilita looks up at the man, "I don't really know the lizard-girl, but I am willing to try, I guess. Perhaps if you give her a second melon for the road then I think it will make it easier for me to convince her to come along with me. If you like you can just give me the melon and I will handle the rest and lead her away. How's that?" [GM roll for NPC interaction: (+5) 78=83%]
He hesitated only long enough to add, “Deal. I ope’ you’ll let Master Foonse know tha’ he’s always welcome at the Cool Brook.”
Without waiting for a response, the man goes to fetch a melon, though walking at a slower pace than he had arrived. From behind a nearby shrub comes a tittering hiss. “He no/not milks you now, you/her important, yes?”
Lilita looks at the poor unfortunate girl and shakes her head feeling a bit sorry for her, "no he's not going to do that... I guess I am not nearly as pretty as yourself," she smiles giving the dear a compliment, "and no, I am not important."
“Me/Melu…great/bestest hunter/warrior in Gim-glap tribe,” the lizard girl says, peeking around the shrub at Lilita. “You/great lady, yes. Marked, yes.”
Listening to the lizard girl's speech Lilita does her best to follow the meaning of her words, "very impressive Melu, great hunters are very important. Does your tribe live nearby? No, I am not a great lady, I'm just a common street-healer, nothing special."
Before Melu could explain (assuming) the innkeeper returns with a basket. Inside is a melon, some meat rolls, a loaf of fresh baked bread and several mangos. He eyes the lizard girl briefly than appears to ignore her presence as he offers the basket to Lilita.
“Healer’s are much respected, even here in the provinces,” he says. “Just take care though, a young woman alone on the road makes a tempting targ – “
“No/not alone/me, Melu…an rock! – “
“-et,”.
Lilita looks surprised at the sight of the basket presented by the innkeeper, "dear sir you are much too generous but I... rather we thank you for showing us such kindness." When he mentions traveling alone Lilita nods, "of course... but I am a tempting target no matter where I go from the back-streets and alleys inside the city to the open roads beyond the walls I manage well enough. Your warning and concern are much appreciated though."
“No, not so generous…I owe your teacher much and more,” the innkeeper says with sincerity.
Amused by Melu Lilita turns to her smiling, "of course I am not totally alone with you and your rock, thank you for reminding me."
The lizard girl hops from one clawed foot to the other and back then struts around in a small circle, clutching her melon.
Lilita accepts the basket from the innkeeper with a wide appreciative smile.
Lilita holds the basket and offers her thanks to the innkeeper again as she starts to walk away glancing back at Melu, "come along please, I have a long way to travel before sunset. As we travel, I am sure along the way we can find a nice spot for a picnic and you can eat and enjoy the bounty given us by the kind innkeeper for our journey so best offer your thanks to him as well, it is the polite thing to do."
Carrying the basket Lilita walks on seeking to continue on her journey...
Following, the lizard girl, balances her melon in one arm, pulls a round, polished river stone from one of her pouches and waggles it around. “Rock! Big/stupid men’s-things soft heads.”
The innkeeper eyed Melu warily than bows to Lilita before returning to his establishment. The look was enough to suggests that perhaps, just perhaps, the lizard girl was an accomplished stone slinger.
Exiting the mansion’s main door leads them into the back of the carriage from which they had entered what seemed like hours before. Something told her that it had only be a half hour, maybe more. From the widow the night was still dark, the mist’s varying in thickness. The guardian Minotaur’s still outside and above, the soft whistling from the roguish driver. Beside her on the expensively leathered seat is a nice pouch is an old, well-polished Cittern. Beside the half-orc lies a very fine-looking weapon of obvious masterwork. The handle was a soft yet sturdy hide, tightly wound, ending in a hilt shaped like the head of a crow. The crow stares back at Livvi with one ruby eye glittering in the dim light cast by a single small lamp affixed to the ceiling of the carriage. Beside Mord was another, similar bag.
"Well," comments Mordecai, "she was true to her word. If you don't mind, I'll be perusing the contents of this bag for a moment or two."
Livvi investigates her own bag and discover that, like the carriage, the interior appears larger than it should be, she discovers a silver ring in the shape of Ram’s horns. There is also a folded piece of paper. Which reads: I hope that these tokens will aid you in this quest. It is a perilous time and threats can come from any direction, at any time, and in any guise. The Cittern is a rare Mac-Fuirmidl and is magical, it will provide you with many useful spells to aid you in your quest. These are gifts, to be kept or to be gifted to others in time. Young Lilita has spent the night in her family’s townhouse and has plans to seek additional answers to more questions that she is learning. I suspect that she’ll visit the Temple of Kuluth next, perhaps in the morning. I am sorry that you may have learned more secrets about your mentor, Bilina, that you may have wished too, most assuredly that she has several agendas that seem to be at odds with each other. It is often the way with such floobs. They strive to claw, scheme, or woo their way to a high perch. Some succeed, far more than most fail, and end up coming to a bad end. If you find yourself in true need, just whistle and I shall send help appropriate for the task. The rest of the letter is detailed instructions on where to find the townhouse The Widow was speaking of.
Livvi sits wide-eyed, staring at the masterwork instrument next to her. She had the pouch in her hand, but her attention was on the cittern. She looks over at Mordecai's new weapon and smiles - "It suits you, Mordecai. Look, I think we could both use a good night's sleep. Lilita is safe for now and under the watchful eye of The Widow. Shall we find her in the morning before she leaves her family's old townhouse? Or perhaps at the Temple of Kuluth?"
Mordecai looks up from the letter and eyes Livvi.
"Thank you, Livvi," Mordecai responds. "You seem to have scored yourself an equally suitable instrument. I hope to hear you play it one day - hopefully, under pleasant circumstances... although I suspect that may have to wait for now."
"I agree with you," continues Mordecai, "We could use the time to rest and we... both... likely need some time to mull over what we learned tonight. Let's try to catch her at the town house first thing in the morning."
He pauses.
"By the way, if you need to bounce some ideas or thoughts off of an objective third party - feel free to," Mordecai tells Livvi with his best attempt at a comforting smile.
He nods to Livvi as she exits the carriage, "See you in the morning."
Livvi climbs out of the carriage, smiles and nods to the driver and footmen, and hurries to The Whispering Mane Inn with her new instrument held tightly and the bag tucked securely into a pocket. Once to her rooms, she will enter quickly but quietly in the hops of not disturbing her roommate for the night, Nephele. The girl had suffered quite a frightful experience and needed the sleep. Of course, so did Livvi, but she was too excited at the prospect of her new instrument to fall asleep yet...
And so, she sat up in the anteroom, gently cleaning, polishing, and checking the cittern. She examined all parts of the instrument, from the fine strings to the neck, the pegs and the body, checking the grain of the wood and the joins for soundness. She quietly tuned it and tested the weight of it in her hands, strumming softly and running through the fingering exercises her early music teachers had forced her to perfect. The bard was overjoyed at the unique timbre and pitch, the pegs able to hold the tuning perfectly and the body resonating with each note. After an hour she felt the magic within her, and the instrument, aligning in an intricate harmony. She knew this masterwork instrument would heighten and strengthen her own magic and provide some additional effects she had only read about in ancient tomes from the college.
There was ancient history in the instrument, hands large and small had handled it. She knew that both amateurs and masters had created beautiful music with the cittern, and that some of those master’s had embedded it with magics, some quite powerful. All very useful for one of her talent’s and desires. And though it felt as if made for her slender arms and fingers there was a masculinity in it. A warmth and strength, power and creativity, and a deviousness that gave her a pleasant shiver. Upon close inspection she found a maker’s mark just inside the body, one that would make many of her instructor’s green with envy. This was the first; the original, crafted by a Master Bard that was more myth and fable than known fact. A faint, simple script in a language not seen in four thousand years stated “Crafted by Mac-Fuirmidh, because…”
>
Unfortunately, she also started to feel the drag of exhaustion, and her eyelids eventually closed for the rest of the night as she lay curled up on the divan, the magical instrument nestled in her arms like a lover...
She dreams of dew melons and crazy lizard girls dancing and singing wildly to her music.
Early the next morning she awoke, stiff and sore. She checked in on her friend before silently padding barefoot down the hall and ordering a hot bath drawn for both herself and Nephele. It was a luxury she needed this morning! She also ordered a full, hot breakfast to be brought up to the room after the baths, because she felt that today was going to be long and potentially dangerous, so Livvi wanted to fill up before it started. Then she arranged her full fighting leathers and weapons. She was no longer concerned about her town crier duties and wanted to be fully prepared for whatever came next.
Once the baths were ready, she gently woke Nephele and led her to the wash area. The hot water soon did the trick, loosening her stiff muscles and bringing her back to life. The half-elf wanted to linger much longer in the luxurious bath, but Lilita would be leaving before long and she needed to meet back up with Mordecai before the Grey Lady disappeared again. So, she reluctantly dragged herself out of the water, but told her friend to stay as long as she wanted. She wrapped the warm towel around her body, for once not noticing the perceived defects in her physical appearance that she used to obsess over. Now the lady was focused and driven. She quickly dried, performed her morning necessaries, ate a huge breakfast still wrapped in the towel, then dressed in her red leather armor. She strapped her rapier, daggers, and several darts on, then strapped the cittern across her back in a manner such that she could quickly spin it into playing position or keep it across her back and out of the way. The new bag of holding came next, with a variety of equipment in it.
As she moved about her flat Nephele watched, sipping a cup of morning tea. “You look different, more imposing,” the young woman said tentatively. There was a haunted look in Nephele’s eyes but nothing that brought undue worry to Livvi’s mind.
"I feel more imposing. I suppose that I am no longer hiding who I really am - a huntress. I don't have to act like a lady-in-waiting, or a junior guild bard, or even like the daughter of an upper-class family. I am a skald, able to change the very fabric of reality with my words and the music coursing through my blood. I am a vampire slayer. I am a protector of the innocent. I am neither a lion nor a cobra, but just as powerful and deadly. Today I am reborn." As Livvi speaks, her voice becomes stronger, powerful, like a king addressing his troops before a battle, full of promise and glory and inspiration.
She pulled the strange ring out of the bag as she left her rooms to study it as she walked along the dimly lit streets of Tarantis in the morning. She walked along following the directions from The Widow, a part of her mind paying attention to where she was walking and who she passed, but most of her thoughts were on the new ring and what secrets it held for her. She slipped it on the middle finger of her left hand, the rams' horns protruding slightly over her adjacent fingers almost like the metal knuckles toughs and thugs used. But Livvi knew that while this ring packed quite a punch, it was more from its imbued magical properties than from her physical strength. It was a good defensive ability for a woman who was determined to take on a nest of vampires!
Nephele scratched unconsciously at the side of her neck as she looked at the ring on Livvi’s hand. “A goat ring? It looks expensive but kinda not the sort of jewelry I always imagine you wear. ‘course, my imagination runs away from me at times,” she said with a soft laugh. “I – I am sorry tha’ you an’ your big friend ha’ to rescue me fro – from tha – that thing. In all the terr – ah, in all the excitement I lost my mask and gown. Was gonna go to some of tha street parties an’…dream, I guess, of bein’ like someone like you.”
Smiling warmly at her friend, Livvi touches the spot on Nephele's neck that she kept scratching, the girl's fingers wandering time and again to the place where the vampire almost bit her. With an arcane phrase and a gesture, warmth spreads from the spot along Nephele's neck - enough for her to feel the heat but not an unbearable burning sensation. Livvi repeats the phrase but with a few differences, and a small mark appears in the same spot. (Casting Prestidigitation to create a sensory effect and then to create a mark that lasts for an hour!) Grabbing a mirror, Livvi holds it so Nephele can see it - the faint outline of an owl...
Nephele blushes at Livvi’s touch then turns to look at the softly glowing glyph on her neck. “I might have to get sometime like it, a tattoo maybe,” she says, more to herself than to Livvi.
"I have marked you with a protective charm," Livvi says. "It will fade in time as it bonds with your spirit, but it will strengthen you over the days ahead. You don't need to dream about being like me. Dream of being YOU. Strong, fun, industrious, clever, beautiful. We are sisters, bonded by struggle and escaping death together last night. Today you are reborn too! You are welcome to stay here today if you wish, and if any of my clothes fit you you may have it. Except for the new red gown hanging in the middle of my closet - that is a gift just received this ten-day and I would like to wear it first!" Livvi winks at her friend, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Sadly, I must be off now. I will see you tonight, either here or at your place?"
“I – I should probably return home.” The tone in her voice was stronger than before though still haunted. The experience that the green-haired girl had gone through was rare and often doubted by others, but the terror had been real, so had the danger. Still, there was a strong heart beating in the woman’s chest and given time, she would recover. What doesn’t kill you…
She heads out before the sun rises above the walls, following the directions provided by The Widow to the old townhouse that was once Lilita's home.
Exiting the mansion’s main door leads them into the back of the carriage from which they had entered what seemed like hours before. Something in Mordecai’s gut told him that it had only be a half hour, maybe more. From the widow the night was still dark, the mist’s varying in thickness. The guardian Minotaur’s still outside and above, the soft whistling from the roguish driver. Beside him on the expensively leathered seat is a nice pouch about the size of his boot and a glaive. A very fine-looking weapon of obvious masterwork. The handle was a soft yet sturdy hide, tightly wound, ending in a hilt shaped like the head of a crow. The crow stares back at him with one ruby eye glittering in the dim light cast by a single small lamp affixed to the ceiling of the carriage. Beside the Half-Elf was another, similar bag and an old, well-polished Cittern.
"Well," comments Mordecai, "she was true to her word. If you don't mind, I'll be perusing the contents of this bag for a moment or two."
Mord looks into the bag and discover that, like the carriage, the interior appears larger than it should be, you discover a gold ring embellished by a gemstone shaped hummingbird. There is also a folded piece of paper. Which reads: I hope that these tokens will aid you in this quest. It is a perilous time and threats can come from any direction, at any time, and in any guise. The weapon, it is said, has a magical distaste for the undead while the ring shall give temporary evasion when in need. These are gifts, to be kept or to be gifted to others in time. Young Lilita has spent the night in her family’s townhouse and has plans to seek additional answers to more questions that she is learning. I suspect that she’ll visit the Temple of Kuluth next, perhaps in the morning. As for your companion, I believe that she has learned some uncomfortable truths this night and must decide how to proceed. Her mentor, Bilina, most assuredly has several agendas that seem to be at odds with each other. It is often the way with such floobs. They strive to claw, scheme, or woo their way to a high perch. Some succeed, far more than most fail, and end up coming to a bad end. If you find yourself in true need, just whistle and I shall send help appropriate for the task. The rest of the letter is detailed instructions on where to find the townhouse The Widow was speaking of.
Livvi sits wide-eyed, staring at the masterwork instrument next to her. She had the pouch in her hand, but her attention was on the cittern. She looks over at Mordecai's new weapon and smiles - "It suits you, Mordecai. Look, I think we could both use a good night's sleep. Lilita is safe for now and under the watchful eye of The Widow. Shall we find her in the morning before she leaves her family's old townhouse? Or perhaps at the Temple of Kuluth?"
Mordecai looks up from the letter and eyes Livvi.
"Thank you, Livvi," Mordecai responds. "You seem to have scored yourself an equally suitable instrument. I hope to hear you play it one day - hopefully, under pleasant circumstances... although I suspect that may have to wait for now."
"I agree with you," continues Mordecai, "We could use the time to rest and we... both... likely need some time to mull over what we learned tonight. Let's try to catch her at the town house first thing in the morning."
He pauses.
"By the way, if you need to bounce some ideas or thoughts off of an objective third party - feel free to," Mordecai tells Livvi with his best attempt at a comforting smile.
He nods to Livvi as she exits the carriage, "See you in the morning."
Livvi climbs out of the carriage, smiles and nods to the driver and footmen, and hurries off into the night.
Mordecai steps out of the carriage and to the driver and footmen, tilts his head and simply says, "Gentlemen."
Only one of the pair returns his salutation with a nod of his big, horned head.
He straps the master work glaive to his back, puts on the ring, and slings the bag around himself before heading home.
Once home he polishes his old glaive once more before hanging it on his personal weapons rack, telling it, "You'll always be my first."
He then polishes the new glaive, although it seemed unnecessary, and practices with it for a bit, getting used to its weight and feel. It hums as he swings it.
There was a feeling of history behind the weapon, that strong, moral hands had gripped it down through the ages. Though it was not part of his expertise, Mordecai could see the master work that went into the glaives’ creation and the tightly bound leather hilt had a patina from sweat, blood, and weapon oil.
Before putting it away, he inspects the crow, commenting aloud, "More crows. Starting to think that those red feathered crows were informants, rather than ill omens." The ruby eye pulsed. It might have been a reflection from the room’s lantern, or it could have come from inside as if answering. That ‘just whistle if you need help’ comment came to mind unbidden.
Mordecai looks at the crow and asks aloud, "So I wonder if The Widow herself keeps an eye on things or one of the many under her employ."
When no response was forthcoming he cleans his gear and puts it away, then settling in for a well-earned rest. The last thing he thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep is, "What have I gotten myself into?"
He dreamed of a murder of crows following him, red eyes flickering and blinking in the misty darkness of some nameless alley. Shadows suddenly pull away from the walls, turning into Tiger’s and Panthers, snarling and stalking him. Without thought he draws the glaive and beckons, ‘Come, I’m ready for you now…” There’s mocking laughter and the shadowy figures become bats, only to be chased off by the crows. Something changes and he finds himself standing on an open, grassy plain, not unlike that covering large parts of the province northwest of the city. Rolling hills with the occasional copses of trees marking farms or clusters of such making up thorps. The sun shines, there’s no wind, and it’s hot and muggy. Not far lies the road, upon which a figure like Lilita is making haste. In the distance is a large monastery. A small lizard girl follows Lilita, clutching a dew melon as large as her own head to her breasts. Suddenly she’s right there, before him. Thumping her tail hard on the ground she stares up at him and says in a hissing, clicking dialect that is somehow understandable. ‘You stupid, you big/powerful, but stupid! You in danger!’. The dream rolls on through several scenes that linger just out of reach of his subconsciousness then the lights go out and he’s in a smoky, dim bar filled with bare chested floobs covered in tattoos. A wild-bearded Dwarf it is sitting at the table with him, only the Dwarf doesn’t notice as he’s too busy shaking a massive, gnarly fist under the face of a bearded, robed figure. ‘We’z did what you said to do! Now Garse is dead at tha’ hands o’ tha’ Lion’ Headman a tha’ sneak from tha’ so-called Invincible Overlord has escaped out ta sea! Youse think I’m a fool? I’ll kill you, here an’ now, if’n you double-cross me, Fuzzface, I – “Even as he protests the one called Fuzzface smiles cruelly and casts a spell, turning the Dwarf into a rat. A hand reaches for the rat, only instead of a rat, the lizard girl appears before Mordecai holding her melon overhead.
“You stupid; big; muscle head! You gonna die…” The melon arches towards him, hitting him full in the chest and breaking into dozens of oozing pieces.
He wakes up…aside from the vivid and strange dream, Mordecai’s gut twists hard. Something’s…someone’s been in his room…when? How? He didn’t know, but his private space has been violated and recently.
Mordecai is deeply confused by his dreams, but as consciousness returns, he looks around, noting that something is amiss, and goes on high alert. Mordecai immediately looks for evidence of entry and exit, objects perhaps left behind or that don't belong, then finally he does an inventory of his own things, new and old, open and hidden caches. He also searches his body for scars or other wounds or other signs of what they used to keep him sleeping throughout the break-in.
In the end it appears that whomever had been in his flat, and he had no doubt at this point that someone had, as the wooden vial that he had discovered hidden in a pouch attached to an old belt that he hadn’t used in a few weeks was proof of that. There were minute scratches on the wooden sill outside of the window as well as a suggestion that the latch on the inside of the window hadn’t been fully seated when the thief had made his or her exit. Nothing else was missing, as best he could determine, nor had anything else been added.
//OOC can he tell the type of individual that rummaged through his apartment (eg, professional Thief versus an amateur that just managed to keep him asleep) or the items they were interested in? // Evidence implies a professional, as dose the lack of anything missing. The thief had entered, planted a wooden vial, and exited, and did so, as best Mord can determine, shortly before he had come home//
He takes a quick inventory of his material goods and writes it out down creating a personal inventory sheet.
Mordecai turns the bag of holding inside out to make sure that it's empty. He then rights it and gathers the items he's decided to inventory. He then throws everything he considers of value into the bag of holding, including the inventory sheet. He'd leave oversized items, such as his older glaive, behind. He also makes it a point to look around and see what he can do to shore up his apartment's defenses.
Adding a couple of old metal spikes, he had in his gear to securing the double paned window would make sure that if anyone wanted in that way, they’d have to literally break in, making noise and destroying the windows in the process. Eyeing the door, there were a number of little ‘tricks’ one might try to at least warn someone had opened it before he enters again, though he’d bet most professionals knew them too.
That leaves the vial sitting in the middle of the table. A little smaller than his thumb, it probably could hold half an ounce, maybe less. Without opening the stopper, he couldn’t be sure if it was empty, contained residue, or was full. That gut instinct of his warned that this was the same vial that he had seen in The Widow’s crystal ball and was connected to the assassination conspiracy. Garse had died over this thing, Hadara would have too, had Mortdecai not escorted him to his escape ship.
Mordecai holds the vial in his hand, looks at it carefully, and says to himself, "Well, if this isn't a set-up, I don't know what is." He's about to drop the vial in the bag of holding but pauses. Mordecai bends down and slips the vial into a hidden pocket he had sewn into the inside of his boots.
Talking to himself he comments, "To think, I had you sewn into my boots so I wouldn't have to worry about trusting anyone to hold my pocket change when I was fighting in the pits - now, you're holding... well, who knows what's in this vial."
Mordecai sighs, "Best I hurry and get out of here before whoever planted this comes back with a battalion of guards."
A short time later Arphaxad reaches the Royal University, or so says the large sign carved into a tall, ancient looking obelisk standing just outside of an open gate. Through the gate he can see a wide avenue with large, towering buildings on either side. Walkways run off the main avenue randomly to disappear between buildings. Many floobs of varying races stand around talking or are moving at varying speeds and intensity. Though there is a guard house at the gate it is unmanned and closed up. A few strides onto the main avenue is an open-air kiosk with a long bearded old man sitting on a stool, apparently dozing.
The sight conjured memories of Gashaád. Granted, the two had few physical similarities; Gashaád was a massive Loxodon, long trunk canted to the right from an old injury, skin a rugged grey. This human was far less imposing. But Gashaád was always ‘dozing’ before the entry to the communal laboratory, a sort of unofficial mascot and door guard. He knew every student and professor; woe to the floob that tried to creep by without permission. That doze was either fake or extremely light. None Arphaxad knew had any idea which.
This fellow looked nothing like Gashaád, yet Arphaxad would wager they had something in common. Rather than try to bypass the elder, the Hybrid approached him. “Pardon me, sir... I was hoping you could assist me...”
The old man grunts than blinks and stares cockeyed at Arphaxad. “Well, don’t see many of you entering the hallowed grounds of higher learning or are you getting ready for the coming five days of masquerades and balls?”
The demihuman gestures at his clothing and shoots a wry grin at the fellow. “Bedecked in my festival finery. No, I’m...”
Back hunched by extreme age the man waves off any explanation and mutters slightly, “Some sort of Simic is my guess. Too clean for a war forged and too defined for a stitched mmm, no. Definitely not soul stich. If not, it’s a good likeness of something, hee.”
“I’m afraid that I haven’t seen with... soul stitches...”
“’Course you haven’t, not many have I imagine,” the old man wheezes slight as he chuckles. “Soul Stitched are a race not unlike flesh golems. They were created by stitching and bolting an assortment of many different body parts and brought to life with a thunderbolt that invigorate its muscles with strength and movement. Difference is, they have a mind and a soul. There was a healthy debate some decades ago in the xenogenetics labritorium’s about if it’s possible to be made from dead parts and still be alive, instead of some sort of undead hybrid…anyway, what can I help you with?”
Arphaxad was caught up in the conundrum for a moment himself. Obviously, to him, at least, the experiment to prove the life or undeath was simple. If a cleric was able to Turn the floob, it wasn’t alive. But as a non-standard being himself, he sympathized with the plight of these soul stitched.
He came to himself with a slight start. “Ah... I was hoping to do some research on local history. The university library seemed a likely place.”
“And a lot of history to be researched, to,” nods the old man sagely. “Most defiantly so. Tarantis is quite old, a lot has happened, even in my day, such that it was. I would start in Coriamand’s Hall. It’s a lesser wing of the university library dedicated to city records, noble house histories and the like.” With a few deft waves of the hand the old man gives him directions
A courteous word later and Arphaxad was weaving his way through the slight crowd that had begun to trickle through since his arrival. He pondered the mystery that had chosen to reveal itself to his awareness. Vampires; Strigoi. It was an unfamiliar word to him. Reassuring in its unfamiliarity, really. It would be more unsettling if ALL the words of the two worlds were identical. Obviously, there had been some interaction in the age’s past. But some things developed independently, like an animal species that developed in isolation for eons.
Coriamand’s hall was probably closer to the kiosk than the walk to get to it would suggest as he was forced to circumvent several large structures and pass through one other. If nothing the twenty-minute walk gave Arphaxad the scope of the size of the Royal University. While large, he had been given several hints as he walked and overhears the conversations of other visitors and resident staff that the known world hosted two more cities states that were larger and while not grander, older with more resources. Arriving at Coriamand’s Hall he finds that it is a large, stone structure, not unlike some gothic looking cathedrals that he’d seen.
Within the main entrance he discovers a large, detail mural on one wall depicting a three-dimensional cutaway of the Hall. Below the mural, listed in order, are the various sub halls and libraries attached to Coriamand’s Hall.
Somewhere, there had to be some sort of catalogue. A building dedicated to knowledge like this would be under some sort of organizational system. He had a knack for finding his way through knowledge...(simic scientist; researcher) Somewhere, there was a chronicle of the origins of this festival.
It didn’t take long to find one, either. Entering the indicated hall of records Arphaxad discovers that the hall is multi leveled, rising four high and connected by stone stairways. Alcoves and side rooms held historical artifacts and oddities of past civilization that researchers and art collectors would understand the value of. Bookcases and scroll racks line the walls. On the main floor are stone tables and wooden stools provided for those intending to spend time with the contents. Just inside the door and to his left is a desk, behind which sits a younger woman busy scribbling notes from a large tome. Behind her are several pedestals holding thick, bookmarked tomes, open to various pages. The catalogue of Coriamand’s Hall’s contents.
Arphaxad wasn’t given to many displays of emotion. It pleased him to present a stoic front. That didn’t mean, however, that he was immune to emotion. It was with a hungry glee that he approached the desk. Having been in the midst of frenetic notetaking himself on many occasions, he respected the lady’s activity, standing patiently and quietly until she had reached a satisfactory stopping point.
The young woman looks up and then blinks slightly, her eyes taking in his simic features with a professional interest. Biting her lower lip she seems about to ask him questions but then remembers it’s her task at the moment to help others.
“Oh…um, yes, um…do you need assistance?”
“I was hoping you could direct me. I’m looking for several things, but I wish to start with anything relating to the origins of the Festival of Silver?” He would work his way through that before focusing more exclusively on vampires.
“Oh yes, it’s a popular subject, well,” she admits, “parts of the Festival anyway. You know, what were the fashions in so-and-so year, which ball’s last year were the most attended; the most popular; the most mysterious. Why…well, here, let me show you.” Hoping up she leads him to the second of three large, written catalogue books laying open on the nearby pedestals.
“Origins, royal decrees” – as she speaks the apprentice sage flips some pages, displaying how the main topic can be traced to secondary topics. Not the most efficient of systems but at least it was a system – “major events during the five-day celebration, Masquerades, major and minor, ...”
Arphaxad waits for the girl to conclude her spiel before assuring her that his interest was in factual data, historical information about the original purpose and inspiration, not trending fashion. “I hope I can get more out of this than ‘who wore it best,’” he joked lamely. “The first events that made the event something to remember... preferably long before it became what it is now.”
“Oh, then you want to look into the origins section, here…” She flips back a thumb’s thickness in pages, traces a finger down a list of pages and commentary before turning to the second large book in line where she hunts down the listing. “From my brief studies on the topic, “she says as she hunts, “the first Festival of Silver was held at The Lion’s decree so that the citizens of the city could mark the day that the Strigoi had been vanquished from the city for good. Which, of course, wasn’t the case,” she says with a dismissive titter.
“No... they seem to have remained stubbornly around, haven’t they?” agreed the Simic Hybrid. “What do the histories say about how they were supposedly vanquished?” He gave a small lopsided grin. “It didn’t work, obviously, but it could give us an idea of what NOT to do...”
Boo takes this moment to emerge from the shadows revealing herself, "good day to you traveler, familiarizing yourself with our fair city's history I see," a mischievous grin on her face as she strides boldly towards the apprentice sage and Arphaxad. Pulling up a chair Boo seats herself across the table from the pair smiling as her gaze falls upon the apprentice sage. Boo waves her hand, "please my dear, don't let me interrupt your lesson, do go on. I am as interested in a good fairy tale as the next person."
The young woman, who suddenly look’s quite plain looking in the glory that is Boo, frowns slightly at the newcomer. “Hello. If you can give us a few more moments I am sure I can direct you to whichever professor has sent for you.”
Gazing at the young woman as the winged Tiefling sits back in her chair and pouts taken, "dear me, it seems that my reputation has not proceeded me as Arphaxad's has. How embarrassing, I am going to have to fire my publicist it seems. Go on then my dear, please continue your tale and I will be as quiet as a dormouse." As the apprentice sage gapes at the new arrival, the Tiefling takes out a nail file and busy herself with her nails.
The new arrival was certainly a... colorful individual. Arphaxad wasn’t normally given to the gameplay between sexes. The sciences demanded most of his focus. That didn’t prevent him from appreciating a fine figure, though. Or from practicing reasonably good manners. “Pardon my interruption, ladies. My intended research topics may take some time... I would hate to delay anyone overlong. Perhaps if the lady’s business isn’t too time consuming, she might be helped first?”
A moment later he realizes that the new arrival addressed him by his name.
“How... did you... know my name? Publicist? Wh-what are you...?” The researcher was clearly flummoxed. He had seen 100’ tall monstrosities in his laboratory, knew several zombies by name, but had never met someone like this girl.
Now that her name is out Boo gives the insolent apprentice sage a haughty look, "sadly, my dear, I expect you to follow protocol and address me accordingly. Additionally, I need you to briefly, very briefly give me a summary of what sort of information the traveler here is seeking and what you have told him thus far! Then continue on as you were and assist him in his research. Or do I need to speak to your superiors, and have you dismissed?"
The young woman blinks as well. Slowly, as if a bit dim, she nods and says, “He is asking about the history of Strigoi and their involvement in the city’s past. At least, that’s where we are at the moment…”
Turning back to the traveler Boo smiles again sweetly, "you are very kind, but I can wait until you are finished, after all, you were here first, it's only fair. Maybe I can even be of some assistance if you like. Otherwise, I will just sit here and do my nails while I wait. Take your time, I am in no hurry and as you can tell I am keenly interested in your research."
Boo looks amused by Arphaxad’s apparent confusion and lets out a girlish giggle, "hehe, your name, that was easy enough to determine as it is branded right there on your forehead plain as day for all to see." She gives him an impish grin, "a publicist, you know, like a hired bard to sing one's praises. A new and growing fad popular with those of the nobility, or so I have recently heard. I don't actually have one yet, but I have been seriously considering hiring one in conjunction with commissioning a sculpture of myself. As to what I am, well that is open to debate, but most do commonly refer to my kind as Tieflings."
Boo listens to the apprentice sage's summary scratching her chin thinking, "Strigoi, Strigoi, why does that sound so familiar?" Reaching out Boo lightly caresses the young woman's cheek, "there, there my dear don't be glum, you may also address me as Boo, I am not a total ***** after all! Now, what exactly are the Strigoi?"
Reaching into her pouch the winged Tiefling pulls out two platinum coins and places them into woman's palm, "also be a dear and fetch a nice bottle of wine, red, three goblets along with some bread and cheese for all three of us to enjoy while we work together on my new friend's little research project." Snapping her fingers several times Boo smiles at the young woman expectantly, "don't dawdle, be quick about it and whatever funds that are left you can keep for yourself. Don't worry, I will keep your place warm and Arphaxad company until your swift return."
The young sage’s face turns scarlet and appears to be on the verge of returning the coins with something spicy but before she can Arphaxad intercedes.
The Hybrid hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I suppose I cannot say whet or not you are of potential use. Your... publicist... has failed to put forth any information about your knowledge of strigoi, where I can hear it at least.” He sighs. “Before I reveal my intent, would you allow me to verify your... vitality?”
There’s a look of confused shock from the apprentice sage as her head turns from glaring at Boo to gawking at the Traveler. “You wha – ?”
Boo gives the traveler a flirtatious smile and does a cutesy hair flip with her hand, "my, my, people from your world certainly know how to woo a girl. I am all a-quiver! Usually, I insist a fellow buy me dinner before I permit my vitality to be verified but as you are a special case, I suppose that I can make an exception."
Standing up the sensuous Tiefling moves around to Arphaxad's side of the table and bends slightly over the table, glancing back at him with come hither eyes, "so how do you want me? Bent over, all proper-like, lying on my tummy face-down or are you the type that enjoys meeting a lady's wanton gaze? Shall I instead lay on my back body straight and close my eyes? If so, do be a gentleman and mind the wings, I am a bit ticklish."
As she waits for the traveler to come to a decision on his preference Boo smirks at the apprentice sage, "better dig out your quill pen and parchment my dear. You may wish to take notes." Giggling Boo calls out, "ready whenever you are traveler, have at it," playfully wiggling her bum from side to side.
At first the Hybrid appears perplexed. He can’t make sense of the words. Then as the Tiefling moves suggestively his skin flushes purple and his mouth gapes awkwardly.
The Tiefling glances back at him with a look of amusement.
Arphaxad stammers momentarily before choking out “I didn’t intend to suggest anything improper, lady. I only meant to take your pulse!” Despite his protests, however, his eyes followed the sway of her hips.
Turning around to face Arphaxad, Boo slowly walks toward him, "nothing at all improper, maybe a little prudish but we can forgive you that since you are after all new to our fair city. You will find me a very forgiving sort once you get to know me better," Boo winks and gives him a playful smile as she reaches out and takes Arphaxad by the hand and guides it up to her throat, "well, go on then. Check my pulse or if you prefer you may feel free to place your ear against my chest and check for a heartbeat. Whatever it takes to satisfy you, I can be very obliging or so I am told!"
In what might be the most perfunctory exam ever, Arphaxad barely waits to feel a throb before hurriedly retrieving his hand. “Ahem. Hmm. Yes. Well... you’re clearly alive...Perhaps you are also experiencing estrus... “ His head cocks to the side. “I haven’t seen an appropriate body of water yet but if you need to spawn fry I would be willing to fertilize the eggs...”
As the Traveler checks her vitals Boo will turn her attention back to the apprentice sage. Brazenly shaking her head, "sorry sweetums, no show for you just yet so how about my little request, you know, the bottle of wine and the rest of it? I think we could all use a drink to relax and talk, don't you?" She purrs.
The girl lets out a gasp and splutters slightly, her lower lip quivering as she struggles to express whatever it is, she is trying to spit out. Finally, she sniffs, rocks her head back and gazes at both The Traveler, but lingers on Boo and says rather scathingly, “This is not appropriate behavior for the Hall of Records or, well, the University.” She waves a finger reprovingly. “I must insist that you comport yourselves, or I’ll have to report you to the Masters.”
Boo merely looks at the apprentice sage smiling sweetly, "I was really hoping that you and I could be friends. In fact, I was just about to offer you an invitation to accompany us to the most prestigious masquerade ball of the season at the Maigrinstaff’s. You know to help look after Ambassador Arphaxad here and explain the tedious bits regarding the customs, traditions and cultural significance of such gatherings during the Silver Festival. But if you are not interested perhaps one of the other apprentice sages."
A visit to a prestigious social event was a little daunting. He wasn’t well versed in local social graces and had no garb suitable. In his society there were numerous customs to observe depending upon what Guild was in attendance and which Guild hosted. Here there were no Guilds as he knew them, and he was clueless about proper dress. He didn’t wish to appear clueless but felt he had little choice.
“I am honored to be your guest, Lady. Perhaps you could assist me with proper attire?”
“The University is throwing several parties,” the apprentice sage says. “It’s traditional for Apprentices to attend.
Boo smiles at the Traveler, "estrus," giggles, "that is my Succubi heritage at work but not to worry I regularly take a potion to avoid any number of unwanted complications, but I do appreciate your kind offer. I am just in it for the fun you know."
Walking around Arphaxad looking him over Boo shakes her head, "you are going to be a devil to fit but I am sure we will be able to work something out. It would be my honor to make all the arrangements regarding your attire. My family has close ties with one of the best clothiers in the city. Given the time frame once you have finished your research efforts here, we will need to visit their shop so that your measurements and such may be taken without delay. However, this all comes with one tiny little condition, I fear! You must, of course, be my guest and stay at my family's townhouse. We have plenty of guest rooms, far more suited to your needs than your current lodgings. And you will no doubt enjoy having use of my father's private library and study."
Turning to the apprentice sage Boo gives her a sad look, "a university party, how utterly droll. My poor dear you don't have a clue, do you? Still, the choice is yours, you can join us as my guest at the upcoming Maigrinstaff’s Costume Ball or settle for one of your little University soirees. In any event, let us finish up Arphaxad's business here as soon as we can."
“I suppose that I am more likely to discover precisely what it is that I need to look for once I’ve seen how things are in the streets,” the Hybrid murmured quietly. “We ought to give your clothier friends ample time to prepare an outfit.” He gave the apprentice sage a small smile and thanked her for her time and assistance. “I suppose I may be in need of more of each afterwards.”
With the apprentice sage gawking, Arphaxad offered his arm to the Tiefling girl. “Now, my lady, I don’t seem to have caught your name.”
Smiling at the traveler Boo reaches out and takes Arphaxad's offered his arm, "my name is Boosandie Belfrye but feel free to address me simply as Boo, that is what my friends fondly call me, and I do hope that you and I can be friends. I am the only child of Lord Magnus and Lady Ophelia of House Belfrye an ancient and revered aristocratic family. I am delighted that you wish to accept my offer of hospitality and of course the party invitation."
Turning Boo heads back to the table to pick up her pack, "I also have a modest gift for you, I do hope that you are not one of those who take that silly old superstitious saying 'beware Tiefling bearing gifts' to heart as I can assure you that you have nothing fear from me." Boo reaches into her pack and pulls out a small bundle. Something apparently wrapped up in a peculiar looking lustrous black silk cloth tied with a small brightly colored pink ribbon which Boo holds out and offers to the traveler, "please accept this small token of friendship as a welcome to our fair city."
Arphaxad accepts the package and proceeds to unwrap it carefully. He still hasn’t acquired the nimbleness he used to have in these modifying digits. As he opens it he glances at the tiefling. “So, miss Boo, how did you come to know my name so readily? I haven’t been here very long... perhaps you know the arch sage?”
Boo gives Arphaxad a mischievous grin, "Arch Sage? Are you referring to an Archmagus? If so then to which one specifically are you referring to? The Archmagus Samara Abaddon, the Archmagus Charon Eblis, or the Archmagus Oberyn Khatri, or perhaps one of the dozen or so want-to-be pretenders to the title? I know a few of them, some by reputation, others socially and perhaps one or two intimately. Then again perhaps an Abyssal Duck whispered your name into my ear whilst I was dreaming. In any event, you look like an Arphaxad! Shall we be on our way then? Are you able to fly with those wonderful appendages or will we need to walk all the way to the clothiers for your fitting?"
The befuddled male waited until the barrage of words had paused to try to respond. “Ah, I didn’t catch his first name, but I believe it might have been Oberyn Khatri.” He tightened the folds of his abdominal webbing. “I cannot truly fly but I am able to glide a good distance, and even maneuver around when I have room. If we can find a decent height to start from, I could get perhaps a hundred yards without hurting myself.”
Package opened; he examined the contents curiously.
Boo peruses her lips as she curls a lock of her golden hair around her finger, "just a hundred yards, a pity that. I was hoping to have someone to share the open sky with me."
Arphaxad nods his agreement. “Flight would be a wonderful thing. Perhaps someday. However I prefer not to meddle in the changes my body is undergoing already. Nor do I believe that I am a close enough friend of the archsage to impose upon his charity.”
Reaching out with her hand Boo curiously runs her fingers lightly over the folds of Arphaxad's abdominal webbing, "it appears that Oberyn Khatri is a mutual acquaintance then. He is considered something of a recluse. Where did you happen to meet the Archmagus? If you find your current form limiting, then consider that I have heard that he has in his possession a Wand of Polymorph. As a close acquaintance of his, you might wish to inquire if it is for sale or trade as it could prove useful to one such as yourself."
At the shapely females gentle prodding, he distractedly agrees to head for the fitting; it was obvious the gift had moved him.
Watching as Arphaxad examines the blade Boo smiles, "I do apologize, I was not sure what you would consider a suitable welcoming gift. Daggers of returning are popular, especially with the nobility and the city, after all, can be a dangerous place. If it is not to your liking, then you can always exchange it for something else. If you like, after your fitting I would be happy to show you several shops that trade in magical trinkets. So, if you please let us be on our way."
He balances the magic blade carefully, awe in his features. “As for this princely gift, I am in your debt. I will seek to do well with it.”
Boo just gives Arphaxad a warm smile, "it pleases me that my little gift meets with your approval if you do not have further pressing business here or anywhere else then let us be off to the clothier to get you fitted and afterward whatever you wish, something to eat, shopping, or maybe do some sightseeing I am at your disposal. You have but to voice your desire."
The researcher directs a polite yet slightly distracted smile toward the assistant. “Thank you for your help. Hopefully I’ll be able to return later with a better idea of just what I need to look for.” His attention returns to Boo as he rewraps the dagger to carry in hand. “I believe that we can proceed to get myself fitted.”
As she walked, followed by her shadow, she learned many things. Melu’s tribe was far to the north, near a great river and dense jungle. That part of the tribe had been raided by another tribe, during which Melu fought bravely, but had been captured and later, sold to slavers. The slavers in turn, sold Melu and those of her tribe to a caravan where many had died in the march south towards some big place filled with floobs who needed the skills of those like Melu, or something like that. Then, a five day ago while the caravan had set up camp for the night it was attacked by what, the lizard girl wasn’t able to explain well enough in words that made sense. Flying things that didn’t really fly, first many, then only two. Things that came out of the darkness, animal things that went on two legs, but had claws and teeth. Many died, some fled. Melu fought, as did those of her tribe but her captors killed many for doing so, but stopped when they, too, were attacked, viscously. At that point, Melu declared unabashedly, she fled and hid, too. When the sun came out the next morning, everything was blood, dead bodies and parts of dead bodies. She followed the road to the inn, having only arrived a few days before.
Lilita listened to Melu's tale both fascinated and horrified by the death and carnage. Poor Melu, enslaved and losing her tribe like that, Lilita felt sorrier for her and knew that she needed to do whatever she could to help the unfortunate lizard-girl.
"I am so sorry for what happened to you and your tribe," Lilita says sadly, "I am traveling to ask someone about my parentage but once I have finished if you like you can return to my home with me in the city, just a simple vardo wagon, not anything special and I can try to get you some decent clothes and see about helping you find a job somewhere, get on your feet and make a fresh start, a better life for yourself."
Between bites of melon, Melu exclaimed, declared, wondered, stated, questioned, and then: “You marked, you/Lil ‘thing, eh?”
Lilita looks at Melu confused, "what do you mean marked? I don't understand."
“Smell it/him on you, yes. You/he sameness but not same…”
Still not comprehending her meaning Lilita asks, "him who? What does he look like? Where did you see him? How long ago was it that you saw him?"
“Batman…” Melu shrugs and shovels another chunk of melon into her mouth.
Lilita reaches into the food basket and pulls a meat roll and hands it to Melu, "here try this, I don't eat meat so if you like it feel free to eat all you like, there is plenty."
The lizard girl didn’t hesitate, snatching the meat roll she shoves it into her mouth and chews noisily and happily.
As they walk along Lilita takes it all in and thinks long and hard until at last, she gives Melu a worried look and speaks in a hushed tone, "Melu, I think you, your tribe and the caravan was attacked by Vampires, some call Strigoi, I am not sure if there are different or just different words to describe them. They have powerful servants that transform from human to beast forms, like weretigers and the like. The Strigoi I think can only come out at night and change into bats, but I really don't know that much about them, but I think their werebeast servants can tolerate daylight and act as their guardians and foot soldiers. I had thought they were limited to the city but from what you tell me they are growing in number and acting outside the city walls too. It so much worse than I thought!"
The girl cocks her head and looks up at Lilita with curiosity.
Lilita takes in a deep breath, "if the creature I call my noble monster is indeed my father, a Strigoi maybe that is what you smell, the sameness and not the same, I don't know. Maybe I am just cursed or he... they just want to turn me into one of their kind. I think if they just wanted me dead, either side then they could have easily done so at any time. There is something more to all this that I don't understand. We must hurry along to the Sanctuary of Kuluth ahead, some sort of retreat where the old high priest lives. We need to be there before darkness falls and hopefully, he will have the answers I seek."
Melu sniffs the air and lightly taps the ground behind her with the tip of her tail. The appendage, it seems, served many rolls, including making gestures not unlike many races do with their hands. At the base it was as thick as Lilita’s arm but grew slenderer the close it got to the smooth tip. It also showed signs of being semi prehensile, which set her species apart from the more commonly known lizard folk. The girl – her age was both hard to tell and difficult to factor since Melu seemed to count time differently than the common methods. Moons and shiny, hot things in the sky intermixed with how certain fruit, mostly melons, ripen in the wild of her home river valley played a part, too. As afternoon gave way to evening, they passed fewer and fewer farms and thorps. Here and there in the distance she saw sprawling estates of Tarantis’ wealthy. The road itself was still well maintained and traffic passed them heading for the city though even this had slowed.
Lilita looks at the impressive sprawling estates wondering what goes on inside the homes of the wealthy and powerful. Did they know about vampires hidden in their midst or were they a part of it all, perhaps most of the powerful and prestigious families were secretly vampires? Melu also puzzled Lilita, seems strange the pair of them should meet and the lizard-girl be so willing to follow her about. Still, Lilita welcomes the company which made the journey less lonely.
The pair trudged onward Lilita still hoping to make to her intended destination before nightfall.
They had travelled in silence for the past few hours so as the last rays of the sun pokes above the western hills Melu says, “The blue man/batman no/not want everyone dead. He/man-not man warned animal/things no/not kill/eat all, but bite/lick some. He/blue man, he do same. Two womens/one mens. They no/not want/beg bites. He/blueman looks/glares they/them let/clam, accept.”
Lilita gazes back at Melu, "no, not people or animals anyway, just fruits and vegetables." The silver-haired healer sighs, "yes, I am warm and alive, for the time being at least. Come now pick up the pace and move along, I am not sure how much further we need to go, and I worry if we should get caught out in the night. I guess we may need to start looking for a suitable spot to make camp and hope for the best."
As they hurry along the lizard girl asks, “Why you/’Lil no/not top/head blue?”
Lilita laughs, "I am not sure exactly what you mean by a blue head?"
Melu pats the top of her knobby head. “Blue/top-thing. Deep water/fur-not fur thing; bright shiny” – she plucks a river stone from a pouch and holds it up above her forehead slightly.
Pausing to look at her closely Lilita struggles to understand Melu's meaning, "do mean like a blue gemstone or a jewel of some sort?"
“’Eh? Yes/thing – head/blue thing,” the lizard girl nods. “Blueman/batman.” The Strigoi had worn a blue turban, one with a shiny rock in the middle. Unless there were more of the clan, it had to had been her father. And he had lycanthropes with him, and he was inflicting – creating more Strigoi.
Lilita nods, "oh, I think I get your meaning. I suppose I don't have one of those for the same reason you don't have one. We're both far too poor to own expensive jewelry like that but who knows maybe someday, right? Was it just the one Strigoi or did all of them have stones like that? I think I've seen one like you are describing. It was very pretty!"
Topping the rise of a large hill they are gifted with the view of a large, sprawling complex of buildings, gardens, tended orchards and vineyards of their destination. It would be after dark when they arrived but arrive, they would.
The lizard girl pointed at the Branswan Monastery with a toe claw. “There/that.”
Looking down at the monastery, Lilita smiles, "that looks like that the place, I hope so at least... it's been a long day." Walking on towards the main building as the sky darkens and night begins to fall Lilita casts Light on her guild signet ring to provide illumination in order to avoid tripping or falling over something. Lilita looks to head straight for the main door/gate and knocks, ready to reach into her pack for her letter of introduction if needed.
The gate opens almost before her knuckles left its surface. Several bald monks surround a short, fat priest with a tonsure holding up a lantern. Before she can say anything, he nods. “We saw your light as you approached the gate proper and were curious what a young woman and her servant were on the road alone, without escort or service unless it is to seek shelter for the night, which,” he shrugs slightly and smiles, “isn’t unheard of this close to the city.”
Lilita finding her courage respectfully bows to the monks, "thank you very much for your kindness in opening your door to us. I am Lilita Lulitu and my companion here is called Melu. I have a letter from the High Priest Corlone for his Eminence Talis Panou regarding the reason for my visit. I understand that his Eminence has been unwell and as night has already fallen I do not wish to presume that I would be permitted to see him this very moment nor do I wish to disturb his slumber or his preparations for the evening so it is my hope that tomorrow, at his convenience, of course, he might consider granting me an audience."
Reaching into her pack, Lilita withdraws the letter of introduction, the small family portrait, and the journal handing them all together to the brother, "if I might be so bold could you please see to it that his Eminence receives all three of these so that he may review them before our meeting. I have taken the liberty of denoting passages in the journal pertinent to my visit, thank you."
Handing off the lantern the priest takes the letter of introduction and reads the opening few lines. Curiosity on his face the middle-aged man didn’t probe. “Yes, of course. Come, come in, you and your companion.” To the monk’s present he adds, “Brother Garais, please escort our guests to the common room. Brother J’mar, please find Brother Ammen and ask him to make up the cottage. I’m sure that our guests will be staying the night as they’ve had a long walk and it would be poorly advised to allow them to return to the city in the dark. To Lilita, he says, I am Brother Tarris, Warden of the Moon, which, I assure you, is far less a glamorous duty than it sounds.”
Lilita offers him a friendly smile and once again bows respectfully, "it is an honor to meet you, Brother Tarris, thank you for your hospitality and accommodations." Lilita with Melu in tow follows Brother Garais to the common room to wait to either to see his Eminence Talis Panou directly or to be escorted to the cottage when it is ready thinking (hoping) that her meeting will come the following morning.
Nearly grafting herself to the back of Lilita’s leg the little lizard girl gawks at everyone and everything they see and seems speechless for the first-time sense they met. Brother Garais leads them to the monastery’s common room, a large hall with two rows of pillars supporting a dark beamed ceiling. Orderly rows of tables with benches fill much of the space. At the far end is a raised podium, holding a large, closed book. A few lanterns light the walls, enough so that she can see several exits. Next to the door is a stone basin with a softly trickling stream of cool water come from a stylized statue of some sort of angel or servant. Several wooden cups sit on a shelf, readied if so desired.
“Please make yourselves comfortable, “Brother Garais says. The bald monk gestures towards the cups. “Fresh water. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll visit the kitchen and see what’s available this late in the day.”
Lilita looks up at Brother Garais smiles, "thank you, I do not wish to be an inconvenience, but I do not eat meat. I am unsure about my companion so perhaps something simple such as bread, cheese or fruit will do and if nothing is available, we can easily do without." Giving a respectful courteous bow.
As the monk leaves Melu glances at the trickle of water, the tip of her tail fidgeting near Lilita’s ankle.
Lilita smiles at Melu, "don't worry, everything is alright. I can see you are thirsty, allow me to get you some water. Just keep in mind it is our custom that we don't drink directly from the fountain or the basin." Lilita walks over to the shelf with the wooden cups and picks up two of them then moves to the trickling water, filling both cups and handing one to Melu, "here you go, drink all you like. If you need more just let me know and I will get you more."
Once Melu's thirst is satisfied Lilita will refill both cups and walk back to sit at the table motioning for Melu to sit beside her to await the return of Brother Garais hopefully with a little food. Lilita as sits takes a small sip of water from her cup as her eyes move about the common area taking it all in.
Slurping water from her cup in a manner not unlike that of a cat, Melu looks happy until most of the water is gone. “Much/clean drinkables/yes,” she says in her thickly hissing dialect. “Me/Melu no/not need much/bunches, no. I – “ Just then Brother Garais returns with a wooden platter set with sliced cheese, a sliced apple, and a stack of bread like crackers.
“I trust this will suffice, m’Ladies,” the monk says in a deep voice. “I’m sure that Warden of the Moon Tarris will return soon. Meanwhile I need to return to my post. We normally do not stand watches aside from a greeter at the gate at night but with recent events I’m sure you can understand our need to be more vigilant.”
Lilita quickly responds, "yes, thank you kindly." Then gives Tarris another formal respectful bow still feeling a bit overwhelmed as she works to get her shyness under control, "yes, of course, the temple inside the city was busy fortifying its outer defenses when I visited so your vigilance and wariness are prudent."
Then as an afterthought, before he leaves, Lilita fearfully and reluctantly adds "I do not wish to alarm you, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn't make known that I believe that there are two competing or warring factions of Strigoi. Those serving Maigrinstaff and those serving Rezgui and I might have unknowingly come to the attention of both sides. Worse yet in hindsight, I feel that I also might have poked a bit at the hornet’s nests. As a result, one if not both groups could conceivably be searching for me."
The monk pauses at this but remains silent.
"I am sorry," Lilita lowers her head feeling somewhat ashamed by her late confession, "I should have mentioned that before you offered us sanctuary! In light of this, if you feel that my presence could be putting everyone in additional danger I can leave if you like but I would ask you to please allow my companion here to remain.
“Fear not m’Lady,” Brother Tarris say, “The Order and Temple of Kuluth has always stood for defending those fighting for life against the incessant tide of darkness on this earth. While not all of my fellow followers of Kuluth might agree, if these children of darkness and their unholy masters were to attack here, in this place of strength, many, if not all, would be destroyed and far better for the floobs of Tarantis if this were so. Better to fight on our consecrated ground than the streets and alleys of the great city state.”
Lilita nods and whispers weakly, "thank you again for your kindness," silently hoping that she has not brought trouble with her.
With a nod of his bald head the monk leaves the hall. The lizard girl watches him go then effects a pose, tosses her head back and waves a languid hand as she mimic’s the monk’s exit. “Him/them Temple/Shama’s every/always so/is stiffy,” she says as she comes back to investigate the platter which is at eye level for her. Sniffing, a long, slender tongue rolls out and weaves like a drunken snake in search of a mouse as it angles towards a slice of fruit.
Lilita forces a smile on her worried face as she looks down at Melu, "yes, they are a bit formal, but this a holy place and they are very important people, so it is understandable and to be expected."
Lilita just sits down and watches her companion eat, for herself Lilita merely picks at little at her food but barely eats anything leaving Melu to eat her fill still feeling a bit sorry for the poor creature.
Mouthful of fruit, Melu plops down on the bench beside Lilita and curls her tail around Lilita’s waist. “Okay/things yes/no/maybe, batman/catgirl come/flit here/us, godmen/safe. Rock help.” She pats one of the dirty, handsewn pouches tied around her waist.
Lilita runs her hand softly over Melu's tail seeking to calm and reassure the lizard girl speaking softly, "there is nothing to worry about but if something should happen this is not your fight so best you run away or hide. Hold on to your stones to use only as a last resort."
Brother Tarris returns. “His Eminence agrees to meet with you, though I must caution that you take care for he is very ill and has taken to his bed. Age for us humans is one condition that we have no cure that isn’t an abomination or misguided.” The Senior Priest pauses, then adds, “although he was hale a few fivedays ago but has weakened considerably since then. It is fortunate that you came as you have.”
Lilita nods, "yes, thank you. I understand and will take care."
With the lizard girl in tow, Brother Tarris escorts them deeper into the monastery, passing down long, poorly lit hallways and up two flights of stairs until they come to a simple wooden door. Knocking softly before opening it, Brother Tarris nods to Lilita. Inside is a modest sized room, far from luxury yet furnished with masterwork furnishings befitting a former head of the Temple of Kuluth. Centered against the far wall is a large, four posted bed. Netting hangs down around the edges while a single lantern burns brightly on a nearby table. Age and illness are thick in the air, as is something else, something her trained nose can’t identify. Lying on the bed under a clean bedsheet is an old, skinny man in bedclothes, a beard as white as snow, covering his face. From the soft wheezes, he’s either having trouble breathing or snoring. Clutched in one gnarled hand is the journal she had brought from her parent’s townhouse.
At the doorway, Lilita's warm gaze falls upon the sleeping figure in the bed, her face is sad but filled with compassion as she slowly approaches. At his bedside, Lilita goes down on her knees at his side. Reaching out with small soft hands Lilita takes the hand of the sleeping Talis Panou into both her hands seeking to transfer a portion of her own radiant essence into him. Just as she has done before with the venerable woman Elder Caranne, a customer of hers at Pencelot's shop.
Not true healing but rather Lilita drawing forth some portion of Talis Panou's body's own frailty, weakness and pain into herself... allowing her to bear some of the burdens that he is experiencing and make it her own... at a temporary cost of a portion of her own health. Lilita's hope is to temporarily revitalize his Eminence giving him additional strength and vigor in order to speak with her without overtaxing himself.
The act nearly causes Lilita to swoon. The old man was nearing the journey all human’s take eventually. It could come at any time and that he hadn’t passed through the veil between life and death already was a testament of Panou’s powerful will. There was a peace there, a longing in his essence to move on to what awaits him. That desire too, was powerful, something that her mentors had warned her to take care of when using her gifts, least she succumb.
Tears welling up in her eyes Lilita struggles to bear some of his burdens looks up at him and whispers weakly, "Your Eminence, please forgive my disturbing your rest. I am called Lilita Lilitu and I believe that I may be the daughter of Anilia and Rakia Rezgui and I come seeking your help in order to discover the truth and my place in the world."
Eye’s open, milky and gray with great age yet strong as they fell upon hers. The weight of time’s passage had eased a little, thanks’ to her gift. “Ah, ‘bout time you made it, child.” He smiles kindly and lifts his head. With wide eyes Melu rushes over to fluff the priests pillows so that his head is supported. Panou smiles and places a hand on the lizard girls head. “Such innocence, yet such strength in you. Nothing no/not bother/worry, yes?” he says in a passible imitation of Melu’s tongue.
“Nealg!” the lizard girl replies with a grin.
Panou’s eyes meet Lilita’s. “Lilita Rezgui, the last I saw you, you were a young child, trooping along with a pack of other foundling’s sponsored by the Healer’s Guild, out on some field trip. But it wasn’t the first time, no. I was present when you were born, you know…or perhaps you didn’t know.” There’s sadness in the old man’s eyes. “Lilitu is your mother's surname, and when it was decided that you needed to disappear, it was given you to you. Records were altered.” A sigh rolled through the old priest and he looked tired. “I have instructed Brother Tarris to search the Order’s records for a specific scroll that will help you establish your birthright to your family’s possessions and wealth, such that remains. But I suspect that you have other, more urgent questions. Questions I wish to answer if I can, while time remains for me to do so. I have seen my last sunset and know that I won’t see the dawn so, ask child…ask.”
Lilita looked at the elder Priest sadly almost afraid to ask but she had to know the truth, "what happened to my mother? Is she dead if so, where was her body laid to rest so I may pay my respects?
As the words leap from her lips the old man smiles indulgently. There’s a peace about him that wasn’t there when she arrived, as if he'd held on for just this moment.
“So much to tell, so little time for complicated answers, so I will do my best, child. Your mother’s story is a sad, sad tragedy, and I would ask if you truly wish to know it, but I feel that you do. There was another rivalry between your father and Basha, one that went back to when your mother turned fourteen and began attending all the proper social events. They both desired her, but her heart was caught by your father, who was some years older but a dashing man-about-town sort. Part-time adventurer and full-time noble seeking to enrich and empower his family line.
“When Basha returned from his expedition he approached your father to show him the secrets that had been unearthed in a tomb that was meant to be left in peace. Artifacts and ancient scrolls, many tied to the original Strigoi clan lords that haunted Tarantis millennia ago. Basha, I was told, had changed. We suspected later that he became embraced by one of those very clan lords whom, it was said, are forever banished to the island and its temple by powerful magic. Suspected that Basha was seeking a way to break that banishment. He still might, for all I know,” the old man said with a sigh. “It was he who presented your father with the gift that embraced him, though we didn’t know it until later. When the embrace took hold your mother went to Basha, asking for his help to stop whatever curse it was. Of course, later we fully realized the horror of what was taking place with both Lords, but it was too late. Too late. Basha, simmering passions unleashed, forced himself onto your mother and began inflicting upon her the embrace. After several days she returned to your family’s townhouse a damaged woman who turned to me in hopes that somehow, I might have the knowledge or power, or by the grace of Kuluth, the embrace could be reversed. It could not. Your father went into a rage and went to Basha and a fight ensued, but they were nearly equal in terms of power at this point, so they withdrew. When your father returned home it was to discover that your mother had taken her own life, while there was time to do so.
Lilita hearing of her mother's tragic story, her eyes filled with tears as she began to weep, "am I the last of both family lines, have I no living relatives then? Is my employer Pencelot Foonse privy to all of this as well?"
“As for extended family, there are a few, though most died over the following year. It was terrible as the Rezgui and Maigrinstaff’s families fought their private war. Some were embraced and almost as quickly destroyed by the other side, some became inflicted by other means, turning into horrible man-beasts, soldiers of the Strigoi. A few of those might still be around, lurking in the deeps and shadows of the city though, with the return of your father, they may be answering his call, which the attack on young Melu’s slaver caravan suggests may be the case. There is one other, a distant relation of sorts, but her story is her’s to tell, not mine. And yes, Pencelot knows enough of your past and suspects much of the rest, that he was approached to be your primary mentor. It seems that he’s done a superb job, too.”
Tears still streaming down her face Lilita shakes her head, "Pencelot may have taught me well but I am a poor student, even now I should be minding his shop as is my duty and responsibility. He told me to stay away from the Black Rose, but I disobeyed! I am not but a willfully disobedient child! Worse still I am timid and weak, it is no wonder when my father appeared to me, he chastised me for my weakness and did not reveal who he was. I must be such a disappointment to him!"
Even upset as she is Lilita feels something stir inside her, "a distant relation you say, her story is her’s to tell." Repeating his words Lilita's gaze meets the elder Priest's eyes, "is she of Fey blood then, partially, or rather to be more specific, is she Half-Elven? Livvi! That might explain my father's interest in her, why he brought us together? Is it her, is it Livvi, are we distant cousins or is my brain so fevered with grief that my imagination plays tricks on me?"
Upon the name of the Half-Elf his Eminence seemed confused, his head shaking slightly, but he didn’t answer either way.
Lilita struggles to calm herself down knowing getting upset will do her no good. Everyone has been keeping secrets from her or at least it feels that way. She needs to know more about the nature of the Strigoi, "the curse can those afflicted be redeemed, cured, control it? How is the curse passed on, how is one embraced? The Strigoi are powerful and fearsome, what do they fear? What brings them harm or can be used to destroy them? What do they want, what are their goals?"
At this, the old priest sighed and shakes his head again.
“It’s an ancient curse, laid down by some God we suspect, one that goes far beyond Tarantis, or even Miran, as I have heard that the Strigoi haunt many worlds beyond ours. Some master their hunger and drives or find clever ways to control them, perhaps through pure will power or by other means. Master it they may but the urges, the unholy desires never fully leave them. They inflict pain and suffering because they are in pain and suffer their curse and consciously or subconsciously want others to feel as they do. The curse is passed on by the embrace, or so I was told once. It takes three, willing inflictions in moderation, the inception is a slow one if you will.
“Fear? I’m not sure they understand fear as they once did as mortals. Maybe it’s a fear of being dominated by another Strigoi,” he shrugs. “The historical records list as many as a score of different clans or factions throughout the city’s history but during my studies on the subject, I’ve noticed that rarely more than two are in power at any one time. There were several cases where a sort of council existed, but nothing of the sort in over five hundred years. I imagine that their goals are to rule in the shadows, using the citizens of the city as their hunting preserve though some clans, even some Strigoi are said to prefer to cultivate a private herd for simplicity. At the moment, I think that is how Basha is operating though I could never gather proof.”
Lilita tears up more thinking about her mother again looks at the elder Priest in horror and realization, "the Strigoi curse takes three, willing inflictions. When my mother went to Basha, asking for his help she wasn't alone was she? She took me with her. I was there, wasn't I? To witness it! My mother had to willingly accept the embrace, or he would have killed me in front of her!!! She did it to save me! That is how he forced her, isn't it?"
“That is how she explained it to me, child, and your father. It was too much for Rakia. A madness overtook him, one worse than the transformation that was boiling his blood. Rage and a need for revenge forced your father to confront Basha again, but Maigrinstaff had set a trap for him. We believe it was during this fight that Basha was able to remove one of your father’s canine teeth. It was Tan’s belief that doing so was part of some arcane ritual meant to slave your father’s will buy gaining control of his hunger. The tooth may or may not allow Basha to, if anything, incite the lusts of who the tooth belongs too. Tan researched it and discovered ancient writings from another world that explains how Strigoi regenerate – heal from taking physical damage. That part of their curse is to remain as they were when the embrace takes hold. They never age, but they cannot physical change either. Even their hair, if burned off or cut, grows back to as it was when the embrace took hold. That the tooth has not regrown was the basis of Tan’s curiosity.”
Shaking with fear, sorrow, and guilt Lilita feels responsible for her mother's death! Deep down inside she is as much a part of it all as her father and Lord Basha. Her mother died for her, weeping again feeling sick to her stomach Lilita continues to question everything, "why does my companion Melu keep going about my father's bluestone? It is somehow important isn't it?"
Panou’s seems to stare off into space for several pregnant moments, lost in thought. The slow rise and fall of his chest proved that he hadn’t passed on in the middle of things. “…the blue stone. A sapphire of incredible beauty about the size of a chicken’s egg?” The old priest changed topics slightly and smiles. “During the last infestation, I sought out a conversation with several Priests, followers of various gods and goddess of death and Necromancy to gain answers that might help the cause. Of the many long and dark talks, I gleaned a few useful bits. Many necromancers believe that the Strigoi’s Curse is a combination of corrupted death magic, a living virus, and corrupted healing magic. Tan would know more about this, I know. The other bit is about soul stones or something like them. The Blue Gem is one such thing; an artifact that once was used to imprison the undead soul of a Strigoi. I suspect that Basha has one as well and that it was through these artifacts that both men became Strigoi Lord’s, otherwise, they would have had to have been embraced and would have taken centuries to gain such power. In private, Tan once speculated that if the stones could be destroyed, it might destroy the Strigoi Lord possessing it.”
Lilita is just barely holding herself together, the more she learns the more she wishes that she had remained innocent and ignorant. Now it was all too late, there was no going back. "What about Tan Gregarari, the Magelord, is he someone that I can trust to help me? And the one they call the Widow is she real? How about Casmial Orseran what do you know of him? I also found this," Lilita takes out glass shard and places it into his hand, "I think it is just a piece of a broken mirror, but I didn't see any mirror about."
“The Magelord is a puzzle of another sort. He craves knowledge as power and power to gain more knowledge. A powerful arch wizard who dabbles in several arcane arts, some very strange to me,” the old man says. “Only you can say if you can trust him or not. Just as The Widow, whose interests, in my opinion, are as one who sees themselves a caretaker of sorts. Her history is murky and poorly known, but she seems to meddle in ways to benefit Tarantis and its floobs and not those who sit in power for power’s sake.”
“Casmial Orseran? I think he’s an artist…” There’s a blank look in Panou’s eyes until Lilita takes out the mirror shard. He gazes at it and blinks. “Where did you find that?”
Lilita looks away, her eyes downcast feeling emotionally and physically drained, "in my family's house where I found the journal, the portrait. The raven showed me the way, the Widow's raven I guess where once I got there more ravens were waiting. I found the mirror there inside the house just lying on the floor in a hallway, I think. It is probably nothing, but it somehow seemed out of place, so I picked it up with the rest of the things I borrowed including the dress I have on. Please, please, tell me where is the crypt with my mother's body? I need to go there."
There was silence.
Lilita softly repeats her question, "please, tell me where is the crypt with my mother's body?"
Melu makes a soft sound, both sad and bored sounding at the same time. The lizard girl tentatively approaches the bed and peers over the bed sheets at the still body, than back at a tear eyed Lilita. “Him/gone, no-more, no.”
Lilita looks at Melu and silently nods, slowly recovering the journal and the small portrait carefully returning both to her pack. As for the mysterious glass shard, Lilita leaves it be in the now-deceased Talis Panou's hand where she had placed it just before his death.
Placing her backpack on a nearby chair, Lilita walks around to the other side of the bed and slowly climbs up into it to lay down beside the old priest closing his open eyes. Lilita looks down at him sadly as she weeps glistening tears, mourning his loss... tenderly kisses his forehead and whispers, "thank you, your Eminence." Lilita lays there motionless beside Talis Panou, holding him close in her arms as if to comfort him in death. Her tears continue to trickle down her pale cheeks as she waits for the dawn of a new day when she will begin her long trek back to the city.
Mordecai quickly gets ready and rushes off to meet Livvi at the agreed upon destination. Following the directions that The Widow had provided; it took more than an hour to traverse the city to reach the street containing the townhouse. From the corner he could see several more walled compounds of adjacent townhouses. The street was upper crust without being in nob town, he notes. A few pedestrians move along on their business as he stands there. A merchant looking floob rides by on a horse. Watching the gate to ‘Lilita’s townhouse he could see that the garden beyond was overgrown and that the iron gate looked rusted.
"From the vardo to here," Mordecai whispers. "Hopefully, Livvi didn't go in on her own... Where is that woman?" Mordecai looks around for Livvi - his impromptu compatriot in this web of conspiracy and undeath.
There was no sign of the Bard, but he doses spot one of those red splotched crows perched up on a gutter on the townhouse. Approaching the gate, Mordecai’s eyes are drawn to a faintly glowing bardic glyph on the gatepost. The gate is also slightly open.
Mordecai nods at the crow and quietly says, "Pleasant morning to you, ma'am."
The crow just cock’s one dark eye at him.
Mordecai walks up to the gate and takes a quick look at the Glyph, before saying, "I hope these aren't the ones that explode...." He takes a breath and pushes past the gate and into the townhouse.
The gate, he notes, doesn’t make a noise. With all the rust on the iron one might think it should. Inside is a broad, paved path leading to the townhouse’s front door. Narrower, nearly overgrown paths lead left and to the right. The one on the left was showing evidence of recent use. Giving the Bard’s Half-Elf heritage and perchance for being stealthy whenever she could, it would be difficult to say which path she took.
"Well, in this case, the path most travelled is likely the better choice - someone came through here... might as well find out who," Mordecai muses to himself.
Mordecai makes his way down the left-hand path, keeping a lookout for traps, whether natural or manufactured. He does his best to stay quiet, although he realizes that he sticks out in this neighborhood like a sore thumb.
The path leads around the west side of the townhouse. As he follows Mordecai nearly walks past evidence of someone pushing through the overgrown grass and bushes. A few strides bring him to the wall of the townhouse and a short staircase leading down to an open cellar door. Behind him the crow, with a few flaps of it’s wings, comes to land on a moss-covered ledge above and lets out a muttering qork.
Mordecai arches an eyebrow and looks back at the crow. He whispers harshly at it, "If you're going to tag along, be quiet about it."
He checks to make sure his thieves' tools are on him, should he need him, then he unfastens and holds it in a defensive position. He makes his way, as quietly as possible, down through the open cellar door and finds himself standing on a landing, a stone landing a stride (5’) square. More steps descend into the darkness beneath the townhouse in front of him. To the right, three steps lead up to an interior door with a simple handle and latch (no lock). Dust covers the steps to the house interior and show no footprints.
"Let's make sure the upstairs is clear, before I find out what goes bump in the night down there," Mordecai whispers. He heads to the door upstairs, ready to do a systematic sweep of the home. He does his best to hide his path and movements. [Gm Rolls for Stealth: 3+2 = 5]
Opening the door, it pulls outwards. One of the hinges creaks softly but not too bad. Beyond looks to be a large kitchen, poorly lit by sunlight streaming through the shutters outside. Layers of dust have accumulated over everything and cobwebs are everywhere.
At the sound of the creaking hinge Mordecai turns quickly, looking back down at the way he came and the darkness beyond, straining to see or hear if anything or anyone was coming from the darkness in reaction to his actions.
He waits.
Not terribly enthusiastic about his current situation, he walks fully into the dusty kitchen, closing the door behind him. "Hopefully," he mutters, "the hinges that betrayed me will betray anyone who follows."
Seconds pass and nothing. No sounds, no muttering crows, no faint demands to know ‘who’s there?’. He begins walking through the home. He keeps wary of traps, taking care where he walks and what he touches, knowing that an undisturbed place such could have hidden dangers lurking about.
He's also on the lookout for clues regarding the, perhaps former, owners of the home... especially since he learned that Lilita’s family, her father specifically, took a turn to Undeath. If he finds anything of value along the way, so be it - he'll make a note to show it to Lilita before finding it a permanent home.
Just then something pinches his butt and a soft voice calls from the stairwell behind him, "You're late!"
Mordecai turns with a start, glaive out in a defensive position. He realizes it was Livvi that pinched him and sighs. He responds, "Sorry about that - someone broke into my place last night and are seemingly trying to set me up for something, so I had to take precautions and an inventory."
Emerging from her hiding spot at the bottom of the stairs the bard climbs up and punches him lightly in the arm. "Good to see you, Mord. Glad you could make it. I think we need to finish checking out the basement before heading upstairs. Someone was down here before me but didn't use this door here to go upstairs. So, it's either some miscreant who decided to use the abandoned townhouse as a place to hole up, or maybe something worse. If it's the something worse, I'm really glad you're here..."
"Yeah," Mordecai says somewhat drawn out, "I got the feeling that the basement would be where the most trouble is found, so I figured to do the quick and easy of casing the topside first... and let the sun brighten up the world a bit more. That said, I'm game if you are..." He turns to head back down... into the basement, and beyond that... into the darkness.
He whispers to Livvi, "I'm not so much worried about something being holed up in there, insomuch as something using it as an exit from a much darker place."
He continues stealthily as one can be in chain mail holding a heavy glaive.
Livvi leads him to the doors at the back hallway of the cellar and points to the left one and whispers, "Thought I heard a rat or something in here, but when I listened closely, there was only silence. I guess either one is good but was about to check out this left one. Ready?"
"More likely something heard you and went and hid for an ambush," replies Mordecai in a hushed voice.
Mordecai positions himself in front of the door, glaive in an offensive position, ready to strike anything coming within its reach of ten feet. He nods towards Livvi.
When he is ready, she carefully checks it for locks or perhaps a trap then quietly opens it so they both can peer into the room or passage beyond. Beyond the door lies a long, cross shaped wine cellar. Racks of bottles and stacks of small casks line the walls, covered in cobwebs and decades of dust. There’s an earthy smell coming from somewhere.
Mordecai looks around seeking out anything that doesn't belong, bumps and humps where there should be none, the possible source of the earthy smell, imperfections along the walls or floor that may mean something more or something hidden... //OOC Stealth 8, Perception 19
Livvi moves with the half-orc, but out of his swinging range. Quickly, they cover the room, checking corners and high spots, looking for potential hiding areas or threats. At the cross, Livvi goes right and assumes Mordecai goes left. At the end of the area she calls out, "Looks clear. Let's check out the other door before we do a more detailed search of these rooms..."
Mordecai winces slightly at her calling out aloud. He follows her to the door, and whispers, "Remind me to teach you tactical sign language. I'm not the quietest individual with all this metal on me, but don't cut yourself either."
With one eye on the floor, another on everything else, Mordecai reaches the door and notices slight scrape marks marking where it swings out, too the left. Made from thick, old cut wood, bound in brass.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
The door opens with a slight creak, releasing a thicker, fresher smell of disturbed earth. Mordecai’s ears pick up the sounds of soft squeaks and rustling sounds, quite a few of them which only become more pronounced as he opens the door further. An upward glance at the barrel ceiling shows a modest colony of bats.
Mordecai giving the room a once over asks Livvi, "Do you think something came up? Or decided to dig itself a burrow? Aren't vampires supposed to be associated with bats in some way?"
Mordecai tries to discern if it seems something escaped from deeper beneath or if the turned earth was dug from the surface.
He quips, "Should I poke the earth with my glaive?"
Livvi stares at the mound of dirt for a moment before pulling her instrument fully around to the front of her body and strums a few chords - a major tuning song with strong, open chords. The feeling of protection and strength wash over Mordecai as Livvi uses the cittern to cast protection from evil and good on the half-orc.
"Now you're ready to poke the mound with your pole..." she says with more than a hint of excitement in her tone and posture.
Mordecai suppresses a groan, whispering to himself, "Left yourself open to that one, didn't you?"
He half stows the glaive, setting it up so that it's easy to arm himself with it. He pulls out his maul and begins some exploratory passes of the fresh earth, trying to discern if there's something buried or if it possibly opens up deeper. He won't lower the maul into the soil deeper than two-thirds the length of the maul from the handle forward.
He eyes the bats above warily on occasion.
The first few passes with the maul reveals that the earth is loose, if not fresh, considering it was the floor of an old root cellar in an old townhouse. After some care, his work starts to show a pattern. A portion of earth about a stride by two strides long (5’x10’) roughly. The soil is loose to a foot depth, the limit that Mordecai was setting at the moment.
"Bigger than a grave...and certainly more than a rat's warren. Perhaps someone buried something else down here? Or they wanted an indoor swimming hole and gave up on it...keep digging. Do you want me to get rid of these bats? How do they get in and out, I wonder?" Livvi begins looking around the rest of the room, looking for an opening to the surface that the bats could use to get out and go hunting for insects, or fruit, or whatever...
Mordecai turns back and gives Livvi 'a look' when she instructs him to 'keep digging.'
"If the bats leave me alone, I'll leave them alone," replies Mordecai.
He then flips the maul and uses the handle to explore how deep the loose earth goes. He stands on the perimeter of the whole, not stepping in. The probing reveals that the looser soil goes deeper along the perimeter and that something hard, lay a foot down in the middle. Something that might be hallow. Between the harder ground and the buried object, the handle of the maul goes down to the head with a bit of wiggling.
Livvi eyes the bats, then shrugs. "If you don't mind the flying rodents, I'm ok leaving them alone. For now. But it seems you've found something in the middle of the dirt pile! Can you help me clear the dirt off it? I have an idea..." She moves her hands and whispers an arcane phrase, causing a spectral hand to appear and float over the middle of the pit! The mage hand starts digging the dirt off of the coffin as quickly as it can - not as fast as a good shovel, but it does get the job done slowly...
Once the duo clears the object enough to see it, Livvi will strum her cittern and play a light and airy jig. The notes quiver in the dark air of the cellar, almost visible. Slowly, as the song builds in intensity, the object in the dirt starts to float upwards! "Give it a push towards the floor, will you, Mord?" the bard asks while still playing the instrument.
Mordecai comments, "Well that certainly makes things easier."
He pushes the object out from over the loose earth towards the firmer floor closer to the door. Dirt shifts and pours off the sides of the long, box like object as it emerges from its burial place. Ornate woodwork and brass trimmings reveal an opulent coffin.
Livvi lets the coffin descend gently to the hard floor of the room. "Well, we seem to be the dogs who caught the cart we were chasing. Are you ready to take on whatever might be in this? Isn't there something that will kill them? A wooden stake through the heart or a silver weapon? Maybe if we grab some wood from the wine cellar...Or do we just go for it? It was buried after all...could a vampire even get into this under all of that dirt?"
"I'm sure a vampire can make it through. Now, as far as killing one - wouldn't know the trick to that, but we could try this..." - Mordecai points at the glaive - "... for now."
"With that said, you should probably check it for booby traps - eldritch or otherwise."
Mordecai readies his glaive and will open the coffin once he gets the okay from Livvi.
Livvi nods and carefully checks the coffin for traps. The Half-Elf runs her fingers lightly around the edge of the lid, feeling slowly for wires, levers, indentations, locks, or anything else that would indicate she had some additional work to do with her tools...
Shaking her head, she looks up at Mordecai and gives him a thumbs up, then readies herself to lift the lid. She stands across the coffin from Mordecai, so that she can pull the lid open towards her and give Mordecai a clear look - and attack vector - at whatever might be inside...she gives him a silent count, and quickly lifts the lid on the count of three.
Mordecai lifts his glaive ready to strike, but then pauses as a look of confusion comes across his face. He lowers the glaive.
Nestled inside is the desiccated corpse of a once well-dressed woman. The smell wafting from the open coffin is stale and bad, but nothing as bad as one might expect from an interned body. Laying on the woman’s breast is a bouquet of flowers that while wilted, don’t look all that old.
Mordecai comments, "I fear we may have desecrated a grave - although given the age of those flowers, the woman is likely exhumed and reinterred on a regular basis. We should return her as soon as possible. Before we do, let's see if there's anything we could use to identify this woman."
Mordecai inspects the body visually, taking care not to touch it. When Livvi is satisfied, he'll reseal the coffin and push it back to its grave.
Livvi joins Mordecai and looks over the body, the clothes, the coffin and its interior.
"I think you're right, Mord. The freshly churned ground, the recent flowers. Did Lilita dig this up? COULD that waif of a girl dig this much? OK...back into the ground with her. Unfortunately, I can't levitate the coffin again right now...so it's gonna have to be pushed in. Let's close her back up and set this back. Ready?"
Mordecai responds to Livvi, "I suspect that it wasn't Lilita who did this, but her father. This might be Lilita's mother."
The Half-Elf’s head tilt’s slightly as she looks down at the corpse. “I suspect that your right, if this her family’s home. There are plenty of stories about fiendish floobs keeping grisly trophies or loved ones they couldn’t bear to part from. If not that, then someone’s investing a lot of time and effort in maintaining a grave. Looking at the style of clothes I’d say that they’re about two decades out of date and the materials that they’re made from are expensive, suggesting a wealthy or noble birth.” [GM filling in for Player]
"That style and timeline seem to fit what The Widow described about Lilita's family," Mordecai says with a sigh.
Mordecai gives the corpse another look, seeking any of the symbols that Lilita or the Widow had shown him. Mordecai places the seal back on the coffin, places some dirt on the floor between the coffin and the grave to help it slide better, stows his glaive, and pushes the coffin back to its resting place.
Livvi helps manually move it back into the open grave. Once they get the coffin in place and covered. When they are finished, Livvi glances at Mord and says, “I think we should exit the root and wine cellar and check out the other doorway. I’ll lead so I can check it for locks or any type of tripwire or trap mechanism, disabling it if needed. Then we can check out the next room.” [GM filling in for Player]
As Mordecai waits for Livvi to conduct her investigation, she glances back at the covered grave and sighs. “Do we tell Lilita about this, if we see her again?”
"Yes," Mordecai responds matter of factly. "It'll perhaps give her better insight on what her father has become."
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
Mordecai immediately brandishes his glaive and takes point, whispering to Livvi, "Keep your eyes and ears open - be ready to make a move. Thoughts on what made that?"
Her more sensitive ears turned slightly, head cocked as she looks in the direction of the sound Livvi whispers, “Someone – “ There was another, lighter creak from above, causing the Half-Elf to amend her comment – “or several someone’s appear to have just entered the house. I think it’s coming from the back, not out front. But I could be wrong.” She shrugs.
After giving Livvi a moment to think on what may have caused the sound, Mordecai eventually starts heading back the way they came, stalking the origin of the creaks cause.
// OOC Stealth Check @ disadv due to armor... 12 and a perception check of 6...
As they reach the open doorway leading to the cellar’s main hallway there’s a sound.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like someone calling out a name.” She draws her rapier and slides the cittern to her back to keep it out of the way if a fight should break out.
Mordecai responds, "Didn't catch it. Did it sound like Lilita?"
Mordecai cautiously continues forward, as quietly as he can.
As he enters the central hallway there’s a dull thump above, and then the sound of a door opening comes from back near the stairway that they’d entered by. Possibly that door leading up, into the kitchen.
Livvi silently points to one side of the stairs, then at Mord, and then she points at herself and to the other side, indicating that they should quickly take up positions on either side in an ambush...
Mordecai whispers, "It's morning - it's likely not to be a vampire... But if you insist."
Mordecai takes position where Livvi pointed.
From her hiding spot, Livvi breathe’s a sigh of relief and steps out of her hiding spot and says, "Thank the goddess, it's you! Honestly, Lilita, Mordecai and I have had the devil's own luck trying to keep up with you - and now you appear with two new companions. It's like you don't even care about us. You're worse than the college boys; you spend one or two nights with me and then you're on to the next distraction. Well...get down here and introduce your friends!"
Mordecai steps out of hiding, but does not lower his weapon, he whispers to Livvi, "For all we know they're controlling her - we don't know who they are..."
"The lot of you, show yourselves - I've had a touchy past couple of days, and I'd feel better if you all just stayed in plain sight while Lilita explains what's going on here."
Mordecai eyes all three of them, Lilita and the companions, suspiciously - sizing them up in the case it should come down to a fight.
Lilita looks sadly at Mordecai and Livvi, "I am very sorry, please forgive me, I thought the two of you were right behind me when I left your residence. The next thing I knew I was all alone but that's alright I found my mother's home as did you apparently and a few new friends along the way."
Mordecai tries reading her, looking for differences from the Lilita he's familiar with, to gain some kind of assurance that she's not under some magical influence that is affecting her behavior. ( Insight Check 21 )
In his gut, based upon the healer’s expression and somewhat older looking eyes that Lilita had experienced some pain, even loss, since they had least met. Just what, however, he couldn’t tell.
Mordecai responds, "You sprinted out the door, Lilita... In the middle of the night... In a fog. Little chance to find you, but we did find a bloodsucker trying to make a meal out of an innocent girl. It was foolish of you to run out alone like that.
Lilita groans, "I did not sprint! I leisurely took my leave thinking you both were just behind but evidently you were both far too busy making cow eyes over each other to notice that I had departed." The silver-haired sorceress quipped slightly irritated at being called foolish and more than a little envious of what she perceives to be a budding romance between Mordecai and Livvi.
"I am sorry about the girl; I trust you two managed to save her. For a mercenary bounty hunter Mordecai, you always seem to be in the right place at the right time helping to rescue people who need saving, like a real hero," Lilita smiles.
Deep in the middle of the merchant quarter Livvi turned down a smaller side street and passing one of dozens of small townhouses lining the street until she came to a ivy-covered stone wall enclosing a small green space behind a wrought iron gate. The ground floor windows, what she could see of them, were shuttered and those on the upper stories of the three-story house were closed but un-shuttered. The portion of the garden that she could see looked ill kept and overgrown, quite unlike the rest of the neighborhood.
Mordecai wasn’t loitering around, as best she could tell. He might be still sleeping, or he might have already gone inside.
"Am I too late? Or too early?" Livvi thinks to herself after looking around for the half-orc. "Maybe he's already inside...impatient oaf." The young half-elf runs several scenarios through her mind while she waits for a few minutes, imagining the wort and most likely courses of events and actions. Finally, growing impatient, she whispers an arcane incantation and touches the wall near the entrance gate, leaving a common symbol for a bard with her magic. "In case I'm early..." she thinks.
Livvi will enter the garden and then the townhome, carefully looking for any dangers and calling out for Lilita and Mordecai.
The gate opens easily, squeaking hinges add to the evidence that the place as been abandoned for some time. Within the garden, grasses are knee high with weeds and overgrown brush even higher. A narrow path of flagstones and high grass winds around both sides of the townhouse proper. [GM Roll: Perception 15 + 7 = 22]
She might be wrong but the path of the right shows signs that someone has traversed it recently, maybe only a few hours before.
The path leads around the west side of the townhouse. As she follows Livvi nearly walks past evidence of someone pushing through the overgrown grass and bushes. A few strides bring her to the wall of the townhouse and a short staircase leading down to a cellar door.
She will follow the path, hoping it was the way Lilita went, but wary in case someone else, someone dangerous, used this path. At the door to the cellar, she investigates the area, looking for any evidence of who went this way. Using her years running with some of the thieves in town, she also looks for alarms, traps, and locks...luckily, her elven heritage allows her to see even in the dim light of the morning.
Right away her search uncovers that someone recently has oiled the hinges on the heavy cellar door. That it opens inward and is secured by a heavy looking lock below a thumb-latch handle. And while old leaves and twigs cover the steps down to the door they have been walked on, more than once in recent days and several tattered spiderwebs shiver in the slight morning breeze in the doorway.
Perception: 16. : Thieves' tools: 13.
At the cellar door, Livvi investigates the door and lock for traps, and then fishes out her old set of lockpicks to ensure that a mundane cellar lock wouldn't end her explorations prematurely! With a practiced set of motions, she realizes that the door is not locked. Shrugging her shoulders, then looking over them to ensure nobody is watching her, she whispers an arcane phrase and causes a spectral hand to materialize at the door handle. With a thought, she causes the mage hand to depress the thumb latch and push, causing the door to open inward slightly.
The latch depresses easily beneath her thumb causing the door to open inward slightly.
Within the doorway is a stone landing a stride (5’) square. More steps descend into the darkness beneath the townhouse in front of her. To her right three steps lead up to an interior door with a simple handle and latch (no lock). Dust covers the steps to the house interior and show no footprints. If Lilita had come this way, the Grey Lady hadn’t used the interior door. With her ability to see in dim lighting, Livvi sees the cellar steps continue down several strides (10’) and enter a passageway. Walking on the balls of her feet as her mentor had taught her, she quietly follows the steps down and into the passage, looking back and forth. Stealth: 11. : Perception: 25.
Descending the stairs as softly as a Half Elf can, Livvi listens with more than her ears. Her delicate nose picks up the smells of slightly dank stairs giving way to dry air. Not the sort of air that one might expect to find in a closed off basement. There was a hint of freshness, suggesting that either the basement was exposed often enough to the outside that the air was moderately fresh or that the cellars of the townhouse were vented. Dust enough coats the corners of the floor, as do cobwebs, both old and new, decorating the corners and narrow spaces. None, however, save one, a small spider busily laying down strings, cross the passage itself as she reaches the bottom. Without a doubt the Bard knew that someone or something was making visits to the cellars via the exterior door.
The stairs end in a small room. A few old crates lie stacked in a corner, a tall, brass tank of some sort collects dust in another. The passage continues through an open doorway straight ahead and two wooden doors are on her left and right. Just inside the door hangs a small lamp, the sort holding a small candle. Neither the lamp nor candle show any signs of having been used in decades. Somewhere, possibly coming from behind the door on her left, Livvi hears soft squeaking sound of the sort made by a rodent.
The small hairs on the back of Livvi's neck stand straight - every sense attuned to this moment. If this was Lilita's ancestral home, and if she had a tie to Lord Rezgui, either real or imagined, then perhaps the vampire was using this as its safe resting place during the day. Which meant that the vampire lord was probably here, in one of these rooms. Standing still as a statue, her mind races through her potential options:
1) The most dangerous likelihood is that Rezgui was, in fact, using this basement as his hide spot and was here now. She should leave now, find Mordecai, and return with him and his new weapon. That would be the safest thing to do and give them at least a chance to survive the encounter.
2) The most likely potential was that Lilita was down here on her own, just waking up from a night's rest. She was a strange bird, that one, and Livvi honestly didn't know how the Grey Lad would respond to being found. Perhaps a simple song on the cittern would be enough to draw the girl out, and they could try and talk again.
3) It was Mordecai who had beaten her here and knocked down the spider's webs. Of course, if it WAS the half-orc, Livvi doubted that he would close doors after passing through them, so this probably was the least likely potential.
4) Of course, it could be that nobody was down here at the moment, nor had been for a while, and her overactive imagination was working overtime. Still, based on the events of the last ten-day, it was probably a good thing she had an active imagination and often was able to see bad situations as they were developing.
Livvi knew she should get someone else - but she was a half-elf and a bard, and neither one would let her leave this basement without exploring the entire area and knowing all of its secrets. So, she keeps her right hand on the neck and strings of the cittern, still slung across her back but ready to be swung around and in a playing position with a quick tug and twist. She puts her ear against the door to the left, listening intently.
For the longest time she stood there, quiet and alert, senses straining to hear or smell something out of what she imagined would be its place. Then, just as she starts to relax a new sound drifts down the stairway behind her from the garden. A slight qork of a crow and a muttered response of a deep timbred male. It was faint, and had she not been attuned to such things, Livvi doubted that she would have ever heard it in the first place.
Livvi quietly sneaks to the edge of the main basement room and, if she can reach it, uses the copper tank to hide behind. Stealth: 24 If the owner of the voice is coming towards her, then she will change tactics and attempt to ease her way into one of the doors at the end of the hallway before the man comes into view. All the while, she is trying to identify the voice, or see the face. Is it Mordecai finally showing up? Lord Rezgui returning to his resting place before getting caught in the full sunlight of the morning? Someone else, perhaps?
A soft creak of leather on stone. Slow, practiced intake of breath. The sense of something starting down the stairs tingles at the edges of her nerve endings. The flutter of a wing just beyond, and above, maybe, the cellar door that she had left open.
From her hiding place behind the metal container in the corner of the room, Livvi watches. Slow, steady breathing - no other movement. He half-elf eyes staring intently through the darkness as if it were lit by a torch. Just a step or two more, so she could she his form and then his face. She was poised for combat but praying for a peaceful encounter.
From the landing above comes a glutaral male whisper, the sort someone might make to oneself when he or she’s alone. "Let's make sure the upstairs is clear, before I find out what goes bump in the night down there.” It’s followed by a soft, almost imperceivably creak of a hinge to one of the other doors. If not for her half-elven heritage Livvi might not have heard the creak at all. The voice, however, came off as someone trying to be stealthy but not very practiced at it.
Insight to determine if it is Mordecai: 15
(OOC: Thinking that from her vantage point she could see the figure and determine if it was Mordecai, a big half-orc fighter, or the handsome rogue from the rooftop and Bilina's bed, a human male of medium build, or Lord Cadrian, whom she hadn't seen in days but may still be pursuing the case of the missing girls. Because if it's Mord, she's gonna prank him! If it's the rogue, she's gonna watch him. If it's Cadrian, well...not sure! =)
Giving it some thought, the sound of the voice, it’s power and timbre makes her think of Mordechai, as dose the musky smell that comes from one who bathes less than he should and is a bit more hairy than he needed to be. Plus, the way he whispered overly loud at what sounded like one of The Widow’s crows lurking in the garden increases her gut feeling that it’s the Half-Orc going up the short steps and into the first floor above.
Livvi whispers an arcane phrase, and a spectral hand appears just behind Mordecai. Livvi causes it to pinch the half-orc on the butt, then she calls out from her hiding spot at the bottom of the stairs, "You're late!"
Mordecai turns with a start, glaive out in a defensive position. He sighs before responding, "Sorry about that - someone broke into my place last night and are seemingly trying to set me up for something, so I had to take precautions and an inventory."
Emerging from her hiding spot, the bard climbs up to Mordecai and punches him lightly in the arm. "Good to see you, Mord. Glad you could make it. I think we need to finish checking out the basement before heading upstairs. Someone was down here before me but didn't use this door here to go upstairs. So, it's either some miscreant who decided to use the abandoned townhouse as a place to hole up, or maybe something worse. If it's the something worse, I'm really glad you're here..."
"Yeah," Mordecai says somewhat drawn out, "I got the feeling that the basement would be where the most trouble is found, so I figured to do the quick and easy of casing the topside first... and let the sun brighten up the world a bit more. That said, I'm game if you are..." He turns to head back down into the basement.
He whispers to Livvi, "I'm not so much worried about something being holed up in there, insomuch as something using it as an exit from a much darker place."
The Half-Orc continues stealthily as one can be in chain mail holding a heavy glaive.
Livvi leads him to the doors at the back hallway. She points to the left one and whispers, "Thought I heard a rat or something in here, but when I listened closely, there was only silence. I guess either one is good but was about to check out this left one. Ready?"
"More likely something heard you and went and hid for an ambush," replies Mordecai in a hushed voice.
Mordecai positions himself in front of the door, glaive in an offensive position, ready to strike anything coming within its reach of ten feet. He nods towards Livvi.
When he is ready, she will carefully checks it for locks or perhaps a trap (Perception: 9) then quietly opens it so they both can peer into the room or passage beyond. Beyond the door lies a long, cross shaped wine cellar. Racks of bottles and stacks of small casks line the walls, covered in cobwebs and decades of dust. There’s an earthy smell coming from somewhere.
Mordecai looks around, eyes flickering from spot to spot, muscles tensing in preparation, moving across the dusty floor, then to the walls, racks, and stacks of barrels.
Livvi moves with the half-orc, but out of his swinging range. Quickly, they cover the room, checking corners and high spots, looking for potential hiding areas or threats. At the cross, Livvi goes right and assumes Mordecai goes left. At the end of the area she calls out, "Looks clear. Let's check out the other door before we do a more detailed search of these rooms..." [GM perception check 23]
Mordecai winces slightly at her calling out aloud. He follows her to the door, and whispers, "Remind me to teach you tactical sign language. I'm not the quietest individual with all this metal on me, but don't cut yourself either."
With one eye on the floor, another on everything else, The Half-Orc reaches one of the cellar’s side doors where he leans down to examine the stone floor, and then the door which is made from thick, old cut wood, bound in brass.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
<>
The door opens with a slight creak, releasing a thicker, fresher smell of disturbed earth. Mordecai’s ears pick up the sounds of soft squeaks and rustling sounds, quite a few of them which only become more pronounced as he opens the door further. An upward glance at the barrel ceiling shows a modest colony of bats.
As she passes the last rack of wine bottles Livvi notices that several bottles are missing. Not that there simply hadn’t been bottles in the slots, there are plenty of open, empty slots, filled with old cobwebs. These, were not.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
Mordecai giving the room a once over asks Livvi, "Do you think something came up? Or decided to dig itself a burrow? Aren't vampires supposed to be associated with bats in some way?"
Mordecai tries to discern if it seems something escaped from deeper beneath or if the turned earth was dug from the surface.
He quips, "Should I poke the earth with my glaive?"
Livvi stares at the mound of dirt, trying to discern if it's the same size as a freshly turned grave. She pulls her instrument fully around to the front of her body and strums a few chords - a major tuning song with strong, open chords. The feeling of protection and strength wash over Mordecai as Livvi uses the cittern to cast protection from evil and good on the half-orc. "Now you're ready to poke the mound with your pole..." she says, unaware of the double entendre - lost in the tension of the potential fight with a vampire!!
Mordecai makes a face and mutters something under his breath before stowing the glaive, setting it up so that it's easy to arm himself with it. He then pulls out a maul and begins some exploratory passes of the fresh earth, trying to discern if there's something buried or if it possibly opens up deeper. He eyes the bats above warily on occasion as he works.
The firs few passes with the maul reveals that the earth is loose, if not fresh, considering it was the floor of an old root cellar in an old townhouse. After some care, the Half-Orc work starts to show a pattern. A portion of earth about a stride by two strides long (5’x10’) roughly. The soil is loose to a foot depth, the limit that Mordecai was pacing himself by.
<>
"Bigger than a grave...and certainly more than a rat's warren. Perhaps someone buried something else down here? Or they wanted an indoor swimming hole and gave up on it...keep digging. Do you want me to get rid of these bats? How do they get in and out, I wonder?" Livvi begins looking around the rest of the room, looking for an opening to the surface that the bats could use to get out and go hunting for insects, or fruit, or whatever...If she finds a crack or chimney, and Mord agrees with shooing them off, Livvi will use her mage hand to gently push the bats off of their roosting spots towards the opening.
Mordecai turns back and gives Livvi 'a look' when she instructs him to 'keep digging.'
"If the bats leave me alone, I'll leave them alone," replies Mordecai.
He then flips the maul and uses the handle to explore how deep the loose earth goes. He stands on the perimeter of the whole, not stepping in. The probing reveals that the looser soil goes deeper along the perimeter and that something hard, lay a foot down in the middle. Something that might be hallow. Between the harder ground and the buried object, the handle of the maul goes down to the head with a bit of wiggling.
Livvi eyes the bats, then shrugs. "If you don't mind the flying rodents, I'm ok leaving them alone. For now. But it seems you've found something in the middle of the dirt pile! Can you help me clear the dirt off it? I have an idea..." She moves her hands and whispers an arcane phrase, causing a spectral hand to appear and float over the middle of the pit! The mage hand starts digging the dirt off of the coffin as quickly as it can - not as fast as a good shovel, but it does get the job done slowly...
Once the duo clears the object enough to see it, Livvi will strum her cittern and play a light and airy jig. The notes quiver in the dark air of the cellar, almost visible. Slowly, as the song builds in intensity, the object in the dirt starts to float upwards! "Give it a push towards the floor, will you, Mord?" the bard asks while still playing the instrument. (using the Mac-Fuirmidh cittern to cast levitate.)
Mordecai comments, "Well that certainly makes things easier."
He pushes the object out from over the loose earth towards the firmer floor closer to the door. Dirt shifts and pours off the sides of the long, box like object as it emerges from its burial place. Ornate woodwork and brass trimmings reveal an opulent coffin.
Livvi lets the coffin descend gently to the hard floor of the room. "Well, we seem to be the dogs who caught the cart we were chasing. Are you ready to take on whatever might be in this? Isn't there something that will kill them? A wooden stake through the heart or a silver weapon? Maybe if we grab some wood from the wine cellar...Or do we just go for it? It was buried after all...could a vampire even get into this under all of that dirt?"
"I'm sure a vampire can make it through. Now, as far as killing one - wouldn't know the trick to that, but we could try this..." - Mordecai points at the glaive - "... for now."
"With that said, you should probably check it for booby traps - eldritch or otherwise."
Mordecai readies his glaive and will open the coffin once he gets the okay from Livvi.
Although she had never heard of it, Livvi nods at her new partner and carefully checks the coffin for traps. Perception: 14 She runs her fingers lightly around the edge of the lid, feeling slowly for wires, levers, indentations, locks, or anything else that would indicate she had some additional work to do with her tools...
Finding nothing, she looks up at Mordecai and gives him a thumbs up, then readies herself to lift the lid. She stands across the coffin from Mordecai, so that she can pull the lid open towards her and give Mordecai a clear look - and attack vector - at whatever might be inside...she gives him a silent count, and quickly lifts the lid on the count of three.
Mordecai lifts his glaive ready to strike, but then pauses as a look of confusion comes across his face. He lowers the glaive.
Nestled inside is the desiccated corpse of a once well-dressed woman. The smell wafting from the open coffin is stale and bad, but nothing as bad as one might expect from an interned body. Laying on the woman’s breast is a bouquet of flowers that while wilted, don’t look all that old.
Mordecai comments, "I fear we may have desecrated a grave - although given the age of those flowers, the woman is likely exhumed and reinterred on a regular basis. We should return her as soon as possible. Before we do, let's see if there's anything we could use to identify this woman."
GM Note: Player left on vacation for two weeks.
Mordecai inspects the body visually, taking care not to touch it. When Livvi is satisfied, he'll reseal the coffin and push it back to its grave.
Livvi joins Mordecai and looks over the body, the clothes, the coffin and its interior. Perception: 21 From the style of clothes and the quality of the moldering material Livvi’s convinced that this is a noblewoman, though which house, she can’t pin down. Something else about the clothing suggests a style that was popular two decades ago. The flowers are rare in the city as well, being of a type that grows in the northern province. There’s something vaguely familiar about her features, despite the ravages of death. There was some sort of magic at play here, too, though what sort, she couldn’t divine. Subtle or old, maybe as the corpse is well preserved.
"I think you're right, Mord. The freshly churned ground, the recent flowers. Did Lilita dig this up? COULD that waif of a girl dig this much? OK...back into the ground with her. Unfortunately, I can't levitate the coffin again right now...so it's gonna have to be pushed in. Let's close her back up and set this back. Ready?"
"I suspect that it wasn't Lilita who did this, but her father. This might be Lilita's mother."
The Half-Elf’s head tilt’s slightly as she looks down at the corpse. “I suspect that your right, if this her family’s home. There are plenty of stories about fiendish floobs keeping grisly trophies or loved ones they couldn’t bear to part from. If not that, then someone’s investing a lot of time and effort in maintaining a grave. Looking at the style of clothes I’d say that they’re about two decades out of date and the materials that they’re made from are expensive, suggesting a wealthy or noble birth.” [GM filling in for Player]
"That style and timeline seem to fit what The Widow described about Lilita's family," Mordecai says with a sigh.
Mordecai gives the corpse another look, before placing the seal back on the coffin, and then placing some dirt on the floor between the coffin and the grave to help it slide better, stows his glaive, and pushes the coffin back to its resting place.
Livvi helps manually move it back into the open grave. Once they get the coffin in place and covered. When they are finished, Livvi glances at Mord and says, “I think we should exit the root and wine cellar and check out the other doorway. I’ll lead so I can check it for locks or any type of tripwire or trap mechanism, disabling it if needed. Then we can check out the next room.” [GM filling in for Player]
As Mordecai waits for Livvi to conduct her investigation, she glances back at the covered grave and sighs. “Do we tell Lilita about this, if we see her again?”
"Yes," Mordecai responds matter of factly. "It'll perhaps give her better insight on what her father has become."
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
lUpdated 9/13]
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
Mordecai immediately brandishes his glaive and takes point, whispering to Livvi, "Keep your eyes and ears open - be ready to make a move. Thoughts on what made that?"
Her more sensitive ears turned slightly, head cocked as she looks in the direction of the sound Livvi whispers, “Someone – “ There was another, lighter creak from above, causing the Half-Elf to amend her comment – “or several someone’s appear to have just entered the house. I think it’s coming from the back, not out front. But I could be wrong.” She shrugs.
After giving Livvi a moment to think on what may have caused the sound, Mordecai eventually starts heading back the way they came, stalking the origin of the creaks cause.
As they reach the open doorway leading to the cellar’s main hallway there’s a sound.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like someone calling out a name.”
Livvi continues straining her half-elven ears to pick up as many audible cues as possible to determine if it is perhaps Lilita or someone else. Perception: 13 She also draws her rapier and slides the cittern to her back to keep it out of the way if a fight should break out.
Mordecai responds, "Didn't catch it. Did it sound like Lilita?"
Mordecai cautiously continues forward, as quietly as he can.
As they reenter the central hallway there’s a dull thump above, and then the sound of a door opening comes from back near the stairway that they’d entered by. Possibly that door leading up, into the kitchen.
She silently points to one side of the stairs, then at Mord, and then she points at herself and to the other side, indicating that they should quickly take up positions on either side in an ambush...
Stealth: 23
She watches the newcomers from her hidden vantage point, holding her attack until a positive identification can be made. If it is Lilita, or even a non-threatening commoner, she will simply stay in place. But if it is the vampire - Lilita's father - or someone/thing else that makes her doubt, she will probably attack it without warning or sound, preferring to end the threat quickly...
Mordecai whispers, "It's morning - it's likely not to be a vampire... But if you insist."
As the big Half Orc takes position where she had pointed Livvi hears the steps of someone stealthy coming down the stairs. There’s a hint of dust and travel and something else…something feline in a corrupted way drifting down. Someone whispers upstairs, another hisses softly but the words make no sense but it’s a response to someone in charge. Someone feminine and naggingly familiar.
From her hiding spot, Livvi hears, and then sees, Lilita and two others come down into the basement. Breathing a sigh of relief, Livvi steps out of her hiding spot and says, "Thank the goddess, it's you! Honestly, Lilita, Mordecai and I have had the devil's own luck trying to keep up with you - and now you appear with two new companions. It's like you don't even care about us. You're worse than the college boys; you spend one or two nights with me and then you're on to the next distraction. Well...get down here and introduce your friends!"
Mordecai steps out of hiding, but does not lower his weapon, and whispers, "For all we know they're controlling her - we don't know who they are..."
To those upstairs he calls out, "The lot of you, show yourselves - I've had a touchy past couple of days, and I'd feel better if you all just stayed in plain sight while Lilita explains what's going on here."
The Half-Orc eyes all three of them, Lilita and the companions, suspiciously - sizing them up in the case it should come down to a fight.
When morning came Lilita and Melu were given a hot breakfast (Lilita’s enjoyed a Long Rest <> Note: She’s also leveled) and at the instance of Brother Tarris, is provided with a ride back to the city in the company of a group of priests and monks. Brother Tarris had explained that news of Talis Panou’s death had to be delivered to the Temple. The trip proves uneventful and with the addition of a small, bureaucratically sealed scroll tube containing her legal claim to her family’s townhouse and anything else remaining, she finds herself standing at Tarantis’ north gate.
During the journey back to the city, Lilita and Melu sit silently side by side in the back of a wagon, Lilita's eyes are red and puffy from crying herself to sleep after the passing of Talis Panou the night before. He had shown her such kindness in his last day of life that Lilita would always feel herself forever in his debt. It seemed to Lilita that wherever she went, death seemed to follow.
As the wagon rocked back and forth Lilita looked sadly at her companion Melu. The lizard-girl seemed to be growing ever more attached to Lilita that the silver-haired sorceress was starting to worry that if Melu remained at her side for too long, death would eventually take her too. The last thing Lilita wished was put a friend in mortal danger but was unsure as to what to do about Melu.
Lilita's attention shifts from Melu to the sealed scroll tube poking out of her pack. Staring at it, the thought of what it represented started to concern Lilita. She had no idea where to go with it, who to take it to. The very idea of reclaiming her heritage frightened her, she was ill-prepared for any of it knowing that it would bring a whole new set of problems. Problems she was ill-equipped to face or deal with.
As the Temple group enters the city Melu, half hiding behind Lilita’s skirt, gwaks up at the massive gatehouse, than at the lines of travelers and merchants moving into the city (few seem to be leaving at this hour). It was an hour before noonfest (noon), and on the eve of the new fiveday. Tomorrow, officially, the festival of Silver started. And, perhaps, it was the eve of a war of darkness.
Lilita looked up at the massive gate understanding Melu's awe and wariness. Lilita drew the lizard-girl close to her and whispers, "don't worry you are not alone. I will help you get situated and later when you are ready you can decide if you want to make your life in the city or return to the wilds and try to find if any of people are still living and reclaim your old life if possible. Anything I can do to help you, know that I will do my best."
Melu suddenly tugs at Lilita’s skirt, the lizard girl’s nose twitching and wrinkling. She’s staring at a trio of raggedly clothed floobs. One man and two women whose features were in their prime, extruding a sense of strength that somehow didn’t go with their outer provinces attire. Melu’s hand slips a smooth looking crystal from one of her pouches and hisses. “man/beasts…girl/beasts? Not man/not beasts – Beasts!”
Lilita drapes her arm around Melu whispering, "please calm yourself, don't attract their attention and give us away. I understand you can sense them for what they truly are but in the city, we cannot attack someone, even their kind without just cause. Best to not let those creatures know that you can sense them so that we may take advantage of the element of surprise. No doubt war is coming to the city soon enough. For now, we must bide our time, watch and wait."
Melu holds up the gray colored crystal in her hand and peers through it at Lilita with a feisty grin. “Rock smash/stomp not-men-things flat/squish!” She then deftly returns it to the pouch.
The trio had moved past the City Guards and were making their way up the main avenue heading deeper into the city quarter.
Lilita quickly gives Brother Tarris and others her thanks and says her goodbyes. As they part ways, the priests and monks heading-on towards the temple so Lilita decides to try to follow the trio of were-beasts at a safe distance as to not attract their attention or notice. Her hope is to try to determine where they are heading and find out if possible, what they may be up to.
Glancing around, Lilita seems to have lost site of the trio in the crowds moving in and out of the gate area.
Lilita groans and quickly turns to her companion, "Melu, did you see which way the not-men-things went? We need to find them, quietly follow them and see where they are going and what they are up to!"
Melu wrinkles her nose, the whip end of her tail flicking excitedly like a cat’s. She gawks up at Lilita and nods then moves through the crowd on tip toes, as if trying to be sneaky while being speedy. The stance earns the lizard girl some odd looks and the occasional smile. Following, Melu leads Lilita past a number of stalls selling fresh vegetables and fruits and nearly becomes distracted by a pyramid of marion melons. Drooling slightly, Melu hops from one foot to the other before slaps the ground behind her with her tail and hurries forward, turning towards a narrow street leading deeper into the quarter.
Lilita follows close behind Melu hoping that the lizard-girl is able to follow their trail. Without a thought, Lilita sticks with Melu as the pair head into the narrow street deeper into the quarter hoping to catch sight of the trio again without either herself or Melu being spotted.
The lizard girl skulks forward with purpose, displaying a natural affinity to stealth though often her exaggerated antic’s draws more attention than if she’d walk normally. That said, if it were night, Melu would be hard to spot, short and as skinny as she is, and her movements would give her an advantage over her prey…or possible hunters.
The road turns and twists, once crossing through a small market square full of squabbling merchants and venders, arguing over who has rights to what space for their wares. More gawkers stand around, watching to see if it gets interesting. Like a bird dog, Melu flows through the crowd, tail tapping or flicking and occasionally glancing back to see if her new friend hadn’t gotten lost.
Lilita does her best to keep up with the much faster Melu trying not to attract unwanted attention as she does so.
Passing through a gap in the market crowd Lilita spots the three warebeasts further along the street beyond. Walking – sauntering might be a better word – along until a stocky, heavily tattooed Dwarf steps out of a tavern and take’s a stance that could be misconstrued as confrontational, or, the motions and stance of someone grown annoyed with having to wait for someone else who was supposed to arrive at an earlier time. The male of the trio, thick saggy hair falling down his back, gestures to the tavern entrance. A moment later, all four go inside.
Lilita not being fond of taverns let out a sigh as she watches the four of them go into the tavern. She looks down at Melu with a frown, "we're going to have to go inside too it seems. It's a tavern, a place where people partake of strong drink and carouse so please try not to attract undue attention, we are just looking to find out what they are up to and not cause trouble or get into a fight if we can help it. Alright? You can either stay here and keep watch or you can come inside with me, whichever works for you."
Heading to the door to the tavern Lilita opens it to head inside leaving Melu to decide if she wants to accompany Lilita or wait outside as she pleases. The lizard girl’s head cocks, watching Lilita for maybe half a second without tagging along.
Lilita can smell the smoke of a dozen different pipe weeds, the acrid aroma of under washed bodies, and other things before she reaches the doors. Both are propped open, allowing the foul air to escape, although one might assume, they are open to let fresh air in. Sounds of tittering, banging, and other lewd noises drift down from the windows above. Above the door itself is a carved image of a beer mug, indicating the sort of business operated within, if all the other ques weren’t enough.
The innocent young sorceress timidly peers sideways up and down and is shocked pale by at the sights and sounds she encounters just inside the gloomy smoke-filled tavern. Her delicate nose wrinkles up at the stench of the smoke and the myriad of other unpleasant odors that assault her senses. Most definitely this is not the sort of place Lilita cares to frequent. Feeling like a fish out of water she quickly finds herself wishing that the fey goddess was at her side feeling that Livvi would be much more skilled in interacting with the sort of folk that tends to favor such establishments.
“You/me safe,” Melu says with utter confidence. “You/me have Rock.”
Lilita nervously gazes down at the unflappable Melu and gives her companion a silent yet grateful nod. Though Melu is not in the league of the likes of the fey goddess, Lilita recognizes that she can count on the brave lizard-girl to stick by her.
With a determined look, Lilita somehow manages to find the courage to move deeper into the tavern in search of her quarry. As she meanders her long curly locks of silver hair cascade gracefully down, around, and well-past her shoulders jouncing behind her as she moves. Still having no coins in her purse Lilita knows that it won't take long before the pair are booted out so struggles to come with a plan that will buy them time to find out what the werebeasts are up to.
Unlike many taverns where the bar is located towards the back, this one’s bar is just left of the entrance. A tall, stained, formidable looking wooden structure dominates the front of the tavern. Build from iron wood, the bar could probably serve as a bunker if the pair working behind it so required it. One bartender is a tall, gray haired man in a stained apron. The other is a middle-aged woman with a bosom that was grossly oversized for her narrow waist. Her long brown hair in braids, she wags a finger at several leering patrons perched on stools. The haze gathering about the low ceiling makes the place look darker than it was. Of course, if someone would take the time to wash the windows, no doubt the lighting would be better.
Tables crowd the center space, cheap benches and stools surround them. Long benches line two of the four walls, the bar one, leaving the back wall where a staircase climbs upwards to the upper floor. At the foot of the stairs sits a large, bearded Half-Orc with one broken tusk and an eye long closed from some sort of injury. Probably a knife.
Melu sneezes, then rubs her flat nose vigorously. Even as she doses, her tail curls lightly around Lilita’s left ankle, the tip tapping ever so slightly. Off to the left, near the corner sits the tattooed Dwarf and the three strangers. A skinny woman with pock marks scaring her cheeks, is delivering four large wooden mugs to the table.
Lilita kneels down low next to the lizard-girl dropping her voice to a whisper as she hands Melu an empty sack, "take this and when I start playing my viol to entertain, move about collecting any coins the patrons here may wish to offer up. As you do this try to get as close to the werebeasts as you are able to. Linger near them as much as you can as long as you can and eavesdrop on what it is that they are talking about."
“K!” Melu eagerly takes the sack and put’s it on her head like a hat.
Rising back up to her feet Lilita pulls out her Viol as her eyes flicker nervously towards the tall, gray-haired bartender in the stained apron behind the bar. Cautiously Lilita approaches the man and politely asks in a respectful tone, "good sir if you please might I ask your permission to play a bit of music and earn some coin with my companion there. We would gladly split with you 50-50 any and all that I am able to earn with my playing?" [NPC Interactions Roll: 23/57]
The older man immediately starts to demand a higher cut but is cut off by the woman who’s gaze is taking Lilita’s measure. “It’s okay, Darizan. Let tha’ Entertainer ply ‘er trade. Ain’t costin’ us anything to let’er let loose.”
Darizan grunts than turns to pour a refill for another customer.
Assuming the bartender is open to such an arrangement and gives his permission Lilita will find a suitable spot where she can keep a close eye on the tattooed dwarf and the werebeasts as she plays in order to be nearby to help Melu should something go amiss.
As the tune begins slowly, the cords reach out across the tavern and one by one, conversations sill or turn to whispers. Many eyes, mostly hard-faced men, turn her way. Some soften slightly, others seem to relax. Here and there some return to their conversations, but glance Lilita’s way as she plays. After gawking at her for several long moments the lizard girl pulls the sack off her head and starts dancing, nearly in tune with the music, around waving her tail or thrusting the sack at various patrons, many whom dig for coins.
Lilita continues to play as she watches Melu all the while hoping that the lizard-girl has clearly understood her instructions.
As the temp increases, Melu seems more intent on plying customers with the sack than the part of the plan where she’s to get close to the conspirators so she can ease drop on them.
Lilita seeing that Melu has gotten a bit carried away Lilita after finishing her first number starts her second as she slowly moves as she plays to the left, towards the corner where the tattooed Dwarf and the three werebeasts are seated hoping that Melu will take note of her movement and be reminded that she is supposed to be eavesdropping on them.
Doing a graceful pirouette on one foot, the lizard girl glances at the Dwarf and his companions and makes a sound and gesture one might make as if seeing long lost friends. With glee, Melu hurries over to their table and dances a jig, waving the sack which had grown some weight from the added coin. One of the women snarl slightly, giving the lizard girl an evil look while the Dwarf says something gruffly and waves Melu to go away. She mimics the gesture, switching the sack and holding it up with one foot while waving both hands and yammering in her broken, double-speak common.
Lilita watches Melu, a worried look on her face as she starts to get a bad feeling.
The Dwarf bellows, “Be gone wit’ ya, ya scaly skinned rodent! We ain’t got time fer ya!”
“Coin/now!” Melu bellows back. Puffing out her slim, busty chest, her face somehow manages to give the look of wagging a beard as she hops on one foot. The other foot wags the sack in front of the male werebeast demandingly. “Happy/sour-puss! Squeaky/rusty purse get/open!” The Dwarf stares at her mid rage while across the table the second werefemale starts to laugh at the absurdity of it all, earning glares from her two companions. “What?,” she laughs, “give it some coins, it’ll leave.”
Lilita stops playing and starts to move toward Melu calling out, "Melu, Melu, come away from there. Don't bother those people, they don't have time for your nonsense. If they don't wish to put a coin in the sack move on!" Turning to the Dwarf, Lilita gives him a worried half-frightened look, "I am very sorry, I do apologize, she doesn't understand. Please let me get her out of your way."
Melu glances over at Lilita, her tail poised to poke the Dwarf in his mustached nose. The sack gripped in the talons of her left foot, hoisted over her back and nearly level with her shoulder in a display of acrobatic flexibility of her race.
“Eh?”
The Dwarf stabs a pointed finger at Lilita. “This monkey yours? C’om get it fer I make a ‘bacco pouch out o’ it’s skin!”
Lilita's eyes look downward at the floor shyly, "not mine ser, well not exactly," her voice wavers a bit as she becomes flustered, "her name is Melu and she is a friend, a companion not a slave or servant so she is not mine but we do look out for one another. So please don't hurt her, she meant no harm or disrespect."
“Now Mardiat,” chides the laughing werefem, “Ain’t no way to treat Street Performers, they gotta eat, too.” She pulls several copper coins from a pocket and leans forward towards the open bag. [GM Rolls Perception check for Lilita: 12] The motion reveals a blue star tattoo on the woman’s forearm.
Lilita's face cannot hide her surprise at both the female werecreature's generous donation of copper coins and the familiar tattoo the woman bears. Lilita's gaze lingers on the woman's forearm with the star tattoo recognizing the mark, "you are an acquaintance of Mistress Domonique of the Black Rose please forgive our interruption, we will be upon our way and trouble you no more" Lilita says in a hushed tone as she reaches down for Melu looking to lead her away.
The humor on the woman’s face cools as she glances warily at Lilita. “I think not,” she hisses slightly. Before the woman can say more Melu’s antics go up a notch.
Blowing a raspberry at the Dwarf named Mardiat, Melu hop’s sideways, closer to the werebeasts, bag open and tail flicking. “Big/blond boobs/melon size/big/nice floob/thing!” The lizard girl says to the woman. The strange roll of compliments causes the male werebeast to grin and the other female to laugh as she glances from Lilita to the others, face turning. “My what?”
Melu’s tail pokes the women in the left breast as if trying to make a point. “Melons!”
Now it was the Dwarf’s turn to grin wickedly and sneer at his companions. “She’s got you there, Caradie. Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t been sayin’ since ya arrived, hee!”
Lilita blushes red at Melu's words and her poking of the woman's bosom, "please Melu, enough, that is extremely rude, come away with me now so these kind folk can enjoy their drinks in peace and quiet," the silver-haired sorceress tugging on the little lizard girl's arm still trying to get her to move away.
“Git,” the Dwarf snaps in agreement.
Grabbing the sack Melu hops around and then moves behind Lilita, the lizard girl’s tail lightly poking the healer’s ankle. Across the table the one named Caradie (of the big bust and tattoo) gazes narrowly at Lilita.
“Why do you sme – ‘er, seem familiar?”
Lilita offers a slightly nervous smile in the way of a reply, "I really could not say, my face and features are rather plain, so it is easy to confuse me with someone else. Again, my sincere apologies for interrupting you and you and your companions." Hand in hand with Melu Lilita seeks to slowly move away looking to head towards the tavern's open doorway.
Suspicion fills the Dwarf’s features as he eyes Lilita harder, than glances across the table at Caradie. “Ye know this ‘er tart?”
Lilita blinks and winces in irritation at being referred to as a tart but remains silent and holds her tongue wary of the dwarf and his companions.
The other two wearbeasts were also suddenly interested in the healer, far more than before. As she backs up, Lilita can see their nostrils twitching slightly, sensing the air. The male glances at the two females and something unsaid seems to be going on between them. Meanwhile Mardiat’s head twists from Caradie to Lilita.
“Where ya goin? Wha’, our coin no good now?” The Dwarf snaps, his hard eyes searching Lilita’s features, trying to remember if he should recognize her.
Startled by the dwarf's words and questioning tone Lilita's heart skips a beat, her cheeks flush, her eyes wide, intimidated by his hard-piercing stare. Lilita's voice wavers as she struggles to reply, "forgive me, I meant no disrespect, but you made it clear that you wanted me, and my companion gone. I just..," Lilita's voice falters and trails off for a moment but then suddenly she snaps back indignantly, "I am not a tart!"
“I don’t know,” Caradie admits as she stands up, “But maybe your right, Mardiat. Maybe we should ask some questions.” The other two were beasts slowly stand. Behind her, Lilia feel’s Melu sticking close, the lizard girl’s muscles tensing like springs. “We/you/me go/get?” Melu whispers, one eye peering around Lilita’s skirt, “or/maybe, rock/slamming time?”
Lilita bends down and gives Melu a brave smile trying to reassure the little lizard-girl, "no... it's alright Melu, relax, everything is fine. You have coins in your sack now, I bet you are hungry. Why don't you go see if they serve food here and get yourself something to eat or if not step outside and buy something from one of the street vendors, don't worry I'll be fine, just don't stray too far."
Melu didn’t reply, but she didn’t move either.
After reassuring her companion Lilita looks back at the dwarf and his companions and walks straight up to them, her gaze falls upon the woman called Caradie, "I am no one of any consequence, I imagine that you just recognize his scent, at least in part so ask your questions so that my friend and I can be on our way, we don't want any trouble."
“Eh? Who’s scent? Wha’ youse smellin?” the Dwarf growls, clearly angry about missing something and still glaring at the young healer suspiciously. “Wha’s this tart’s game?”
Caradie moves closer, close enough for Lilita to feel the were beasts body heat and smell the musk radiating off her. “No consequence? Maybe, but whose your master? Whose blood is it you share?”
The other two were beasts came around the table, one from each side. At the nearest tables, heads were turning, tongues wagging, eyes wondering if they were about to be front side seats at some sort of fracas.
Lilita meets Caradie's questioning gaze and in a low hushed voice she replies simply, "I am of the bloodline of Rakia Rezgui."
“Eh?” growls the Dwarf while the three werebeasts trade wary glances. Caradie’s nose wrinkles as if she’s sniffing the air while trying to be subtle about it. The male growls softly, “Such a daring thing to claim.”
Mardiat the Dwarf, confused, angry, and clearly feeling left out snaps at the male. “Darsin, wha’ are all ye flappin’ ‘bout? Is this ‘er tart workin’ fer yer boss? Der wasn’t any mention o’ a fourth,” he says, purposely ignoring Melu.
Lilita turns her gaze from Caradie to the Dwarf and back to Caradie again, "oh so he isn't aware as to your nature? Don't worry then, your secret is safe with me."
Hearing the male's words Lilita shrugs, "believe or don't believe, as you will. Your companion here asked a question and I simply answered it. The nose knows, does it not? In this case, I think true daring would be to threaten or otherwise seek to attempt to bring harm to a daughter of Rakia Rezgui, don't you? That would be foolish indeed but do what you feel you need to do!"
Lilita just smiles innocently, waiting...
Swearing loudly enough to draw more attention to the little drama at the back of the bar, Mardiat stomps one foot in fury. “Ain’t speakin’ no sense, none o’ ya! Rezgui’s o’ myth, everyone knows it!”
All three werebeasts turn to gaze coolly at the Dwarf.
“World’s full of myths, but myth or no, it’s never smart to speak like an ignorant fool.”
Caradie stares down at Mardiat, hands on her hips. “You were paid to provide some services, if you did’t think to ask questions about ‘whose’ coin it was doing the paying, that’s on you. As the Dwarf scowls at the werebeasts Lilita feel’s Melu’s tail tapping urgently against the side of her foot from behind.
At Melu's prompting Lilita turns to look...
Sauntering towards them is the raven-haired beauty; the friend and/or handler of the Fey Goddess. “Good job, Mardiat. The Chief Adviser’s office will pay handsomely for anyone conspiring against The Lion.”
The scowl turns to confusion, then anger almost as rapidly as the spin that brings the Dwarf around to stare at the new arrival. Darsin hisses and the hair on the backs of all three werebeasts’ heads spike up as they too, whirl and tense, bodies arching slightly like wary cats. Melu scurries sideways, slipping around to put herself into a new spot behind Lilita.
“Bilina, wha’ are ye doin’ here?” Mardiat was starting to spit. Lilita’s healer’s training had included some instruction in bodily behaviors and physical ques and it wasn’t a stretch to understand that the Dwarf was dealing with far too much, too fast, and was close to lashing out destructively.
Lilita shares the Dwarf's confusion and agitation at the arrival of the somehow vaguely familiar raven-haired newcomer feeling that her invoking the Chief Advisers Office and The Lion in one breath that in all likelihood she has not come alone. Sensing a possible fight about to break out or worse the silver-haired sorceress quickly positions her Viol back up under her chin and innocently begins to play another tune as she starts to move away from the Dwarf and the werebeasts seeking as well to also avoid the path of the raven-haired newcomer. For her part, Lilita simply seeks to unobtrusively as she is able to attempt to make her way towards and mix with the other patrons in the tavern while seeking to locate the nearest exit all the while hoping that Melu will have enough sense to follower her lead.
[NPC response roll: 01%]
With barely a glance at Lilita the newcomer plants a hand on one hip, cocking it slightly as her smile turns into a smirk. “Come now, Mardiat. We’ve talked about this sort of thing before. One simply does not aid and abet inflicted floobs attempting to sneak into our beloved city.” The raven-haired beauty’s eyes flick towards the trio of werebeasts knowingly.
“Ain’t got no clue wha’ yer blatherin’ ‘bout, Bilina!”
“What do you mean, inflicted?” Snarls Darsin at the same time Caradie says, “We’ve more rights to be in Tarantis then you, *****!”
Beside Lilita, Melu bounces slightly then turns in the direction the healer is easing towards than hisses softly. [Perception check: 17] Out of the corner of her eye Lilita notices armored figures arriving by both the front entrance and the open doorway leading to the kitchens and back door. When Mardiat also notices the arrival of the City Guard he roars, “Treachery!” at no one particular. Grabbing the table that the group had just been sitting at the muscular Dwarf flips it violently in the direction of the one he calls Bilina. Chaos erupts within the tavern.
Lilita hearing the exchange, the sound of a table being flipped knows her worst fears have been realized! Her instincts correct Lilita feels that the most sensible course of action is for her to attempt to flee the scene to avoid being caught up in the middle of it all. Lilita had hoped that werebeasts would lead her to find her father but now her plan has been dashed.
The raven-haired beauty’s hands gestures, sending a flash of magic bursting forth while the werebeasts all react in various ways. The male begins to transform, taking on the features of a human-Tiger while the two females hiss. Caradie leaps sideways, avoiding the sticky webbing that engulfs the as yet unnamed other female. A score of City Guard are shouting and rousting everyone they cross as they pour in through the doors. At the back of the troop coming in from the kitchen is a familiar face. Amlack glances at his nearest coworkers before making eye content with Lilita.
Lilita grabs Melu by the hand and heads straight for Amlack hoping that he might be able to help get them both out through the doors calling out to him, "Amlack be careful, the three inside with the dwarf are man-beast shifters!" [NPC Reaction Roll: 83%]
The look Amlack gives her suggests that he’s not surprised by her information. He glances at the other members of his troop as they shove their way towards the flying furniture, curses and animal roars than nods his head towards the way he’d just he had just come. “We were…ordered here and told to expect anything. Agent Jazzadra came to our duty barracks a couple of hours ago, saying that she’s tracked some spies to a tavern and required backup to apprehend them. She warned us that they might be lycanthropes.” The young man looks embarrassed, “the Sarge had to explain what that meant. Anyway, I know your no spy or man, er, womanbeastthing. Go before – “a small magical explosion rocks back of the tavern, filling the place with smoke and additional shouts. One Lilita recognizes as the Dwarf who’s curses rose in tempo and taking on a course poetry in the process.
“Go!” Amlack shouts before rushing off, into the fray.
Peering around Lilita’s skirt, Melu peers at the violence rocking the place with a mixture of awe and chagrin. In one slender, taloned hand, is a brown, polished rock or crystal.
“Rock?!?”
Worried about Amlack, Lilita stops in her tracks turns and looks back as he rushes off towards the fight. Hearing Melu, Lilita looks at the Lizard Girl unsure and more than a little fearful, "alright Melu, do what you need to do with your rock just so you don't hurt any innocent bystanders!" Holding her breath, the silver-haired sorceress watches Melu silently.
With a mixed look of solemn seriousness and childish glee the lizard girl gives the rock a lick, hops from one foot to the other and back again with a vigorousness of someone waiting in line to use a loo. Taking a moment to check to see that her new friend was out of the line of throwing, Melu winds up and launches the rock through the door and towards the largest part of the melee inside where it bounces off the back of the mad Dwarf, drops to the floor and…dose nothing.
Lilita looks on unfazed and unsurprised at the rock on the floor unsure if that was Melu's intent or not as she tries to reach out for the Lizard Girl's hand to lead her away.
Melu blows a raspberry, thrusts her hand into a different pouch, produces another rock, this one with thin veins of crystal running through it. The rock sparkles as it comes into the light, those sparkles brighten even as she repeats her jig and tosses it inside. When it hits the floor there’s a clap of thunder, causing a sudden lull in the brawl as heads jerk in search of the source of the sound. The rock seems to boil and bubble, jerking and shaking and then expands rapidly, almost too rapidly to follow, swelling up into a vaguely humanoid shape. As the Earth Elemental grows larger, arms of a sort grow fists that grab and flail at any floob in reach. The lizard girl hisses in triumph while trusting both arms into the air and dances around Lilita.
“Rock help!” she squeals in glee. Inside the tavern the tempo of the brawl changes as more and more floobs seek exits. The Elemental moves out of view and the nearest wall shudders, sending up a plume of dust and knocking roofing tiles into the air.
When the clap of thunder booms, Lilita jumps back in fright and watches in awe as the elemental creature emerges from the stone unsure of what to make of Melu's powerful magic stone!
As the Lizard Girl pleased with herself dances around Lilita, the silver-haired sorceress is left to wonder with that sort of power how her people were captured and enslaved but then thought perhaps such stones are very rare. Pushing all that out of her mind Lilita looks back at the fight worried about Amlack unsure if she should remain and provide healing or just flee. In the end, Lilita hesitates just outside the door to the tavern peering inside watching and waiting if and when her own particular healing talents might be needed for any injured on either side of the fray.
A smug Melu follows, tail tapping playfully on the ground behind her. “Rock,” she says in satisfaction.
Several hours later, after another short rest and the realization that the sun was beginning to rise beyond Khatri’s tower, Boo is heading for her next rendezvous. The new piercings cause a throbbing and slight pain each time the rings brush against the inside of her undertunic. Only then, halfway across the quarter, did it occur to her that she never asked what the other magical ring did.
Boo flew away from the sprawling estate soaring high above the city, stretching her wings as she enjoyed the cool crisp morning breeze blowing through her long blonde locks. A new day after a long night of debauchery the throbbing pain she experienced was a small price to pay for the magic that her mentor's little gift now afforded her.
As she flew towards the merchant quarter and her destination Boo noticed how the cityscape below was passing quicker than her leisurely pace should accommodate. Perhaps it was something to do with that ‘other’ ring.
Interesting, she thought to herself as she looked down, evidently, the gift was more useful than she had assumed, or the second ring did something entirely different. Boo would have to remember to ask her mentor the next time she visited.
Hawker’s Weapons was among the finest in the city and had a reputation for both master work and magically enhanced weaponry. A retired foot captain, Hefton Hawker was reputed to be the best weapons smith in the city. Hawker’s Weapons specialized in restoration and repair of both master work and magical weapons, if anyone could craft the whip she desired, it was Hawker or his artisans. Her house, like many noble houses, patroned the good Captain as well, which only added to her reasons for visiting his weapons hall.
Her destination below her, Boo did not need concern herself with the usual aerobatics and space requirements positioned herself to fall feet first, her wings tightly folded up to gently land exactly where she wanted just a few feet in front of the workshop's entrance. Maybe not powerful, dangerous or flashy as far as magic goes but for a flyer like Boo, extremely useful none the less. Once safely on the ground, Boo strides inside the busy establishment looking about with a discerning eye to see what might be on display and what the various artisans were currently working on. Taking her time knowing that either Hawker himself would catch sight of her or be informed of her arrival. She was in no hurry, after all, she rarely ever was.
The combination of her exotic beauty and race and that of her noble status usually serves to draw attention to her quicker than a moon moth to an open flame. This time was no different. A nearby craftsman, working on repairing a suit of chain mail that had the look that the former owner had lost a battle with a massively clawed foe, glanced up as she came into view, did a double take, then went off in search of someone. With close to a dozen craftsmen, apprentices, and general labor hard at work the place was filled with enough competing sounds to make it difficult to hear. In one place a large series of bellows were being constantly compressed by use of a waterwheel. It’s air fed into a series of lead pipes that powered several machines, as well as enflaming the coals in a forge. Two sweating men take turns pulling various pieces of metal from the super-heated coals using tongs. Placing them on anvils shaped like body parts they hammer the glowing metal into shape. Opposite of them but using the same forge was a master weapons smith working on a hand-an-a-half sword. As he pitted hammer to steel a robed figure with a wild beard uses a scroll to cast a spell onto the blade.
Boo watches men hard at work for a time, fascinated but as usual, becomes easily bored and starts wandering about aimless thinking that she should also pick something for the traveler she needs to check up on for Khatri figuring a gift would be helpful as a sort of an icebreaker. Something to put him at ease, perhaps an enchanted dagger of some sort thinking that most people can always use one of those. Given the creature's appearance, Boo is unsure if her seductive charms will be sufficient to impress him so best to have a backup.
Boo senses rather than feels the arrival of Captain Hawker just as the older, rugged man reaches to touch her arm. He bows and says something, then raises his voice and repeats, “Welcome Lady Boosandie. If you please, come with me to my office and we can talk about what brings you.”
Boo turns and flashes the good captain a friendly yet seductive smile and follows him into his office where she finds a spot to sit down and make herself comfortable. After some initial chit-chat, she gets to the point and goes into detail regarding exactly what she is looking to have made, "so I would like to commission a special whip of silver and adamantine that will allow me to cast a Shocking Grasp spell through it on top of its normal damage. Maybe something ornate and fashionable that I could wear as sort of a belt that wouldn't stand out as a weapon, you know people in my circles can be. If I am to be armed, I would prefer to keep it understated. Oh, and I also require a minor gift for an acquaintance and was thinking a simple magical dagger should do the trick. Do you by chance have something suitable in backstock or a commissioned item that, say someone has failed to collect?"
As she described the whip Captain Hawker made a pretty accurate sketch. As he handed it to her for inspection he smiles. “We have close to a score of various daggers that should meet your approval. Most are simply magically enhanced, making them lighter and sharper (figure +1 standard). One is even more enhanced with some fine detail work on the blade (figure +2, more expensive).” He rubs his chin for a moment than adds, “I do have one that was meant for one of the younger Tangerin boys.” A minor house as nobles go. “It is enspelled to return to the throwers hand, a popular enhancement. “
Boo considers the available options, "alright then, let's just go with the dagger of returning since it is to be a gift. I trust it comes with a suitable sheath? If it is not too much trouble could you, please see that it is wrapped up in a bit of silk cloth so it will be a surprise? Thank you."
Taking back the sketch Captain Hawker sets it on his desk. “We can have it ready by next five day (next week, after the festival), unless you’re willing to pay to expedite it. The dagger has a fairly plain sheath but functional”
"No, let's not rush it. As I want it to also serve as an ornate decorative belt please be so kind to inform your artisans that I expect it to be as much a work of art as it is a serviceable weapon. I will return after the festival to pick it up, so no need to expedite it."
“Considering the type of magic the weapon is to focus for you we can’t use gemstones or the usual decoratives’ so I am envisioning several metals inlayed into the creation phase, including copper and silver with both act as a natural conduit for electrical current. We a long sword for a client last year using a similar technique.” The Captain pauses for a moment in reflection than adds, “I can have one of the wizards I keep under retainer to add a crystal to the pommel if you like. I’m told that it would act like an arcane battery if you will, either storing a few charges of your own innate magic or collecting lightning like energy (1d3 charges worth) if you find it directed at you for later use. I should caution though, that these crystals are finicky. Storing too many charges can result in an uncontrolled discharge, with the wearer at the center of such electrical fury.” The master weapons smith pauses again for propriety sake before saying, “Such enhancements do drive up the costs, if that is a concern…”
Boo nods understanding and considering his words, "oh well that is a shame but no matter it's not important. How about instead I just commission you to construct a standard (+1) magical whip that I can wear as a belt unnoticed instead and that will more than suit my needs. With this change, when can I expect it to be ready, before or after the festival?"
“As you wish, m’Lady,” Captain Hawker says with a smile.
Once things have been finalized Boo will kiss the Captain's cheek, "thank you very much, please just send the bill to my guardian, Chamberlain Terkan Vizzini and he will take care of it, as usual, good day to you, and do enjoy the upcoming festival," she smiles gathering up her things ready to see about seeking out the traveler as her next stop.
When morning came Lilita and Melu were given a hot breakfast (Lilita’s enjoyed a Long Rest <> Note: She’s also leveled) and at the instance of Brother Tarris, is provided with a ride back to the city in the company of a group of priests and monks. Brother Tarris had explained that news of Talis Panou’s death had to be delivered to the Temple. The trip proves uneventful and with the addition of a small, bureaucratically sealed scroll tube containing her legal claim to her family’s townhouse and anything else remaining, she finds herself standing at Tarantis’ north gate.
During the journey back to the city, Lilita and Melu sit silently side by side in the back of a wagon, Lilita's eyes are red and puffy from crying herself to sleep after the passing of Talis Panou the night before. He had shown her such kindness in his last day of life that Lilita would always feel herself forever in his debt. It seemed to Lilita that wherever she went, death seemed to follow.
As the wagon rocked back and forth Lilita looked sadly at her companion Melu. The lizard-girl seemed to be growing ever more attached to Lilita that the silver-haired sorceress was starting to worry that if Melu remained at her side for too long, death would eventually take her too. The last thing Lilita wished was put a friend in mortal danger but was unsure as to what to do about Melu.
Lilita's attention shifts from Melu to the sealed scroll tube poking out of her pack. Staring at it, the thought of what it represented started to concern Lilita. She had no idea where to go with it, who to take it to. The very idea of reclaiming her heritage frightened her, she was ill-prepared for any of it knowing that it would bring a whole new set of problems. Problems she was ill-equipped to face or deal with.
As the Temple group enters the city Melu, half hiding behind Lilita’s skirt, gwaks up at the massive gatehouse, than at the lines of travelers and merchants moving into the city (few seem to be leaving at this hour). It was an hour before noonfest (noon), and on the eve of the new fiveday. Tomorrow, officially, the festival of Silver started. And, perhaps, it was the eve of a war of darkness.
Lilita looked up at the massive gate understanding Melu's awe and wariness. Lilita drew the lizard-girl close to her and whispers, "don't worry you are not alone. I will help you get situated and later when you are ready you can decide if you want to make your life in the city or return to the wilds and try to find if any of people are still living and reclaim your old life if possible. Anything I can do to help you, know that I will do my best."
Melu suddenly tugs at Lilita’s skirt, the lizard girl’s nose twitching and wrinkling. She’s staring at a trio of raggedly clothed floobs. One man and two women whose features were in their prime, extruding a sense of strength that somehow didn’t go with their outer provinces attire. Melu’s hand slips a smooth looking crystal from one of her pouches and hisses. “man/beasts…girl/beasts? Not man/not beasts – Beasts!”
Lilita drapes her arm around Melu whispering, "please calm yourself, don't attract their attention and give us away. I understand you can sense them for what they truly are but in the city, we cannot attack someone, even their kind without just cause. Best to not let those creatures know that you can sense them so that we may take advantage of the element of surprise. No doubt war is coming to the city soon enough. For now, we must bide our time, watch and wait."
Melu holds up the gray colored crystal in her hand and peers through it at Lilita with a feisty grin. “Rock smash/stomp not-men-things flat/squish!” She then deftly returns it to the pouch.
The trio had moved past the City Guards and were making their way up the main avenue heading deeper into the city quarter.
Lilita quickly gives Brother Tarris and others her thanks and says her goodbyes. As they part ways, the priests and monks heading-on towards the temple so Lilita decides to try to follow the trio of were-beasts at a safe distance as to not attract their attention or notice. Her hope is to try to determine where they are heading and find out if possible, what they may be up to.
Glancing around, Lilita seems to have lost site of the trio in the crowds moving in and out of the gate area.
Lilita groans and quickly turns to her companion, "Melu, did you see which way the not-men-things went? We need to find them, quietly follow them and see where they are going and what they are up to!"
Melu wrinkles her nose, the whip end of her tail flicking excitedly like a cat’s. She gawks up at Lilita and nods then moves through the crowd on tip toes, as if trying to be sneaky while being speedy. The stance earns the lizard girl some odd looks and the occasional smile. Following, Melu leads Lilita past a number of stalls selling fresh vegetables and fruits and nearly becomes distracted by a pyramid of marion melons. Drooling slightly, Melu hops from one foot to the other before slaps the ground behind her with her tail and hurries forward, turning towards a narrow street leading deeper into the quarter.
Lilita follows close behind Melu hoping that the lizard-girl is able to follow their trail. Without a thought, Lilita sticks with Melu as the pair head into the narrow street deeper into the quarter hoping to catch sight of the trio again without either herself or Melu being spotted.
The lizard girl skulks forward with purpose, displaying a natural affinity to stealth though often her exaggerated antic’s draws more attention than if she’d walk normally. That said, if it were night, Melu would be hard to spot, short and as skinny as she is, and her movements would give her an advantage over her prey…or possible hunters.
The road turns and twists, once crossing through a small market square full of squabbling merchants and venders, arguing over who has rights to what space for their wares. More gawkers stand around, watching to see if it gets interesting. Like a bird dog, Melu flows through the crowd, tail tapping or flicking and occasionally glancing back to see if her new friend hadn’t gotten lost.
Lilita does her best to keep up with the much faster Melu trying not to attract unwanted attention as she does so.
Passing through a gap in the market crowd Lilita spots the three warebeasts further along the street beyond. Walking – sauntering might be a better word – along until a stocky, heavily tattooed Dwarf steps out of a tavern and take’s a stance that could be misconstrued as confrontational, or, the motions and stance of someone grown annoyed with having to wait for someone else who was supposed to arrive at an earlier time. The male of the trio, thick saggy hair falling down his back, gestures to the tavern entrance. A moment later, all four go inside.
Lilita not being fond of taverns let out a sigh as she watches the four of them go into the tavern. She looks down at Melu with a frown, "we're going to have to go inside too it seems. It's a tavern, a place where people partake of strong drink and carouse so please try not to attract undue attention, we are just looking to find out what they are up to and not cause trouble or get into a fight if we can help it. Alright? You can either stay here and keep watch or you can come inside with me, whichever works for you."
Heading to the door to the tavern Lilita opens it to head inside leaving Melu to decide if she wants to accompany Lilita or wait outside as she pleases. The lizard girl’s head cocks, watching Lilita for maybe half a second without tagging along.
Lilita can smell the smoke of a dozen different pipe weeds, the acrid aroma of under washed bodies, and other things before she reaches the doors. Both are propped open, allowing the foul air to escape, although one might assume, they are open to let fresh air in. Sounds of tittering, banging, and other lewd noises drift down from the windows above. Above the door itself is a carved image of a beer mug, indicating the sort of business operated within, if all the other ques weren’t enough.
The innocent young sorceress timidly peers sideways up and down and is shocked pale by at the sights and sounds she encounters just inside the gloomy smoke-filled tavern. Her delicate nose wrinkles up at the stench of the smoke and the myriad of other unpleasant odors that assault her senses. Most definitely this is not the sort of place Lilita cares to frequent. Feeling like a fish out of water she quickly finds herself wishing that the fey goddess was at her side feeling that Livvi would be much more skilled in interacting with the sort of folk that tends to favor such establishments.
“You/me safe,” Melu says with utter confidence. “You/me have Rock.”
Lilita nervously gazes down at the unflappable Melu and gives her companion a silent yet grateful nod. Though Melu is not in the league of the likes of the fey goddess, Lilita recognizes that she can count on the brave lizard-girl to stick by her.
With a determined look, Lilita somehow manages to find the courage to move deeper into the tavern in search of her quarry. As she meanders her long curly locks of silver hair cascade gracefully down, around, and well-past her shoulders jouncing behind her as she moves. Still having no coins in her purse Lilita knows that it won't take long before the pair are booted out so struggles to come with a plan that will buy them time to find out what the werebeasts are up to.
Unlike many taverns where the bar is located towards the back, this one’s bar is just left of the entrance. A tall, stained, formidable looking wooden structure dominates the front of the tavern. Build from iron wood, the bar could probably serve as a bunker if the pair working behind it so required it. One bartender is a tall, gray haired man in a stained apron. The other is a middle-aged woman with a bosom that was grossly oversized for her narrow waist. Her long brown hair in braids, she wags a finger at several leering patrons perched on stools. The haze gathering about the low ceiling makes the place look darker than it was. Of course, if someone would take the time to wash the windows, no doubt the lighting would be better.
Tables crowd the center space, cheap benches and stools surround them. Long benches line two of the four walls, the bar one, leaving the back wall where a staircase climbs upwards to the upper floor. At the foot of the stairs sits a large, bearded Half-Orc with one broken tusk and an eye long closed from some sort of injury. Probably a knife.
Melu sneezes, then rubs her flat nose vigorously. Even as she doses, her tail curls lightly around Lilita’s left ankle, the tip tapping ever so slightly. Off to the left, near the corner sits the tattooed Dwarf and the three strangers. A skinny woman with pock marks scaring her cheeks, is delivering four large wooden mugs to the table.
Lilita kneels down low next to the lizard-girl dropping her voice to a whisper as she hands Melu an empty sack, "take this and when I start playing my viol to entertain, move about collecting any coins the patrons here may wish to offer up. As you do this try to get as close to the werebeasts as you are able to. Linger near them as much as you can as long as you can and eavesdrop on what it is that they are talking about."
“K!” Melu eagerly takes the sack and put’s it on her head like a hat.
Rising back up to her feet Lilita pulls out her Viol as her eyes flicker nervously towards the tall, gray-haired bartender in the stained apron behind the bar. Cautiously Lilita approaches the man and politely asks in a respectful tone, "good sir if you please might I ask your permission to play a bit of music and earn some coin with my companion there. We would gladly split with you 50-50 any and all that I am able to earn with my playing?" [NPC Interactions Roll: 23/57]
The older man immediately starts to demand a higher cut but is cut off by the woman who’s gaze is taking Lilita’s measure. “It’s okay, Darizan. Let tha’ Entertainer ply ‘er trade. Ain’t costin’ us anything to let’er let loose.”
Darizan grunts than turns to pour a refill for another customer.
Assuming the bartender is open to such an arrangement and gives his permission Lilita will find a suitable spot where she can keep a close eye on the tattooed dwarf and the werebeasts as she plays in order to be nearby to help Melu should something go amiss.
As the tune begins slowly, the cords reach out across the tavern and one by one, conversations sill or turn to whispers. Many eyes, mostly hard-faced men, turn her way. Some soften slightly, others seem to relax. Here and there some return to their conversations, but glance Lilita’s way as she plays. After gawking at her for several long moments the lizard girl pulls the sack off her head and starts dancing, nearly in tune with the music, around waving her tail or thrusting the sack at various patrons, many whom dig for coins.
Lilita continues to play as she watches Melu all the while hoping that the lizard-girl has clearly understood her instructions.
As the temp increases, Melu seems more intent on plying customers with the sack than the part of the plan where she’s to get close to the conspirators so she can ease drop on them.
Lilita seeing that Melu has gotten a bit carried away Lilita after finishing her first number starts her second as she slowly moves as she plays to the left, towards the corner where the tattooed Dwarf and the three werebeasts are seated hoping that Melu will take note of her movement and be reminded that she is supposed to be eavesdropping on them.
Doing a graceful pirouette on one foot, the lizard girl glances at the Dwarf and his companions and makes a sound and gesture one might make as if seeing long lost friends. With glee, Melu hurries over to their table and dances a jig, waving the sack which had grown some weight from the added coin. One of the women snarl slightly, giving the lizard girl an evil look while the Dwarf says something gruffly and waves Melu to go away. She mimics the gesture, switching the sack and holding it up with one foot while waving both hands and yammering in her broken, double-speak common.
Lilita watches Melu, a worried look on her face as she starts to get a bad feeling.
The Dwarf bellows, “Be gone wit’ ya, ya scaly skinned rodent! We ain’t got time fer ya!”
“Coin/now!” Melu bellows back. Puffing out her slim, busty chest, her face somehow manages to give the look of wagging a beard as she hops on one foot. The other foot wags the sack in front of the male werebeast demandingly. “Happy/sour-puss! Squeaky/rusty purse get/open!” The Dwarf stares at her mid rage while across the table the second werefemale starts to laugh at the absurdity of it all, earning glares from her two companions. “What?,” she laughs, “give it some coins, it’ll leave.”
Lilita stops playing and starts to move toward Melu calling out, "Melu, Melu, come away from there. Don't bother those people, they don't have time for your nonsense. If they don't wish to put a coin in the sack move on!" Turning to the Dwarf, Lilita gives him a worried half-frightened look, "I am very sorry, I do apologize, she doesn't understand. Please let me get her out of your way."
Melu glances over at Lilita, her tail poised to poke the Dwarf in his mustached nose. The sack gripped in the talons of her left foot, hoisted over her back and nearly level with her shoulder in a display of acrobatic flexibility of her race.
“Eh?”
The Dwarf stabs a pointed finger at Lilita. “This monkey yours? C’om get it fer I make a ‘bacco pouch out o’ it’s skin!”
Lilita's eyes look downward at the floor shyly, "not mine ser, well not exactly," her voice wavers a bit as she becomes flustered, "her name is Melu and she is a friend, a companion not a slave or servant so she is not mine but we do look out for one another. So please don't hurt her, she meant no harm or disrespect."
“Now Mardiat,” chides the laughing werefem, “Ain’t no way to treat Street Performers, they gotta eat, too.” She pulls several copper coins from a pocket and leans forward towards the open bag. [GM Rolls Perception check for Lilita: 12] The motion reveals a blue star tattoo on the woman’s forearm.
Lilita's face cannot hide her surprise at both the female werecreature's generous donation of copper coins and the familiar tattoo the woman bears. Lilita's gaze lingers on the woman's forearm with the star tattoo recognizing the mark, "you are an acquaintance of Mistress Domonique of the Black Rose please forgive our interruption, we will be upon our way and trouble you no more" Lilita says in a hushed tone as she reaches down for Melu looking to lead her away.
The humor on the woman’s face cools as she glances warily at Lilita. “I think not,” she hisses slightly. Before the woman can say more Melu’s antics go up a notch.
Blowing a raspberry at the Dwarf named Mardiat, Melu hop’s sideways, closer to the werebeasts, bag open and tail flicking. “Big/blond boobs/melon size/big/nice floob/thing!” The lizard girl says to the woman. The strange roll of compliments causes the male werebeast to grin and the other female to laugh as she glances from Lilita to the others, face turning. “My what?”
Melu’s tail pokes the women in the left breast as if trying to make a point. “Melons!”
Now it was the Dwarf’s turn to grin wickedly and sneer at his companions. “She’s got you there, Caradie. Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t been sayin’ since ya arrived, hee!”
Lilita blushes red at Melu's words and her poking of the woman's bosom, "please Melu, enough, that is extremely rude, come away with me now so these kind folk can enjoy their drinks in peace and quiet," the silver-haired sorceress tugging on the little lizard girl's arm still trying to get her to move away.
“Git,” the Dwarf snaps in agreement.
Grabbing the sack Melu hops around and then moves behind Lilita, the lizard girl’s tail lightly poking the healer’s ankle. Across the table the one named Caradie (of the big bust and tattoo) gazes narrowly at Lilita.
“Why do you sme – ‘er, seem familiar?”
Lilita offers a slightly nervous smile in the way of a reply, "I really could not say, my face and features are rather plain, so it is easy to confuse me with someone else. Again, my sincere apologies for interrupting you and you and your companions." Hand in hand with Melu Lilita seeks to slowly move away looking to head towards the tavern's open doorway.
Suspicion fills the Dwarf’s features as he eyes Lilita harder, than glances across the table at Caradie. “Ye know this ‘er tart?”
Lilita blinks and winces in irritation at being referred to as a tart but remains silent and holds her tongue wary of the dwarf and his companions.
The other two wearbeasts were also suddenly interested in the healer, far more than before. As she backs up, Lilita can see their nostrils twitching slightly, sensing the air. The male glances at the two females and something unsaid seems to be going on between them. Meanwhile Mardiat’s head twists from Caradie to Lilita.
“Where ya goin? Wha’, our coin no good now?” The Dwarf snaps, his hard eyes searching Lilita’s features, trying to remember if he should recognize her.
Startled by the dwarf's words and questioning tone Lilita's heart skips a beat, her cheeks flush, her eyes wide, intimidated by his hard-piercing stare. Lilita's voice wavers as she struggles to reply, "forgive me, I meant no disrespect, but you made it clear that you wanted me, and my companion gone. I just..," Lilita's voice falters and trails off for a moment but then suddenly she snaps back indignantly, "I am not a tart!"
“I don’t know,” Caradie admits as she stands up, “But maybe your right, Mardiat. Maybe we should ask some questions.” The other two were beasts slowly stand. Behind her, Lilia feel’s Melu sticking close, the lizard girl’s muscles tensing like springs. “We/you/me go/get?” Melu whispers, one eye peering around Lilita’s skirt, “or/maybe, rock/slamming time?”
Lilita bends down and gives Melu a brave smile trying to reassure the little lizard-girl, "no... it's alright Melu, relax, everything is fine. You have coins in your sack now, I bet you are hungry. Why don't you go see if they serve food here and get yourself something to eat or if not step outside and buy something from one of the street vendors, don't worry I'll be fine, just don't stray too far."
Melu didn’t reply, but she didn’t move either.
After reassuring her companion Lilita looks back at the dwarf and his companions and walks straight up to them, her gaze falls upon the woman called Caradie, "I am no one of any consequence, I imagine that you just recognize his scent, at least in part so ask your questions so that my friend and I can be on our way, we don't want any trouble."
“Eh? Who’s scent? Wha’ youse smellin?” the Dwarf growls, clearly angry about missing something and still glaring at the young healer suspiciously. “Wha’s this tart’s game?”
Caradie moves closer, close enough for Lilita to feel the were beasts body heat and smell the musk radiating off her. “No consequence? Maybe, but whose your master? Whose blood is it you share?”
The other two were beasts came around the table, one from each side. At the nearest tables, heads were turning, tongues wagging, eyes wondering if they were about to be front side seats at some sort of fracas.
Lilita meets Caradie's questioning gaze and in a low hushed voice she replies simply, "I am of the bloodline of Rakia Rezgui."
“Eh?” growls the Dwarf while the three werebeasts trade wary glances. Caradie’s nose wrinkles as if she’s sniffing the air while trying to be subtle about it. The male growls softly, “Such a daring thing to claim.”
Mardiat the Dwarf, confused, angry, and clearly feeling left out snaps at the male. “Darsin, wha’ are all ye flappin’ ‘bout? Is this ‘er tart workin’ fer yer boss? Der wasn’t any mention o’ a fourth,” he says, purposely ignoring Melu.
Lilita turns her gaze from Caradie to the Dwarf and back to Caradie again, "oh so he isn't aware as to your nature? Don't worry then, your secret is safe with me."
Hearing the male's words Lilita shrugs, "believe or don't believe, as you will. Your companion here asked a question and I simply answered it. The nose knows, does it not? In this case, I think true daring would be to threaten or otherwise seek to attempt to bring harm to a daughter of Rakia Rezgui, don't you? That would be foolish indeed but do what you feel you need to do!"
Lilita just smiles innocently, waiting...
Swearing loudly enough to draw more attention to the little drama at the back of the bar, Mardiat stomps one foot in fury. “Ain’t speakin’ no sense, none o’ ya! Rezgui’s o’ myth, everyone knows it!”
All three werebeasts turn to gaze coolly at the Dwarf.
“World’s full of myths, but myth or no, it’s never smart to speak like an ignorant fool.”
Caradie stares down at Mardiat, hands on her hips. “You were paid to provide some services, if you did’t think to ask questions about ‘whose’ coin it was doing the paying, that’s on you. As the Dwarf scowls at the werebeasts Lilita feel’s Melu’s tail tapping urgently against the side of her foot from behind.
At Melu's prompting Lilita turns to look...
Sauntering towards them is the raven-haired beauty; the friend and/or handler of the Fey Goddess. “Good job, Mardiat. The Chief Adviser’s office will pay handsomely for anyone conspiring against The Lion.”
The scowl turns to confusion, then anger almost as rapidly as the spin that brings the Dwarf around to stare at the new arrival. Darsin hisses and the hair on the backs of all three werebeasts’ heads spike up as they too, whirl and tense, bodies arching slightly like wary cats. Melu scurries sideways, slipping around to put herself into a new spot behind Lilita.
“Bilina, wha’ are ye doin’ here?” Mardiat was starting to spit. Lilita’s healer’s training had included some instruction in bodily behaviors and physical ques and it wasn’t a stretch to understand that the Dwarf was dealing with far too much, too fast, and was close to lashing out destructively.
Lilita shares the Dwarf's confusion and agitation at the arrival of the somehow vaguely familiar raven-haired newcomer feeling that her invoking the Chief Advisers Office and The Lion in one breath that in all likelihood she has not come alone. Sensing a possible fight about to break out or worse the silver-haired sorceress quickly positions her Viol back up under her chin and innocently begins to play another tune as she starts to move away from the Dwarf and the werebeasts seeking as well to also avoid the path of the raven-haired newcomer. For her part, Lilita simply seeks to unobtrusively as she is able to attempt to make her way towards and mix with the other patrons in the tavern while seeking to locate the nearest exit all the while hoping that Melu will have enough sense to follower her lead.
[NPC response roll: 01%]
With barely a glance at Lilita the newcomer plants a hand on one hip, cocking it slightly as her smile turns into a smirk. “Come now, Mardiat. We’ve talked about this sort of thing before. One simply does not aid and abet inflicted floobs attempting to sneak into our beloved city.” The raven-haired beauty’s eyes flick towards the trio of werebeasts knowingly.
“Ain’t got no clue wha’ yer blatherin’ ‘bout, Bilina!”
“What do you mean, inflicted?” Snarls Darsin at the same time Caradie says, “We’ve more rights to be in Tarantis then you, *****!”
Beside Lilita, Melu bounces slightly then turns in the direction the healer is easing towards than hisses softly. [Perception check: 17] Out of the corner of her eye Lilita notices armored figures arriving by both the front entrance and the open doorway leading to the kitchens and back door. When Mardiat also notices the arrival of the City Guard he roars, “Treachery!” at no one particular. Grabbing the table that the group had just been sitting at the muscular Dwarf flips it violently in the direction of the one he calls Bilina. Chaos erupts within the tavern.
Lilita hearing the exchange, the sound of a table being flipped knows her worst fears have been realized! Her instincts correct Lilita feels that the most sensible course of action is for her to attempt to flee the scene to avoid being caught up in the middle of it all. Lilita had hoped that werebeasts would lead her to find her father but now her plan has been dashed.
The raven-haired beauty’s hands gestures, sending a flash of magic bursting forth while the werebeasts all react in various ways. The male begins to transform, taking on the features of a human-Tiger while the two females hiss. Caradie leaps sideways, avoiding the sticky webbing that engulfs the as yet unnamed other female. A score of City Guard are shouting and rousting everyone they cross as they pour in through the doors. At the back of the troop coming in from the kitchen is a familiar face. Amlack glances at his nearest coworkers before making eye content with Lilita.
Lilita grabs Melu by the hand and heads straight for Amlack hoping that he might be able to help get them both out through the doors calling out to him, "Amlack be careful, the three inside with the dwarf are man-beast shifters!" [NPC Reaction Roll: 83%]
The look Amlack gives her suggests that he’s not surprised by her information. He glances at the other members of his troop as they shove their way towards the flying furniture, curses and animal roars than nods his head towards the way he’d just he had just come. “We were…ordered here and told to expect anything. Agent Jazzadra came to our duty barracks a couple of hours ago, saying that she’s tracked some spies to a tavern and required backup to apprehend them. She warned us that they might be lycanthropes.” The young man looks embarrassed, “the Sarge had to explain what that meant. Anyway, I know your no spy or man, er, womanbeastthing. Go before – “a small magical explosion rocks back of the tavern, filling the place with smoke and additional shouts. One Lilita recognizes as the Dwarf who’s curses rose in tempo and taking on a course poetry in the process.
“Go!” Amlack shouts before rushing off, into the fray.
Peering around Lilita’s skirt, Melu peers at the violence rocking the place with a mixture of awe and chagrin. In one slender, taloned hand, is a brown, polished rock or crystal.
“Rock?!?”
Worried about Amlack, Lilita stops in her tracks turns and looks back as he rushes off towards the fight. Hearing Melu, Lilita looks at the Lizard Girl unsure and more than a little fearful, "alright Melu, do what you need to do with your rock just so you don't hurt any innocent bystanders!" Holding her breath, the silver-haired sorceress watches Melu silently.
With a mixed look of solemn seriousness and childish glee the lizard girl gives the rock a lick, hops from one foot to the other and back again with a vigorousness of someone waiting in line to use a loo. Taking a moment to check to see that her new friend was out of the line of throwing, Melu winds up and launches the rock through the door and towards the largest part of the melee inside where it bounces off the back of the mad Dwarf, drops to the floor and…dose nothing.
Lilita looks on unfazed and unsurprised at the rock on the floor unsure if that was Melu's intent or not as she tries to reach out for the Lizard Girl's hand to lead her away.
Melu blows a raspberry, thrusts her hand into a different pouch, produces another rock, this one with thin veins of crystal running through it. The rock sparkles as it comes into the light, those sparkles brighten even as she repeats her jig and tosses it inside. When it hits the floor there’s a clap of thunder, causing a sudden lull in the brawl as heads jerk in search of the source of the sound. The rock seems to boil and bubble, jerking and shaking and then expands rapidly, almost too rapidly to follow, swelling up into a vaguely humanoid shape. As the Earth Elemental grows larger, arms of a sort grow fists that grab and flail at any floob in reach. The lizard girl hisses in triumph while trusting both arms into the air and dances around Lilita.
“Rock help!” she squeals in glee. Inside the tavern the tempo of the brawl changes as more and more floobs seek exits. The Elemental moves out of view and the nearest wall shudders, sending up a plume of dust and knocking roofing tiles into the air.
When the clap of thunder booms, Lilita jumps back in fright and watches in awe as the elemental creature emerges from the stone unsure of what to make of Melu's powerful magic stone!
As the Lizard Girl pleased with herself dances around Lilita, the silver-haired sorceress is left to wonder with that sort of power how her people were captured and enslaved but then thought perhaps such stones are very rare. Pushing all that out of her mind Lilita looks back at the fight worried about Amlack unsure if she should remain and provide healing or just flee. In the end, Lilita hesitates just outside the door to the tavern peering inside watching and waiting if and when her own particular healing talents might be needed for any injured on either side of the fray.
A smug Melu follows, tail tapping playfully on the ground behind her. “Rock,” she says in satisfaction.
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Holden's story continues...
As he suspected, Holden found the quartermaster railing at a group of laborers who where loitering around several delivery wagons. Mostly, Kam was growling at how they were only supposed to deliver the goods, not take the opportunity to case the nob’s grounds. Just get in, make the delivery of firewood, lumber, sawdust, and whatever else that had been ordered.
“…dolts! Tha Loridarie’s chamberlain was watchin from a second-floor window when Delf an’ Vandarian here decided ta snoop around the townhouses’ larder.”
“Told ya Kam, I was only lookin’ for a drink of water. This ‘er’s hard work,” Delf complained as he slapped a half-loaded wagon. “Too much like honest work, too.”
As Kam and Delf went on arguing, grumbling and growling at each other’s, Jacob tentatively approached Zam and exchanged with him what he thought would pass as a knowing glance. "Ah, Quartermaster." Holden crossed his dark leather clad arms before his chest, shoulders kind of close to his neighbor "While these two dolts figure out who's done what ****up, I need an upgrade. Deposit's just been made with the upstairs lady, and I'm good for about a hundred coins, plus future incoming..."
Kam grunted and nodded. “Understood. What’d you have in mind, Holden?”
Jacob opened his gloved palm and started counting the stuff on his fingers "I need a left handed knuckle duster to pair up with my blackjack, a lightweight window-hook for my rope, and something more resistant than the leather I'm currently wearing, but it can't impede my sneaking." Holden paused, then added with a grimace "-Kinda nervous from all these floobs and kooks out and about lately."
A raised eyebrow was the quartermaster’s response. After a moment the man gestured, ‘follow’ and headed towards one of the doors leading into the lower levels.
As they walked Kam asked, “Cities full of kooks, but I get the impression you’ve had a run in with some of the kookier.”
Holden answered in a slightly clipped manner "You bet. The extra kooky kind." This could go two ways, Jacob reasoned; he was about to get some hand me downs of an arrested pad-foot, or maybe the Quartermaster wanted some peace & quiet away from the courtyard buzz and would give him something proper straight out of the complexes' more secluded vaults.
They came to an iron bound door with a large lock. The quartermaster pulled out a key and let them into the guild houses’ main armory. Once a series of storerooms used to store turpentine and other wood-based byproducts, the armory was just that. A large depository of all things lethal and defensive. Kam led Jacob past Danken, a retired fighter and guild enforcer turned armorer. Danken glance up briefly from a set of throwing knives he was sharpening and nodded.
Holden nodded back respectfully. Danken and his armory were a time-honored guild institution in and of themselves.
“I’ve got a nice selection of knuckle wear,” Kam was saying as he came to a series of dark wood storage bins. Pausing in thought, a frown on his face, Kam looked at Jacob. “I’ve heard some…rumors, myself. There was an attack on a tavern wench I know last night. She was blathering about vampires, too, before they took her off to the Black Rose for healing. Perhaps it’s just kooks, like you say. The big festival brings ‘em out every year, or so I’ve noticed…still.”
Reaching into the back of one of the bins the quartermaster pulled out a red cloth and unwrapped it to reveal a pair of tarnished silver knuckle busters shaped like owls. Tiny emeralds were embedded in the owl’s eyes, gleaming in the light of the armory.
Holden, with the instinct of a thieving magpie, couldn't possibly resist a lean in and hover "If Quartermaster wouldn't be offering these for rent, I would have to steal them, this is some dapper looking hardware!"
“There’s a bit more to ‘em,” Kam said and slid one on. Moving over to where some stuffed target dummies were stored the quartermaster hit one with a quick jab, sending a short burst of white lightning arcing into the dummy. “I know your keen on avoiding doing lethal damage if you can. These fire off some sort of stunning magic a couple times a day.”
Jacob slipped one on himself, testing the grip and deftly hitting the air a couple of times "Killing's bad for business. Except for when killing IS the business. Luckily it isn't and hasn't been for a long time at the Garnet Hands, and I would do my best to honor that tradition." Holden glanced thoughtfully at Danken, the man came from a very different time, those violent times where people like his own father, and with him the Night Stalkers of Tarantis, came into power. "I guess I'll have to kill somebody just to afford interest on these, will I?" Jacob half seriously joked.
Kam waved off the mention of cost. “We know your good for it. ‘sides, sooner or later you’ll find other weaponry worth donating to the guild, I don’t doubt. Besides, blood sucking kook’s warrant something extra.”[knuckle dusters (+1); Magical; Silver; Shocking Grasp x3/day]
Holden kept one of the magnificent pair, and disappeared it into a pocket of his, very near where he stored the wooden vial and its deadly contents. He left his hand cupped over that particular pocket, as if wary of what it contained. "And what about something to protect this latest guild investment?"
“I’ve given that some thought, too.” The man said as he led Jacob into an adjacent room. Armor of all sizes and sorts lined the walls and hung from numerous posts. Moving towards the back, Kam found what he was looking for. Hanging on a hook is a knee length leather coat made of hand tooled hide of some sort. Taking it down Kam points to an attached hood with a built in half mask.
“Used to belong to a fellow guild member. It’s reversible.” As he spoke Kam flipped one sleeve inside out, showing a grease and dirt stained, worn looking gray. “Has a double advantage of blending into the fog and mists. Has a half dozen hidden pockets and” – he jabs a finger into the softer grey side where it stopped suddenly – “Elfin links, very small and fine fit. Looks to be your size, too.” He holds it out. [Non magical, master work (AC 13) +1 Stealth]
Holden drew in a quick breath and flexed his abdominal muscles, holding up the piece of tight kit right in front of him "And how lucky that is, too. I'll have to give up breakfast sausages only to keep fitting." Jacob was not a small man by any means, in another life he could've very well been in Danken's shoes. Not a word was wasted on the former owner of this fine piece of equipment, and some stains that might have been from a bloody origin. Such were the ways. "I'd be best on my way now; I've dilly-dallied enough as it is with you taffing lot." Muffled laughs were heard in the armories' dank darkness, then a door of light opened to the world waiting back outside.
<><><><><><><>
(Missing storyline for Lilita')
As she strolled down the Merchant Quarter’s modestly lit streets (which was quite a bit compared to the Laborers Quarter where she lived), the mists swirled and drifted. Thickening here, thinning there. Even though it was late evening there were quite a few citizens out, running errands, hurrying home from a long day’s work. Most ignored her or at best, gave her a passing nod or insincere smile before hurrying on. At a glance behind her, there was no sign that Mordecai or the fey goddess had followed her lead.
Lilita gave a low sigh, a little saddened and surprised not seeing any sign of Mordecai following. The fey goddess did say she would meet Lilita at the Witches Brew but Mordecai she wasn't exactly sure. Maybe he doesn't want to get involved or like the fey goddess has an errand to attend to first. Drawing a deep breath Lilita pushes on alone making her way through the merchant's quarter. Once, very briefly, she thought she heard someone calling her name, but the mists and the noise of the city made it uncertain.
In fact, Lilita wasn’t wholly positive where this Witches Brew was. Odd name for an eatery or had Livvi implied it was some sort of winesink. Maybe the place was one of those gentlemen’s clubs she had heard scandalous gossip about from the women visiting Pencelot’s.
As Lilita got further along it suddenly hit her. She thought she knew where the Witches Brew was located but now, she isn't so sure thinking she must have confused it with another eatery. She had been certain that the fey goddess had referred to it as a cafe but now she was starting to worry a little that it could be something else entirely different... something unsavory. Trying her best to push such wicked thoughts out of her head, Lilita desperately tries to cling to the hope that her fey goddess would never do something like that, send to her to a disreputable establishment... would she?
As Lilita walks, the further she went, the more apprehensive she became. She was also starting to doubt both herself and her fey goddess. Still, she had made a promise, so she continues to walk along seeking out any passersby, vendors, shopkeepers and the like, asking for directions to the Witches Brew.
"Pardon me, sir, I have lost my way, I am looking for the Witches Brew cafe, the place with a green-haired girl named Nephele who works there, can you help me, please?" Moving from person to person asking, her mind continues to race as she questions herself out loud, "who has green-hair?" Thinking it to be a very odd color for hair she starts to recall reading fairie stories of green-haired nymphs and dryads that frolicked and cavorted about. "Oh, my," Lilita groans remembering the attire the fey goddess had worn the other night, like a naiad or mermaid... kin to nymphs and dryads.
“Eh, what?” snapped one tall, potbellied floob in the stained aprons of a butcher. He glanced at her as he was closing his shop.
"Oh, dear me!" Lilita gasps...
Just then a shadow flitted overhead. Looking up she saw the red-splotched crow swoop down and scramble to find a perch on a heavy beam jutting from the second floor of a closed dry good store. The bird cocked its head and stared at her.
Lilita stops in her tracks, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts! She looks timidly up at the crow trying to determine if it is the same one that Mordecai had pointed out to her back at the Whispering Mane. The crow Mordecai claimed to be a bad omen, that something nearby was dead or on its way to being dead!
Lilita…
Lilita stands in place as she gazes up at the crow intently studying it. Then she begins talking to it, asking, "are you a messenger of death, are you here for me," looking nervously about wondering if Mordecai was nearby? Wasn't the crow following him before, maybe it was still following him now? She calls out looking around at her surroundings and any people who might be nearby, "Mordecai, are you there?"
“Who you talkin’ too?” As he asked the butcher glanced up and spotted the crow. “Bloody birds, always hangin’ around. They steal, you know…you hearin’ me girl? Them birds, worse than pigeons. You can eat pigeons. Eatin’ crow, however, tis bad juju.”
A feeling of dread slowly begins to creep into Lilita's thoughts as she turns her gaze back to the crow and softly asks, "I am going to die, aren't I?"
Both the crow and the butcher cocked their heads and stared at her. His concerned that she was unstable in the head. The crow’s soulless eyes never blinked. The bird made a muttering sound, drawing a curse from the butcher.
“Bloody crow!”
Remembering an old song, Lilita begins to sing... hoping the song might somehow placate the crow and it will fly away and leave her be...to both of their amazement the crow’s head started to bob in time with her song. Wings fluttering and rustling once, opening just enough so that the red and black feathers of his under wing resembled a familiar sigil.
Lilita stares at the sigil and immediately lets out a gasp of surprise, "that looks just like the one I drew... twice! So, you are not really a crow then... but an owl?" She pauses a moment and scratches her head as if trying to make sense of it... a look of excitement building as she loudly blurts out, "A crow pretending to be an owl, or is that an owl pretending to be a crow, either way, that is something you don't see every day!"
Turning to the butcher jumping up and down excitedly unable to contain herself, "You see that! I didn't dream it, it's really real!!! Mordecai will be so surprised when I tell him that his crow not only isn't a crow, or a bad omen but an owl! What about you then my good sir, are you an owl too? Where is your mark, do you have a mark? Are there other owls? Does this mean I am an owl too?" Prattling on like a lunatic...
“Ain’t normal, either of ya,” muttered the butcher. He made some crude ward with a finger as if waving off danger and death, turned his back and hurried away, leaving them alone. The crow qorked cocked its head, then swooped down and attempts to find a perch on her shoulder.
Lilita gives him a questioning look as the fellow ignores her questions and does the ward thing with his finger. Her excitement falling flat somewhat as he starts to hurry away. Raising her arm, waving, trying to get his attention, Lilita calls out to him, "wait come back, I'm sorry, is it a secret? I can keep a secret, just ask anyone," all to no avail as he just keeps going, until at last, he is out of sight.
As the crow swoops down towards her, Lilita quickly leans her body to one side as she also tilts her head slightly, one hand lightly patting the shoulder in response. Hoping that the crow will view this as a signal that she isn't scared and that it's perfectly alright to roost there if it likes.
Once the crow steadies itself there Lilita smiles at it as she whispers and coos, "what a pretty bird," attempting to slowly and lightly pet it, kissing and nuzzling its beak. "Did you say my name before; I am not sure if you did or I just imagined it? Am I supposed to do something or go somewhere? The fey goddess Livvi told to meet her at the Witches Brew but I can't remember where it is and no one will stop long enough to give me directions or help me," she says sadly... fearing that maybe she might end up disappointing her friend.
The crow’s feather ruffled as she felt it’s small talons kneading her shoulder before settling down. A soft mutter issued from its throat, then cocking its head, the bird gave a sort caw, beak seeming to point the way.
Lilita takes note of the crow's actions, and smiles, "my... but you are indeed a clever one... thank you so much, my sweet owl," she coos and starts walking again... heading in the direction indicated. Innocently trusting this strange and mysterious creature.
The owl in disguise would mutter or caw whenever she came to an interaction. Between the bird and her ramblings other floobs she passed either gawk at them or are quick to cross to the other side of the street.
Lilita yammers on incessantly to the crow as she continues to walk along the street seemingly oblivious to those around her who might be gawking, whispering or pointing at the strange pair as they pass by. The trusting little healer remains supremely confident that the crow is her friend who has come to help her in her time of need. "You know later... after I speak to Livvi's friend I will need to be heading home to bed. I do hope you might consider coming home with me. If you like that is. I have plenty of food and I am sure that Tulip will take to you as I have, and I can also see about finding you a suitable perch or helping with a nest if you like. Think it over, you don't have to decide just yet and of course, you are always free to come and go as you please. I am not one that believes in cages or such. But then, maybe as an owl, you have other duties and obligations that keep you busy, so I will understand if that is the case. I just thought that I would be polite and extend the offer to you."
Fey. Lilita.
Lilita gives the owl-crow a surprised look, "that is you isn't it? Before you just said my name and now two words... Fey and Lilita. How are you doing that I wonder? Are you a Fey creature or are you referring to my friend Livvi, the fey goddess? She is Fey you know, maybe you wish me to introduce you to her when we arrive at the cafe? Is that it? Would you like to meet Livvi? Maybe that is it? Maybe you are looking to make a home with Livvi? If so, I will be happy to put in a good word for you. Have no fear, anything I can do to assist you, I will. Also, I can see about getting you a bite to eat once we arrive. I am sure they will have something on the menu that will suit you."
Lilita continues walking as she chatters away... keeping her eyes open for the Witches Brew, hoping that they are starting to get close to their destination but is a patient sort and is in no great hurry.
After about thirty minutes of walking and passing through a gate between quarters, the city guards on duty eyeing her with mixed reactions as she continued conversing with the owl. At one point the officer on duty, a knight in city guard colors started to beckon her over to ask some questions but he stopped when the crow’s black eye turned on him. To Lilita it sounded as if the owl was explaining to the knight why she was not worth his time. To those present, the owl merely qorked and stared briefly and the knight’s head cocked with a slightly confused look, slowly nodded and waved them on.
Lilita was about to respond to the knight beckoning her but stopped when the owl spoke to him and explained the situation so paused a moment waiting and watching the exchange then continued again on her merry way feeling somewhat relieved that she didn't have to speak to the guard as she has proven herself not very confident or competent when dealing with authority figures, gate guards or the like. As Lilita walks along she sings and strokes the clever bird's feathers wishing she had something to feed it as she was concerned that it might be hungry.
Lilita
Fey
Another fifteen minutes they crossed part of the merchant quarter, turned down a smaller side street that was lit on the corners by oil lamps casting muted light in the dark mist blanketing the city. Passing one of dozens of small townhouses lining the street the owl muttered then leapt off her shoulder to take a perch on an ivy-covered stone wall enclosing a small green space before the townhouse. As she watched he (she got the feeling it was male) walked along the top of the wall until reaching the arched over iron gate leading inside. There were no lights beyond the wall or in the upper stories of the three-story house that she could see. From what flora she could see in the dark, beyond the gate, the little garden looked ill kept and overgrown.
“Home” croaked the owl before bobbing its head.
Home.
Lilita stopped at front of the gate, outside the wall of the three-story house looking at it closely... more than little confused she whispers to the owl-crow, "this doesn't look much like a cafe to me. Not any that I have been to anyway, and there isn't even a sign for the Witches Brew. And what do you mean home? Whose home? Your home? I thought you were helping me find the Witches Cafe so I could meet the fey goddess?"
The owl masquerading as a crow bobbed its head.
Standing there looking around nervously Lilita stares up at the owl-crow where it was perched over her head on the arched iron gate. Slowly she walks closer to the ivy-covered stone wall, running her fingers over the ivy to determine if the plant's overall health and if it was living, dead or dying. Still not making a move to go beyond the gate just yet... she squints her eyes and leans forward against the iron bars of the gate trying to get a better view of the little garden on the other side that to her looked ill kept and overgrown. Then she slowly opens the gate, hesitates for a moment, then proceeds cautiously inside. Once inside she moves directly to the garden. There Lilita kneels to run her fingers over the plants to determine their condition and health, etc. as she did before with the ivy. While doing this she glances back and asks the owl-crow, "it doesn't look like anyone is home and why is the garden in such a deplorable state? Maybe we should go back and keep looking for the Witches Brew and I can see your home tomorrow during the day. Is that alright? I really promised my friend that I would meet her, and I don't want to be late or disappoint her."
The loam beneath her fingers smells healthy, and the various flora she examines does too, just that they hadn’t been tended too in many, many years. The grass was waist high and many flowering plants bare of flowers due to the overcrowding conditions. Nothing some serious care wouldn’t fix. Overhead the owl-crow croaked and walked slowly along the wall then glided over to perch above the ancient looking front door. There he was joined by a second, than a third owl-crow, each displaying similar markings and gazing at her intently. Expectantly.
Lilita sniffs the fistful of cool damp soil she holds in her hand feeling something awaken deep inside her that she cannot describe, a sense of deja vu coupled with a strong ache of loss and deep longing. Tears slowly begin to flow from her eyes and run down her cheeks as she experiences both incredible happiness and unbelievable sadness causing her heart to yearn for something or someone she has never known. Through her tear stained eyes, Lilita looks up at the owl-crow, watching silently as others join its ranks, all gazing down at her as she, in turn, gazes up at them.
After several long minutes, Lilita manages to at last struggle to her feet and stand up. Her head slowly turns and looks back and forth as all thoughts of her promise to meet the fey goddess vanish from her mind, replaced with a compulsion, a desperate need to look inside the house that fate and an owl-crow has brought her to.
Taking in a deep breath Lilita begins to walk from the garden up to the front of the house where she pauses for a moment, staring intently at the double-doors.
Cobwebs crisscross the doorway suggesting that no one had opened it in some time. There is a pile of dead leaves blown up against the door jam and half covering the short set of stone steps leading up to a set of double doors. Centered in the middle of each door is a knocker shaped like a perched owl.
Lilita reaches out and slowly runs her hands over both owl-shaped door knockers caressing them as they remind her of the sigil she had drawn, been drawing. Her eyes still misty with tears overwrought with emotion Lilita attempts to open the doors to see what awaits her inside. Pausing briefly to look back at the owl-crows for a moment before proceeding.
Door
The ornate handles felt cool to the touch. Her light push is rewarded, the doors open inwards on softly protesting hinges. Darkness lay beyond. Darkness that was broken by a lone ray of moonlight making its way through the thick fog and dirty window to splash across a huge, colorful painting hanging on a wall just beyond the foyer. What little she could see of the painting showed silver blonde hair.
Seeing the image of a silver-haired woman Lilita walks inside, passing through the doorway moving forward until she stands just in front of the painting itself. Reaching up, wanting to touch it, Lilita's legs suddenly buckle and she drops to her knees and starts to weep, a flood of tears. Her soul aches inside her as her body trembles. A wave of the emotion courses through her as images flash before her of all the moments that could have been but were not. Never to be. A single dream that both had long been denied, all lost in time, like tears in the rain...
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Boosandie's story continues...
Leaving the Eight Star behind, Boo flits her way across the city to the Sage’s Quarter where her Arcana Tutor, Oberyn Khatri maintains his residence. As towers went, the green spire was about average in height and size. Nothing compared to some of those owned by the cities archmages.
Boo circles around the residence once before circling again slowly descending before finally coming to a landing outside the gatehouse at the main entrance of the estate along the street. There she announces herself to the guards seeking permission to enter asking, "is Master Khatri at home and available to receive visitors?" She then patiently waits to either be turned away asked to return another time and day or escorted to the main house for an audience.
The servant recognized her immediately and opens the door fully while bowing deeper. “Lady Belfrye, yes, please come in. Make yourself comfortable in the parlor while I run and inform the master of your arrival.”
Boo smiles at the servant, "no need to rush my dear, I am in no hurry. Take your time, as you well know, I so delight in looking about" she says politely as her watchful gaze moves over the contents of the hallway for anything new since her last visit adding. "If Master Khatri is busy or otherwise engaged, I can always return another time for my lesson."
Master Khatri had long fascinated Boo since she was just a small child, many years before she became a student. As an avid collector, he was always acquiring this or that. Displaying newly acquired items throughout his residence. Paintings, tapestries, strange and wondrous little trinkets, bric-a-brac and nicknacks. Everything and anything it seemed. Collected items that manage to find their way inside his home instead of being sold in the bazaar are always intriguing in one fashion or another. Each with its own unique history, its own story to tell. While most of his pieces are relatively mundane, some of the rarer pieces are deliciously mysterious. From clock-work mechanical toys and objects to magical arcane creations designed to delight, amuse, and astound!
Familiar with the place Boo easily found the parlor nearby. A room for greeting visitors and for holding casual social encounters in most residences, in Master Khatri’s it looked more like a museum with seating. Glassed cabinetry held exotic and often indescribable items from around the world, and if the servants were to be believed, from places beyond, past, and the future. Like throughout the townhouse and attached tower, lighting came in the form of softly glowing spheres the size of her small fist. Some mounted-on scones on the walls, others in elaborate lamps on tables.
Deep in thought, fond childhood memories bubbling up Boo enters the parlor. This has always been her favorite area, the room where the best pieces were kept on display, save perhaps for the master’s private study, the fabled sanctum sanctorum which very few visitors are ever invited to enter. Boo herself has only been permitted inside once, and that was a long time ago when she was still very young, hand in hand with her mother so sadly Boo does not remember much about it, except one very specific piece that caught a child's eye, the horn of a unicorn which she will never forget as long as she lives. To this day, every time she visits, she always thinks about it and wonders after all these years, if it is still there.
It was a lingering itch, that unicorn horn. Often at odd times, especially when she was utterly bored or felt a bit melancholy the itch to find that horn, to hold it, to examine it closely came over her, tormenting her somewhat chaotic nature.
But there are also whispers and rumors of a secret vault said to be hidden in some unknown part of the estate where evil, dangerous and deadly things, and objects are locked away. The Master himself has never mentioned it to her or in her presence, nor has Boo ever had the courage to ask about it. Some things are better left unknown and unsaid.
She imagined what strange and dangerous things that might lie in such a vault. Such curiosity caused its own itch as well. Because of her interaction with her arcane teacher, Boo couldn’t help but wonder what sort of secrets and or treasures other arcane masters kept hidden away whenever she met one at some social function.
Boo leisurely wanders around the parlor, her eyes slowly moving over the collected pieces on display, letting out a child-like gasp whenever she comes across something new or that she had not noticed before which given the size and scope of his ever changing, ever expanding collection is very easy to do. Boo herself has never been what one would call a very good or dedicated student, but besides honoring her promise to her mother the master’s collection always keeps her coming back again and again. Those two things being the primary reasons that Boo has kept up her lessons over the years. Many of her friends and acquaintances are green with envy of her as so few visitors are ever invited inside. Just being allowed inside this magnificent residence, in itself is considered by many residents of the city to be a great privilege and honor.
A new addition catches her eye. High above in the center of the parlor ceiling rotates a fan of lacquered wood fins and exotic blue and green feathers half the size of her wings. Moving just fast enough to circulate the air, the fan was being powered by a slender silver chain linked to a silver lined, lacquered wooden box a foot square mounted on the ceiling. After a moment of study Boo noted a hexagonal shaped slot in the middle of the box where, possibly, a long-handled key could be inserted to wind the device.
Boo stares up at the marvelous device with a wide child-like smile, taking it all in concluding that it must be some sort of mechanical clockwork mechanism of some sort by the look of it, but she could not be totally sure since that was not really her thing. Still, Boo has long had a fascination for such wonders to have at least developed a rudimentary understanding of the basic principles involved over the years. This device she thought is not only inspired but very practical thinking one of those would be ideal hanging over her bed! Just the thing for those long hot summer nights. But then what would she do with the grand mirror she had affixed to the ceiling over her bed a few months back. Her own rather inspired idea that had proven itself to be most entertaining since its installation proving her guardian wrong when he had complained that such a silly idea would only prove itself to be a waste of good gold.
“Nothing so remote, I assure you, Boo,” said the voice of her master as he entered the parlor. “I’ve heard of a fellow in the city specializing in some fairly exotic technology, so I paid his shop a visit.”
Boo quickly turns about, "Master Khatri," she flashes a friendly excited smile in his direction as she gives him a rushed but polite curtsy, "not a gnome by any chance? I just recently heard about a gnome inventor and saw a marvelous tube device that enabled communications at a distance between separate rooms. And this, wind-fan of yours, that I have just been admiring. I was thinking that it might possibly be his handiwork as well. But I fear I never got his name, only that he had opened a shop somewhere in the city, so it is not at all surprising that you got there first!"
A flicker of surprise lit up the wizard’s eye. “Yes, in fact. The Gnome in question is a very curious fellow, in and of himself. He is from a place called Kyrinn, a world not far from this one, as the multiverse goes. Tinker Gnomes are known for crafting some very clever technology. Sometimes deadly, as deadly to themselves as to everyone around them.” There had been a few late nights where Boo had lounged, listing to Master Khatri explain the complex cosmology of the universe. Planes of existence, worlds floating like rare gems in a sea of nothing filling something called the prime material plane.
Khatri’s knowing eyes came to rest on hers. “Are you here for another lesson or just to pass some time?”
Boo meets her tutor's questioning gaze, "a little of both, you might say," she replies with a playful seductive smile, "after all you have always enthralled and fascinated me since I was a young girl who used sit on your lap," she adds with a wistful look as she seats herself on the bench as close as she is able beside him.
“The quest for knowledge is always worthy,” he says, gently patting Boo’s thigh. “The mysteries are worth trying to understand, as is learning that there is a vast cosmos around us, even sharing the same space or within us.”
"I do recall previous lessons in which you merely spoke in general terms of the existence of the multiverse itself and its structure. But this is the first time that I can recall that you have spoken of someone actually traveling between worlds. I had no idea that such was even possible or that the Gnome was such a traveler. How did he come to be here; I wonder? Have you yourself traveled to other worlds? Such would explain some of the more intriguing and mysterious pieces you have acquired over the years? I had assumed all of it was of this world, brought into the city by the various traveling caravans in your employ. But now I wonder if perhaps some of your caravans move between worlds?" Boo stares at him awestruck at the very idea of such a thing, wondering what the Wizard Sage was truly capable of and the true extent of the vast treasure of knowledge at his command.
“Yes, to all your questions my dear.” Khatri’s hand lifts from her thigh and with a slight gesture and a murmured incantation a sphere of unknown materials rose from its case as if held by an invisible hand, drifts over to hover an arm’s length from them. “Just as your liniage can be traced back the blood of Asmodeus and the Nine Hells, many others have such divergent beginnings. Most mages of worth possess spells that allow for planer travel or to open gates between them. Other spells can effect time and space. Still more find otherworldly arcane to traverse the cosmos. “
Moving his hand slowly across the top of the sphere as if stroking it without touching, Khatri coaxes it with another, more complex incantation. Some words Boo recalls from the lesser spells that her master had taught her, others were fully alien for now. He continues muttering and coaxing for nearly five minutes before images began to form and swirl around within. She saw a Gnome bent over a workbench filled with clockworks: Another creature, half man, half squirrel pulling a concealing cloak over his face: A tall half-orc and slender half-elf rushing down a narrow alley: A terrified crew of a sailing ship battling some massive deep water beast: Another ship, one seemingly flying through the air, surrounded by clouds: an image of roiling fires and angry looking devils suddenly swarming around, as if aware they were being spied upon.
Boo watched with fascination as images swirled about in front of her moving more quickly than she was able to keep up with. Shifting like patterns produced by a kaleidoscope, forming and twisting, reforming then shifting from one scene to the next. Apparently, each representing a different world, a different universe, one after the other, though she could not be certain one or more were not just scenes of her own world or a mirror or variation of it. The last two locations, however, were very different and caught her eye immediately! The first captured her imagination as she found herself transfixed by the sight of a majestic flying ship surrounded by clouds. The image shattering like glass to abruptly reform becoming a hellish realm of rolling fire inhabited by angry devils. Those two at least Boo could be confident could only exist in another universe, other than her own!
As the last image faded Boo turned to her teacher, looking at him in stunned amazement, impressed to such an extent she found herself lusting and craving him, to be close to him. Her very being to the core tingled, the rapture she felt was akin to experiencing a little death. Just to be near a being of such raw power, such knowledge. His demonstration excited her beyond words. Boo being one especially attracted to power, intoxicated by it, drawn to it. Like a moth to a flame.
“Some are in the now, some were yesterday or many yesterdays before, others may be tomorrow, the visions can be conflicting and often confusing. Only through lengthy study can we divine that which we seek from that with the cosmos would show us.”
Listening to his words as he elaborates Boo is able to at least grasp the basic concepts involved, understanding his meaning, "so time, as well as dimensional space, is pierced? Are you able to control and select which one? Choose at your whim, yesterday or tomorrow in which to view or travel to? How to differentiate between endless worlds, endless variations of the same world that comprise the multiverse? So, when you visit another universe, how do find your way back to the correct home universe, world and time you left behind? It all seems rather daunting and more than a little frightening!"
Khatri seems to caress the sphere again, sending it to sleep. “Yes, that is part of the lesson. Once we divine that the cosmos is like a complex sea, that it can be entered, traversed, that it has depths and currents, even tempests and deadly calms, that it can be navigated. Some floobs, some of the most powerful wizards, barely manage to tap into the unlimited source pool of the multiverse. It is the basis of some of the most powerful of spells, the source of power of so many artifacts, as well as the ultimate challenges of mind and body.”
Slowly Boo reaches out to her tutor, placing her hand lightly on his arm, as what she witnessed begins to truly sink in, "such knowledge is the ultimate expression of power but a dangerous one I would imagine. No doubt many covet such power, so why reveal your secret to me? That you are capable of bending time and space to your will. I would think mages of such power would prefer to keep such knowledge to themselves. If I have, I learned anything from you is that magic always comes at a cost and magic breeds rivalry."
“Because to understand such power one must be tested, teased by it, even corrupted by it, if that is one’s fate.” He turns slightly to meet Boo’s gaze, one hand lifting to brush against her arm until his hand clasps hers. “It is how it begins, Boosandie. The cost is great, I cannot deny that, for such knowledge can consume you, claim everything you have to offer and more. But, to see sights that few others know. To sail distant seas and cavort with exotic beings from the myths and mythologies of a thousand cultures, such delights. Of course, for some, access to such powers often are the end of them for they seek power for the sake of more power. It can be a trap.”
Boo slowly nods taking in and hanging on his every word, "I see and understand your meaning. There is no doubt that you are the greatest of masters, the best this city has to offer which makes it all the more a pity that I am not the most adept of apprentices. I realize that sometimes I can try even your endless patience, but I so do appreciate your attention, your time and effort," she says sweetly as she gives his hand clasping her own a playful squeeze and a slight tug.
"So then, when are you going to permit me to accompany you on one of these grand interdimensional jaunts? I may not be the most diligent of apprentices, but I am a most attentive and pleasing of traveling companions, able to guarantee that in my company you will never be bored. How about a spot with better weather, say a tropical beach along one of those distant seas or someplace more advanced in the arcane arts, you know, with excellent shopping? I can have my bags packed at a moment's notice! Just say the word." She adds, flashing him a hopeful smile curling up closer beside him.
Khatri chuckles and winks. “Eventually, I think that would be a good idea. Of course, there’s still much to learn. Costs to pay. But then, you always seem ready and willing to pay your way, in some fashion or another.”
Boo gives her mentor a coy little smile, "am I? Whatever gave you that idea? Maybe I am just the sort of girl that naturally enjoys having a good time! As I mentioned, I am an excellent traveling companion who has learned to please and rarely if ever disappoints. Must be my infernal heritage. No doubt I would have made some lucky mage a great familiar."
“One of the lessons we learn is that for reasons unknown to even the greatest of sages, Tarantis seems to be a hub or waypoint for both planer and dimensional travel. Because of this, we must be ever vigilant. There are some things, some terrors, that would consume this world. So, we learn spells and arcane knowledge that helps to warn us of beings not of this world; this time; or this plane. We study so that we know how to confront them, how to send them back to wherever and whenever it was, they come from.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I am sorry, Boosandie, I tend to become rather fervent about this topic. Here, let us retire to my study and I will show you some methods for boosting your stamina.”
Boo giggles, "no apologies necessary, I enjoy men, especially mages who are passionate about their work. Usually, it is a good indicator they need someone like me to help them relax a bit, you know all work and no play, as they say." She gracefully stands up, "your study? Sounds more like another lesson, but I have plenty of time," once again taking his hand she eagerly follows his lead.
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Arphaxad's story continues...
It was midday, local time and the streets were busy without being crowded. They appeared moderately clean, but Khatri had assured him that wasn’t the case in other parts of the city. Since the sage quarter housed the royal university and several private centers of learning, such as the Citadel of Knowledge, it was cleaner and safer. The air was heavy with the smell of the nearby bay and the sea beyond. Occasionally sea birds flew overhead, intermixing with other local fauna. Flying lizards and flying cats in addition to the many avians’ native to this world.
Before he took the time to rent a room, Arphaxad decided he needed local currency to avoid snafus. Staff in hand, hood up to mask his inhuman visage as much as possible, the Hybrid set forth to make the exchange.
Following the directions that Khatri had given him Arphaxad approached the gate leading out of the Sage Quarter and into the adjacent Merchant’s Quarter. Several guards in black and yellow surcoats stood or lounged nearby, watching those passing through. One gazes keenly at him but didn’t make a move to question or restrain his passage. That might change after dark, though. The gatehouse itself was large with several stories and protected by portcullises (withdrawn into the ceiling) and heavy, iron bound gates. Above closed trapdoors marked murder holes where the defenders could rain any number of nasty gifts down on those below. The stones themselves showed occasional repairs and varying ages, both in coloration, materials, and style of surfacing. The arch sage had said that the city was very old, and it wasn’t hard to believe it to be true.
It was possible that this city even predated Ravnicas 10 millennia, but it was unlikely. However, as most of the world city had been renovated or rebuilt several times in the last few thousand years, the structure might have been older than anything still in use. Even one as uninterested in history as Arphaxad was somewhat awed by the weight of years it carried.
Half a block past the gate, located between an open fronted shop selling fruits and vegetables and a shop selling footwear (if the oversized boot hanging above the entrance was any indication) he found the money changer that Khatri had recommended. A set of metal scales hung above the heavily bound door.
The door looked secure, heavy, but when he grasped the handle it swung open on well-oiled hinges. It was obviously well balanced. Apparently, money exchange was a lucrative business.
Inside the shop lobby was small. Perhaps large enough for three normal human sized floobs, probably intended as a security measure. A simple desk with stools on either side, behind which lie another heavily bound door, this one with a pass-through hatch. A single narrow window set above the door provided light. On the table lie a well-made set of scales and a small brass bell. Ringing the bell summoned an elderly man wearing spectacles.
He closes the inner door behind him than started at the hooded figure summoning. “Oh, my…”
On the brief walk over, Arphaxad hadn’t seen any floob that came close to being as unusual as he was. Humans, elves, dwarves... but he hadn’t even seen any vedalkin. He was strange to look at. Eyes a moon-like yellow. Nose a pair of vertical nostrils without any bridge. Skin slightly damp and a blue so pale it was almost white. His figure subtly misshapen beneath the loose robes, and the fingers around the staff were too perfectly curled to have the proper number of bones within. He couldn’t blame the man for staring.
“Excuse me sir... the ArchSage Khatri said that I could exchange my coins for local currency here...”
“Eh, he did, did he? He would,” the old man mutters, still staring openly at Arphaxad’s face, then his hands. “Khatri is always good for business; I’ll grant him that. Sit, if you are willing, and we’ll be on with business. Please tell me it’s precious metals or gems that your wanting to exchange and not colorful paper, wooden beads, or fish heads…at least I was able to make a stew out of the fish heads, but I had to visit the Arch Sage over the paper. Least he was interested enough to buy them back, at a loss, I might add. Are you a Sir or Ma’am, or do I need to explain the difference?”
The cautious manner of speaking brought amusement to the Hybrid. He was not a self-conscious individual, even though he knew he had not been aesthetically pleasing to the eyes even before his transformation. Now his face looked very much like what he imagined those fish heads might have.
“I hope that gold is a valuable mineral here. I brought 10 coins with me... as for gender, I am a sir, thank you.”
The old man’s smile might have been a response to Arphaxad’s words or for the gold rated coins that the traveler sat down on the table before him. Taking one coin and slipping it onto his scale, the old man made a few adjustments. He picked up a second and studied it for a bit, nodding slowly.
“I have heard of this style, though it is my first time holding one,” he said after a moment. Glancing at the scale he adds, “About double the weight of our own Crowns, which isn’t uncommon. The value is not just in the precious metal content. You see, Tarantis is the trade center of the world and there are many collectors out there. Some will pay more than face and weight value for exotic coins. I can give you a fair rate, and your welcome to try one of my competitors if you wish. Allowing me to profit, let’s say one point seven five percent. (10 coins for 17.5 local coins)
It was a pleasant surprise to learn that he was going to get a slight monetary increase... then the realization that he had no idea what the cost of things here were set in. If things were twice as expensive here, he was operating at an overall loss... Still, It wasn’t as if he had many options. “I think we can make a deal.”
“I can give you your coins in a mixture of copper, silver, and gold crowns if you wish, or I can do so in gemstones if you prefer.”
“I believe that a mix of local coinage would be wisest. Strangers showing large volumes of currency are often viewed as targets.”
“Wise choice, sir, wise choice.” As the old man made the exchange, taking care to keep everything separated but clearly displayed on the tabletop until the transaction was completed.
The whole process had only taken a few minutes since arriving in the man’s small office. As Arphaxad returns to the street he’s reminded of what the money exchanger had said about the city being a center of trade. From the commentary of the Archsage, it was clear that Tarantis was not unfamiliar with even wider regions of trade. The old man hadn’t balked at his appearance and once business was engaged, seemed to ignore his possible origins altogether. Of course, Khatri had directed him to the old man, and from how the old man’s responses to that had been, suggests that the two have had business dealings on a regular basis. If the Archsage was dabbling in planer trade, as he had implied, then perhaps more of that was going on within Tarantis.
Planeswalking wasn’t unheard of for Ravnicans, as their living Guildpact, Jace, had arrived from a different plane, but it also wasn’t something everyone was doing. If he had found a method to travel to and from the two worlds, becoming a planar merchant was an option. Of course, it wasn’t a life that greatly appealed to him, but it might fund significant research projects. He’d have to keep his eyes open for anything he could put to use, or possibly buy here for sale at a profit once he returned.
Pockets now carrying a little more currency than before, with his valuable gold in a pouch under his waistband, he headed back to find a room for the next few nights.
Walking back to the inn that Khatri had recommended Arphaxad took some time to see the sights. The Archsage had mentioned that they were within a quarter of the city earmarked for ‘sages’, which could mean just that, or in a broader view, the quarter could be the home of the cities inteligenica <spelling>. There could be a university and colleges of various sorts. Libraries and other centers of learning. If the city was as large as he was being told, the quarter could hold all of that and more. There would be opportunities to learn and explore. There might even be opportunities to earn some coin from those eager to know more about his own world.
There was much he could teach about his world. Ravnica was ancient and almost wholly cultivated. Only small pockets of wilderness remained, carefully protected by his own guild and a couple of lesser segments, practically animals themselves. Even the seas were home to sections of the City.
Arphaxad didn’t pretend that he wasn’t able to learn something from this city, however. One either learned or died. The libraries that might be tucked here and there were an eventual target, but he needed a base of operations first. He needed a room.
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Livvi's story continues...
"If we meet Razgui, I'm not sure the magic I have left will work as well as it seemed to do against the Hamster. I used up a lot of my energy attacking him...still, we have to at least try and find the girl. Nice blade work, by the way. Good to know you can handle your pole so well."
"Thanks, but all I really do is make sure the sharp end is on the end closest to whatever I'm fighting," replies Mordecai. "Don't sell yourself short - any magic, even if it's not a lot, is more effective than my glaive."
"Regardless," continues Mordecai, "we have a task to see through. Let's get to it."
Retracing the path once more Livvi and Mordecai pass by the butcher’s shop and the entrance to the alley and had only gone a few strides when a low qork comes from the sign above the butcher’s shop behind them. A large, black crow perch there, his soulless eye turned their way. The bird rustles it’s wings slightly, enough to reveal the red coloring beneath.
Mordecai points the crow out to Livvi, "Seems I've been seeing a lot more of those lately, and when I do... I typically find something dead soon thereafter."
The sound of heavy wheels moving slowly over the street’s cobblestones precedes a large, ornate black coach drawn by four matching black horses. One either side glowing lanterns were mounted beside the doors and just behind the driver sitting on top. Trotting easily alongside are two huge Minotaur’s dressed in black leather armor and packing a variety of weapons. A single floob sits high on the driver’s bench. As the coach draws alongside the shadowy figure is revealed to be a short haired woman wearing well used leathers and knee-high leather boots. She smirks, turns her head and spit’s a bit of tobacco juice, than cocks her head. “Oye, The Widow wan’s a word with you two.”
Mordecai sighs under his breath, "Perhaps we're the dead ones."
He straightens up a bit and replies, "I don't suppose this could wait until tomorrow could it? We're in the middle of something."
“It might, but’n The Widow says ta tell you tha’ if’n your lookin’ for your little friend, she may have some information ‘bout her whereabouts tha’ might save youse some time.”
Livvi looks to Mordecai and shrugs. "Looks like we're going for a ride." She had spent several years in one of the underground guilds and had heard of The Widow and her crows. One of the true Lords of the Dark, when The Widow commanded something, it was done. Always. Or else the offender was fed to the crows and someone else found to accomplish the task. Livvi had no desire to be bird food tonight...
The bard climbs deftly into the huge carriage, commenting as she does, "Do you have anything to drink in there? The last carriage I rode in had liquid refreshment and silk-covered cushions." From her seat above the woman in dark leathers laughed.
Just about to take a seat Livvi watched the opposite door open but instead of revealing the side of the street she had just left it revealed warm yellow lights, the sound of someone playing a pleasant melody that she recognized as popular from a few decades ago: “The yellow rose for you,” it was called. Standing a stride inside what was obviously a well-appointed foyer stands a tall, slender woman with dark skin and long, silken hair. Not The Widow by every rumor she had heard. Probably a servant of some sort and, as if in answer to her query of a moment ago, the woman held a lacquered wooden tray holding several crystal goblets.
Seeing the obviously magical portal on the carriage open onto a scene from one of her stories, and the woman holding the tray with the crystal goblets, Livvi let out a pleasant laugh. It was rich and innocent, full of wonder and pleasant surprise, musical and magical of its own accord. The half-elf climbs easily out into the room, graciously accepts a drink, and turns expectantly back towards the carriage. "Come on, Mord! They actually DO have refreshments! Plus, it's bigger on the inside..."
“Please, come in,” the servant says with a smile. “We should wait for your stalwart friend before proceeding.”
As she waits for the half-orc to come through, she looks around the room they are currently in, humming absent-mindedly with the tune, adding a counter harmony that blended perfectly with the tune but added a hint of sadness and longing. As Livvi surveyed the foyer, she also studied the woman without outright staring at her. With that dark skin, was she a human from the desert regions whose skin had adapted to the burning sun, or perhaps a drow elf from the vast Underdark, also adapted for the habitat but for different reasons. Either way, Livvi held her tongue, opting to reserve questions or conversations until her new partner was there.
“Please, enjoy,” the woman says as she offers the tray. There was a faint aroma of spices and grape. The contents sparkled but looked as clear as water within the goblet. The goblets’ themselves were crystal, probably the finest she’s ever seen outside works of art. From the inside of the carriage behind her she heard a resigned grunt as the Half-Orc climbed inside, his weight causing the carriage to tilt slightly, the motion did not translate itself to the foyer. Three strides (15’) away a pair of ornately carved doors sit open, displaying another room, one holding a staircase as well as a hallway moving deeper into the magical space. It wasn’t much of a stretch of her imagination to envision a tall townhouse or even a country estate. In any case, it was magic of the highest order. A moment later the dark beauty looks towards the entrance with a warm, well-practiced smile.
“You must be Mord, please, come in and welcome. My mistress, a great Lady of Tarantis, begs forgiveness for seeking you out in this manner but time grows short and a great many things are afoot within our beloved city.”
Mordecai offers a polite gesture of refusal towards the drinks, saying, "Not while I'm on the job."
"Yes, the name's Mordecai - although I find it worrisome that my name seems so well known," the Half-Orc replies. "And yes, I do agree, there seems to be a great many number of ... plots.... propagating through the city."
"What did I tell you?! It's definitely bigger on the inside!" Livvi says as she sips the drink. Although it was only a tiny sip, she feels the warmth of the alcohol blended with the sweetness of the spices in her mouth and down her throat. Luckily, she was anticipating the potency and had refrained from taking a regular sip - otherwise it would surely have burned and maybe even made her cough. Now that she had tempered her system, though, the bard was able to handle a larger amount of the sweet liquid, fully savoring the complexity of the flavors. She was not a connoisseur by any stretch, but the girl had sampled many fine wines and liquors - this was far and above anything she had sampled before. The perfect blending must have taken many years to achieve this unique flavor - which undoubtedly meant it was extremely rare and ridiculously expensive.
"Uh huh... Next, I suppose you'll say there's something timey wimey about it, too..." Mordecai retorts. Then under his breath, with his eyes rolling slightly, "All this magicis about..."
"Well, let's not keep your Lady waiting any longer. Things to do and people to find, you know..." she was relaxing more and more - perhaps it was the setting. Perhaps it was the brandy...
"Finding people is in my literal job description, yet this young woman has proven harder to keep tabs on than the red queen in three card ante," Mordecai responds. "Hopefully, our host points us in the right direction."
“Yes, please, this way.” As the dark-skinned woman turns and leads them from the strange foyer the door closes quietly behind them. From this side, it looked like any other front door one might find in a wealthy house.
The woman was met by another, slender, blonde with waist long braids and dressed in a form fitting skirt and puffy sleeved blouse who takes the tray without a word. As she turned a red-headed Halfling fem strolls out of another door, turns to look at them curiously. While dressed in quality clothing this one had the attentive air and grace of one who might be equally comfortable in thieves’ leathers.
Following their guide deeper into the house it was clear that The Widow was a person of many tastes and qualities. Ancient and modern art decorates the walls or spaces, interposed with planters of exotic plants and greenery. Turning a corner and descending a set of wide, curving stairs, they pass a pair of imposing Minotaur’s standing guard. Both Bullmen eye Livvi speculatively, rather weighing her as a potential threat of a potential bedmate was hard to say. Their eyes flick towards Mordecai, clearly weighing the threat he might present with a respect that wouldn’t have been noticed in someone less trained than Livvi was in reading body language.
Livvi files this fact away in her mind. She had seen the half-orc in battle only an hour ago, so she knew he was capable. But the subtle tensing of the minotaur’s' muscles and narrowing of their eyes as they evaluated Mordecai was another thing altogether. She was going to have to keep this one close - he would be a valuable ally and a fearsome adversary. She looked down at her plain dress and smirked - appearances were a tool to deceive others and achieve an advantage, which she clearly had. The bullmen discounted her at their peril.
Mordecai comments off handily, "I've me tusks and you your horns... Let's call it a draw for now, eh gents?" Mordecai presses forward with purpose but doesn’t do so in a way that would be disrespectful to the proud minotaur’s.
The one on the left nearly smiles, the other gives a slight nod. Fellow professionals.
Coming to an open door the dark-skinned woman turns and gives a slight curtsey and indicating with her hands that they should proceed without her. Beyond the door lies a large solar, well appointed with only the best and managing to do so without seeming snobbish. Standing beside a miniature tree is a woman with a timeless beauty. She was neither young nor old, nor was she exotically beautiful. There was a plain beauty, one so natural seeming that it immediately trips Livvi’s alarms. If this Lady, this Widow, was a Bard, she would be a mistress of the highest laureate.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” The Widow says with a warm smile and grave eyes. “I apologize if I am taking your valuable time.”
Nodding her head and bowing slightly, Livvi folded the fingers on her left hand in the unique pattern she had learned during her years associated with the underworld circles, a sign of respect but not subservience. A bold statement to The Widow that Livvi was not to be intimidated or easily awed by the display of wealth and power. It was not so bold to intimate she may be an equal to the woman, and certainly Livvi would not dare to give the signs of a superior standing. No - this was a calculated risk backed by her sheer attitude and her tight friendship with Bilina.
"No disrespect, ma'am, but I think we'd all feel better if we were honest with each other on who we are. We've seen, too many... oddities... and would prefer if we were all just open about who and what we are," Mordecai responds.
"It is no waste of our time to honor your invitation, m'lady. On the contrary, we are eager to hear what you would offer. And my compliments on the brandy - truly exquisite! Like everything else in your abode - rare and of exceeding value. Although you already know, decorum dictates an introduction. I am Livvi, daughter of his honor Lord Richard Rahl, former apprentice to Garyx Stonegate, and member of the Lion's Pride." She then motions to Mord and looks him in the eye to give him a signal to be polite...
If The Widow was offended by his direct ways she showed no signs. Turning she gestures towards some nearby plush chairs. “Please, be comfortable if you will. To sooth your concerns about your Healer friend I can assure you she’s safe for the moment. Though, to be honest, she has been dancing with a terrible fate and with powers she is only beginning to comprehend. I feared for her life but the pair of you, singly and together, have managed to save her despite her own actions.”
"Well, I can't speak for the times she was with Livvi, but as far as I saw, she was able to take care of herself plenty - I offered only moral support... and a target for her enemies," responds Mordecai.
"With that said, may I ask, if you don't mind, what is your interest in her? Sure, she seems to have magic plenty, but that doesn't make her necessarily unique. Sure, it could just be that your using her as a conduit to get to these vampires, but I suspect there's more," the Half-Orc continues.
Livvi glares at the big oaf of a half-ork and silently mouths, "I said be nice!" But she makes no move toward or away from him, standing still and carefully observing the Widow to gauge her reactions. When she doesn't stab him in the face or spew a string of magic-laced insults, the bard breathes a sigh of relief and continues to quietly observe the interplay.
Crossing to a large backed padded chair flanked by a pair of well sculpted flowering plants The Widow sits gracefully, smoothing the thin material of her dress to remove any wrinkles. “Lilita is trying to uncover her past and while I would gladly assist some quests must be conducted on one’s own and in the manner which one can cope with. There is a tragedy in her past, when she was a mere toddler and too young to remember.”
"Right - well, what's in her past that's so important? I've heard of you, ma'am, and I know two things: first, don't cross you, secondly, you do things for a gain - so, and I don't need details, but generally, why are you so interested in Lilita?" Mordecai frankly asks.
The Widow studies Mordecai with cool eyes and slightly pursed lips. “My interest is…complicated,” the woman gives a sardonic sigh. “Some of it is personal, and of a nature I am not inclined to share, at least, not at this time. But you are not wrong, Bounty Hunter. She is peripherally tied into this resurgence, if you will. As you both probably suspect, there has been an infestation of Vampires within this city for a long, long time. It ebbs and flows like the tide of the great bay, of course and there have been various groups, lone vampire hunters, and organizations over the centuries. Some more successful than the others. So, to the rumors that say I do things for mere gain, there is truth in that, and falsehoods…after all, some gains cannot be weighted or measured in material things.”
"Fair enough," responds Mordecai. "You have an obviously successful organization so I'm not one to comment and what not. Just questioning as a matter of good business practice. As you noted, I'm a bounty hunter and I get the feeling my services, one way or another, are going to be used. I tend to want to know more rather than less of a task I'm about to get conscripted to do."
"Yes, we have been witness to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
"So," Mordecai continues, "what's the next step?"
The Widow glances from Mordecai to Livvi and back. “It’s more than a resurgence I am afraid. From my observations and those of my associates we’ve concluded that the dark powers are pushing for a more dominate form of control.” Looking at Mordecai she says, “You have touched on part of the larger conspiracy, inadvertently aided it some as well. The assassination conspiracy is aimed at one of Altar the Lion’s senior advisers. I believe that the replacement will be one of the undead. If that occurs, then they will be in a position to infect the monarchy directly at worst; influencing it at best.”
After listening to The Widow's answers, and gauging how much more she could push, Livvi plunges on with her interrogation. "What do you know of Lord Rakia Rezgui from the Karzulun, the vampire who Lilita seems so attached to. Almost like a father-figure the way she spoke of him...and what of the Black Rose? Is Lord Basha Maigrinstaff a vampire, too? Evidence I have uncovered points to this. And finally, excuse my boldness, but what do you request of us this night? For as lovely as it is to be here in your home, I am certain that we are not here for a social visit alone. What is the task, the price, and your interest? Are you so altruistic that you with to protect the common folk of the city, or are the vampires bad for business?"
A slight frown came to The Widow’s pert lips. “I know too much, it seems,” the timeless woman said with a sigh. “It’s a complicated tale but I shall endeavor to keep it brief and pertinent. The vampire menace has been a problem for Tarantis since it’s earlies days, but this has come and gone. Half a century ago there was a coalition if you will, of like-minded individuals and groups that conspired to drive the vampires from the city. It was successful, more or less, at least until about two decades ago when Lord Rezgui and Lord Maigrinstaff staged an expedition to a certain hitherto hidden island in the south sea where the mortal remains of several vampire lords had been disposed of. Powerful magics had been employed to bind the remains to the ancient temple that was to be their tomb for eternity. When Rakia came to me intending to garner my support in the endeavor I heavily advised against the expedition, though, at the time, I had withheld the knowledge of what I knew to be buried there, much to my regret.
“I also failed to give good counsel. Rakia’s family line; my family line, as well as Lord Maigrinstaff’s bloodline, and a fair amount of other ancient noble lines within the city it is sad to announce, have connections to the inflicted. Basha – Lord Maigrinstaff is five hundred years old, give or take a decade.” She gives Livvi a confirming nod. “He is a very powerful creature, powerful enough to mask his true self to the majority. Unbeknownst to Rakia, the Rezgui bloodline is ancient and it was one of the Rezgui’s remains that had been interned into the island temple. I believe that Lord Maigrinstaff’s intent was to lure Rakia to the island, bring him into contact with the undead remains in hopes of reviving another powerful line.”
"Well," comments Mordecai, "his plan seems to have worked. It's unfortunate that you didn't properly prepare Rakia on what he would find on that island and regarding what Marginstaff really is."
Livvi listens intently to the sordid tale being revealed to her. So many pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her brain - obvious connections once you had the correct pieces. "Interesting. Lilita seemed to imply that Rezgui and Maigrinstaff were at odds now - and the vampire we killed earlier spoke of Rezgui as a disgraced one. Is it possible they could turn on each other? Would that be helpful, or only wreak more havoc in Tarantis?"
The Widow looks away, a mixture of shame and repentance. “Lilita Rezgui is in terrible danger, but she might also be the key to destroying, or at least, diminishing the vampric threat facing the city. Lord Maigrinstaff has been busy this past year, cherry picking new blood if you will. Many of the cities more powerful noble and merchant families have had younger family members, women mostly, go missing, only to return a few five days or months later. I suspect that many of these are meant to inflict their sires, but I cannot be sure. The conspiracy goes deeper as well. Lord Maigrinstaff is not the only Vampire Lord inhabiting the city. Several others are present, but I haven’t determined just who, or their stances on the current situation. At least one bloodline has deep claws into Tarantis’ bureaucracy but which, I don’t know…yet. Each clan effects its own sigil or markings, often in the form of tattoos. This way their minions can identify each other.”
"Lilita REZGUI?!?" Mordecai says with widening eyes. "That explains the man's interest, but how does she not recognize him?"
“She was a toddler when her world fell apart,” The Widow replied with a hint of emotion in her voice, “her only memories are buried deep and are those of a young child. Most would have disappeared, which is why she must discover her heritage in her own way. Simply sitting her down and burying her under it might be too fantastic. It might also drive her to rash acts, acts that could destroy her. As it is, she has little support, aside from yourselves.”
As if struck with a sudden thought, Mordecai blurts out, "We might have some allies. Those elves in town seeking their female compatriot. I'm pretty sure she's dead in the sewers - drained of her blood and left to rot. I am sure they would want revenge."
A brief flicker of surprise crosses the older woman’s face. She cocks her head slightly and looks at Mordecai. “Elves. Which elves do you speak of? Drain – “The Widow looks troubled at the thought, “and yet another victim of this foul curse.” She sighs.
Turning to Livvi The Widow’s sad face brightens slightly. “To answer your earlier question as to why I have asked you here tonight, I wish to help. As powerful as I may seem there are boundaries I am not allowed to cross, some politics that I am not allowed to dabble in, least it upsets the fragile balance within the city.” The Widow’s cool expression focuses on Livvi. “I suspect, with your own ambitions, you understand my position. It is part of the great game, and one that I relish, but there are always prices for playing. I do not care to rule, nor do I care to oversee the faith, etc., etc. I am not a merchant, nor am I a war lord. At best, I’m a dabbler.”
"The balance? I'm sure Monach establishes all the balances," Mordecai says under his breath.
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
"In any case, given your tendency to dabble, has your dabbling allowed you to determine where Lilita is currently?" asks Mordecai.
“Yes, I do know where she’s at,” replies The Widow. “Lilita has been led to her family’s townhouse and is exploring it in search of its secrets. As I said, some things have to be discovered in their own way and time. Still, before you leave, I will give you the address.” She pauses for a moment than looks the Half-Orc in the eye. “You have brought up another part of the problem, noble hunter. Monach the Canny, a power behind the throne, may be involved. Most likely is, I am sure, with both the on going coverup of Vampiric activities and the plot to assassinate one of his chief rivals on Alar’s small council.”
"Right, so do we go pick her up or let her discover in her own way and time?" Mordecai asks. He continues, "You gotta understand, I prefer the direct. When I started noticing all this political intrigue, I tapped someone else for assistance... I don't have the vision for it."
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
The Widow smiles and glances from Mordecai to the Half-Elf Bard. “Yet your companion here was born for “all this political intrigue”.” To Livvi she says, “Yes, that sigil used to carry great power in the city for it is that of an ancient order of Vampire hunters. The Order of the Owl.” She pauses again for a long moment as if deliberating how much to share than continues, “For many centuries the Order was more of a secret society than an active determinant. But it remakes itself, from time to time. Anita, Lilita’s mother, was a member, as were the matrons of her family’s house since it’s conception. There are clues in the townhouse that I hope will lead Lilita to that conclusion as well, for she will need them. It was her mother who tried to save her husband and destroy Maigrinstaff but sadly, failed.”
Livvi turns to Mordecai and asks, "Well, big one. what do you think? Shall we join the ranks of the vampire hunters and rid this city of the impending doom about to strike? I bet the Lion would reward you greatly for your service to the crown!"
"My service would be for Tarantis," Mordecai replies rather cryptically. "However, a payment for my services would be nice, but I don't expect to be rewarded by the Crown."
“I will reward both of you as well,” The Widow said. “I will also aid you, as best I can, in this pursuit. If I may counsel you, Mordecai, seek out those last two conspirators of Daris Hadara for they hold the key to prove whose behind the plot, and more importantly, who the real target is.”
"Well, it sounds like Lilita is safe enough for now. And her current quest is just for her. I would like to get some rest before we continue hunting down vampires and traitors, but I am not sure we can afford that. So... let’s investigate this Hadara fellow and find his associates to work out this plot to overthrow the Lion and subjugate us all to the vampires. Or at least do some more digging tonight..." Livvi says to Mordecai.
Mordecai, picks up on the Widow's cues and turns to face Livvi, he tells her rather bluntly, "You, who work for the Ministry, needs to understand something clearly now: The Crown is the Lion. Monach is the Lion Tamer.... and Monach could be part of the problem, as the Widow just said. If you think you had contacts in ANY of the Ministries, officially or unofficially, you take care in what you tell them and how you tell them... especially within the Blue Cobras. You're a half-elf, so who knows how young or old you are, but you behave young - your passionate and impetuous - ripe to be used, led astray, and betrayed. Don't let that happen."
Livvi gasps at the half-orc's proclamation. Not about her age - the gods' knew that Livvi was barely past adolescence in elven time - nor at the accusation of Monach. No, Livvi had never considered that her best friend in the entire world, her confidant and co-conspirator, could possibly be using her. She and Bilina had been through so much together...was she an agent of the Lion - or the adder? Before this very moment the young bard was planning a way to find the Blue Cobra agent and tell her everything that she had learned, plus all that she surmised. And then her mind shifted focus, and started questioning who she should trust - the woman who she had known for over five years, who had survived a traumatic experience with her, who had proven her friendship to Livvi time and again - or this stranger, a half-orc she had never met before and knew absolutely nothing about?
All of these things flash through the bard's mind in a matter of moments, and before he turns back to the Widow, Livvi mutters, "And how do I know that you aren't planning to use me, or lead me astray, or betray me?"
Mordecai turns his said to the side as he looks at Livvi, almost inquisitively. He then shakes his head and turns back to the Widow and simply asks, "So - where to?"
“As I suggest, follow up on the two leads Daris Hadara gave you. And, it bothers me that there was a subliminal plot to allow Daris to escape. My ears within the government mutter that someone is working both ends of the candle, but for what gain, I cannot unravel. It will be no easy task, especially since there’s only six days left before the Royal Masquerade at the palace. Not to mention that the growing strigoi (vampire) problem. Bad enough to have one clan but two? Two leads to four all too soon. Perhaps one of you should visit the Eleian Qarteith, that is the name of the Elven ambassadorial delegation to Altar the Lion and Tarantis. If for no other reason than to see if the dead Elf you came across in the sewers is of their clan. Mardiat the Dwarf is in the city, but I do not know where but the one known as Fuzzface’s whereabouts I do know. He’s been seen frequenting Big Jugs Tavern in the Tradesmen Quarter. There’s a death warrant on him, though, but by whom isn’t clear though I suspect it is related to his participation in the conspiracy, though just what his part is, is also unclear.”
At the mention of Mardiat the dwarf, Livvi pipes in. "I met Mardiat just last night in The Topless Tavern! A drunken lecher, and a careless one at that. I managed to lift his coin purse while he tried to grab my @$$. It seemed as though he might frequent the place, intent on showing off his own tattoos and leering at the women who were there. And what is this about elves in the city and a dead one in the sewers? Are you sure she was dead, and will not come back as one of them? A Strigoi?"
"Regarding the Elf, she was most certainly dead. I'll not go into details, but it was not a pleasant sight." Mordecai pauses - seemingly disturbed by the recollection. He continues, "She had this Broach on her." Mordecai produces it from his pack and makes no effort to pass it over. "She also had a magic wand of lightning - I couldn't use it so I gave it to Lilita - and thank the gods I did - that wand is the only reason I'm here. While I kept the weretiger distracted, she singed its fur - badly. If I remember, right the Elf must have been a noble, or at least rich, she wore the latest fashion, Vandsari silk with golden threads. She also had... a pouch."
He fishes around for it, commenting, "Oddly enough, I never opened it - might as well do so now." Mordecai looks into the pouch.
As he examines the contents of the pouch he says, there were some Wood Elves’ over at Glisber’s Inn seeking an elven princess - I suspect that I found her."
After examining the contents of the Elf's pouch, Mordecai looks at both Livvi and the widow, as if something locked away had been knocked loose.
"Mardiat the dwarf. Fuzzface. Garse the Gaffer, employed by a baker. These are all individuals who are a part of this plot," Mordecai states. "I believe that the Gaffer was taken into custody and I have the feeling that he was prematurely silenced. The plot involves the festival, the bakery, and some sort of... additive... being, literally, placed into the mix."
Mordecai’s eye lingers on the Widow for a moment, he gets ready to ask something, but holds his tongue for a moment longer.
Livvi pauses and considers the potential leads before them. "Well, we might as well pursue this Fuzzface at The Big Jugs Tavern, since it's night-time. I won't revisit The Topless Tavern until I have a chance to prepare..." she declares, flushing red.
Mordecai interjects, "Tonight? It's been a long day. I think it better if we rest tonight, heal up some, and start tomorrow fresh. It'll also give you time to check in on your friend - the green haired one."
After they talk, Livvi turns once more to The Widow. "Mistress, you spoke of aiding us. Do you have any suggestions on ways to kill vampires? Mordecai struck mighty blows on Hamsto tonight, and I saw Rezgui flick away crossbow bolts like pesky flies. My magic seemed to affect both of them, though it is not strong enough yet to be as effective as I hope it will be. Do we need silvered, or hardened weapons of some sort? Do they have any weaknesses that we can exploit? I've only ever read the stories and pretend tales...Although I can confirm that they cast no reflection in a mirror."
The Widow respond as if she was already prepared for such a question. “Indeed. Most magic that can inflict damage can harm a vampire, as well as one inflicted with Lycanthropy. When you leave, I will provide you with some items that will be of use to you, I hope.”
"Aye," Mordecai affirms, "Something... more... would be needed. The other night my blades managed to cleave a murderous thug in nearly two, but I've fought a weretiger and a... strigoi... tonight and they both shrugged off the keen end of my weapon. I've seen more damage done by a barber with a shaky hand shaving a man's face."
The Widow waves a languid hand and nods. “I have a pretty extensive armory at my disposal. When you agreed to speak with me, I sent one of my servants to fetch a few things. They will be waiting for you when you leave.”
"Thank you, again," Mordecai tells the Widow, then continuing, "I do have one more question: Where is the raven-haired Bilina?"
For the second time tonight, Livvi gasps. It was as if the half-orc could read her mind - or knew more than she did about things the bard thought she knew the most about. Livvi knew Bilina kept her own counsel, and as an agent of the Blue Cobras had many contacts and dealings she was not privy to. Was Mordecai one of her informants? One of her 'missions'? Or one of her enemies?
As a bard, this was disturbing - not knowing. A bard was supposed to be the one 'in the know.' A master bard planted information like seeds, tending them like a gardener to cultivate the desired garden. Sometimes you plant, sometimes you prune. Sometimes you let the garden grow wild. And sometimes, you burn it to the ground, dig it up, and start over. Ahh, but every gardener must first start by preparing the soil and gathering the seeds of all kinds of plants. So Livvi took a deep breath, kept her mouth shut, and continued to gather seeds of knowledge. Because the only thing worse than not knowing something, was letting others KNOW that you didn't know it.
The Widow stands and walks so smoothly across the room her feet barely touch the floor.
Mordecai's eyes flit in Livvi's direction…
Picking up a crystal globe about the size of Mordecai’s fist the timeless woman passes her free hand over it and says something that sounds musical, almost otherworldly. “Bilina Carapria,” The Widow says as she holds up the crystal. Within a series of colors swirl and pulse until they begin to form brief images and snippets of action. In one the raven-haired woman was speaking to a hooded figure over a table. She set something in between them, a small wooden vial, then suddenly everything went foggy and the image flickered to the same figure, that of a lithe but handsome man stretched out on a bed, Bilina’s head bobbing up and down. At this The Widow caressed the crystal, causing it to change the image yet again, this time the woman was in a dark alley speaking with another cloaked figure. This one was obviously female, a wisp of red hair peeking out from under her hood.
“Senior Agent Provocateur and member of the Blue Cobra’s, Tarantis’ secret police. An accomplished mage with street skills and a wild list of associates, informants, and nobles in her pocket. Possibly a lieutenant to the Lord Commander of the Blue Cobras, which would make her twice removed from the Grand Advisor’s office.” Coaxing softly The Widow causes the crystal to return to the scene of with the wooden vial. “A curious object, that. I asked one of my people, an accomplished acquirer of things, to retrieve it from Garse the Grouse’ flat several nights ago. She was accosted by the handsome stranger Bilina was…talking too…who, it appears, had been retained to recover the same item. Both my girl and this man were in Garses’ flat when a troop of the Blackhearts arrived to search the building. I suspect the timing.”
A bell chimes in the back of Livvi’s head as she recognizes the handsome man with Bilina and even though she had only a few brief glimpses of him, it’s the same cloaked figure who had appeared out of the night when she was trying to save Lilita from that vampire she thinks is her father or something. The young man had blown through, chased by a lot of Blackhearts, his hand extended in a ‘come with me’ gesture to the grey lady, only she had refused, and he had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
“Bilina Carapria,” Livvi thinks. "I've always known her as Bilina Jazzadra, middle daughter of a minor noble from the Provence of Jarmeer. Is Carapria her cover name, or her real one? Is either one her real name?" She kept this to herself, though, deciding to speak only of the first masked man. "That man - the one with the wooden vial. I saw him the other night, when I rescued Lilita from Rezgui. He was running on the rooftops, with a troop of Blackhearts after him. He tried to help Lilita - briefly - then used the scene to draw the troopers chasing him to a new target before slipping off into the dark. He must have been coming from this baker's house, then. At the time, I thought how skilled and smart he was, using the distraction caused by the vampire and a half-naked woman to make good his escape! What was so important about the vial that two people wanted it?"
Mordecai interjects, "I suspect that vial has something to do with the poisoning plot at the festival - although I had thought it was simple glass beads - this seems more... insidious."
He then faces the Widow, and bluntly asks, "Did you contract, Hadara and the rest?"
The Widow’s eyes flash slightly as she turns to meet his stare. “No, I only observed what I could. I did send someone to Garse the Gross’ flat to see if she could retrieve that vial, but she was intercepted and…delayed, by the handsome stranger that Agent Bilina seems to be controlling so adeptly, as we all saw. At the point when they began discussing the vial miss Bilina used a spell or enspelled item to block my scrying. I would dearly love to know what was in the vial. While wooden vials are uncommon for most potions and poisons, they are not unheard of in the right circles. In many cases they’re made from treated wood so that they may be disposed of thoroughly via fire. Or, I am told, the contents may react poorly to metal, ceramics, or glass so wood or stone are used. As for Hadara, I only came to know of his existence in Tarantis about the time you were contracted to see him safely out of the city.” She sighed and returned to her chair. “While I have used force when necessary, I am loath to do so otherwise I would send a team after this Hadara and question him…closely. In the end though, I am convinced that he was hired to create the cell of floobs needed to gain access to the Lion’s advisers. Confronting Agent Bilina directly would also be counterproductive as doing so would most definitely let others know I am…dabbling here which could start yet another conflict in the shadows of the city.”
"You didn't?," Mordecai asks with an eyebrow raised.
“No, I did not.”
"Well, that's odd... because Bilina was the one who hired Hadara. In fact, she was even there that night - along with Firehair - at the tavern where I was supposed to pick up Hadara to turn him in to the Ministry. I changed my mind for two reasons - first, I was offered a better contract, and, two, guards showed up before the bolo was posted and were drumming up charges of murder - which were NOT on the bolo. Only way that happens is if someone in the Ministry made it happen. There is definitely a plot being put together and part of its origin is coming from within one of the Ministry. Whoever this 'Fuzzface' is, has a decently prominent and influential post in the government and HE's Bilina's handler."
Keeping in mind that in her experience – and via her Bardic training – that someone The Widow’s caliber can manipulate their body language and emotions so that they convince others of whatever it is that needs convincing, the Lady’s cocking her of head and raising both eyebrows slightly implied that Mordecai’s information was news to her.
"How much do you trust her because it seems that she's been in the business for so long that she no longer sees friends and enemies - just marks she can use to influence her way into a better position for herself."
“I think that you have answered your own question, good sir,” The Widow says. “I do not trust her, in anything less than what serves her designs. That said, I will add a little more of mostly guess work and a feeling. The Blue Cobra is wearing many cloaks now, some less noticeable than others. Too many for my comfort and I believe that several are merely tools that allow her to operate even deeper then we may think. She’s dangerous, of course. Just how dangerous…”
Livvi bows her head and, when Mordecai seems finished asking questions, will say to the Widow, "You have given me much to think on, and new leads to follow. If you have no further questions or requests of us, we shall take our leave. Thank you, Mistress, for this opportunity." The bard bows more deeply this time - honoring The Widow with a true sign of respect among the noble families of Tarantis. Showing true deference could indicate many things - Livvi intended to truly display her gratefulness.
But she was also trying to process conflicting information from people she did not know about someone whom she was very close to. These thoughts would take some meditation and time to work their way through her mind and yield any kind of actionable result. A strong drink and solid night's sleep would go a long way to helping her arrange these puzzle pieces in her mind...
<><><><><><><><>
Mordecai's story continues...
"If we meet Razgui, I'm not sure the magic I have left will work as well as it seemed to do against the Hamster. I used up a lot of my energy attacking him...still, we have to at least try and find the girl. Nice blade work, by the way. Good to know you can handle your pole so well."
"Thanks, but all I really do is make sure the sharp end is on the end closest to whatever I'm fighting," replies Mordecai. "Don't sell yourself short - any magic, even if it's not a lot, is more effective than my glaive."
"Regardless," continues Mordecai, "we have a task to see through. Let's get to it."
Retracing the path once more Livvi and Mordecai pass by the butcher’s shop and the entrance to the alley and had only gone a few strides when a low qork comes from the sign above the butcher’s shop behind them. A large, black crow perch there, his soulless eye turned their way. The bird rustles it’s wings slightly, enough to reveal the red coloring beneath.
Mordecai points the crow out to Livvi, "Seems I've been seeing a lot more of those lately, and when I do... I typically find something dead soon thereafter."
The sound of heavy wheels moving slowly over the street’s cobblestones precedes a large, ornate black coach drawn by four matching black horses. One either side glowing lanterns were mounted beside the doors and just behind the driver sitting on top. Trotting easily along side are two huge Minotaur’s dressed in black leather armor and packing a variety of weapons. A single floob sits high on the driver’s bench. As the coach draws along side the shadowy figure is revealed to be a short haired woman wearing well used leathers and knee-high leather boots. She smirks, turns her head and spit’s a bit of tobacco juice, than cocks her head. “Oye, The Widow wan’s a word with you two.”
Mordecai sighs under his breath, "Perhaps we're the dead ones."
He straightens up a bit and replies, "I don't suppose this could wait until tomorrow could it? We're in the middle of something."
“It might, but’n The Widow says ta tell you tha’ if’n your lookin’ for your little friend, she may have some information ‘bout her whereabouts tha’ might save youse some time.”
Livvi looks to Mordecai and shrugs. "Looks like we're going for a ride."
He watches as the bard climbs deftly into the huge carriage, commenting as she does, "Do you have anything to drink in there? The last carriage I rode in had liquid refreshment and silk-covered cushions."
A soft, cultured voice relies, ““Please, come in. We should wait for your stalwart friend before proceeding.”
"Come on, Mord! They actually DO have refreshments! Plus, it's bigger on the inside,” the Half-Elf calls out, excitement clear in her voice.
Mordecai sighs, again, and enters the carriage without further word or complaint.
Looking up he discovers that the opposite door open, but instead of revealing the side of the street he had just left it revealed warm yellow lights, the sound of someone playing a sappy melody that might have been popular from a few decades ago though he couldn’t recall the name. Standing a stride inside what was obviously a well-appointed foyer stands a tall, slender woman with dark skin and long, silken hair. She held out a lacquered wooden tray holding several crystal goblets, offering one to the Fey Goddess who, though graced by half-elven blood, seemed rather pale when compared to the woman with the tray. Seeing his arrival, she smiles and gives a slight bow of her head.
“You must be Mord, please, come in and welcome. My mistress, a great Lady of Tarantis, begs forgiveness for seeking you out in this manner but time grows short and a great many things are afoot within our beloved city.”
Mordecai offers a polite gesture of refusal towards the drinks, saying, "Not while I'm on the job."
"Yes, the name's Mordecai - although I find it worrisome that my name seems so well known," the Half-Orc replies. "And yes, I do agree, there seems to be a great many number of ... plots.... propagating through the city."
"What did I tell you?! It's definitely bigger on the inside!" Livvi says as she sips the drink. Although it was only a tiny sip, she feels the warmth of the alcohol blended with the sweetness of the spices in her mouth and down her throat. A grin came to her lips as she looked admirably at the beverage in her hand before taking a larger sip.
"Uh huh... Next, I suppose you'll say there's something timey wimey about it, too..." Mordecai retorts. Then under his breath, with his eyes rolling slightly, "All this magicis about..."
"Well, let's not keep your Lady waiting any longer. Things to do and people to find, you know..."
“Yes, please, this way.” As the dark-skinned woman turns and leads them from the strange foyer the door closes quietly behind them. From this side, it looked like any other front door one might find in a wealthy house.
The woman was met by another, slender, blonde with waist long braids and dressed in a form fitting skirt and puffy sleeved blouse who takes the tray without a word. As she turned a red-headed Halfling fem strolls out of another door, turns to look at them curiously. While dressed in quality clothing this one had the attentive air and grace of one who might be equally comfortable in thieves’ leathers.
Following their guide deeper into the house it was clear that The Widow was a person of many tastes and qualities. Ancient and modern art decorates the walls or spaces, interposed with planters of exotic plants and greenery. Turning a corner and descending a set of wide, curving stairs, they pass a pair of imposing Minotaur’s standing guard. Both Bullmen eye Mordecai, clearly weighing the threat he might present with a respect that wouldn’t have been noticed in someone who wasn’t eyeing them back.
Mordecai comments off handily, "I've me tusks and you your horns... Let's call it a draw for now, eh gents?" Mordecai presses forward with purpose but doesn’t do so in a way that would be disrespectful to the proud minotaur’s.
The one on the left nearly smiles, the other gives a slight nod. Fellow professionals.
The Half-Elf’s eyes flick towards the Bullmen though the bard pretends to avoid looking at them outright, looking down towards her feet for the moment it takes to pass by.
Coming to an open door the dark-skinned woman turns and gives a slight curtsey and indicating with her hands that they should proceed without her. Beyond the door lies a large solar, well-appointed with only the best and most expensive materials. Standing beside a miniature tree is a woman with a timeless beauty. She was neither young nor old, nor was she exotically beautiful. There was a plain beauty, one so natural seeming that it immediately trips Mord’s alarms.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” The Widow says with a warm smile and grave eyes. “I apologize if I am taking your valuable time.”
Nodding her head and bowing slightly, Livvi seems to fiddle with her fingers out of nervousness.
"It is no waste of our time to honor your invitation, m'lady. On the contrary, we are eager to hear what you would offer. And my compliments on the brandy - truly exquisite! Like everything else in your abode - rare and of exceeding value. Although you already know, decorum dictates an introduction. I am Livvi, daughter of his honor Lord Richard Rahl, former apprentice to Garyx Stonegate, and member of the Lion's Pride." She then motions to Mord and looks him in the eye to give him a signal to be polite.
"No disrespect, ma'am, but I think we'd all feel better if we were honest with each other on who we are. We've seen, too many... oddities... and would prefer if we were all just open about who and what we are," Mordecai responds.
If The Widow was offended by his direct ways she showed no signs. Turning she gestures towards some nearby plush chairs. “Please, be comfortable if you will. To sooth your concerns about your Healer friend I can assure you she’s safe for the moment. Though, to be honest, she has been dancing with a terrible fate and with powers she is only beginning to comprehend. I feared for her life but the pair of you, singly and together, have managed to save her despite her own actions.”
"Well, I can't speak for the times she was with Livvi, but as far as I saw, she was able to take care of herself plenty - I offered only moral support... and a target for her enemies," responds Mordecai.
"With that said, may I ask, if you don't mind, what is your interest in her? Sure, she seems to have magic plenty, but that doesn't make her necessarily unique. Sure, it could just be that your using her as a conduit to get to these vampires, but I suspect there's more," the Half-Orc continues.
"Yes, we have been witness to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
Crossing to a large backed padded chair flanked by a pair of well sculpted flowering plants The Widow sits gracefully, smoothing the thin material of her dress to remove any wrinkles. “Lilita is trying to uncover her past and while I would gladly assist some quests must be conducted on one’s own and in the manner which one can cope with. There is a tragedy in her past, when she was a mere toddler and too young to remember.”
"Right - well, what's in her past that's so important? I've heard of you, ma'am, and I know two things: first, don't cross you, secondly, you do things for a gain - so, and I don't need details, but generally, why are you so interested in Lilita?" Mordecai frankly asks.
The Widow studies him with cool eyes and slightly pursed lips. “My interest is…complicated,” the woman gives a sardonic sigh. “Some of it is personal, and of a nature I am not inclined to share, at least, not at this time. But you are not wrong, Bounty Hunter. She is peripherally tied into this resurgence, if you will. As you both probably suspect, there has been an infestation of Vampires within this city for a long, long time. It ebbs and flows like the tide of the great bay, of course and there have been various groups, lone vampire hunters, and organizations over the centuries. Some more successful than the others. So, to the rumors that say I do things for mere gain, there is truth in that, and falsehoods…after all, some gains cannot be weighed or measured in material things.”
"Fair enough," responds Mordecai. "You have an obviously successful organization so I'm not one to comment and what not. Just questioning as a matter of good business practice. As you noted, I'm a bounty hunter and I get the feeling my services, one way or another, are going to be used. I tend to want to know more rather than less of a task I'm about to get conscripted to do."
"Yes, we have been witnessing to the truth of the vampire resurgence. Although there is one less to hunt the streets of Tarantis now. If you are seeking the extermination - or at least a culling of the herd - of these vampires, then we are allied in purpose. Perhaps in method. Can you tell us how Lilita is involved? Did she somehow cause the resurgence? Or is she being affected by the increased numbers of blood-suckers?" She glances again at Mordecai, steeling her resolve to continue. He had been so bold and direct with her - could Livvi press her luck and keep the conversation going without steering it over a cliff?
"So," Mordecai continues, "what's the next step?"
The Widow glances from Mordecai to Livvi and back. “It’s more than a resurgence I am afraid. From my observations and those of my associates we’ve concluded that the dark powers are pushing for a more dominate form of control.” Looking at Mordecai she says, “You have touched on part of the larger conspiracy, inadvertently aided it some as well. The assassination conspiracy is aimed at one of Altar the Lion’s senior advisers. I believe that the replacement will be one of the undead. If that occurs, then they will be in a position to infect the monarchy directly at worst; influencing it at best.”
"What do you know of Lord Rakia Rezgui from the Karzulun, the vampire who Lilita seems so attached to. Almost like a father-figure the way she spoke of him...and what of the Black Rose? Is Lord Basha Maigrinstaff a vampire, too? Evidence I have uncovered points to this. And finally, excuse my boldness, but what do you request of us this night? For as lovely as it is to be here in your home, I am certain that we are not here for a social visit alone. What is the task, the price, and your interest? Are you so altruistic that you with to protect the common folk of the city, or are the vampires bad for business?"
A slight frown came to The Widow’s pert lips. “I know too much, it seems,” the timeless woman said with a sigh. “It’s a complicated tale but I shall endeavor to keep it brief and pertinent. The vampire menace has been a problem for Tarantis since it’s earlies days, but this has come and gone. Half a century ago there was a coalition if you will, of like-minded individuals and groups that conspired to drive the vampires from the city. It was successful, more or less, at least until about two decades ago when Lord Rezgui and Lord Maigrinstaff staged an expedition to a certain hitherto hidden island in the south sea where the mortal remains of several vampire lords had been disposed of. Powerful magics had been employed to bind the remains to the ancient temple that was to be their tomb for eternity. When Rakia came to me intending to garner my support in the endeavor I heavily advised against the expedition, though, at the time, I had withheld the knowledge of what I knew to be buried there, much to my regret.
“I also failed to give good counsel. Rakia’s family line; my family line, as well as Lord Maigrinstaff’s bloodline, and a fair amount of other ancient noble lines within the city it is sad to announce, have connections to the inflicted. Basha – Lord Maigrinstaff is five hundred years old, give or take a decade.” She gives Livvi a confirming nod. “He is a very powerful creature, powerful enough to mask his true self to the majority. Unbeknownst to Rakia, the Rezgui bloodline is ancient and it was one of the Rezgui’s remains that had been interned into the island temple. I believe that Lord Maigrinstaff’s intent was to lure Rakia to the island, bring him into contact with the undead remains in hopes of reviving another powerful line.”
"Well," comments Mordecai, "his plan seems to have worked. It's unfortunate that you didn't properly prepare Rakia on what he would find on that island and regarding what Maigrinstaff really is."
"Interesting. Lilita seemed to imply that Rezgui and Maigrinstaff were at odds now - and the vampire we killed earlier spoke of Rezgui as a disgraced one. Is it possible they could turn on each other? Would that be helpful, or only wreak more havoc in Tarantis?"
The Widow looks away, a mixture of shame and repentance. “Lilita Rezgui is in terrible danger, but she might also be the key to destroying, or at least, diminishing the vampric threat facing the city. Lord Maigrinstaff has been busy this past year, cherry picking new blood if you will. Many of the cities more powerful noble and merchant families have had younger family members, women mostly, go missing, only to return a few five days or months later. I suspect that many of these are meant to inflict their sires, but I cannot be sure. The conspiracy goes deeper as well. Lord Maigrinstaff is not the only Vampire Lord inhabiting the city. Several others are present, but I haven’t determined just who, or their stances on the current situation. At least one bloodline has deep claws into Tarantis’ bureaucracy but which, I don’t know…yet. Each clan effects its own sigil or markings, often in the form of tattoos. This way their minions can identify each other.”
"Lilita REZGUI?!?" Mordecai says with widening eyes. "That explains the man's interest, but how does she not recognize him?"
“She was a toddler when her world fell apart,” The Widow replied with a hint of emotion in her voice, “her only memories are buried deep and are those of a young child. Most would have disappeared, which is why she must discover her heritage in her own way. Simply sitting her down and burying her under it might be too fantastic. It might also drive her to rash acts, acts that could destroy her. As it is, she has little support, aside from yourselves.”
As if struck with a sudden thought, Mordecai blurts out, "We might have some allies. Those elves in town seeking their female compatriot. I'm pretty sure she's dead in the sewers - drained of her blood and left to rot. I am sure they would want revenge."
A brief flicker of surprise crosses the older woman’s face. She cocks her head slightly and looks at Mordecai. “Elves. Which elves do you speak of? Drain – “The Widow looks troubled at the thought, “and yet another victim of this foul curse.” She sighs.
Turning to Livvi The Widow’s sad face brightens slightly. “To answer your earlier question as to why I have asked you here tonight, I wish to help. As powerful as I may seem there are boundaries I am not allowed to cross, some politics that I am not allowed to dabble in, least it upsets the fragile balance within the city.” The Widow’s cool expression focuses on Livvi. “I suspect, with your own ambitions, you understand my position. It is part of the great game, and one that I relish, but there are always prices for playing. I do not care to rule, nor do I care to oversee the faith, etc., etc. I am not a merchant, nor am I a war lord. At best, I’m a dabbler.”
"The balance? I'm sure Monach establishes all the balances," Mordecai says under his breath.
"In any case, given your tendency to dabble, has your dabbling allowed you to determine where Lilita is currently?" asks Mordecai.
“Yes, I do know where she’s at,” replies The Widow. “Lilita has been led to her family’s townhouse and is exploring it in search of its secrets. As I said, some things have to be discovered in their own way and time. Still, before you leave, I will give you the address.” She pauses for a moment than looks the Half-Orc in the eye. “You have brought up another part of the problem, noble hunter. Monach the Canny, a power behind the throne, may be involved. Most likely is, I am sure, with both the ongoing coverup of Vampiric activities and the plot to assassinate one of his chief rivals on Alar’s small council.”
"Right, so do we go pick her up or let her discover in her own way and time?" Mordecai asks. He continues, "You gotta understand, I prefer the direct. When I started noticing all this political intrigue, I tapped someone else for assistance... I don't have the vision for it."
"I knew there was something deeper to the disappearances of the young women - and I only recently started to suspect that vampires were involved. It seems that the plot is more intricate than I imagined. That explains why Pithini the silversmith's daughter is being locked away in The Black Rose - unable to be seen by her father. They had to let her turn while under their control, then convince her to help them in their sinister plot to take over the city. Can you tell us more about the sigils and tattoos that mark these clans? This will help us to identify them more readily - I mean, before they sink their fangs into our necks! Oh - and Lilita showed us a sigil that she drew in The Black Rose - does this mean anything to you?" Livvi sketches the owl and eye sign Lilita and Mordecai had shown her earlier for The Widow.
The Widow smiles and glances from Mordecai to the Half-Elf Bard. “Yet your companion here was born for “all this political intrigue”.” To Livvi she says, “Yes, that sigil used to carry great power in the city for it is that of an ancient order of Vampire hunters. The Order of the Owl.” She pauses again for a long moment as if deliberating how much to share than continues, “For many centuries the Order was more of a secret society than an active determinant. But it remakes itself, from time to time. Anita, Lilita’s mother, was a member, as were the matrons of her family’s house since it’s conception. There are clues in the townhouse that I hope will lead Lilita to that conclusion as well, for she will need them. It was her mother who tried to save her husband and destroy Maigrinstaff but sadly, failed.”
Livvi turns to Mordecai and asks, "Well, big one. what do you think? Shall we join the ranks of the vampire hunters and rid this city of the impending doom about to strike? I bet the Lion would reward you greatly for your service to the crown!"
"My service would be for Tarantis," Mordecai replies rather cryptically. "However, a payment for my services would be nice, but I don't expect to be rewarded by the Crown."
“I will reward both of you as well,” The Widow said. “I will also aid you, as best I can, in this pursuit. If I may counsel you, Mordecai, seek out those last two conspirators of Daris Hadara for they hold the key to prove whose behind the plot, and more importantly, who the real target is.” As she says this, he note’s the flicker of eye movement as The Widow glances from him to the Half-Elf and back. In the depths of his gut the bounty hunter knew that the woman was holding something back, something she didn’t want to say in front of Livvi.
"Well, it sounds like Lilita is safe enough for now. And her current quest is just for her. I would like to get some rest before we continue hunting down vampires and traitors, but I am not sure we can afford that. So...let's investigate this Hadara fellow and find his associates to work out this plot to overthrow the Lion and subjugate us all to the vampires. Or at least do some more digging tonight..." Livvi says to Mordecai.
Mordecai, picks up on the Widow's cues and turns to face Livvi, he tells her rather bluntly, "You, who work for the Ministry, needs to understand something clearly now: The Crown is the Lion. Monach is the Lion Tamer.... and Monach could be part of the problem, as the Widow just said. If you think you had contacts in ANY of the Ministries, officially or unofficially, you take care in what you tell them and how you tell them... especially within the Blue Cobras. You're a half-elf, so who knows how young or old you are, but you behave young - your passionate and impetuous - ripe to be used, led astray, and betrayed. Don't let that happen."
Livvi gasps at the half-orc's proclamation. A flicker of emotions plays over the elf’s features, further cementing his opinion about her young age. Livvi’s mouth opened several times, as if to exclaim something but closed, showing that she possess a hint of wisdom, and before he turns back to the Widow, Livvi mutters, "And how do I know that you aren't planning to use me, or lead me astray, or betray me?"
Mordecai turns his said to the side as he looks at Livvi, almost inquisitively. He then shakes his head and turns back to the Widow and simply asks, "So - where to?"
“As I suggest, follow up on the two leads Daris Hadara gave you. And, it bothers me that there was a subliminal plot to allow Daris to escape. My ears within the government mutter that someone is working both ends of the candle…
Mordecai nods his head at the widow as he looks at Livvi with an "Exactly what I'm saying" expression.
… but for what gain, I cannot unravel. It will be no easy task, especially since there’s only six days left before the Royal Masquerade at the palace. Not to mention that the growing strigoi (vampire) problem. Bad enough to have one clan but two? Two leads to four all too soon. Perhaps one of you should visit the Eleian Qarteith, that is the name of the Elven ambassadorial delegation to Altar the Lion and Tarantis. If for no other reason than to see if the dead Elf you came across in the sewers is of their clan. Mardiat the Dwarf is in the city, but I do not know where but the one known as Fuzzface’s whereabouts I do know. He’s been seen frequenting Big Jugs Tavern in the Tradesmen Quarter. There’s a death warrant on him, though, but by whom isn’t clear though I suspect it is related to his participation in the conspiracy, though just what his part is, is also unclear.”
At the mention of Mardiat the dwarf, Livvi pipes in. "I met Mardiat just last night in The Topless Tavern! A drunken lecher, and a careless one at that. I managed to lift his coin purse while he tried to grab my @$$. It seemed as though he might frequent the place, intent on showing off his own tattoos and leering at the women who were there. And what is this about elves in the city and a dead one in the sewers? Are you sure she was dead, and will not come back as one of them? A Strigoi?"
"Regarding the Elf, she was most certainly dead. I'll not go into details, but it was not a pleasant sight." Mordecai pauses - seemingly disturbed by the recollection. He continues, "She had this Broach on her." Mordecai produces it from his pack, but not passing it to anyone for a closer look. "She also had a magic wand of lightning - I couldn't use it so I gave it to Lilita - and thank the gods I did - that wand is the only reason I'm here. While I kept the weretiger distracted, she singed its fur - badly. If I remember, right the Elf must have been a noble, or at least rich, she wore the latest fashion, Vandsari silk with golden threads. She also had... a pouch."
He fishes around for it, commenting, "Oddly enough, I never opened it - might as well do so now." Mordecai looks into the pouch.
As he examines the contents of the pouch he says, there were some Wood Elve’s over at Glisber’s Inn seeking an elven princess - I suspect that I found her."
After examining the contents of the Elf's pouch, Mordecai looks at both Livvi and the widow, as if something locked away had been knocked loose.
"Mardiat the dwarf. Fuzzface. Garse the Gaffer, employed by a baker. These are all individuals who are a part of this plot," Mordecai states. "I believe that the Gaffer was taken into custody and I have the feeling that he was prematurely silenced. The plot involves the festival, the bakery, and some sort of... additive... being, literally, placed into the mix."
Mordecai’s eye lingers on the Widow for a moment, he gets ready to ask something, but holds his tongue for a moment longer.
Livvi pauses and considers the potential leads before them. "Well, we might as well pursue this Fuzzface at The Big Jugs Tavern, since it's night-time. I won't revisit The Topless Tavern until I have a chance to prepare..." she declares, flushing red.
Mordecai interjects, "Tonight? It's been a long day. I think it better if we rest tonight, heal up some, and start tomorrow fresh. It'll also give you time to check in on your friend - the green haired one."
Livvi turns once more to The Widow. "Mistress, you spoke of aiding us. Do you have any suggestions on ways to kill vampires? Mordecai struck mighty blows on Hamsto tonight, and I saw Rezgui flick away crossbow bolts like pesky flies. My magic seemed to affect both of them, though it is not strong enough yet to be as effective as I hope it will be. Do we need silvered, or hardened weapons of some sort? Do they have any weaknesses that we can exploit? I've only ever read the stories and pretend tales...Although I can confirm that they cast no reflection in a mirror."
The Widow respond as if she was already prepared for such a question. “Indeed. Most magic that can inflict damage can harm a vampire, as well as one inflicted with Lycanthropy. When you leave, I will provide you with some items that will be of use to you, I hope.”
"Aye," Mordecai affirms, "Something... more... would be needed. The other night my blades managed to cleave a murderous thug in nearly two, but I've fought a weretiger and a... strigoi... tonight and they both shrugged off the keen end of my weapon. I've seen more damage done by a barber with a shaky hand shaving a man's face."
The Widow waves a languid hand and nods. “I have a pretty extensive armory at my disposal. When you agreed to speak with me, I sent one of my servants to fetch a few things. They will be waiting for you when you leave.”
"Thank you, again," Mordecai tells the Widow, then continuing, "I do have one more question: Where is the raven-haired Bilina?"
For the second time tonight, Livvi gasps in surprise, yet softly, enough so that anyone not observing the Half-Elf might have missed the reaction. There was a lot going on behind those gray flecked blue eyes. She glances ever so slightly at him before turning her focus on The Widow who stands and walks so smoothly across the room her feet barely touch the floor.
Mordecai's eyes flit in Livvi's direction, unsure if he saw her react to his question... Perception Roll, rolled offline... 15 // he saw something in her eyes but it is hard to be sure. As a Bard, the Half-Elf was probably trained to control outward signs of emotions and/or to manufacture convincing ones when desired. She has a thoughtful, attentive look. GM’s Note: Mord would have notice that slight glance his way.
Picking up a crystal globe about the size of Mordecai’s fist the timeless woman passes her free hand over it and says something that sounds musical, almost otherworldly. “Bilina Carapria,” The Widow says as she holds up the crystal. Within a series of colors swirl and pulse until they begin to form brief images and snippets of action. In one the raven-haired woman was speaking to a hooded figure over a table. She set something in between them, a small wooden vial, then suddenly everything went foggy and the image flickered to the same figure, that of a lithe but handsome man stretched out on a bed, Bilina’s head bobbing up and down. At this The Widow caressed the crystal, causing it to change the image yet again, this time the woman was in a dark alley speaking with another cloaked figure. This one was obviously female, a wisp of red hair peaking out from under her hood.
// Does Mordecai recognize any of the others in the images? He suspects he knows exactly who the red head is... // He recognizes Bilina as that raven-haired beauty sitting in the background at the Eight Star the night he took charge of Hadara. The male she’s with doesn’t ring a bell but has the mannerisms of a half-hundred thieves he’s encountered over time. And while many females have red hair Mordecai’s gut says it’s the Drow that was present in the Eight Star. The vision might suggest that Firehair is working for more than one source.
“Senior Agent Provocateur and member of the Blue Cobra’s, Tarantis’ secret police. An accomplished mage with street skills and a wild list of associates, informants, and nobles in her pocket. Possibly a lieutenant to the Lord Commander of the Blue Cobras, which would make her twice removed from the Grand Advisor’s office.” Coaxing softly The Widow causes the crystal to return to the scene of with the wooden vial. “A curious object, that. I asked one of my people, an accomplished acquirer of things, to retrieve it from Garse the Grouse’ flat several nights ago. She was accosted by the handsome stranger Bilina was…talking too…who, it appears, had been retained to recover the same item. Both my girl and this man were in Garses’ flat when a troop of the Blackhearts arrived to search the building. I suspect the timing.”
"That man - the one with the wooden vial. I saw him the other night, when I rescued Lilita from Rezgui. He was running on the rooftops, with a troop of Blackhearts after him. He tried to help Lilita - briefly - then used the scene to draw the troopers chasing him to a new target before slipping off into the dark. He must have been coming from this baker's house, then. At the time, I thought how skilled and smart he was, using the distraction caused by the vampire and a half-naked woman to make good his escape! What was so important about the vial that two people wanted it?"
Mordecai interjects, "I suspect that vial has something to do with the poisoning plot at the festival - although I had thought it was simple glass beads - this seems more... insidious."
He then faces the Widow, and bluntly asks, "Did you contract, Hadara and the rest?"
The Widow’s eyes flash slightly as she turns to meet his stare. “No, I only observed what I could. I did send someone to Garse the Gross’ flat to see if she could retrieve that vial, but she was intercepted and…delayed, by the handsome stranger that Agent Bilina seems to be controlling so adeptly, as we all saw. At the point when they began discussing the vial miss Bilina used a spell or enspelled item to block my scrying. I would dearly love to know what was in the vial. While wooden vials are uncommon for most potions and poisons, they are not unheard of in the right circles. In many cases they’re made from treated wood so that they may be disposed of thoroughly via fire. Or, I am told, the contents may react poorly to metal, ceramics, or glass so wood or stone are used. As for Hadara, I only came to know of his existence in Tarantis about the time you were contracted to see him safely out of the city.” She sighed and returned to her chair. “While I have used force when necessary, I am loath to do so otherwise I would send a team after this Hadara and question him…closely. In the end though, I am convinced that he was hired to create the cell of floobs needed to gain access to the Lion’s advisers. Confronting Agent Bilina directly would also be counterproductive as doing so would most definitely let others know I am…dabbling here which could start yet another conflict in the shadows of the city.”
"You didn't?," Mordecai asks with an eyebrow raised. // OOC Insight Check on the honesty of her response to hiring Hadara (rolled offline)... 7 /He can’t be sure she is lying or not but he’s smart enough to know her types, like the Bard (and far more experienced) would be adept at making it appear however she wanted it too./
“No, I did not.”
"Well, that's odd... because Bilina was the one who hired Hadara. In fact, she was even there that night - along with Firehair - at the tavern where I was supposed to pick up Hadara to turn him in to the Ministry. I changed my mind for two reasons - first, I was offered a better contract, and, two, guards showed up before the bolo was posted and were drumming up charges of murder - which were NOT on the bolo. Only way that happens is if someone in the Ministry made it happen. There is definitely a plot being put together and part of its origin is coming from within one of the Ministry. Whoever this 'Fuzzface' is, has a decently prominent and influential post in the government and HE's Bilina's handler."
Keeping in mind his thoughts on how someone The Widow’s caliber can manipulate their body language and emotions the woman cocking her head and raising both eyebrows slightly implied that his information was news to her.
"How much do you trust her because it seems that she's been in the business for so long that she no longer sees friends and enemies - just marks she can use to influence her way into a better position for herself."
“I think that you have answered your own question, good sir,” The Widow says. “I do not trust her, in anything less than what serves her designs. That said, I will add a little more of mostly guess work and a feeling. The Blue Cobra is wearing many cloaks now, some less noticeable than others. Too many for my comfort and I believe that several are merely tools that allow her to operate even deeper then we may think. She’s dangerous, of course. Just how dangerous…”
Livvi bows her head and, when Mordecai seems finished asking questions, will say to the Widow, "You have given me much to think on, and new leads to follow. If you have no further questions or requests of us, we shall take our leave. Thank you, Mistress, for this opportunity." The bard bows more deeply this time - honoring The Widow with a true sign of respect among the noble families of Tarantis. Showing true deference could indicate many things - Livvi intended to truly display her gratefulness.
GM Notes: Pretty much have reached most of what The Widow can offer at the moment, unless there’s still questions from Mord and Livvi.
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Lilita's story continues...
Following her search for books, Lilita will head back to the Anilia's bedroom and check her wardrobe to find a suitable dress to replace the dirty soot-covered dress that the Lady Domonique at the Black Rose had given her. Entering the large room, the pale light of dawn was filtering its way through those windows that are un-shuttered. How many hours had she spent carefully searching her possible father’s private study? She had dozed for a while in that chair but how long? During the search it was the lack of books and items that might give name to the townhouses owners that was curious. There were signs that someone had removed select items from the room, as they had from the master bedroom. Gaps in the books and scroll cases. A lockable draw in the desk open a crack, empty save a few spare quills and several general goods parchments. There had also been signs that someone, perhaps her noble monster, had flung items of clothing and small brickbrac about, possibly in a fit of fury or despair.
Lilita respectfully and dutifully went about and picked up the scattered bric-a-brac and items of clothing guessing where best to place them or return them to. Doing this thinking that in some small way she is trying to be a good daughter and keep things neat and tidy as no doubt Anilia (her mother???) would have liked. Then before leaving the room, Lilita takes out a quill and piece of parchment, writes the following message.
Dear Father, I do not know if you are living, dead or in a cursed state somewhere between life and death. I do not know for sure if I am even your true daughter or just a confused mistaken foundling searching for her family or what has become of them. I believe this house once belonged to Rakia and Anilia and they loved each other very much. No matter what happened, I sense love in this house. I love you, father... I love you both, and I forgive you, father... it is never too late. I will never stop looking for you.
-A loving daughter, Lilita (-she then cuts off a lock of her silver hair and places it atop the letter out in the open on the desk should someone come back so it and letter can be easily found-)
She found a door leading to a small bath with an attached privy. It was something that she could only imagine as most the floobs in the Poor Quarter either used pots or buckets and dumped them into the streets or simply went in the streets. Something that several of her teachers at the guild had decried as an unhealthy practice for the city, one that others had rolled their shoulders and muttered, “What else is the poor to do?”.
Lilita removes the soot-covered dress and does her best to clean it and herself, leaving the dress hanging up to dry and puts on one of Anilia's dresses that she had borrowed. Tidying up the privy before leaving thinking such a wonderful room, everyone should have such, rich or poor.
Hopping off her shoulder the crow flew back into the main chamber where she heard him mutter and peck at something. Peeking around the corner she watched as he ruffled his feathers and pecked against a ceramic container with a flowery lid.
Lilita followed the crow and noted the ceramic container the creature seemed very interested in. Walking up to it, she opened it and looked inside.
“Treat…” he qoarked.
Beneath the lid is half a handful of decades old pecans.
Lilita giggles, "so this what you like to eat, well then, I am not sure they are still good but if you are willing to risk it." She scoops out the handful of remaining pecans and offers them to the crow unsure if he will accept them or not. If not she attempts to locate a refuse container about to properly dispose of them and offer the crow a Berry Bloom Goodberry from her pack instead to tide him over, "don't worry little one, I will find you some fresh pecans later if you stay with me and bring some back in the future to refill the ceramic container, how does that sound?"
After sampling one the bird seemed to disapprove of their age. When offered the Berry Bloom Goodberry he cocked his head, gazed at it for a moment, then snatched it out of her palm and tossed it down his gullet. Fluttering his wings, his head bobs side to side.
“Treat!”
Lilita smiles at the crow pleased that it was satisfied with the berry in lieu of pecans, "there you go then my dear one, that should keep you for a while. Now that I know what you like I can see to it you get plenty of treats." One thing struck her though about the crow and its friends, what was the life span of crows anyway? Could this crow really have been a family pet or was there more to it than that? Still, the crow had been very helpful to her, no matter its origins Lilita found herself becoming very fond of it! She bends down to kiss it and whisper to it, "thank you so much for leading me here, I don't know if I will ever be able to repay your kindness."
Glancing in the mirror Lilita noted how perfectly the dress fit. It was as if it had been tailored to her size and form. And though the most plain looking in her mother’s wardrobe it still was of high quality. Without thinking about it she examined the stitch pattern, recalling what the old tailor had said, and discovered that there was a double eye stitch that that was cleverly patterned to resemble an owl’s face, if one stretched a bit.
Lilita gasped in astonishment she loved the dress so much; she had almost forgotten what the kindly old tailor had taught her. Maybe with luck, the dress might prove helpful to discover who had made it and if she is very lucky who it had been sold to. But given how many years had passed that might be asking too much. Such would be a long shot but still worth possibly looking into if the other clues lead her to dead ends.
At the moment Lilita was more hopeful in seeking out and visiting a Temple of Kuluth and surely there must be records and a deed attached to the house. So that would be another possible avenue to investigate and take up with the proper city officials. Still, Lilita could not help but wonder about the owl stitching, did it mean that there might really be a Counsel of Owls or did Anilia (her mother?) merely fancy such creatures.
Still driven by something more than simple curiosity Lilita resumed exploring the house. Towards the back she found the kitchen and servants area. A narrow staircase leads up to the upper two floors and down to a cellar. There was a pantry half filled with long spoiled foodstuffs and a curious device that held a small platform with a rope and pully system, connecting all the levels of the house, she assumes. Another door, heavy and iron bound, opens onto a backyard of sorts. Walled like the front, there is a carriage house built into the wall with a pair of doors wide enough for even her Vardo to pass from the back alley beyond. She did find a pecan tree, as well as a mulberry and peach tree. All three in serious need of some TLC.
Lilita taking a closer look around the back, she finds that she had not even considered that servants were employed but it makes sense and there looked to be plenty of room if she was an heir to the house, if she wanted to or needed to, she could bring her Vardo here. Lilita did not wish to get ahead of herself. Her life had always been full of disappointments, no doubt, in the end, this all could prove to be the case as well. There was still a lot to do, so many unanswered questions that she needed to investigate no matter where the trail leads.
Making sure that the main house and the carriage house, etc. are closed back up, not wanting to expose anything further to the elements Lilita though she could not bear to leave needed to go now. She was fearful that once she left sight of the house, it would fade away, vanish as if it were all a dream and she would never find her way back.
Tearing herself away Lilita headed into the city in search of a Temple of Kuluth.
Behind her the two crows with red feathers beneath their wings sat perched on top the garden wall. Both rustled their feathers as the third joined them. Something seemed to pass between the three before they took to the air. One followed Lilita, another winged off over the city while the third circled the townhouse twice before flying north, over the city and then further, out over the provinces…
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Lilita's story continues...
It took better part of an hour to cross from the edge of the Noble’s quarter to the gates leading into the temple quarter. As she passed through bells across the city chimed, announcing the noonfest hour. Many laborers put down their tools and went in search of a meal. Some shops closed as the shopkeepers and servants did the same. The inn’s, venders, and winesinks filled, most to capacity as regulars poured in.
The rumble in Lilita’s belly reminds her that it had been what? A day at least since she last ate. It was reinforced by the smells coming from a small collection of street venders set up just past the gate and near the looming Temple of Argentahl.
Lilita having been far too busy exploring most of the night her mind had been focused on more important things but now seemingly back out in the world the delicious smells surrounding her had awoken the hunger that she had been unconsciously suppressing. She needed something to eat. Lilita laughed to herself thinking the crow had more sense than she did... it didn't need the smell of food to know it had been hungry for pecans. She walked up and down the row of street vendors looking for something suitable to eat.
Her copper bought Lilita a large vegetarian samosa stuffed with potatoes and a chickpea filling seasoned with fresh garlic and ginger. Lilita, after purchasing the samosa sought out a comfortable spot to enjoy it and rest.
As she sat in the shade of an overhanging statue to some forgotten hero of the city eating, Lilita watches the various floobs coming and going through the nearby gate. Many dressed in colors or with sigils denoting this faith or that church, others the regular sorts common in all the quarters of Tarantis. About halfway through her meal she spots a familiar figure come through the gate. For a moment she didn’t recognize Amlack for the lack of his usual City Guard attire. The young man wore a simple but clean white tunic and leggings, common to the younger men of the city, he wore a codpiece and had a knife in a long sheath hanging from a wide leather belt wrapped around his waist. His sandy brown hair worn short cut.
Lilita looked at him several times before recognizing who it was before waving her hand in the air and calling out to him, "Amlack!"
The young man’s head turned her way and a smile breaks out on his face. “Lilita,” he calls back and easily alters his path until he joins her in the shade. She saw brief concern flash over his eyes, and perhaps something a little more, as he looks her over, his smile turning to a warm grin.
“It’s been a few days, but you look great, you do,” he says. “How are you? Is that a new dress? It fits you like a glove and…” Amlack suddenly blushes and closes his gaping mouth.
Lilita smiles at Amlack as he approaches, "I almost didn't recognize you out of uniform. I am not sure that I ever recall seeing you in civilian attire, it suits you." Looking down at her dress she giggles, "thank you. Yes, it is I suppose if second-hand can truly be considered new. And yes, it is somewhat form-fitting my bosoms more prominent than usual I suppose but I can assure you that they have always been there... hidden under the potato sacks I usually wear." She laughs playing it all off as a jest to avoid causing him too much embarrassment.
At her comment the young man’s gaze is drawn directly to her breasts. He blushed again, grinned, and looked down at the cobblestones a moment later.
"You look well Amlack, how have you been? Are you enjoying a day off or are you working undercover? I have been well but busy with things. Right now, I just stopped for a bite to eat before heading on to the Temple of Kuluth."
“Yes, my day off,” he agrees, daring to meet her eyes again. “I always visit the Temple to Oakider once each five day to seek ‘His’ blessings. Temple of Kuluth? Life and Death? I, ah, I would assume you’d pray to Duna or KodKod.”
Lilita smiles and shakes her head, "actually I have always worshipped Eldath Goddess of Peace. I am just going to the Temple of Kuluth to deliver a journal to the High Priest who I hope might be able to provide some answers concerning some of the entries. Boring stuff actually. I don't want to keep you from your prayers but if you are not in a hurry you are welcome to join me and have our noon meal together."
“No, no hurry at all.” The young man said it so fast that his eagerness to spend time with her was evident and almost silly. So was the effort he was making to keep from grinning like an excited young boy.
Falling in step beside her Amlack grins again. “How have you been since I last saw you? Did the woman you helped recover? I have little doubt that she didn’t thrive and bloom under your care.”
Lilita gives Amlack a sad look, "I don't know. I took care of her late into the night and she seemed to do alright, at least holding her own then being exhausted myself I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was gone. I searched everywhere for her but couldn't find her, so I fear the worst. This relates in part to why I am now on my way to the Temple of Kuluth."
Lilita then gives Amlack a seriously concerned look, "I need to tell you something and you are probably going think that I am a superstitious nervous Nelly or just plain crazy, but I need you to listen and keep an open mind. Please, I need you to be on your guard and be very careful at night on the streets. The girl I was treating, I am certain that she was bitten and partially drained by an undead creature, a vampire. I even saw his majesty's special elite guards battle such a being and their arrows had no effect on it so it escaped them but there are more out there and the Black Rose House of Healing is somehow involved or shielding them, beware those connected to the House. So please promise me Amlack, that you and your fellows will be careful out there and should you encounter such a creature, be wary, be mindful, take precautions, avoid getting too close, withdraw if need be, don't take chances alone or underestimate them even when you have the proper backup! They are extremely dangerous; I swear to you that I am telling you the truth!"
Instead of laughing or giving her an incredulous look Amlack looked troubled, even worried. They walked in silence for a half dozen strides before he says quietly, “There…there have been reports, more coming in each day it seems. Floobs attacking floobs, only not with words or weapons, but physical attacks. Many are getting bitten. My captain addressed our troop yesterday, warning us to be wary, especially at night. I…” He hesitates.
Lilita listens carefully nodding her head not overly surprised when Amlack talks about the various reports. At least word is getting out and the brave men on the Watch are being informed.
Pausing under the sweeping boughs of one of the massive oak trees lining the wide street the young City Guard glanced off at nothing in particular. “Two nights ago, one of our patrols was attacked by, well, a pair of Panthers if you can believe that. Only one out of a patrol of five survived. Sarge had gone to speak with the survivor and came back shaken. He bought some silver edged daggers and handed them out to us.” His hand unconsciously drops to a handle in the middle of his back then stops as if he wills it. “The Blackhearts are out in force at night as well, which is unusual. We’re being assured it’s added security for the upcoming festival but…”
"Panthers, I saw a girl named Nicci at the Blackrose able to transform into a tiger so sounds like there might be a number of people able to transform into such beasts, not like Druids though, darker and more sinister. Just be careful out there Amlack, look after yourself and your friends. I wouldn't want to hear about you or any of you companions getting injured or killed. I should get going now and make my way to the temple. Take care of yourself and I will see you later." Lilita gives him a quick friendly innocent kiss on the cheek before partying ways.
He watched her go.
It took three quarters of an hour and asking a passing priest where the Temple of Kuluth was. When she arrived outside, she found a small, ancient looking place set behind a field stone wall covered in ivy. When compared to many of the other temple complexes it was almost quaint. Behind the wall rise several small buildings, one taller then the others and topped by a bell tower. Several workmen are busy pruning the ivy vines away from the walls while a team of masons work at patching the wall. Or, so it seemed so, though to Lilita’s untrained eye there was little wrong with the walls that she could see.
Lilita pauses and looks at the wall and the workmen closely... a little puzzled and is left wondering what exactly they are up to thinking that perhaps the temple requires protection beyond the mundane or the physical. Even though she is unable to perceive it she reckons they must be shoring up the wall to protect against dark creatures like Nicci and her kin not to mention the Sanguisuge.
Walking about to the eastern side she found a simple, heavy wood gate with an ancient symbol for Kuluth emblazoned upon the door.
Lilita walks respectfully up to the heavy wooden gate and stands there in front of it. Lilita slowly runs her hand over the ancient symbol for Kuluth as if tracing it out as she whispers in the Celestial tongue, "the night is dark and full of terrors...but light burns them all away." As she speaks those words her hand glows softly with radiant light.
“Almost immediately the door opens slightly, revealing a bald monk about twice her age. “Yes?”
Lilita looks up at the monk and uses Prestidigitation to create an illusory image of the owl sigil that fits in her hand holding her palm up before him and simply says, "I am Lilita Lulitu, an owl sent me to deliver a book to the High Priest of Kuluth regarding the Sanguisuge... Lord Basha Maigrinstaff and Lord Rakia Rezgui. May I please have an audience with the High Priest or arrange to make an appointment to see him as soon as possible? I can wait here outside the door as long as it takes if that is permissible. Please, it's extremely important!"
“Just a minute.” The door closes as quickly as it had opened. If the monk had been surprised or confused, he had shown no sign in his expression. Nor had he questioned her request or made any other indication that he had found her request outrageous.
The door opens again, wider to allow her entry.
Lilita not sure how long it's going to take sits down and leans against the wall as she waits patiently for the door to open back up again trying to figure out in her head exactly what she is going say without appearing too crazy. When the door does open again, Lilita quickly stands up and brushes herself off and walks inside unsure of what to expect.
Inside she is greeted by the same monk as well as an older priest of Kuluth. His beard salt and pepper in color, he holds up his holy symbol and without word of explanation or request he waves it at her in a quick but careful pattern while murmuring a prayer to his god. Lilita felt a warmth flow over her, like that of a midafternoon’s breeze on a hot day. Both the monk and priest watch her expectantly but when nothing happens, they physically relax.
Lilita innocently looks up at the pair and smiles at them thinking that she must have successfully passed some sort of test and that they were satisfied.
As the monk closes the gate in the wall the older priest smiles gravely. “I do apologize young miss, but as a rule, we do not allow strangers entry onto the temple grounds in the best of times. Brother Timmind there, tells me that you are seeking a meeting with the High Priest about the Sanguisuge. Please, this way.”
Lilita bows and nods, "there is no need to offer any apology, I understand that in these times certain precautions must be taken. As a stranger here, I do thank you for graciously allowing me entry." She follows behind them as they lead the way, "you could have easily just sent me away and had done with it, so I do appreciate your patience and kindness."
Moving through the garden, the temple grounds seems like an ancient garden, a place for contemplation and meditation. Artful use of bushes and small fruit trees cordon off areas, creating hidden spots. In some are statues of the God, Kuluth, in others lie simple stone benches or bubbling fountains.
Lilita looks around in awe as she walks along behind the pair. She is more than a little surprised by what she sees. She had not expected so much nature and beauty to be found in a temple devoted to Kuluth rather she imagined something more spartan. The temple grounds were very peaceful and relaxing which helped to put her more at ease.
“Few come these days, asking…nay, even mentioning the Sanguisuge. Most prefer ignorance, even though it has been a plague on Tarantis since its inception.”
Lilita solemnly nods in agreement, "yes I imagine that most of the common people of the city are ignorant of the Sanguisuge, but this is starting to change now isn't it? I have to admit that it was not all that long ago that I was blissfully unaware of them myself. Is the work being done on the walls surrounding your temple because they are growing bolder as their numbers increase, they no longer see a need to operate in absolute secrecy as they used to, at least since Lord Basha Maigrinstaff first brought this plague to the city from the island?"
“You may call me Alfonse, Miss,” the older priest replies with a smile. “And your observations are astute. We are preparing for whatever may come, as best as we may. The indications are that a war that is usually contained within the shadows is coming to the light of day. I was a younger priest when the last infestation flared up, though if was mostly in the shadows. This time feels different, so Corlone, our current High Priest, orders that our order prepare.”
Lilita gives the priest a sad look, "and I am called Lilita your eminence, not so astute I fear, please forgive my ignorance. Much of this is new to me as I have only managed to put together bits and pieces here and there. A war? Do you mean a civil war between the forces of Lord Basha Maigrinstaff and Lord Rakia Rezgui? I should warn you now that I suspect that I may be the daughter of Lord Rakia Rezgui though I cannot be certain."
Alfonse looks at her with an amused smile at her declaration.
Reaching into her pack Lilita carefully takes out the small hand-painted portrait of a man and a woman holding a silver-haired baby... and shows it to the priest and the monk, "I believe that I am the baby pictured here, the woman Anilia which I believe to be my mother and the gentleman Lord Rakia Rezgui whom I suspect is my father."
The smile tightened slightly. “I will confess, Lilita, that you are the only one I’ve ever heard of to make such a claim. I never encountered any of the Sanguisuge Lord’s personally. Only the high priests of our temple and several of those of our allies tried to defeat, or at least, contain the Lords. One was destroyed, but the other three were too powerful. I was a lay brother at that time, not a monk, so I and my brothers worked to destroy the Sanguisuge minions and fought our counter parts in faith who side with Darkness. Even so, our elders educated us that the last outbreak was a minor one.” From his tone, it sounds as if he didn’t agree, but then, as he had said, he had been young and in the front lines, such that they were. “So much that is hidden, even from those of my position. Such secrecy works against us, I fear.”
She looks up at them her hope, starting to fade as the priest's words begin to sink in, "this is the primary reason that I came here... I am in search of answers that I had hoped your High Priest could shed some light on since he was mentioned in the book."
“His eminence should be able to help you in some way, though how much, only he can say.”
A look of disappointment begins to fall like a shadow over Lilita's once hopeful face, her voice wavers as she asks, "you said your current High Priest? I am looking for the man who would have served as High Priest some 18 years ago give or take when I was but a baby in my mother's arms. You see, the book, or rather the journal mentions the High Priest of Kuluth but did not provide an actual specific name, but two other names were also mentioned, The Widow whoever she may be, and someone called Tan Gregarari. There was also a large painting of Anilia, the artist who signed it was a Casmial Orseran. I am hoping someone on this list can provide me with the answers that I seek. So, I don't mean to waste your time or the time of your High Priest but that is why I have come all this way. Can you help me please?"
The priest led her into one of the smaller outbuildings on the grounds instead of the temple proper. Turning down a corridor framed by wooden beams that shine with such deep patina that it was not hard to imagine them being thousands of years old. Plaster smoothed the walls between the beams which are pierced with the occasional door or archway leading elsewhere in the building. The air has a woody, dry smell, one mixed with the smells of men and cloth.
“To answer the first question, you must be speaking of Talis Panou. He was High Priest at that time,” Alfonse said with a shake of his head. “His Eminence, Talis Panou suffered a series off heart attacks seven years ago and stepped down. He resides in our order’s retreat in Jarmeer Province, about a four-hour ride from the city. The Widow, I’m afraid, is a fictional persona. One popular within Tarantis but probably doesn’t really exist. So many wild stories are attached to this persona. That she roams the city in her black carriage that contains an endless mansion, attended by a flock of blood crows that are her ears and eyes within the city.” He chuckles at the thought. “Once, during the last infestation, there was someone claiming to be ‘The Widow’, who aided those who confronted the Sanguisuge, but the cities history books mention variations on this ‘Widow’ person going back twenty-five hundred years. Surely a fiction.”
“I have not heard of this Tan Gregarari, though the Artist Casmial Orseran is well known. His studio is still located in the Artists section of the Sage’s Quarter, I believe.”
Lilita eyes grew wide and darted about once inside the smaller outbuilding something about the place was familiar to her or was this what she had expected of a Temple of Kuluth. She looked at her priestly guide Alfonse and asked, "forgive me but are there no females of your order? Somehow I feel like I might well be the only female to have walked these halls for ages."
“You are correct. Few women or females of the other races seem to hear the call of Kuluth. This isn’t to suggest that we are not open to admitting them when they do come to answer the call, only that they are few. Unlike many of the other faiths, we do not distinguish a difference between the sexes. If you are called, and you answer, then you share all the duties, labor, joys, inner peace, and physical amenities equally.”
Lilita quietly listens as the Cleric Alfonse responds to her many questions, trying to be patient and to keep still as with each answer many more questions arose. "I am sorry to hear of the poor health of His Eminence Talis Panou. Even though it is a long way to Jarmeer Province especially for one as I, who does not have a horse at my disposal may I ask that if I were to travel to your order's retreat do you think I would be permitted inside for an audience with his eminence?"
“Without a doubt, young miss,” he replies with a nod.
His response regarding the nature of the Widow had Lilita perplexed. Lilita could not understand how it was possible that the Widow was not a real person as she had seemed to figure so prominently in the journal. Lilita eyes moved about looking around for crow that had been traveling with her... becoming agitated and somewhat upset with herself that she had failed to keep track of it wondering if it was outside the temple waiting for her or if it had left her entirely. Her heart sunk knowing she would have to wait until later, after her meeting before she could look for it.
She looked at Alfonse, "are you certain that The Widow isn't real? I came here with a crow with a red mark under its wing shaped like an owl, I thought it was a messenger of the council, it was what lead me to the small portrait, journal, and the mirror shard! There were others too, a whole flock but the one was special and kind to me, it liked to eat pecans. If it was real, so wouldn't that mean that Widow is real too? I don't know about her or a carriage but the crows they were real, I swear!"
The priest looks at her with mild surprise. “Probably just a crow. The city is rife with them, which is odd considering Tarantis is a seaport and sea birds dominate the skyline,” he says. “What you describe sounds like some wizard’s familiar.” He hesitated for a moment before giving a slight shrug as they draw close to a door at the end of the hall. “There was a special breed that used to be used as messengers back in the day. I saw only one and it had intelligence beyond mortal birds for it led me and several of my associates to a place where several new blood vampires had their resting places. When we defeated the sleeping beasts the crow was gone. It is said that this Widow uses them as spies, if you believe all the rumors.”
Lilita was not sure what to think, the mystery seems to have no answers, only more questions. Falling silent... deep in thought, Lilita continued to follow Alfonse as he leads her forward hoping that the current High Priest can offer additional insight.
They stop in front of a simple door at the end of the hall. Giving a light knock, Lilita hears a muffled ‘enter’ from inside. Alfonse turns the handle and steps aside to allow her to enter ahead of him. The smell of…cheese…greets her, as dose cool air. The door opens into a long, low chamber made from heavy bricks. The walls arch inward, joining a vaulted brick ceiling. The place reminds her of the ‘cold rooms’ back at the Healer’s Guild’s main chapter house. Deep cellars meant to keep vegetables and other perishables cool until used. At no point did she feel the floor angle down, nor had there been any indications of hills within this section of the city. Not far away stands a fellow in simple white work clothes and wearing a faded apron at a low table rubbing something onto the side of a modest sized wheel of cheese. Wheels sitting on shelves or tables, some stacked while other cheeses are round, like gourds and hang from racks or hooks in the ceiling. Several alcoves and side rooms can be seen from where she stands.
“Thank you, Alfonse, you may leave our guest with me for a while…say, an hour?”
Alphonse looks hesitant than gives a respectful nod and leaves, closing the door behind him. “Welcome to the Temple of Kuluth, well, the cheese cave, anyway,” he says with a laugh, “You may call me Corlone while in private.”
Lilita easily intimidated looks shyly towards the High Priest, her eyes respectfully downcast... bows formally as if unsure what to do and then quickly curtsies trying to be respectful of his status and person, "yes Eminence, thank you for seeing me. I am called Lilita Lilitu and I will try my best not to take up any more of your valuable time than is absolutely necessary."
He smiles and reaches for a towel and wipes off his hands.
Glancing at all the cheese surrounding them her hands trembling slightly and nervously fishes into her pack and carefully removes the small hand-painted portrait of a man and a woman holding a silver-haired baby... and shows it to Corlone, "as I revealed to the good priest and monk, I believe that I am the infant pictured here, the woman Anilia which I believe to be my mother and the gentleman Lord Rakia Rezgui whom I suspect is my father."
“May I see it?”
Placing it into his hands Lilita reaches back into her pack again and pulls out the journal and then places it into the hands of the High Priest Corlone.
"Though there is no name I believe this to be the journal of my father before he became one of the Sanguisuge. I've taken the liberty of marking a number of entries of interest but please peruse its contents as you think best. Some pages I know are missing, sadly, the book was like that when I found it."
With sympathy in his eyes the high priest of Kuluth takes the journal and carefully looks through its pages, a slight frown forming on his lips.
Lilita stands there nervously fidgeting and adds, "you will note that the journal mentions the High Priest of Kuluth who I have been told may be referring to his Eminence Talis Panou. Other names mentioned include The Widow though I have been informed that she is fictional, but I just don't believe that to be the case. Also, someone called Tan Gregarari as well as Lord Basha Maigrinstaff."
That said Lilita falls silent and patiently waits for the High Priest to examine the journal and read it all at his leisure without interruptions from her and come to his own conclusions.
Moving closer to one of several lanterns providing light in the cheese cave Corlone studied different parts of the journal for some time. He sighs and seems to nod understandingly. Before handing both the portrait and the journal.
“I cannot say if they are your parents or not, though I do see some resemblance. Eminence Panou stepped down some years ago because of health reasons and resides at one of our monasteries. As for Lord Maigrinstaff, he is a prominent figure among the city’s nobility and a highly respected Healer with a reputation for being able to cure many exotic and rare malaises. Something most priests can do,” the High Priest says wryly then frowns again.
“There were rumors, accusations leveled against Lord Maigrinstaff during the last infestation, that he is one of the Sanguisuge Lords, though it was never proven. As a lord of a wealthy and powerfully connected family, he has a lot of protection and was never proven to have been involved.”
Lilita politely nods and reveals her Healer's Guild Signet Ring to him, "yes your Eminence, I am an acolyte of the Guild, so I know a little bit about Lord Maigrinstaff and have been inside the Black Rose Healing House though I have never met his lordship personally. However, I did meet one of the girls at the Black Rose named Nicci, a shapeshifting Weretiger who serves him. After my short visit to the Black Rose recently, Nicci followed me outside and attempted to harm myself and a companion, a great warrior who managed to fight her off forcing Nicci to flee."
A look of surprise crosses the high priests face at that.
Looking around nervously Lilita continues her story, "though I have no proof that Lord Maigrinstaff is a Sanguisuge Lord besides the journal I did also speak to a woman named Domonique of the Black Rose more highly placed than Nicci I think but not a shapeshifter. I am not sure what she is, but I saw that she has a rather strange and distinctive tattoo of a blue star located just behind her left knee. In speaking to her she confided in me that Lord Maigrinstaff is a Sanguisuge as is Lord Rakia Rezgui and that the two had a falling out and Lord Rezgui is no longer welcome in the Black Rose or city for that matter which leads me to suspect there is some infighting going on between them and perhaps two or more factions of the Sanguisuge."
The look of surprise hardens a little. “Shapeshifter…weretiger. That would be fitting,” he says, “Many such beasts rose to the call the last time. It was they who spilt the most blood in the streets. Worse because their bites, not unlike those of the Sanguisuge, inflict their curses on their victims if the victims are not killed outright. And you say this Nicci attacked you and your bodyguard?”
Lilita nods, "yes your Eminence though I am not exactly sure if Nicci intended to truly harm me, frighten me or return me to the Black Rose. The warrior, a Half-Orc named Mordecai whom I owe a great debt is not my bodyguard as I am not one able to afford to hire retainers or bodyguards. I had imagined that we could have been more to one another but one as plain as I cannot hope to compete with the exotic beauty and charms of the seductive Livvi the Fey Goddess." Lilita sighs and gives the High Priest a forlorn look, "that is alright, they are together now I suppose looking to discover more about the Sanguisuge and their plans though for the life of me I cannot imagine why an exotic dancer would be so interested in such creatures. But to be fair Lord Rakia Rezgui seemed as captivated with her bosoms as Mordecai. Elfmaids, what's a girl to do, am I right your Eminence?" Lilita shakes her head and throws up her arms as if exasperated, "such is life, best I devote to myself fully to my calling rather than idle girlish dreams of romance."
Corlone rubbed a hand over the side of his neck as if remembering some close call. “Many organizations, cults, clubs, and guilds sport various tattoo’s so that they might be recognized by other members which makes it difficult to say that this blue star has a related to what you are saying. Others’ might know more than I, when it comes to that, but this possibility of infighting is troubling, especially this close to the festival of silver. Lord Rezgui may be pushing to regain some sort of status from his rival, or perhaps, is plotting to eliminate Maigrinstaff completely. If so, he must be building a powerbase of his own, or seeking to topple Maigrinstaff’s support.”
"I could not say, your Eminence," Lilita agrees, "whatever their relationship, they are rivals but even rivals can agree upon a common cause if the situation should warrant it. Let us hope that they remain divided their attention more focused on each other."
“Tan Gregarari is Magelord, well, back then he was a wizard,” His Eminencies says, “but was elevated to the Council of Mages. Led by the Head Sage, the council advises Altar the Lion on matters of the arcane. They also oversee registration and police the city’s resident wizards, sorcerers, etc.”
Lilita carefully listens and is surprised to hear that Tan Gregarari is a Magelord. So many highly placed figures involved in her mystery gives Lilita pause becoming somewhat concerned that she is a bit out of her depth, like a fly on a great elephant's backside. Still, she is desperate to unravel proof of her origins, so Lilita is not about to give up just yet.
"Tan Gregarari and his Eminence Talis Panou I must speak to both of them, show them the portrait and the journal. I need to first make my way on foot to your order’s retreat in Jarmeer Province to visit his Eminence Talis Panou before trying to gain an audience with the Magelord upon my return."
“On foot? It would take the greater part of a day. I know since I have walked it several times myself, though you may be able to wrangle a ride on one of the fright wagons traveling to and from the city along the way.” The high priest looks thoughtful. “Gaining entrance to see the Magelord may be far more difficult as, I would assume, he is a busy man.”
Lilita thinks for a moment and asks politely, "with all due respect your Eminence would it be too much to ask you for two official letters of introduction with your seal? One addressed to Tan Gregarari and other to his Eminence Talis Panou as I am not sure that I would be permitted to speak with either of them on my own. Letters from you would I believe give me a better chance to get through the door without revealing too much information to their servants and retainers especially Tan Gregarari as to why exactly a girl like myself needs a private audience. I mean, there is no telling how far the Sanguisuge influence extends into the council of mages or the council of advisers as it does with the Healer's Guild."
A benign smile comes to Corlone’s face. “It is the least I can do to aid you in your search. Things are becoming more…hectic, with the eve of the festival coming. I would send a party with you to visit the Branswan Monastery but there’s no one to spare, not until after the festival. Here, let’s find some parchment and quill.” He removes his apron and starts for the door.
"Thank you very much, your Eminence, the letters will prove helpful," Lilita bows respectfully and follows closely behind, "I will be alright traveling on foot alone no need for an escort but I will keep my eyes peeled for any wagons headed that way, your kindness is most appreciated, you have been very helpful."
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Arphaxd's story continues...
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The Cosmic Cart Café is a small but popular Inn and tavern, frequented mostly by Mages, Sages, and Alchemists the Archsage had said, though on occasion a fighter or two might drop in seeking advice from the others in matters of the occult. The proprietor of the nicely decorated establishment introduced himself as Redbone Ash. At the mention of Khatri, Redbone was keen on making Arphaxad welcome. As the inn keep chattered Arphaxad glanced around at the interior. Paneled in glass with cut crystal accents, the place had charm and an air of elitism. Dominating the center of the central room was Redbone’s prize possession, something he was only to willing to explain, is a large crystal statue of a Pegasus in flight.
“Tis my most favorite possession, this,” Redbone gently caressed the waist high statue sitting on a pedestal. “Pegasi are my most favorite of creatures and someday I hope to find one” To ride or to make a pet out off, the Inn keep didn’t bother to say. He was, Arphaxad noted, quick to point out that his rooms were clean, dry, and cost one silver crown per day. “Ale is 2 coppers, a glass of decent wine runs a silver crown, and…”
The innkeeper continued with the practice of a man well versed in his litany, while Arphaxad listened with half his attention on the elegant surroundings. While not a hedonist, the Hybrid wasn’t an ascetic either. He enjoyed a certain amount of luxury in life. Many scholars preferred to devote their energies to their studies. He felt that abject squalor was a waste, and a few comforts allowed him to stay sharp.
When he had heard the prices of everything and paid for a couple of days, he headed to his room.
His room was as advertised, about three strides (15’) deep and two wide. [GM’s note: a stride equals 5 feet square). A narrow but comfortable looking bed lines one wall, a small square table and padded chair sits near a closed, lead paned window overlooking the street below. At the foot of the bed is a decent sized chest, banded with a clasp but no lock.
A quick examination of the chest revealed nothing. It would be suitable for a few square feet of storage, valuables or clothing. After thorough examination he decided not to leave his gold inside. Instead, he left most of his random equipment there. His rope was looped about his shoulder, his rod was in his belt and his waterskin was at his belt. These precautions in place, the sorcerer felt ready to walk about the area looking for things of note.
The question is, now that he’d managed to translocate to this new world and strange place, what his goals were. It was something that hadn’t been fully covered before he had left.
Arphaxad was sure of one thing; everything about this place fascinated him. From a world that had been fully civilized to a world not only unknown to him but largely unexplored... he was excited.
Precisely what his next move was, he didn’t know yet. Perhaps he could find something to direct his curiosity in one of the libraries. Taverns might have folks with stories of strange occurrences... he pulled out one of the copper coins and flipped it to decide...
The copper piece whirled upwards and he decided that heads was library and tails was the bar... a bar... whatever. He didn’t decide what would happen if it landed on edge or vanished entirely, and it was fortunate that it came up heads, rather than one of the unlikelier possibilities. Staff in hand and curiosity whetted, the Hybrid set out to one of the libraries.
It was late afternoon as he set out. Unfamiliar with the local conditions Arphaxad couldn’t judge how many hours of sunlight were left. Even so the air was a bit tepid but there was a mild breeze coming in from the great bay. He could smell the mixed aromas of saltwater and the lesser pleasant smells common to most seaports. Since he was already in the Sage’s Quarter, it wasn’t overly difficult to find the nearest library. Part of a complex of buildings and towers one passerby had called the Tarantis Royal Center for Higher Complexities.
As he walked, he studied the floobs filling the streets and smaller alleys. Many of the shops were heavily slanted towards the district’s needs. Among the usual greengrocers, butchers, small wine sinks and taverns are shops selling parchments, inks and quills, used books and scrolls, arcane necessaries and components. There were quite a few shops devoted to the ‘scribe for hire’. Literate men and women willing to write a letter, read a scroll, or otherwise help those who lacked the ability themselves. Other shops advertised copying of works, minor magics produced (usually elder mages or wizards willing to conduct minor magics for a fee).
While already possessed of the components for several castings of each of his spells, Arphaxad decided to scope out the prices being charged locally.
The nearest such shop has a sign with a carved and painted mortar and pestle on it. In an elaborate script, one in which Arphaxad could understand, which in and of itself was a curious thing. Oh, there were common trade languages, but typically other worlds and other planes have languages all their own. Many worlds have diverse, local languages as well. That he happened to enter a world where the local basic was basic enough for him to understand was…curious. Perhaps a side effect of the. Fascrade Inthihil. The sign reads, Mnemad, Alchemist, proprietor.
Entering the shop, the first thing Arphaxad noticed was the familiar (and unfamiliar) smells of herbs, concoctions, ingredients, common and rare components filling bins, jars, hanging in clumps and bundles from ceiling hooks. In addition is a modest selection of the sort of accoutrements both a chemist and arcane user might want or need. The next thing he notices is a large sign just inside the door reading: Everything half-off, No Refunds or Guarantees!
A rather curious sale pitch. What sort of desperate individual was willing to trust his fate to a potion that wasn’t guaranteed to perform as expected? Aside from those lunatics with the Izzet League. But half price was a compelling motivator... The Hybrid quietly entered then moved among the stock to see what was in the offing.
Among the potions, salves, powders, elixers, essences, and gasses of many types sit smaller signs, mostly with figures denoting price. Potions of Healing only 260GP, Undead 990 GP (Which and what Undead wasn’t posted), Breathe Water 260PG, Shrinking 600GP and so on.
Arphaxad had never heard of sticker shock, but he was experiencing it all the same. A lowly researcher had little cause to fret over potions, and the cost for some of these elixirs was amazing. Perhaps they were less expensive in his home world, or maybe gold was easier to come by here. Either way, it was unlikely that, even at half price they were mostly out of his price range. Curiosity hit him hard. What sort of being shopped here?
[GM Notes: LOL, the prices and descriptions are straight from the Tarantis city guide and reflect the actual costs of creating potions back in the day. Not sure how they’d translate to the current editions. Here’s what google turned up: I use twice the creation cost from XGtE, but half the purchase cost per rarity in DMG works too. Healing 50gp Greater 200-250g Superior 2000-2500gp Supreme 20000-25000gp. There’s a story behind the warning sign but Arphaxad would need to ferret it out IC to understand why]
There were two floobs currently in the shop. One had the look of a part time fighter; he was busy sweeping the back part of the shop. The other was a man in his middle fifties and wore a turban that once might have been a bright yellow, but age and use has reduced it to the color of mustard. He stands at a large table carefully measuring ground fire lizard scales into a ceramic bowl. Noticing Arphaxad’s arrival in the store the man set the jar down in such a manner that it appeared that he was trying to cover up a bit of parchment.
“Greetin – ah,” the man stumbles over his opening spiel as he gets a good look at Arphaxad. “Ah…can I help you?”
He was not often given to mirth, but it was difficult to resist the urge to burble incoherently at the startled man. His renewed curiosity at what might be hidden on the parchment helped him keep his face sober. [GM makes a perception check to see if Arphaxad can see the parchment. 18+0=18] Even as the shop keeper was setting the jar down Arphaxad caught enough of the scribbling on the parchment to realize it was instructions on how to make some sort of potion.
“I’m looking for a few spell components, mostly. I’m... new to the area, and not familiar enough with availability to be comfortable with my current stock.”
“Yes, we have many basic components at a fair price. Good quality, too,” the man replies, head bobbing and smiling encouragingly. “I, ah, I’m sure we have something you require. Any…any specifics?”
“Oh, indeed... I hope you have phosphorescent moss, lodestones, soot and salt, cured leather, bird eggs or bitumen, spiders...” Arphaxad trailed off. “I figure I can pick much of it up around, but it’s nice to have it handy in an emergency... Would you or your assistant be able to direct me to these ingredients?”
Towards the back the clerk with the broom glances toward Mnemad and Arphaxad with mild concern evident on his face but makes no move to come and assist.
“Or... I could wander around and find it myself...”
“Everything’s clearly labeled, if you wish to browse sir, otherwise I would be happy to help. Tangaorth there reads well enough so he could assist, if you need such. I believe we have everything you mentioned, and at a fair price I assure you.”
“I think I can manage,” the Hybrid murmured calmly. He looked at the shelves, hoping to find out what sort of system they used to organize, if any and is quickly rewarded by a series of clearly marked storage containers, bins, and small placards. Most of what he found he readily recognizes but there are a few that must be unique to this world, or whose purposes he wasn’t sure of. Components or prepared potions, salves, etc, of value are secured behind closed, glass cases and would require assistance. While peering at one such cabinet Arphaxad became aware of Tangaorth, the shop’s assistant leaning on his broom close by.
“See anything particular?” the man asks.
Arphaxad hesitated before daring to ask. “I... couldn’t help but notice that your employer is working on some sort of potion. I could understand if he was in some hidden laboratory trying to turn lead into gold or some such, but he’s hiding his potion ingredients while working in a rather public area... what is the story here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Tossing a causal glance over to where Mnemad had returned to brewing the potion he is working on, muttering soft curses, mostly directed at himself, as he works. “There was an incident a few five days ago (weeks),” Tangaorth said. “Mnemad was commissioned to create a number of rare and expensive potions for a client. One of the cities’ lord healers. Shortly after completing the order the healer, who is also a Wizard of sorts, cast some sort of spell on him, as best we can unravel. Since then Mnemad’s been suffering from loss of memory.”
A mage cleric tampering with the memory of the individual who brewed specialty potions for him. Intriguing. “And the potion he’s working with is one of the commissioned ones?”
“In a way, yes, though I fear that it is as unstable as the previous batches.”
If a well-known healer was acting contrary to an expected set of standards, something interesting was in the works. “Does this memory loss involve anything other than the potions?”
Tangaorth rubbed his stubbled chin. In doing so Arphaxad couldn’t help but smell the aroma of garlic cloves coming from beneath the man’s tunic. “For the most part, yes. The memory loss extends slightly into his knowledge of the city and some short-term loss. He may or may not remember your visit tomorrow.”
It seemed an extreme measure, likely born of desperation. Most mages that tampered with the mind prided themselves on discretion and subtlety. This was anything but subtle. Of course, his experiences were limited, and were further restricted to those from his own world. Perhaps mind magic was less studied here. There was a mystery here. Several, if he was right. He liked mysteries.
“Is that the only recipe he retains? What does it do?”
“Actually, there’s several potions on his list for Lord Maigrinstaff. The one he’s currently working on is supposed to be a protection from lycanthropy, only when he tests it the potion seems to have a forty percent chance of causing a temporary transformation. The other potion is one for Protecting oneself from the Undead. When tested, it seems to be lethal instead. At least several rats died a few days ago and, well, didn’t quite die…”
Arphaxad made a slight face. That might explain the garlic. A potion that endowed undeath upon the recipient... Not quite his cup of tea. He was not one interested in so called eternal life. The restrictions were too great. But it would be interesting to interview someone who was recently changed. Not a rat, of course; they lacked wit as well as language. But others...
“Do I take it that vampirism is the unanticipated side effect? Or is it some other form of undeath?”
“The garlic?” The clerk tugged at the front of his tunic, sending up a thicker odor of the potent herb. “Yes, and a bit more.” His voice lowers an octave. “You must be new to the city if you haven’t heard all the rumors. Shape changers roam the back alleys at night and the vampire lords of old seek to reclaim the city as their own. Wealthy and Noble keep going missing. Some two dozen, mostly young women, it is said, although most of those missing have returned but are sick or withdrawn, only going about after dark.”
“You can say I’m new... that’s for sure.” Arphaxad tried a small smile that looked more like a grimace. “It’s my first day here” Shapeshifters and vampires? He’d met several of each before. Undead made a phenomenal labor pool and weren’t exactly uncommon back home. But if they were anathema here, likely they were more aggressive too.
It had by now occurred to the Hybrid that the unanticipated side effects were, in fact, NOT errors, but rather were the unspoken intent of the potions. This healer was having potions of lycanthropy and undeath made, in the name of preventing such, then erasing memories of it. But why…
“Is this something that has happened before? I realize you’re not a historian, but if we can identify some sort of pattern...”
“Usually we hear such nonsense about this time each year. That the strigoi have arisen; that the dead walk the streets seeking blood. It’s the Festival of Silver you know.”
Festival of... “No, I’m unfamiliar with this celebration... honestly I’ve never heard of it. Silver is known to be a weakness of many supernatural creatures, but that’s only a guess at the purpose.”
Tangaorth became a bit more animated. “Oh yes, silver is reputed to work that way, although I can’t claim to have put it to the test during my days with the Merc company. Still, it’s kinda odd just how many floobs don’t make the connection. As best as I can remember my granman’s stories, the Festival of Silver was begun by Great ole’ Bansaor ‘The Lion” some two thousand years ago to celebrate the eradication of the Strigoi Lords and their minions. I suppose it was meant as both a celebration and to keep the warnings in the minds and hearts of the citizens. Been so long, most seem to have forgotten that part.”
It wasn’t unusual. In his limited experience, floobs tended to want to forget the bad in life. Far more pleasant to recall only the good, or to make something positive from a negative occurrence. And time did the rest.
“So, these... Strigoi lords... Vampires? Liches?” Many undead we’re present in Ravnica; most acceptable, some not.
“Vampires. Myth and history claim that they have always been present in the city since it’s earliest day. Infestations crop up from time to time, or rumors do.” For a former mercenary, Tangaorth appeared to have become knowledge about the city’s history, especially dealing with these vampires. It might explain why his employer had picked him.
This infestation was something to look into. The mystery behind it stroked at his curiosity like a playful courtesan looking for a generous tip. He wanted to know more. This assistant wasn’t likely to be of much more help, it seemed, but the Hybrid has thoughts about where more answers might be found. “Do you or the alchemist know where I might find a library that holds historical records of the area?”
“The Royal University most likely,” Tangaroth said. “It holds much of the surviving city records and is famed for having the second largest library outside of the Imperial Library in the City of the World Emperor. Just take the street out front and follow it to Ivy street. Turn left, you can’t miss it.”
Purchases paid for and tucked away for later, the Simic Hybrid thanked both men and eased out the door to seek the Royal University.
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Boo's story continues (Edited to avoid trouble):
Hours later Boosandie finds herself laying beside her arcane mentor on his large, four poster bed. One of the many advantages arcane powers gave were a seemingly never-ending way of creatively using magic in the naughty and stimulating ways. The simple cantrip Mage Hand for example, powered up using metamagic, created a spectral hand that was tireless, adept, and obedient. It could pluck a diamond ring from a wealthy Dame’s dressing table from a quiet perch in a tree across the street from an open window, assuming someone might use it for such purposes. It could also be put to some very intimate tasks. So could Haste, Suggestion, and numerous other spells, if the receiver were receptive to their magics. Khatri had demonstrated many such things over the years. Illusions could be made, spells to command, to control, to bind and restrain. Other spells increased stamina, enhanced body parts or created exotic environments, temporary playgrounds.
Boo ponders the various spells and how they might be put to use, especially during amorous encounters but quickly dismisses such idle thoughts. Boosandie to her very core is something of an old-fashioned girl, preferring a direct tactile, hands-on approach to pillowing, considering it, as an art form on to itself to be enjoyed and savored! But to each their own, who is she to judge.
Still, what Boo truly wonders about is how it was that they were headed to her mentor's study and ended up in his bedchamber. Now that is real magic, she smiles to herself as she slips adeptly out of bed to retrieve her discarded garments scattered all about the room.
As she gathers up her things, Boo gazes back at her snoring tutor and blows him a tender kiss knowing full well it's all empty meaningless words and promises men say to women. From stable boys to archmages, they are all the same in the end so she won't hold her breath that she will be visiting another world anytime soon. Boo quickly and quietly dresses then proceeds to tiptoe silently out of the room seeking to avoid the awkwardness associated with a post-pillowing departure. Thus, Boo following her own brand of boudoir etiquette withdraws unobtrusively, seeing herself out.
Her way out took Boo past Khatri’s study. Though it was late, the city never truly slept, and she had planned on visiting one of Tarantris’ best weapon smiths in order to discuss some adaptations she had in mind for a whip, her favored weapon. The door to the study was open. As she passes by Boo can’t help but notice half a dozen scrying balls of varying materials. Two glows with inner light, suggesting that they were attuned to someone or someplace of interest to her arcane master.
Boo stares at the open study door and bites her lip as she struggles with the temptation of what to do. Cursing to herself she looks upward and groans. "Oh gods, what did I ever do to you?" Torn between a desire to sneak a peek against a sense of obligation that tells her that a good apprentice respects a teacher's privacy.
In the end, sadly, Boo's wicked curious nature gets the better of her as she slinks inside the study for just a quick peek knowing full well that she is going to end up regretting her rash decision. Once inside the study, she tiptoes up to the glowing orbs and gazes upon them in wonder.
Within the first crystal ball was an image of a humanoid that defied description. Some being that was like nothing that she had ever seen or heard of. Part human, but with what might be described as amphibious skin and odd protrusions from its joints. It appeared to be male but with the heavy, hooded cloak he wore, she couldn’t be certain. Even the clothes – the cloak, seemed off somehow, made from foreign materials she wasn’t familiar with. The settings around the floob looked familiar. One of the quieter taverns in the Sage’s Quarter, perhaps. Why Khatri was interested enough to keep a long-term scrying spell on him was hard to say. Maybe it was one of those extraplanar travelers he’d spoken about.
Boo is fascinated by the creature, surely it is a traveler from one of the other worlds of the multiverse! She could understand her tutor's interest in it, the only question did Khatri bring it here as one of his minions or did it somehow come on its own? Glancing at the other orbs, it strange that her tutor did not mention this when he had talked about the multiverse earlier but then he has many secrets. Boo starts to wonder if he keeps regular tabs on her as well thinking if he does then he is going find out she was nosing about without his permission causing her to worry that he would stop teaching her entirely if he felt that he could not trust her! Standing where she was now, she knew that she had betrayed that trust and he in all likelihood was going to find out about it sooner or later.
The second crystal ball was larger, perhaps the size of a watermelon, sat on a low marble table with a padded bench before it. Within was the image of a tall, muscular half-orc dozing on a bed too small for him. Laying within easy reach is a well-used glaive, the weapon sharp, it’s edge lightly reflecting the yellow light of a low burning lamp somewhere within the room. As she peered at him his eyes snapped open and slowly peered about, as if aware someone was watching. Or not, perhaps he was merely a light sleeper and something outside the room caught his attention. He stood, a light sweat cover his bared, scarred chest and moved towards the rooms only window. The scrying spell followed as it was attuned to the half-orc and not the room. He stood, slightly to the side of the window and peered out cautiously. Beyond was a dark, misty rooftop of some large building, maybe a warehouse.
Boo glances at the second orb but not for long as she hurries out of the study and towards the front door then stops and doubles back to her tutor's bedroom seeking to confess what she had done and seen in his study hoping that Khatri would take pity on her and not seek to discharge her as a student. She could only hope.
He stared at her through sleepy eyes for a moment, listening to her confession and apologies for a several long moments before waving a hand to cut her off. “I applaud your honesty, Boosandie. It shows integrity but there’s nothing to worry about. If I held any suspicious about you, I wouldn’t have left the study unlocked.”
Boo breaths a sigh of relief, "well if I am being honest then, I was more motivated by fear than a sense of integrity. I didn't want to risk losing my place as your student. You are by far the best and you take on so few apprentices. I know full well that I am really a rather terrible student, academically speaking at least to merit having you as a teacher. But I enjoy my lessons with you as well as your company, I just didn't want to risk losing all that. Besides, I figured that somewhere you have one of those little orbs of yours keeping an eye on me too. If you don't, then I am a bit insulted! I am so very watchable you know, and I find that I sort of like the idea of having an audience. It makes me feel even more naughty," she says with a coy impish smile.
“What is your opinion of the traveler in the first sphere?” he asked, sitting up and running a hand through his wild hair.
Boo looks around and spies an ivory comb on a nearby dresser. She snatches it up and playfully slaps his hand away from his head, "here, allow me. Whoever styles your hair should be horsewhipped!" She complains as she moves up closer to him and meticulously begins to comb his hair. "While we on the subject, you could use a good manicure as well, you should really consider taking time some time off and hitting a day spa with me and get the works done. It would very enjoyable, something we could do together."
Considering his question about the traveler in the first sphere Boo shrugs, "I don't know, definitely not from our world, I think. Looking at him I could not help thinking of a toad. I know, I know, so judgmental on my part. Especially being that I have bat wings but, in my defense, I think they are rather striking and pleasing to the eye. The majority of males I encounter seem to have something of a Succubus fetish and find me exotic often complimenting my wings more so than my bosoms. Is he one of yours then? Did you bring him here or did he find his own way? Based on his attire he seems to be keeping a low profile either a criminal or not wishing for others know that he is an Outlander. Why are you interested in my opinion about him? I am not the best judge of character especially when it comes to men you know. Sort of my curse you might say."
The Arch Sage looked at her thoughtfully for several pregnant moments before responding. “Your assessments are astute, young apprentice. He is from another world, I believe in another plane as well, but I cannot be sure. Not without further observation. He claims to be a willing experiment of some sort. Not bred, mind, not like you and I, but crafted. Grafted, magically I assume. From just what, I am not sure. He is partially human but also shows signs of some sort of aquatic genetics. It’s common on his world, he claims, but I am not sure. Nor am I sure what his purpose here is. Once again, he claims to be a simple scholar, an explorer, but who knows?”
Boo listens as she works her hair styling magic on her mentor's unruly locks, "eww, a product of experimentation," she mutters as she wrinkles of up her nose appalled at the thought of such experimentation and rolls her eyes, somewhat skeptical of the notion someone would voluntarily choose to be a subject of something like that. Coerced, forced, bribed, tricked, sure but volunteer? The very idea was as alien to Boo as the creature's world. "Claims you say? So, you have met him in person and spoken to him then, not just observed him through your orbs?"
“Why? Well, I could simply say that I am curious about him and why he came here, but I know that won’t salve your curiosity,” Khatri smiles, watching in a nearby mirror as she works his hair into something less crazed. “There are ways, and there are ways, of traveling between the worlds and planes. We have touched on these a few times now. Some less mysterious than others, but even so, our world seems to be a magnet for such travelers. Because of this, and other reasons, some associates and I make it our business to…watch over…the more potent of these portals.” Clearly there were secrets going unsaid.
Boo carefully considers her tutor's words, "well I would think travelers from other worlds could provide oodles of useful information especially those from more advanced universes. By the same token, they could also wreck a great of harm so I can understand your interest in our mysterious visitor there. So, you are saying that there are natural portals or ancient constructs left open in the city or environs nearby? Did our toadyish friend travel here through one of those?" Boo's eyebrows seemed to arch curiously at the mention of others, "associates... I always thought you were a lone wolf type; do you and your associates operate as some sort of guild or secret brotherhood? I always had the impression that most of the other mages, well those of any note were all jealous and envious of your considerable arcane prowess. Competitors, not to be trusted I seem to remember you uttering those very words from to time if I am not mistaken. I find that little nugget even more intriguing than the intentions and motives of our traveler!"
Her master’s eyebrow arched a bit in the mirror as he studied her for some time before responding. “Such astute questions, my apprentice. See, this is why I agreed to teach you, you are full of potential even if you often mask it behind an air of saucy frivolity,” he said with a grin. “Yes, there are portals, some so ancient none who have studied them can determine just when they were crafted. Others, as best those who have probed claim, are products of failed magics. As for…associates…yes, I have a few though none I would consider friends” – as he spoke Khatri’s hand runs lightly down the side of Boo’s bare leg – “in some things, anyway. There are mysteries and magics that cannot be pursued without assistance. In other cases, especially in a city thick with masochism and intrigue, it pays to ally oneself with those who may prove useful in a crisis.”
Boo giggles listening to her mentor's smooth flowing compliments, one after the other, gazing down at his skillful hand as it lightly caresses her bare leg. Boo responds by allowing her thighs to casually fall open in invitation, her eyes twinkling wantonly, "such a honey-tongue you have Master Khatri in more ways than one," letting out a low whimper of pleasure as she bites her lower lip.
As his hand slips over her thighs in response to the open invitation a smirk creases his face. “It has served me well over the years, I will confess.”
A moment or so later with a coy teasing smile, she meets his gaze and whispers, "but I am certain that you only took me on as a personal favor to my dear sweet mother, who no doubt you seduced into visiting your private bedchamber. Just as you did with me. Robbing me of the flower of my innocence like a thief in the night," she giggles teasing him.
“As if a thief, while spending the night as a welcome guest, finds himself beset by a curious and eager innocent slipping into his bed when he was asleep is considered robbing,” Khatri says with a sardonic grin.
Highly amused by their conversation Boo adds almost as an afterthought, "astute questions or saucy frivolity, which do you most covet? No doubt it is my ability to bestow a flawless Elvish Kiss that you most relish. But it is alright, I cannot fault you that, can I now?"
“I would hope not. After all, as flawless as Elven lasses can be, they are ever full of teasing play, often drawn out over such time that unless one has extended years they soon despair of sampling elvish honey.”
Boo runs her nimble slender fingers over his hand, "still, I cannot help but wonder what you have really been trying to get at, that you have been dancing around since last night. I sense that you want something from me? A favor? Does it involve the uninvited traveler or something else entirely? Did you need a companion to accompany you to one of the upcoming balls? I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw you in attendance at one of those. The ever mysterious and reclusive Grand Archmagus, you tend to keep yourself out of the public eye which leads me to assume if that is the favor. That it is for one of your so-called friends?"
A grimace creased the mans face. “Ah yes, social engagements. Most I find so trying, as it’s layer upon layer of innuendo and false politeness. Either fancy covering for groveling and boot licking, depending on one’s status.” He sighs and shakes his head, “and I have received more than a few invitations.”
Suddenly without warning Boo wrinkles up her nose in disgust as a thought hits her, "Oh, no, not that dreadful Warlock again is it? The extremely tall skinny fellow with the large bulbous nose and the absurdly tiny codpiece? What was his name again?" Boo struggling to remember the name. "Oh, yes, the scandalous Lord Maynard Magpie! Because if that is the case, then my answer is no, absolutely not, never again and I mean it this time!"
Khantri looks at her in amusement, which is quickly covered in stern admonishment, even though a grin ruins the effect. A Bard, the arch mage was not.
“Perhaps it is best then, that you are avoiding toying with the good Warlock. I have…observed…remotely and by accident, mind, that his tastes run more towards the undead which, I assume, was the reason for his chosen arcane path. You dear” – his fingers caress as to add emphasis – “are far too warm and lively.”
Boo groans, amused, "yes I am, aren't I? To be honest, I toy with everyone! It’s what I do after all. Warm, lively and oh so moist but you still dance about and avoid my question. Does my sweet master need my assistance with something? I don't wish to overstay my welcome and take up too much of your extremely valuable time. I admit that I don't have any plans so if you wish I can stay and play some more, or we could enjoy a nice breakfast together. Whatever you like."
“Whatever I like,” repeats Khatri with an amused laugh. “Oh, but wasn’t that the first thing you said to me when I woke up to find you sitting on my lap that first night?”
Boo gives Khatri a coy teasing smile of amusement as she cries out in a feigned indignant voice, "I am sure that I have absolutely no idea! Are you sure you are not confusing me with someone else? Did you seduce some other Tiefling apprentice you are not telling me about? If I thought for even a moment that you did, I would, of course, be very jealous!" She teases curling up closer against him.
“By yourself you are a sweet morsel at any time of the day or night,” he says. Khatri’s hand moves over her bare hip to tease the side of her tail. “I would like to know more about this hybrid from so far away, mainly what his true intentions are on our fair world. Scholarly pursuits are often used as a cover for more militaristic intents, though in truth” – his grip on her tail tightens and slowly begins to stroke – “I doubt it’s some prelude to invasion. An army hasn’t come through the Fascrade Inthihil in five centuries.”
"HA!!! I knew it! I knew you were trying to butter me up to do yet another little favor for you," Boo gives out a little groan of delight as Khatri strokes her sensitive tail, "whenever you do not wish for prying eyes to see your hand in things, you always seem to call upon me to be your little errand girl. Why should I, especially after the Warlock Magpie? The traveler has you that curious or concerned, does he? What is this Fascrade Inthihil, is that how he came to our world? A portal, maybe, where is it? Not inside the city I hope."
“Oh, but I thought you enjoy the idea of my fingers, buttered or not, getting into all sorts of things,” he said with a laugh. “More curious than concerned for he does not seem the war type but who knows? The Fascrade Inthihil is an artifact of great age. A keystone portal, as I understand it and a great secret. It’s location even more so,” he winks.
Boo titters and gives her portly mentor a cheeky questioning stare. "I enjoy and take a great deal of pleasure in most things, buttered or not, but I think that we can do better, don't you?" Boo purrs like a kitten nuzzling her face against his neck, drawing even closer. Unseen, without warning in one swift fluid motion Boo shamelessly straddles Khatri.
“Do better?” he asks teasingly.
Boo lets out a triumphant squeal of delight and sneers, "is this what you wanted? The trap is sprung but who has caught whom?"
His laugh is thick. Khatri’s grunts slightly, both hands coming to rest on Boo’s hips.
Squirming Boo teases and taunts her master as she questions him further seeking to take full advantage of his distracted state, "and what specifically do wish to know with regard to the traveler besides any vague intentions he may have planned for our world or will you be satisfied with mere generalities I manage to uncover? Do wish your identity and your interest in him kept out of it entirely or am I at my discretion to extend a discreet invitation for this traveler to meet with you in person?"
“Oh…Well…”
“Name dropping may cause this being to be open mouthed, or it might cause him to close up and be wary. Of course, I’m only suggesting that you meet with him, if you happen to come across him in your, ah, wanderings.”
"And how am I to be rewarded for this little task you wish me to undertake my most kind and generous master? After all, I do so much for you and ask for so little. Surely, you can spare a tiny bauble from your collection?"
“What? Aren’t these little training sessions rewards enough?” It was Khatri’s turn to tease.
Boo lightly nibbles his earlobe and whispers into Khatri's ear. In a honey-sweet voice she suggests, "how about a Ring of Feather Falling, as I have had a few close calls flying of late and it would ensure that I don't accidentally damage the goods that you seem to enjoy so much. I thought I saw one collecting dust on a shelf in the hallway."
“Oh ho? Such a tiny bauble indeed, and for one so lithe, so skinny, that she nearly dances on air with every swing of her delectable hips? Surely you glide on the air like a gossamer goddess without the need for such magics,” he teased.
Boo smiles and nods, "you would think so," she titters. "I may be light as a feather in your arms to maneuver into all manner of your arcane tantric positions that you are so fond of but hundreds of feet up in the sky, well that is a different matter entirely!"
In the limited space of the bedchamber, Boo extends her wings partially causing them to flutter, "gliding can help and allow me to land safely true but, in a cityscape, with my wingspan, it is not always going to work in my favor. Sooner or later my luck is going to run out and I won't have enough room to glide, or a wing could become injured as to inhibit or prevent my ability to glide. Worse yet I could be rendered unconscious and unable to perform a controlled glide at all and go splat. I am sure that you wouldn't want that on your conscience now, would you? Besides with such at my disposal, I could land easier, in much closer quarters, just fold up my wings and drop where I please, like a feather!"
“Indeed, you are precious and worth of keeping safe,” Khatri agrees. “Yes, it is a small thing, merely collecting dust. A valuable bauble at that, but perhaps you need to inspect it closer. Ring though it may be, it isn’t meant to be worn on a finger.” He pinches playfully, possibly suggesting one such place it might be worn.
Boo folds her wings back up tightly and wiggles about crying out in mock pain, "oh one of those rings is it? You are indeed proving yourself to be the type of old reprobate that the cheap painted strumpets' in the back alleys whisper about! Only low-class females wear such jewelry or allow their bodies to be painted with tattoos. I do believe that you and my dear guardian Vizzini have much more in common than you both care to admit. You would be satisfied with only the one? Won't I be unbalanced, asymmetrical or did you have something in mind for the other one too," Boo teases? "Still, I suppose if I just happen to come across your traveler, I could possibly seek to learn more about him and his intentions if such would make you happy. I do so like to see a smile on your face like the one there now."
When she bends down to whisper coyly into his ear Khatri’s grin became smug, self-assured he chuckles. Then, after a pregnant moment of thought he looks thoughtful.
“Now…did you say that you were interested in attending Maynard’s party next week? Maybe if you were to wear a disguise, perhaps something pale, all ripe in body and blank in mind? It is, after all, to be a masquerade, you might learn more of the Warlock’s…darker talents…” He pauses than adds as if a second thought, “Oh, and you are right…about that ring, that is. It has a mate and there’s a rather bawdy story behind them…”
Boo looks at Khatri slightly confused, "I only recall mentioning the dread Warlock Maynard's name in passing, nothing of his party. I have received a flood of invitations for parties next week. Several if I am not mistaken are in direct competition with Lord Magpie's little soiree I believe." Shrugging her shoulders, she gives Khatri an odd look, "You know full well that the man disgusts me! So, it should come as no surprise that I really had not been planning on attending the Magpie's masquerade with so many others to choose from. Regarding his darker talents, I am all too familiar with his tastes and talents the first and last time I entertained him at your request, remember?"
She studies her mentor's expression closely, "and you forget my rather unique and distinctive look, there are not many of my kind about, at least with wings or for that matter as beautiful. Masked or in a more elaborate disguise there is just no hiding my wings. Even with magic, say a Disguise Self spell. You can't change your body type, so you must adopt a form that has the same basic arrangement of limbs. Thus, my wings counting as limbs utterly ruins its effect. Perhaps a magical bauble like a Circlet of Human Perfection might work on one such as me, I don't know. Magpie knows me well enough to easily recognize me in a mundane or lesser magical disguise. Even so, I doubt knowing who I am will deter him in any way as I think he is rather taken with me and it would make no real difference to him. I don't think that one fears even the Lion himself! What is your interest in the Magpie then, I thought you two were colleagues of a sort?"
“Shifting alliances,” was all he said about Magpie, drawing her down closer he says, “Such expensive gifts, my dear. Have you considered polymorph? I may have a wand of such laying around.”
Boo smiles and shakes her head, "I am an expensive girl, after all, it’s only fitting that I delight in extravagant trinkets. Polymorph, wand, I believe that is of limited duration. What is it? A mere hour or so. I imagine if I used such on myself to fool the Magpie he would just be warming up and poof I would run out of time, most likely, at a very inconvenient moment. You are the one that suggested I attend his party in disguise, I was merely offering suggestions. If I do attend, I don't see the need of attending in disguise greater than a mundane mask and gown as I don't really care if the Magpie knows who I am or not but I guess that depends on what you were needing me to do for you."
He parodies a poor man’s expression than laughs. “I shall ask around, perhaps one can be found in time for the party. Meanwhile, the ring you have your eye on is yours, as it’s matched pair, assuming your up to wearing them as intended.”
Boo giggles with delight and climbs up on to his lap showing her gratitude by giving her mentor several quick kisses, "but of course I don't mind wearing them as intended knowing how much doing so will please you," she says sweetly giving him a seductive look, "but I must insist that you put them on me yourself to better appreciate them."
Getting up from the bed Boo walks over to the nightstand and pours them both a glass of wine, offering a glass to her master, "shifting alliances, attend the Magpie's ball in disguise you seem to be getting rather vague and mysterious in your old age my sweet master," she groans taking a drink of wine. "If you really need my help with something, just come out with it. You know I am always willing to do whatever I can to assist you, reward or no reward. First this traveler, now the Magpie, is there a connection that I am just not seeing? Or are you trying to just keep me distracted and busy with an empty meaningless task? Am I that poor of an apprentice," she asks as she slides back into bed beside him?
Accepting the glass Khatri merely stare’s appreciatively at her. “The Traveler is more of a concern, as he’s largely unknown, as is the world from which he came. His purposes here are worthy of unraveling, my sweet. Magpie is merely a diversion, go or don’t go. Several of my other associates have expressed concerns that the good Warlock may be mucking with some Eldritch magic for unknown purposes. Typical of most floobs of arcane power, he’s reluctant to share.
Boo nods in understanding, "see, that wasn't so hard was it," she purrs pleased that her teacher is finally sharing just a bit more information. "Master, I would be delighted to pay your traveler a visit to check up on him and see what he is up to and if possible, befriend him in order to gain his trust and cooperation. Regarding your interest in the devious Magpie, I will, of course, attend his costume ball and see what I can uncover. He is secretive and as tight-lipped as they come but I will see what I can do. Anything for you master, you have but to ask and provide sufficient details so that I will know how best to serve your interests!"
He chuckles and begins to reply but whatever he said was lost as she finishing off her glass of wine and climbs off her mentor's lap and makes a dash out of the room to fetch his very generous gift and returns with them, placing them into his hand to put on her himself wincing slightly at the thought of the initial pain they will cause when he pierces her sensitive parts.
Her anticipation was rewarded. There is pain, and there is pain.…
<><><><><><><><><><>
Lilita's Story Continues...
Leaving the city by the Lion’s Gate, Lilita took care to avoid being ran over as a steady stream of waggoner’s drove heavily laden wains along the paved road. Intermixed were patrols of The Lion’s men though none wore the badges or fly the banners of the Blackhearts. Lord’s and their retainers, some riding in carriages, others on fine horses, deep chested retainers in the lead bellowing ‘Make way! Make way for Lord-so-and-so!” compete with small groups and large companies of adventures heading out to far away, perhaps exotic places, or arriving to take advantage of the cities amenities, loaded with chests, sacks, and other items. She knew that larger over land caravans left by other gates, endless seeming lines of beasts of burden, guards, and merchants and traders, either arriving to deliver goods to the waiting ships of the vast port quarter or leaving on journeys of a year or more inland. Amongst all this were farmers with carts or loaded beasts, many with loads on their backs and accompanied by family, or lone travelers such as her.
Lilita looks in awe at the comings and goings not often traveling through one of the gates leading out of the city, in fact, she could not remember the last time she had left the city proper, it has been so long. Lilita kept looking to and fro as she darted about trying her best to avoid all the wagons, carriages and the like. It wasn't easy since she was a bit distracted thinking about what she learned at the temple. That and since she left Lilita had been desperately looking for the crow as she walked, feeling a little sad that she had gotten separated from it or it had left her to perform some other vital task for the mysterious Widow, that is if it was her familiar and the Widow was, in fact, an actual person!
This close to the city the main highway was well tended and segregated slightly. The center, paved with heavy flagstones of hard rock, layered on top of a thick roadbed, was wide enough for two heavy wagons to pass each other, if the drivers understood that such roads were meant for two-way traffic and not solely devoted to the direction they wanted to travel. On either side of this was a stretch of finely packed gravel some three strides (15 feet) wide, meant for lighter carts, foot travel, and lightly burdened beasts. It wasn’t long before Lilita noticed that few travelers seemed to care as wagons, carts, horse and riders, several camels at one point, and scores of floobs such as herself, on foot, were all trying to get where they were going even if it meant going against the flow.
The final portion is a wide stretch of mostly grass and weed covered stretches some four strides wide on either side. By decree no construction was allowed to proceed within the bounds of the highway, including the shoulders as the grassy parts were often called. Though, in truth, most of the stretch was more packed dirt (or mud if it rained) as traffic moved along these as well. It was good that Altar the Lions’ predecessors had decreed no construction otherwise it would have been just as packed as many of the city’s quarters within the walls. Instead, she was greeted with a sprawl of shanti’s, lean-tos, tents, slapdashes and the occasional permanent structure. A city outside the city.
Upon her first glance backwards, she was treated to how high and strong the outer city wall looked. Some ten strides high and supported by bastons and towers that rose even higher, the walls were sandy brown in color with a stripped pattern created from darker, reddish stone. A few soldiers above looked like small birds.
Getting her bearings Lilita continued on in the direction she needed to go on foot feeling determined to get the bottom of her mystery no matter how long it took or how far she had to walk. As late morning turned to mid-day, her feet had carried her over a league from the gates. The shanty city had dwindled, giving way to huge pastures and dusty lots. Many held caravans, including tents of all shapes and colors. Others were empty, yet to be claimed. At no point did she pass a single tree, though shrubs and bushes were clustered here and there and the one small river that bared the way had a grimy look to it as she waded across, up to her knees at the center. The highway had dipped down, forcing a wet crossing for everyone one on it. Apparently, the river had not been deep or wide enough to warrant the expense of a bridge.
After crossing the knee-deep muddy water once Lilita reaches the other side and out of the way of other travelers crossing she will quickly cast Prestidigitation in order to clean and dry her clothes and shoes and proceed on her way again not wanting to waste too much time but thinking to herself that she will travel faster if she is clean and dry. Lilita is happy and in good spirits, in a way feeling that it is nice to be out of the city for a change seeing the sights, watching the other travelers. For her at least this is all somewhat very exciting.
On the far bank stands a small village – a thorp, really. The dozen mud-brick homes containing the families devoted to running and working the large inn that dominates the crossing. Three stories high with a large tap room open to the air. The smells of food mingling with that of humanity, it’s domesticated animals, and sundry. At the top of the riverbank Lilita can see a pair of smaller paved roads jutting off at angles, running northwest and northeast while the main road continues ahead. Remembering the instructions that his eminence had given her, she wanted the northwest road.
Trusting in the directions provided by his Eminence... Lilita takes the northwest road and continues her journey only stopping along the way to take a short break and rest here and there. During one of these rests, Lilita will consume one of Tulip's Berry Bloom Goodberry for sustenance in order to keep up her energy. Additionally, from time to time, she will check the sky to see if the crow has come back and is following her still missing its company feeling a little alone on her own. Lilita hopes that she will be able to reach her destination before dark so hurries along also keeping an eye out for any carts or wagons that she might be able to catch a ride on.
Having only gone a hundred strides or so down the northwest road Lilita hears shouts coming from the inn. Several figures rush out, one shaking his fist, another waving the long-handled spoon in her hand. A third, much smaller figure outran them. Clutching something large, round, and green tightly, the floob ran in her direction. For a moment the creature pauses and slaps the ground around her feet with a short, thick tail, sending both noises through the air and vibrations that Lilita could feel in the souls of her feet before resuming her run. That the creature was a female was in little doubt as she has a figure feminine in nature and poorly covered by a hide and fur skirt and what might be considered a vest, if it wasn’t more tatters than garment. Other straps of leather held crude pouches and implements that were hard to define. The fist shaking man had taken up pursuit, though his size, shaking belly, red face, and wheezing made it highly doubtful he’d ever catch up. When he spots Lilita he gasps and shouts, “Stop it! Stop the little melon steeling thief!”
Lilita frowns looking at the man and then back to the strange being not exactly sure how to handle the situation, trying her best to think of something.
As if seeing Lilita for the first time the creature squeals, grins and rushes straight for her. As she closed Lilita could discern two things. One was that she was some sort of lizard person. Fine, slightly beaded sandy colored scales cover her body with a row of lumps or bumps starting on her forehead and following her spine, growing smaller as they disappear a foot from the end of a muscular, whip quick tail. Second, clutched to her chest was a dew melon. In seconds the lizard girl was hissing and weaving slightly as she runs a circuit around the healer.
“Fat man chase! No, not fair, not fair! He off’d to share melons if Melu shared melons wit’ his hand!” The language was heavily accented, as much whistling and hissing sounds as common words yet this Melu managed to make herself understood. Slapping her tail as if in emphasis, she lifts the melon above her head like some hard-won prize and in doing so, causes her vest to gape open, sealing any doubt about her gender. “Mine! Yours – mine, share! Send fatman, go, get, shoo, we share!”
Lilita looks sadly at the lizard-girl understanding her meaning and calmly talks to her, "please go Melu, hurry run away... out of sight, as far as you can with your melon... it’s all yours, no need to share with me and don't worry, I will deal with the man for you. GO! SHOO!"
Without another word, Lilita turns and starts walking towards the man in question, reaching into her pack and pulling out her Cook's Utensils calling out to him smiling in a friendly manner as she keeps walking in his direction, "I am very sorry for the loss of your melon sir, I don't have any funds to reimburse you but I do have these fine cook's utensils, almost new... to offer you in restitution. I paid a whole gold piece for them when I bought them brand new, so they should easily be worth at least half that... far more than a single overripe melon so please accept this peace offering and forget about the lizard-girl, she meant no harm or offense I am sure." [GM Roll for man’s reaction to the offer: 62% > They appear interested but hope to gain more)]
Wheezing and grunting to catch his breath the man slows to a walk as he see’s Lilita’s approach. Glancing at the cook’s utensils in her hand he wipes his mouth with the back of a greasy sleeve, than runs his eyes over her form.
“You in need of a meal, girl? ‘ow ‘bout a job? Our last server ran off ta join a circus headin’ for the city for tha festival. Wha’ you say, ‘eh?”
Lilita smiles respectfully and responds in an open and friendly manner, "that is a very generous offer good sir but I am gainfully employed with the Healer's Guild as an apprentice with Pencelot Foonse," holding up her Guild Signet Ring, "so I respectfully must decline your kind offer, but I thank you for asking."
From somewhere nearby comes a distinctively hiss sounding raspberry. “No, no not believe! He only want/demand to milk you!”
An annoyed look joined the man’s already red-faced expression. “Filthy little beasts, scavenger’s and liar’s tha’ lot of ‘em.”
Lilita turns and frowns in the direction of the sound made by the lizard-girl and turns back to look at the man, "my apologies kind sir, don't mind her the poor sad creature doesn't understand civilized ways nor it seems is fully versed in the common tongue. I am sure she means no disrespect to you. Now that I have provided restitution to more than compensate you for your melon I will be on my way. I am on an errand for the Guild and do not wish to be late. Thank you again for your kindness and understanding."
The man’s eyes flicked towards her ring, but it was the mention of Pencelot that drew his attention. “Foonse tha Druid? A somewhat regular customer, an’ one tha’ I owe a bit o’ debt too.” Wringing his hands and looking a bit guilty, the innkeeper refuses to take the offered utensils. “No, no, I nae can accept those, t’woud be ba’ manners. Tha’ old Druid comes through ‘er every month or so, headin’ up tha NW road. Couple o’ visits past ‘e cured several o’ my staff when they’d gotten ill with tha Fluge.” Another raspberry floats on the wind causing the man to roll his eyes.
“Melon’s are cheap, I’ll consider it even if’n you take tha’ creature with ya’ an’ leave it somewhere ‘way from ‘er.”
Lilita is somewhat surprised that this rather unsavory individual knows or has had dealings with Pencelot Foonse but if it helps defuse the current situation then all the better, she cannot argue with the results.
Thinking a moment Lilita looks up at the man, "I don't really know the lizard-girl, but I am willing to try, I guess. Perhaps if you give her a second melon for the road then I think it will make it easier for me to convince her to come along with me. If you like you can just give me the melon and I will handle the rest and lead her away. How's that?" [GM roll for NPC interaction: (+5) 78=83%]
He hesitated only long enough to add, “Deal. I ope’ you’ll let Master Foonse know tha’ he’s always welcome at the Cool Brook.”
Without waiting for a response, the man goes to fetch a melon, though walking at a slower pace than he had arrived. From behind a nearby shrub comes a tittering hiss. “He no/not milks you now, you/her important, yes?”
Lilita looks at the poor unfortunate girl and shakes her head feeling a bit sorry for her, "no he's not going to do that... I guess I am not nearly as pretty as yourself," she smiles giving the dear a compliment, "and no, I am not important."
“Me/Melu…great/bestest hunter/warrior in Gim-glap tribe,” the lizard girl says, peeking around the shrub at Lilita. “You/great lady, yes. Marked, yes.”
Listening to the lizard girl's speech Lilita does her best to follow the meaning of her words, "very impressive Melu, great hunters are very important. Does your tribe live nearby? No, I am not a great lady, I'm just a common street-healer, nothing special."
Before Melu could explain (assuming) the innkeeper returns with a basket. Inside is a melon, some meat rolls, a loaf of fresh baked bread and several mangos. He eyes the lizard girl briefly than appears to ignore her presence as he offers the basket to Lilita.
“Healer’s are much respected, even here in the provinces,” he says. “Just take care though, a young woman alone on the road makes a tempting targ – “
“No/not alone/me, Melu…an rock! – “
“-et,”.
Lilita looks surprised at the sight of the basket presented by the innkeeper, "dear sir you are much too generous but I... rather we thank you for showing us such kindness." When he mentions traveling alone Lilita nods, "of course... but I am a tempting target no matter where I go from the back-streets and alleys inside the city to the open roads beyond the walls I manage well enough. Your warning and concern are much appreciated though."
“No, not so generous…I owe your teacher much and more,” the innkeeper says with sincerity.
Amused by Melu Lilita turns to her smiling, "of course I am not totally alone with you and your rock, thank you for reminding me."
The lizard girl hops from one clawed foot to the other and back then struts around in a small circle, clutching her melon.
Lilita accepts the basket from the innkeeper with a wide appreciative smile.
Lilita holds the basket and offers her thanks to the innkeeper again as she starts to walk away glancing back at Melu, "come along please, I have a long way to travel before sunset. As we travel, I am sure along the way we can find a nice spot for a picnic and you can eat and enjoy the bounty given us by the kind innkeeper for our journey so best offer your thanks to him as well, it is the polite thing to do."
Carrying the basket Lilita walks on seeking to continue on her journey...
Following, the lizard girl, balances her melon in one arm, pulls a round, polished river stone from one of her pouches and waggles it around. “Rock! Big/stupid men’s-things soft heads.”
The innkeeper eyed Melu warily than bows to Lilita before returning to his establishment. The look was enough to suggests that perhaps, just perhaps, the lizard girl was an accomplished stone slinger.
<><><><><><><><><>
Livvi's story continues...
Exiting the mansion’s main door leads them into the back of the carriage from which they had entered what seemed like hours before. Something told her that it had only be a half hour, maybe more. From the widow the night was still dark, the mist’s varying in thickness. The guardian Minotaur’s still outside and above, the soft whistling from the roguish driver. Beside her on the expensively leathered seat is a nice pouch is an old, well-polished Cittern. Beside the half-orc lies a very fine-looking weapon of obvious masterwork. The handle was a soft yet sturdy hide, tightly wound, ending in a hilt shaped like the head of a crow. The crow stares back at Livvi with one ruby eye glittering in the dim light cast by a single small lamp affixed to the ceiling of the carriage. Beside Mord was another, similar bag.
"Well," comments Mordecai, "she was true to her word. If you don't mind, I'll be perusing the contents of this bag for a moment or two."
Livvi investigates her own bag and discover that, like the carriage, the interior appears larger than it should be, she discovers a silver ring in the shape of Ram’s horns. There is also a folded piece of paper. Which reads: I hope that these tokens will aid you in this quest. It is a perilous time and threats can come from any direction, at any time, and in any guise. The Cittern is a rare Mac-Fuirmidl and is magical, it will provide you with many useful spells to aid you in your quest. These are gifts, to be kept or to be gifted to others in time. Young Lilita has spent the night in her family’s townhouse and has plans to seek additional answers to more questions that she is learning. I suspect that she’ll visit the Temple of Kuluth next, perhaps in the morning. I am sorry that you may have learned more secrets about your mentor, Bilina, that you may have wished too, most assuredly that she has several agendas that seem to be at odds with each other. It is often the way with such floobs. They strive to claw, scheme, or woo their way to a high perch. Some succeed, far more than most fail, and end up coming to a bad end. If you find yourself in true need, just whistle and I shall send help appropriate for the task. The rest of the letter is detailed instructions on where to find the townhouse The Widow was speaking of.
Livvi sits wide-eyed, staring at the masterwork instrument next to her. She had the pouch in her hand, but her attention was on the cittern. She looks over at Mordecai's new weapon and smiles - "It suits you, Mordecai. Look, I think we could both use a good night's sleep. Lilita is safe for now and under the watchful eye of The Widow. Shall we find her in the morning before she leaves her family's old townhouse? Or perhaps at the Temple of Kuluth?"
Mordecai looks up from the letter and eyes Livvi.
"Thank you, Livvi," Mordecai responds. "You seem to have scored yourself an equally suitable instrument. I hope to hear you play it one day - hopefully, under pleasant circumstances... although I suspect that may have to wait for now."
"I agree with you," continues Mordecai, "We could use the time to rest and we... both... likely need some time to mull over what we learned tonight. Let's try to catch her at the town house first thing in the morning."
He pauses.
"By the way, if you need to bounce some ideas or thoughts off of an objective third party - feel free to," Mordecai tells Livvi with his best attempt at a comforting smile.
He nods to Livvi as she exits the carriage, "See you in the morning."
Livvi climbs out of the carriage, smiles and nods to the driver and footmen, and hurries to The Whispering Mane Inn with her new instrument held tightly and the bag tucked securely into a pocket. Once to her rooms, she will enter quickly but quietly in the hops of not disturbing her roommate for the night, Nephele. The girl had suffered quite a frightful experience and needed the sleep. Of course, so did Livvi, but she was too excited at the prospect of her new instrument to fall asleep yet...
And so, she sat up in the anteroom, gently cleaning, polishing, and checking the cittern. She examined all parts of the instrument, from the fine strings to the neck, the pegs and the body, checking the grain of the wood and the joins for soundness. She quietly tuned it and tested the weight of it in her hands, strumming softly and running through the fingering exercises her early music teachers had forced her to perfect. The bard was overjoyed at the unique timbre and pitch, the pegs able to hold the tuning perfectly and the body resonating with each note. After an hour she felt the magic within her, and the instrument, aligning in an intricate harmony. She knew this masterwork instrument would heighten and strengthen her own magic and provide some additional effects she had only read about in ancient tomes from the college.
There was ancient history in the instrument, hands large and small had handled it. She knew that both amateurs and masters had created beautiful music with the cittern, and that some of those master’s had embedded it with magics, some quite powerful. All very useful for one of her talent’s and desires. And though it felt as if made for her slender arms and fingers there was a masculinity in it. A warmth and strength, power and creativity, and a deviousness that gave her a pleasant shiver. Upon close inspection she found a maker’s mark just inside the body, one that would make many of her instructor’s green with envy. This was the first; the original, crafted by a Master Bard that was more myth and fable than known fact. A faint, simple script in a language not seen in four thousand years stated “Crafted by Mac-Fuirmidh, because…”
>
Unfortunately, she also started to feel the drag of exhaustion, and her eyelids eventually closed for the rest of the night as she lay curled up on the divan, the magical instrument nestled in her arms like a lover...
She dreams of dew melons and crazy lizard girls dancing and singing wildly to her music.
Early the next morning she awoke, stiff and sore. She checked in on her friend before silently padding barefoot down the hall and ordering a hot bath drawn for both herself and Nephele. It was a luxury she needed this morning! She also ordered a full, hot breakfast to be brought up to the room after the baths, because she felt that today was going to be long and potentially dangerous, so Livvi wanted to fill up before it started. Then she arranged her full fighting leathers and weapons. She was no longer concerned about her town crier duties and wanted to be fully prepared for whatever came next.
Once the baths were ready, she gently woke Nephele and led her to the wash area. The hot water soon did the trick, loosening her stiff muscles and bringing her back to life. The half-elf wanted to linger much longer in the luxurious bath, but Lilita would be leaving before long and she needed to meet back up with Mordecai before the Grey Lady disappeared again. So, she reluctantly dragged herself out of the water, but told her friend to stay as long as she wanted. She wrapped the warm towel around her body, for once not noticing the perceived defects in her physical appearance that she used to obsess over. Now the lady was focused and driven. She quickly dried, performed her morning necessaries, ate a huge breakfast still wrapped in the towel, then dressed in her red leather armor. She strapped her rapier, daggers, and several darts on, then strapped the cittern across her back in a manner such that she could quickly spin it into playing position or keep it across her back and out of the way. The new bag of holding came next, with a variety of equipment in it.
As she moved about her flat Nephele watched, sipping a cup of morning tea. “You look different, more imposing,” the young woman said tentatively. There was a haunted look in Nephele’s eyes but nothing that brought undue worry to Livvi’s mind.
"I feel more imposing. I suppose that I am no longer hiding who I really am - a huntress. I don't have to act like a lady-in-waiting, or a junior guild bard, or even like the daughter of an upper-class family. I am a skald, able to change the very fabric of reality with my words and the music coursing through my blood. I am a vampire slayer. I am a protector of the innocent. I am neither a lion nor a cobra, but just as powerful and deadly. Today I am reborn." As Livvi speaks, her voice becomes stronger, powerful, like a king addressing his troops before a battle, full of promise and glory and inspiration.
She pulled the strange ring out of the bag as she left her rooms to study it as she walked along the dimly lit streets of Tarantis in the morning. She walked along following the directions from The Widow, a part of her mind paying attention to where she was walking and who she passed, but most of her thoughts were on the new ring and what secrets it held for her. She slipped it on the middle finger of her left hand, the rams' horns protruding slightly over her adjacent fingers almost like the metal knuckles toughs and thugs used. But Livvi knew that while this ring packed quite a punch, it was more from its imbued magical properties than from her physical strength. It was a good defensive ability for a woman who was determined to take on a nest of vampires!
Nephele scratched unconsciously at the side of her neck as she looked at the ring on Livvi’s hand. “A goat ring? It looks expensive but kinda not the sort of jewelry I always imagine you wear. ‘course, my imagination runs away from me at times,” she said with a soft laugh. “I – I am sorry tha’ you an’ your big friend ha’ to rescue me fro – from tha – that thing. In all the terr – ah, in all the excitement I lost my mask and gown. Was gonna go to some of tha street parties an’…dream, I guess, of bein’ like someone like you.”
Smiling warmly at her friend, Livvi touches the spot on Nephele's neck that she kept scratching, the girl's fingers wandering time and again to the place where the vampire almost bit her. With an arcane phrase and a gesture, warmth spreads from the spot along Nephele's neck - enough for her to feel the heat but not an unbearable burning sensation. Livvi repeats the phrase but with a few differences, and a small mark appears in the same spot. (Casting Prestidigitation to create a sensory effect and then to create a mark that lasts for an hour!) Grabbing a mirror, Livvi holds it so Nephele can see it - the faint outline of an owl...
Nephele blushes at Livvi’s touch then turns to look at the softly glowing glyph on her neck. “I might have to get sometime like it, a tattoo maybe,” she says, more to herself than to Livvi.
"I have marked you with a protective charm," Livvi says. "It will fade in time as it bonds with your spirit, but it will strengthen you over the days ahead. You don't need to dream about being like me. Dream of being YOU. Strong, fun, industrious, clever, beautiful. We are sisters, bonded by struggle and escaping death together last night. Today you are reborn too! You are welcome to stay here today if you wish, and if any of my clothes fit you you may have it. Except for the new red gown hanging in the middle of my closet - that is a gift just received this ten-day and I would like to wear it first!" Livvi winks at her friend, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Sadly, I must be off now. I will see you tonight, either here or at your place?"
“I – I should probably return home.” The tone in her voice was stronger than before though still haunted. The experience that the green-haired girl had gone through was rare and often doubted by others, but the terror had been real, so had the danger. Still, there was a strong heart beating in the woman’s chest and given time, she would recover. What doesn’t kill you…
She heads out before the sun rises above the walls, following the directions provided by The Widow to the old townhouse that was once Lilita's home.
<><><><><><><><>
Mordecai's Story continues...
Exiting the mansion’s main door leads them into the back of the carriage from which they had entered what seemed like hours before. Something in Mordecai’s gut told him that it had only be a half hour, maybe more. From the widow the night was still dark, the mist’s varying in thickness. The guardian Minotaur’s still outside and above, the soft whistling from the roguish driver. Beside him on the expensively leathered seat is a nice pouch about the size of his boot and a glaive. A very fine-looking weapon of obvious masterwork. The handle was a soft yet sturdy hide, tightly wound, ending in a hilt shaped like the head of a crow. The crow stares back at him with one ruby eye glittering in the dim light cast by a single small lamp affixed to the ceiling of the carriage. Beside the Half-Elf was another, similar bag and an old, well-polished Cittern.
"Well," comments Mordecai, "she was true to her word. If you don't mind, I'll be perusing the contents of this bag for a moment or two."
Mord looks into the bag and discover that, like the carriage, the interior appears larger than it should be, you discover a gold ring embellished by a gemstone shaped hummingbird. There is also a folded piece of paper. Which reads: I hope that these tokens will aid you in this quest. It is a perilous time and threats can come from any direction, at any time, and in any guise. The weapon, it is said, has a magical distaste for the undead while the ring shall give temporary evasion when in need. These are gifts, to be kept or to be gifted to others in time. Young Lilita has spent the night in her family’s townhouse and has plans to seek additional answers to more questions that she is learning. I suspect that she’ll visit the Temple of Kuluth next, perhaps in the morning. As for your companion, I believe that she has learned some uncomfortable truths this night and must decide how to proceed. Her mentor, Bilina, most assuredly has several agendas that seem to be at odds with each other. It is often the way with such floobs. They strive to claw, scheme, or woo their way to a high perch. Some succeed, far more than most fail, and end up coming to a bad end. If you find yourself in true need, just whistle and I shall send help appropriate for the task. The rest of the letter is detailed instructions on where to find the townhouse The Widow was speaking of.
Livvi sits wide-eyed, staring at the masterwork instrument next to her. She had the pouch in her hand, but her attention was on the cittern. She looks over at Mordecai's new weapon and smiles - "It suits you, Mordecai. Look, I think we could both use a good night's sleep. Lilita is safe for now and under the watchful eye of The Widow. Shall we find her in the morning before she leaves her family's old townhouse? Or perhaps at the Temple of Kuluth?"
Mordecai looks up from the letter and eyes Livvi.
"Thank you, Livvi," Mordecai responds. "You seem to have scored yourself an equally suitable instrument. I hope to hear you play it one day - hopefully, under pleasant circumstances... although I suspect that may have to wait for now."
"I agree with you," continues Mordecai, "We could use the time to rest and we... both... likely need some time to mull over what we learned tonight. Let's try to catch her at the town house first thing in the morning."
He pauses.
"By the way, if you need to bounce some ideas or thoughts off of an objective third party - feel free to," Mordecai tells Livvi with his best attempt at a comforting smile.
He nods to Livvi as she exits the carriage, "See you in the morning."
Livvi climbs out of the carriage, smiles and nods to the driver and footmen, and hurries off into the night.
Mordecai steps out of the carriage and to the driver and footmen, tilts his head and simply says, "Gentlemen."
Only one of the pair returns his salutation with a nod of his big, horned head.
He straps the master work glaive to his back, puts on the ring, and slings the bag around himself before heading home.
Once home he polishes his old glaive once more before hanging it on his personal weapons rack, telling it, "You'll always be my first."
He then polishes the new glaive, although it seemed unnecessary, and practices with it for a bit, getting used to its weight and feel. It hums as he swings it.
There was a feeling of history behind the weapon, that strong, moral hands had gripped it down through the ages. Though it was not part of his expertise, Mordecai could see the master work that went into the glaives’ creation and the tightly bound leather hilt had a patina from sweat, blood, and weapon oil.
Before putting it away, he inspects the crow, commenting aloud, "More crows. Starting to think that those red feathered crows were informants, rather than ill omens." The ruby eye pulsed. It might have been a reflection from the room’s lantern, or it could have come from inside as if answering. That ‘just whistle if you need help’ comment came to mind unbidden.
Mordecai looks at the crow and asks aloud, "So I wonder if The Widow herself keeps an eye on things or one of the many under her employ."
When no response was forthcoming he cleans his gear and puts it away, then settling in for a well-earned rest. The last thing he thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep is, "What have I gotten myself into?"
He dreamed of a murder of crows following him, red eyes flickering and blinking in the misty darkness of some nameless alley. Shadows suddenly pull away from the walls, turning into Tiger’s and Panthers, snarling and stalking him. Without thought he draws the glaive and beckons, ‘Come, I’m ready for you now…” There’s mocking laughter and the shadowy figures become bats, only to be chased off by the crows. Something changes and he finds himself standing on an open, grassy plain, not unlike that covering large parts of the province northwest of the city. Rolling hills with the occasional copses of trees marking farms or clusters of such making up thorps. The sun shines, there’s no wind, and it’s hot and muggy. Not far lies the road, upon which a figure like Lilita is making haste. In the distance is a large monastery. A small lizard girl follows Lilita, clutching a dew melon as large as her own head to her breasts. Suddenly she’s right there, before him. Thumping her tail hard on the ground she stares up at him and says in a hissing, clicking dialect that is somehow understandable. ‘You stupid, you big/powerful, but stupid! You in danger!’. The dream rolls on through several scenes that linger just out of reach of his subconsciousness then the lights go out and he’s in a smoky, dim bar filled with bare chested floobs covered in tattoos. A wild-bearded Dwarf it is sitting at the table with him, only the Dwarf doesn’t notice as he’s too busy shaking a massive, gnarly fist under the face of a bearded, robed figure. ‘We’z did what you said to do! Now Garse is dead at tha’ hands o’ tha’ Lion’ Headman a tha’ sneak from tha’ so-called Invincible Overlord has escaped out ta sea! Youse think I’m a fool? I’ll kill you, here an’ now, if’n you double-cross me, Fuzzface, I – “Even as he protests the one called Fuzzface smiles cruelly and casts a spell, turning the Dwarf into a rat. A hand reaches for the rat, only instead of a rat, the lizard girl appears before Mordecai holding her melon overhead.
“You stupid; big; muscle head! You gonna die…” The melon arches towards him, hitting him full in the chest and breaking into dozens of oozing pieces.
He wakes up…aside from the vivid and strange dream, Mordecai’s gut twists hard. Something’s…someone’s been in his room…when? How? He didn’t know, but his private space has been violated and recently.
Mordecai is deeply confused by his dreams, but as consciousness returns, he looks around, noting that something is amiss, and goes on high alert. Mordecai immediately looks for evidence of entry and exit, objects perhaps left behind or that don't belong, then finally he does an inventory of his own things, new and old, open and hidden caches. He also searches his body for scars or other wounds or other signs of what they used to keep him sleeping throughout the break-in.
In the end it appears that whomever had been in his flat, and he had no doubt at this point that someone had, as the wooden vial that he had discovered hidden in a pouch attached to an old belt that he hadn’t used in a few weeks was proof of that. There were minute scratches on the wooden sill outside of the window as well as a suggestion that the latch on the inside of the window hadn’t been fully seated when the thief had made his or her exit. Nothing else was missing, as best he could determine, nor had anything else been added.
//OOC can he tell the type of individual that rummaged through his apartment (eg, professional Thief versus an amateur that just managed to keep him asleep) or the items they were interested in? // Evidence implies a professional, as dose the lack of anything missing. The thief had entered, planted a wooden vial, and exited, and did so, as best Mord can determine, shortly before he had come home//
He takes a quick inventory of his material goods and writes it out down creating a personal inventory sheet.
Mordecai turns the bag of holding inside out to make sure that it's empty. He then rights it and gathers the items he's decided to inventory. He then throws everything he considers of value into the bag of holding, including the inventory sheet. He'd leave oversized items, such as his older glaive, behind. He also makes it a point to look around and see what he can do to shore up his apartment's defenses.
Adding a couple of old metal spikes, he had in his gear to securing the double paned window would make sure that if anyone wanted in that way, they’d have to literally break in, making noise and destroying the windows in the process. Eyeing the door, there were a number of little ‘tricks’ one might try to at least warn someone had opened it before he enters again, though he’d bet most professionals knew them too.
That leaves the vial sitting in the middle of the table. A little smaller than his thumb, it probably could hold half an ounce, maybe less. Without opening the stopper, he couldn’t be sure if it was empty, contained residue, or was full. That gut instinct of his warned that this was the same vial that he had seen in The Widow’s crystal ball and was connected to the assassination conspiracy. Garse had died over this thing, Hadara would have too, had Mortdecai not escorted him to his escape ship.
Mordecai holds the vial in his hand, looks at it carefully, and says to himself, "Well, if this isn't a set-up, I don't know what is." He's about to drop the vial in the bag of holding but pauses. Mordecai bends down and slips the vial into a hidden pocket he had sewn into the inside of his boots.
Talking to himself he comments, "To think, I had you sewn into my boots so I wouldn't have to worry about trusting anyone to hold my pocket change when I was fighting in the pits - now, you're holding... well, who knows what's in this vial."
Mordecai sighs, "Best I hurry and get out of here before whoever planted this comes back with a battalion of guards."
<><><><><><><><>
Arphaxd's Story continues...
A short time later Arphaxad reaches the Royal University, or so says the large sign carved into a tall, ancient looking obelisk standing just outside of an open gate. Through the gate he can see a wide avenue with large, towering buildings on either side. Walkways run off the main avenue randomly to disappear between buildings. Many floobs of varying races stand around talking or are moving at varying speeds and intensity. Though there is a guard house at the gate it is unmanned and closed up. A few strides onto the main avenue is an open-air kiosk with a long bearded old man sitting on a stool, apparently dozing.
The sight conjured memories of Gashaád. Granted, the two had few physical similarities; Gashaád was a massive Loxodon, long trunk canted to the right from an old injury, skin a rugged grey. This human was far less imposing. But Gashaád was always ‘dozing’ before the entry to the communal laboratory, a sort of unofficial mascot and door guard. He knew every student and professor; woe to the floob that tried to creep by without permission. That doze was either fake or extremely light. None Arphaxad knew had any idea which.
This fellow looked nothing like Gashaád, yet Arphaxad would wager they had something in common. Rather than try to bypass the elder, the Hybrid approached him. “Pardon me, sir... I was hoping you could assist me...”
The old man grunts than blinks and stares cockeyed at Arphaxad. “Well, don’t see many of you entering the hallowed grounds of higher learning or are you getting ready for the coming five days of masquerades and balls?”
The demihuman gestures at his clothing and shoots a wry grin at the fellow. “Bedecked in my festival finery. No, I’m...”
Back hunched by extreme age the man waves off any explanation and mutters slightly, “Some sort of Simic is my guess. Too clean for a war forged and too defined for a stitched mmm, no. Definitely not soul stich. If not, it’s a good likeness of something, hee.”
“I’m afraid that I haven’t seen with... soul stitches...”
“’Course you haven’t, not many have I imagine,” the old man wheezes slight as he chuckles. “Soul Stitched are a race not unlike flesh golems. They were created by stitching and bolting an assortment of many different body parts and brought to life with a thunderbolt that invigorate its muscles with strength and movement. Difference is, they have a mind and a soul. There was a healthy debate some decades ago in the xenogenetics labritorium’s about if it’s possible to be made from dead parts and still be alive, instead of some sort of undead hybrid…anyway, what can I help you with?”
Arphaxad was caught up in the conundrum for a moment himself. Obviously, to him, at least, the experiment to prove the life or undeath was simple. If a cleric was able to Turn the floob, it wasn’t alive. But as a non-standard being himself, he sympathized with the plight of these soul stitched.
He came to himself with a slight start. “Ah... I was hoping to do some research on local history. The university library seemed a likely place.”
“And a lot of history to be researched, to,” nods the old man sagely. “Most defiantly so. Tarantis is quite old, a lot has happened, even in my day, such that it was. I would start in Coriamand’s Hall. It’s a lesser wing of the university library dedicated to city records, noble house histories and the like.” With a few deft waves of the hand the old man gives him directions
A courteous word later and Arphaxad was weaving his way through the slight crowd that had begun to trickle through since his arrival. He pondered the mystery that had chosen to reveal itself to his awareness. Vampires; Strigoi. It was an unfamiliar word to him. Reassuring in its unfamiliarity, really. It would be more unsettling if ALL the words of the two worlds were identical. Obviously, there had been some interaction in the age’s past. But some things developed independently, like an animal species that developed in isolation for eons.
Coriamand’s hall was probably closer to the kiosk than the walk to get to it would suggest as he was forced to circumvent several large structures and pass through one other. If nothing the twenty-minute walk gave Arphaxad the scope of the size of the Royal University. While large, he had been given several hints as he walked and overhears the conversations of other visitors and resident staff that the known world hosted two more cities states that were larger and while not grander, older with more resources. Arriving at Coriamand’s Hall he finds that it is a large, stone structure, not unlike some gothic looking cathedrals that he’d seen.
Within the main entrance he discovers a large, detail mural on one wall depicting a three-dimensional cutaway of the Hall. Below the mural, listed in order, are the various sub halls and libraries attached to Coriamand’s Hall.
Somewhere, there had to be some sort of catalogue. A building dedicated to knowledge like this would be under some sort of organizational system. He had a knack for finding his way through knowledge...(simic scientist; researcher) Somewhere, there was a chronicle of the origins of this festival.
It didn’t take long to find one, either. Entering the indicated hall of records Arphaxad discovers that the hall is multi leveled, rising four high and connected by stone stairways. Alcoves and side rooms held historical artifacts and oddities of past civilization that researchers and art collectors would understand the value of. Bookcases and scroll racks line the walls. On the main floor are stone tables and wooden stools provided for those intending to spend time with the contents. Just inside the door and to his left is a desk, behind which sits a younger woman busy scribbling notes from a large tome. Behind her are several pedestals holding thick, bookmarked tomes, open to various pages. The catalogue of Coriamand’s Hall’s contents.
Arphaxad wasn’t given to many displays of emotion. It pleased him to present a stoic front. That didn’t mean, however, that he was immune to emotion. It was with a hungry glee that he approached the desk. Having been in the midst of frenetic notetaking himself on many occasions, he respected the lady’s activity, standing patiently and quietly until she had reached a satisfactory stopping point.
The young woman looks up and then blinks slightly, her eyes taking in his simic features with a professional interest. Biting her lower lip she seems about to ask him questions but then remembers it’s her task at the moment to help others.
“Oh…um, yes, um…do you need assistance?”
“I was hoping you could direct me. I’m looking for several things, but I wish to start with anything relating to the origins of the Festival of Silver?” He would work his way through that before focusing more exclusively on vampires.
“Oh yes, it’s a popular subject, well,” she admits, “parts of the Festival anyway. You know, what were the fashions in so-and-so year, which ball’s last year were the most attended; the most popular; the most mysterious. Why…well, here, let me show you.” Hoping up she leads him to the second of three large, written catalogue books laying open on the nearby pedestals.
“Origins, royal decrees” – as she speaks the apprentice sage flips some pages, displaying how the main topic can be traced to secondary topics. Not the most efficient of systems but at least it was a system – “major events during the five-day celebration, Masquerades, major and minor, ...”
Arphaxad waits for the girl to conclude her spiel before assuring her that his interest was in factual data, historical information about the original purpose and inspiration, not trending fashion. “I hope I can get more out of this than ‘who wore it best,’” he joked lamely. “The first events that made the event something to remember... preferably long before it became what it is now.”
“Oh, then you want to look into the origins section, here…” She flips back a thumb’s thickness in pages, traces a finger down a list of pages and commentary before turning to the second large book in line where she hunts down the listing. “From my brief studies on the topic, “she says as she hunts, “the first Festival of Silver was held at The Lion’s decree so that the citizens of the city could mark the day that the Strigoi had been vanquished from the city for good. Which, of course, wasn’t the case,” she says with a dismissive titter.
“No... they seem to have remained stubbornly around, haven’t they?” agreed the Simic Hybrid. “What do the histories say about how they were supposedly vanquished?” He gave a small lopsided grin. “It didn’t work, obviously, but it could give us an idea of what NOT to do...”
Boo takes this moment to emerge from the shadows revealing herself, "good day to you traveler, familiarizing yourself with our fair city's history I see," a mischievous grin on her face as she strides boldly towards the apprentice sage and Arphaxad. Pulling up a chair Boo seats herself across the table from the pair smiling as her gaze falls upon the apprentice sage. Boo waves her hand, "please my dear, don't let me interrupt your lesson, do go on. I am as interested in a good fairy tale as the next person."
The young woman, who suddenly look’s quite plain looking in the glory that is Boo, frowns slightly at the newcomer. “Hello. If you can give us a few more moments I am sure I can direct you to whichever professor has sent for you.”
Gazing at the young woman as the winged Tiefling sits back in her chair and pouts taken, "dear me, it seems that my reputation has not proceeded me as Arphaxad's has. How embarrassing, I am going to have to fire my publicist it seems. Go on then my dear, please continue your tale and I will be as quiet as a dormouse." As the apprentice sage gapes at the new arrival, the Tiefling takes out a nail file and busy herself with her nails.
The new arrival was certainly a... colorful individual. Arphaxad wasn’t normally given to the gameplay between sexes. The sciences demanded most of his focus. That didn’t prevent him from appreciating a fine figure, though. Or from practicing reasonably good manners. “Pardon my interruption, ladies. My intended research topics may take some time... I would hate to delay anyone overlong. Perhaps if the lady’s business isn’t too time consuming, she might be helped first?”
A moment later he realizes that the new arrival addressed him by his name.
“How... did you... know my name? Publicist? Wh-what are you...?” The researcher was clearly flummoxed. He had seen 100’ tall monstrosities in his laboratory, knew several zombies by name, but had never met someone like this girl.
Now that her name is out Boo gives the insolent apprentice sage a haughty look, "sadly, my dear, I expect you to follow protocol and address me accordingly. Additionally, I need you to briefly, very briefly give me a summary of what sort of information the traveler here is seeking and what you have told him thus far! Then continue on as you were and assist him in his research. Or do I need to speak to your superiors, and have you dismissed?"
The young woman blinks as well. Slowly, as if a bit dim, she nods and says, “He is asking about the history of Strigoi and their involvement in the city’s past. At least, that’s where we are at the moment…”
Turning back to the traveler Boo smiles again sweetly, "you are very kind, but I can wait until you are finished, after all, you were here first, it's only fair. Maybe I can even be of some assistance if you like. Otherwise, I will just sit here and do my nails while I wait. Take your time, I am in no hurry and as you can tell I am keenly interested in your research."
Boo looks amused by Arphaxad’s apparent confusion and lets out a girlish giggle, "hehe, your name, that was easy enough to determine as it is branded right there on your forehead plain as day for all to see." She gives him an impish grin, "a publicist, you know, like a hired bard to sing one's praises. A new and growing fad popular with those of the nobility, or so I have recently heard. I don't actually have one yet, but I have been seriously considering hiring one in conjunction with commissioning a sculpture of myself. As to what I am, well that is open to debate, but most do commonly refer to my kind as Tieflings."
Boo listens to the apprentice sage's summary scratching her chin thinking, "Strigoi, Strigoi, why does that sound so familiar?" Reaching out Boo lightly caresses the young woman's cheek, "there, there my dear don't be glum, you may also address me as Boo, I am not a total ***** after all! Now, what exactly are the Strigoi?"
Reaching into her pouch the winged Tiefling pulls out two platinum coins and places them into woman's palm, "also be a dear and fetch a nice bottle of wine, red, three goblets along with some bread and cheese for all three of us to enjoy while we work together on my new friend's little research project." Snapping her fingers several times Boo smiles at the young woman expectantly, "don't dawdle, be quick about it and whatever funds that are left you can keep for yourself. Don't worry, I will keep your place warm and Arphaxad company until your swift return."
The young sage’s face turns scarlet and appears to be on the verge of returning the coins with something spicy but before she can Arphaxad intercedes.
The Hybrid hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I suppose I cannot say whet or not you are of potential use. Your... publicist... has failed to put forth any information about your knowledge of strigoi, where I can hear it at least.” He sighs. “Before I reveal my intent, would you allow me to verify your... vitality?”
There’s a look of confused shock from the apprentice sage as her head turns from glaring at Boo to gawking at the Traveler. “You wha – ?”
Boo gives the traveler a flirtatious smile and does a cutesy hair flip with her hand, "my, my, people from your world certainly know how to woo a girl. I am all a-quiver! Usually, I insist a fellow buy me dinner before I permit my vitality to be verified but as you are a special case, I suppose that I can make an exception."
Standing up the sensuous Tiefling moves around to Arphaxad's side of the table and bends slightly over the table, glancing back at him with come hither eyes, "so how do you want me? Bent over, all proper-like, lying on my tummy face-down or are you the type that enjoys meeting a lady's wanton gaze? Shall I instead lay on my back body straight and close my eyes? If so, do be a gentleman and mind the wings, I am a bit ticklish."
As she waits for the traveler to come to a decision on his preference Boo smirks at the apprentice sage, "better dig out your quill pen and parchment my dear. You may wish to take notes." Giggling Boo calls out, "ready whenever you are traveler, have at it," playfully wiggling her bum from side to side.
At first the Hybrid appears perplexed. He can’t make sense of the words. Then as the Tiefling moves suggestively his skin flushes purple and his mouth gapes awkwardly.
The Tiefling glances back at him with a look of amusement.
Arphaxad stammers momentarily before choking out “I didn’t intend to suggest anything improper, lady. I only meant to take your pulse!” Despite his protests, however, his eyes followed the sway of her hips.
Turning around to face Arphaxad, Boo slowly walks toward him, "nothing at all improper, maybe a little prudish but we can forgive you that since you are after all new to our fair city. You will find me a very forgiving sort once you get to know me better," Boo winks and gives him a playful smile as she reaches out and takes Arphaxad by the hand and guides it up to her throat, "well, go on then. Check my pulse or if you prefer you may feel free to place your ear against my chest and check for a heartbeat. Whatever it takes to satisfy you, I can be very obliging or so I am told!"
In what might be the most perfunctory exam ever, Arphaxad barely waits to feel a throb before hurriedly retrieving his hand. “Ahem. Hmm. Yes. Well... you’re clearly alive...Perhaps you are also experiencing estrus... “ His head cocks to the side. “I haven’t seen an appropriate body of water yet but if you need to spawn fry I would be willing to fertilize the eggs...”
As the Traveler checks her vitals Boo will turn her attention back to the apprentice sage. Brazenly shaking her head, "sorry sweetums, no show for you just yet so how about my little request, you know, the bottle of wine and the rest of it? I think we could all use a drink to relax and talk, don't you?" She purrs.
The girl lets out a gasp and splutters slightly, her lower lip quivering as she struggles to express whatever it is, she is trying to spit out. Finally, she sniffs, rocks her head back and gazes at both The Traveler, but lingers on Boo and says rather scathingly, “This is not appropriate behavior for the Hall of Records or, well, the University.” She waves a finger reprovingly. “I must insist that you comport yourselves, or I’ll have to report you to the Masters.”
Boo merely looks at the apprentice sage smiling sweetly, "I was really hoping that you and I could be friends. In fact, I was just about to offer you an invitation to accompany us to the most prestigious masquerade ball of the season at the Maigrinstaff’s. You know to help look after Ambassador Arphaxad here and explain the tedious bits regarding the customs, traditions and cultural significance of such gatherings during the Silver Festival. But if you are not interested perhaps one of the other apprentice sages."
A visit to a prestigious social event was a little daunting. He wasn’t well versed in local social graces and had no garb suitable. In his society there were numerous customs to observe depending upon what Guild was in attendance and which Guild hosted. Here there were no Guilds as he knew them, and he was clueless about proper dress. He didn’t wish to appear clueless but felt he had little choice.
“I am honored to be your guest, Lady. Perhaps you could assist me with proper attire?”
“The University is throwing several parties,” the apprentice sage says. “It’s traditional for Apprentices to attend.
Boo smiles at the Traveler, "estrus," giggles, "that is my Succubi heritage at work but not to worry I regularly take a potion to avoid any number of unwanted complications, but I do appreciate your kind offer. I am just in it for the fun you know."
Walking around Arphaxad looking him over Boo shakes her head, "you are going to be a devil to fit but I am sure we will be able to work something out. It would be my honor to make all the arrangements regarding your attire. My family has close ties with one of the best clothiers in the city. Given the time frame once you have finished your research efforts here, we will need to visit their shop so that your measurements and such may be taken without delay. However, this all comes with one tiny little condition, I fear! You must, of course, be my guest and stay at my family's townhouse. We have plenty of guest rooms, far more suited to your needs than your current lodgings. And you will no doubt enjoy having use of my father's private library and study."
Turning to the apprentice sage Boo gives her a sad look, "a university party, how utterly droll. My poor dear you don't have a clue, do you? Still, the choice is yours, you can join us as my guest at the upcoming Maigrinstaff’s Costume Ball or settle for one of your little University soirees. In any event, let us finish up Arphaxad's business here as soon as we can."
“I suppose that I am more likely to discover precisely what it is that I need to look for once I’ve seen how things are in the streets,” the Hybrid murmured quietly. “We ought to give your clothier friends ample time to prepare an outfit.” He gave the apprentice sage a small smile and thanked her for her time and assistance. “I suppose I may be in need of more of each afterwards.”
With the apprentice sage gawking, Arphaxad offered his arm to the Tiefling girl. “Now, my lady, I don’t seem to have caught your name.”
Smiling at the traveler Boo reaches out and takes Arphaxad's offered his arm, "my name is Boosandie Belfrye but feel free to address me simply as Boo, that is what my friends fondly call me, and I do hope that you and I can be friends. I am the only child of Lord Magnus and Lady Ophelia of House Belfrye an ancient and revered aristocratic family. I am delighted that you wish to accept my offer of hospitality and of course the party invitation."
Turning Boo heads back to the table to pick up her pack, "I also have a modest gift for you, I do hope that you are not one of those who take that silly old superstitious saying 'beware Tiefling bearing gifts' to heart as I can assure you that you have nothing fear from me." Boo reaches into her pack and pulls out a small bundle. Something apparently wrapped up in a peculiar looking lustrous black silk cloth tied with a small brightly colored pink ribbon which Boo holds out and offers to the traveler, "please accept this small token of friendship as a welcome to our fair city."
Arphaxad accepts the package and proceeds to unwrap it carefully. He still hasn’t acquired the nimbleness he used to have in these modifying digits. As he opens it he glances at the tiefling. “So, miss Boo, how did you come to know my name so readily? I haven’t been here very long... perhaps you know the arch sage?”
Boo gives Arphaxad a mischievous grin, "Arch Sage? Are you referring to an Archmagus? If so then to which one specifically are you referring to? The Archmagus Samara Abaddon, the Archmagus Charon Eblis, or the Archmagus Oberyn Khatri, or perhaps one of the dozen or so want-to-be pretenders to the title? I know a few of them, some by reputation, others socially and perhaps one or two intimately. Then again perhaps an Abyssal Duck whispered your name into my ear whilst I was dreaming. In any event, you look like an Arphaxad! Shall we be on our way then? Are you able to fly with those wonderful appendages or will we need to walk all the way to the clothiers for your fitting?"
The befuddled male waited until the barrage of words had paused to try to respond. “Ah, I didn’t catch his first name, but I believe it might have been Oberyn Khatri.” He tightened the folds of his abdominal webbing. “I cannot truly fly but I am able to glide a good distance, and even maneuver around when I have room. If we can find a decent height to start from, I could get perhaps a hundred yards without hurting myself.”
Package opened; he examined the contents curiously.
Boo peruses her lips as she curls a lock of her golden hair around her finger, "just a hundred yards, a pity that. I was hoping to have someone to share the open sky with me."
Arphaxad nods his agreement. “Flight would be a wonderful thing. Perhaps someday. However I prefer not to meddle in the changes my body is undergoing already. Nor do I believe that I am a close enough friend of the archsage to impose upon his charity.”
Reaching out with her hand Boo curiously runs her fingers lightly over the folds of Arphaxad's abdominal webbing, "it appears that Oberyn Khatri is a mutual acquaintance then. He is considered something of a recluse. Where did you happen to meet the Archmagus? If you find your current form limiting, then consider that I have heard that he has in his possession a Wand of Polymorph. As a close acquaintance of his, you might wish to inquire if it is for sale or trade as it could prove useful to one such as yourself."
At the shapely females gentle prodding, he distractedly agrees to head for the fitting; it was obvious the gift had moved him.
Watching as Arphaxad examines the blade Boo smiles, "I do apologize, I was not sure what you would consider a suitable welcoming gift. Daggers of returning are popular, especially with the nobility and the city, after all, can be a dangerous place. If it is not to your liking, then you can always exchange it for something else. If you like, after your fitting I would be happy to show you several shops that trade in magical trinkets. So, if you please let us be on our way."
He balances the magic blade carefully, awe in his features. “As for this princely gift, I am in your debt. I will seek to do well with it.”
Boo just gives Arphaxad a warm smile, "it pleases me that my little gift meets with your approval if you do not have further pressing business here or anywhere else then let us be off to the clothier to get you fitted and afterward whatever you wish, something to eat, shopping, or maybe do some sightseeing I am at your disposal. You have but to voice your desire."
The researcher directs a polite yet slightly distracted smile toward the assistant. “Thank you for your help. Hopefully I’ll be able to return later with a better idea of just what I need to look for.” His attention returns to Boo as he rewraps the dagger to carry in hand. “I believe that we can proceed to get myself fitted.”
<><><><><><><><>
Lilita's Story contiues...
As she walked, followed by her shadow, she learned many things. Melu’s tribe was far to the north, near a great river and dense jungle. That part of the tribe had been raided by another tribe, during which Melu fought bravely, but had been captured and later, sold to slavers. The slavers in turn, sold Melu and those of her tribe to a caravan where many had died in the march south towards some big place filled with floobs who needed the skills of those like Melu, or something like that. Then, a five day ago while the caravan had set up camp for the night it was attacked by what, the lizard girl wasn’t able to explain well enough in words that made sense. Flying things that didn’t really fly, first many, then only two. Things that came out of the darkness, animal things that went on two legs, but had claws and teeth. Many died, some fled. Melu fought, as did those of her tribe but her captors killed many for doing so, but stopped when they, too, were attacked, viscously. At that point, Melu declared unabashedly, she fled and hid, too. When the sun came out the next morning, everything was blood, dead bodies and parts of dead bodies. She followed the road to the inn, having only arrived a few days before.
Lilita listened to Melu's tale both fascinated and horrified by the death and carnage. Poor Melu, enslaved and losing her tribe like that, Lilita felt sorrier for her and knew that she needed to do whatever she could to help the unfortunate lizard-girl.
"I am so sorry for what happened to you and your tribe," Lilita says sadly, "I am traveling to ask someone about my parentage but once I have finished if you like you can return to my home with me in the city, just a simple vardo wagon, not anything special and I can try to get you some decent clothes and see about helping you find a job somewhere, get on your feet and make a fresh start, a better life for yourself."
Between bites of melon, Melu exclaimed, declared, wondered, stated, questioned, and then: “You marked, you/Lil ‘thing, eh?”
Lilita looks at Melu confused, "what do you mean marked? I don't understand."
“Smell it/him on you, yes. You/he sameness but not same…”
Still not comprehending her meaning Lilita asks, "him who? What does he look like? Where did you see him? How long ago was it that you saw him?"
“Batman…” Melu shrugs and shovels another chunk of melon into her mouth.
Lilita reaches into the food basket and pulls a meat roll and hands it to Melu, "here try this, I don't eat meat so if you like it feel free to eat all you like, there is plenty."
The lizard girl didn’t hesitate, snatching the meat roll she shoves it into her mouth and chews noisily and happily.
As they walk along Lilita takes it all in and thinks long and hard until at last, she gives Melu a worried look and speaks in a hushed tone, "Melu, I think you, your tribe and the caravan was attacked by Vampires, some call Strigoi, I am not sure if there are different or just different words to describe them. They have powerful servants that transform from human to beast forms, like weretigers and the like. The Strigoi I think can only come out at night and change into bats, but I really don't know that much about them, but I think their werebeast servants can tolerate daylight and act as their guardians and foot soldiers. I had thought they were limited to the city but from what you tell me they are growing in number and acting outside the city walls too. It so much worse than I thought!"
The girl cocks her head and looks up at Lilita with curiosity.
Lilita takes in a deep breath, "if the creature I call my noble monster is indeed my father, a Strigoi maybe that is what you smell, the sameness and not the same, I don't know. Maybe I am just cursed or he... they just want to turn me into one of their kind. I think if they just wanted me dead, either side then they could have easily done so at any time. There is something more to all this that I don't understand. We must hurry along to the Sanctuary of Kuluth ahead, some sort of retreat where the old high priest lives. We need to be there before darkness falls and hopefully, he will have the answers I seek."
Melu sniffs the air and lightly taps the ground behind her with the tip of her tail. The appendage, it seems, served many rolls, including making gestures not unlike many races do with their hands. At the base it was as thick as Lilita’s arm but grew slenderer the close it got to the smooth tip. It also showed signs of being semi prehensile, which set her species apart from the more commonly known lizard folk. The girl – her age was both hard to tell and difficult to factor since Melu seemed to count time differently than the common methods. Moons and shiny, hot things in the sky intermixed with how certain fruit, mostly melons, ripen in the wild of her home river valley played a part, too. As afternoon gave way to evening, they passed fewer and fewer farms and thorps. Here and there in the distance she saw sprawling estates of Tarantis’ wealthy. The road itself was still well maintained and traffic passed them heading for the city though even this had slowed.
Lilita looks at the impressive sprawling estates wondering what goes on inside the homes of the wealthy and powerful. Did they know about vampires hidden in their midst or were they a part of it all, perhaps most of the powerful and prestigious families were secretly vampires? Melu also puzzled Lilita, seems strange the pair of them should meet and the lizard-girl be so willing to follow her about. Still, Lilita welcomes the company which made the journey less lonely.
The pair trudged onward Lilita still hoping to make to her intended destination before nightfall.
They had travelled in silence for the past few hours so as the last rays of the sun pokes above the western hills Melu says, “The blue man/batman no/not want everyone dead. He/man-not man warned animal/things no/not kill/eat all, but bite/lick some. He/blue man, he do same. Two womens/one mens. They no/not want/beg bites. He/blueman looks/glares they/them let/clam, accept.”
She pauses for a moment, eyeing Lilita sideways.
“You bite/lick? No-not, you/’Lil’, blood/skin warm/smell alive…”
Lilita gazes back at Melu, "no, not people or animals anyway, just fruits and vegetables." The silver-haired healer sighs, "yes, I am warm and alive, for the time being at least. Come now pick up the pace and move along, I am not sure how much further we need to go, and I worry if we should get caught out in the night. I guess we may need to start looking for a suitable spot to make camp and hope for the best."
As they hurry along the lizard girl asks, “Why you/’Lil no/not top/head blue?”
Lilita laughs, "I am not sure exactly what you mean by a blue head?"
Melu pats the top of her knobby head. “Blue/top-thing. Deep water/fur-not fur thing; bright shiny” – she plucks a river stone from a pouch and holds it up above her forehead slightly.
Pausing to look at her closely Lilita struggles to understand Melu's meaning, "do mean like a blue gemstone or a jewel of some sort?"
“’Eh? Yes/thing – head/blue thing,” the lizard girl nods. “Blueman/batman.” The Strigoi had worn a blue turban, one with a shiny rock in the middle. Unless there were more of the clan, it had to had been her father. And he had lycanthropes with him, and he was inflicting – creating more Strigoi.
Lilita nods, "oh, I think I get your meaning. I suppose I don't have one of those for the same reason you don't have one. We're both far too poor to own expensive jewelry like that but who knows maybe someday, right? Was it just the one Strigoi or did all of them have stones like that? I think I've seen one like you are describing. It was very pretty!"
Topping the rise of a large hill they are gifted with the view of a large, sprawling complex of buildings, gardens, tended orchards and vineyards of their destination. It would be after dark when they arrived but arrive, they would.
The lizard girl pointed at the Branswan Monastery with a toe claw. “There/that.”
Looking down at the monastery, Lilita smiles, "that looks like that the place, I hope so at least... it's been a long day." Walking on towards the main building as the sky darkens and night begins to fall Lilita casts Light on her guild signet ring to provide illumination in order to avoid tripping or falling over something. Lilita looks to head straight for the main door/gate and knocks, ready to reach into her pack for her letter of introduction if needed.
The gate opens almost before her knuckles left its surface. Several bald monks surround a short, fat priest with a tonsure holding up a lantern. Before she can say anything, he nods. “We saw your light as you approached the gate proper and were curious what a young woman and her servant were on the road alone, without escort or service unless it is to seek shelter for the night, which,” he shrugs slightly and smiles, “isn’t unheard of this close to the city.”
Lilita finding her courage respectfully bows to the monks, "thank you very much for your kindness in opening your door to us. I am Lilita Lulitu and my companion here is called Melu. I have a letter from the High Priest Corlone for his Eminence Talis Panou regarding the reason for my visit. I understand that his Eminence has been unwell and as night has already fallen I do not wish to presume that I would be permitted to see him this very moment nor do I wish to disturb his slumber or his preparations for the evening so it is my hope that tomorrow, at his convenience, of course, he might consider granting me an audience."
Reaching into her pack, Lilita withdraws the letter of introduction, the small family portrait, and the journal handing them all together to the brother, "if I might be so bold could you please see to it that his Eminence receives all three of these so that he may review them before our meeting. I have taken the liberty of denoting passages in the journal pertinent to my visit, thank you."
Handing off the lantern the priest takes the letter of introduction and reads the opening few lines. Curiosity on his face the middle-aged man didn’t probe. “Yes, of course. Come, come in, you and your companion.” To the monk’s present he adds, “Brother Garais, please escort our guests to the common room. Brother J’mar, please find Brother Ammen and ask him to make up the cottage. I’m sure that our guests will be staying the night as they’ve had a long walk and it would be poorly advised to allow them to return to the city in the dark. To Lilita, he says, I am Brother Tarris, Warden of the Moon, which, I assure you, is far less a glamorous duty than it sounds.”
Lilita offers him a friendly smile and once again bows respectfully, "it is an honor to meet you, Brother Tarris, thank you for your hospitality and accommodations." Lilita with Melu in tow follows Brother Garais to the common room to wait to either to see his Eminence Talis Panou directly or to be escorted to the cottage when it is ready thinking (hoping) that her meeting will come the following morning.
Nearly grafting herself to the back of Lilita’s leg the little lizard girl gawks at everyone and everything they see and seems speechless for the first-time sense they met. Brother Garais leads them to the monastery’s common room, a large hall with two rows of pillars supporting a dark beamed ceiling. Orderly rows of tables with benches fill much of the space. At the far end is a raised podium, holding a large, closed book. A few lanterns light the walls, enough so that she can see several exits. Next to the door is a stone basin with a softly trickling stream of cool water come from a stylized statue of some sort of angel or servant. Several wooden cups sit on a shelf, readied if so desired.
“Please make yourselves comfortable, “Brother Garais says. The bald monk gestures towards the cups. “Fresh water. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll visit the kitchen and see what’s available this late in the day.”
Lilita looks up at Brother Garais smiles, "thank you, I do not wish to be an inconvenience, but I do not eat meat. I am unsure about my companion so perhaps something simple such as bread, cheese or fruit will do and if nothing is available, we can easily do without." Giving a respectful courteous bow.
As the monk leaves Melu glances at the trickle of water, the tip of her tail fidgeting near Lilita’s ankle.
Lilita smiles at Melu, "don't worry, everything is alright. I can see you are thirsty, allow me to get you some water. Just keep in mind it is our custom that we don't drink directly from the fountain or the basin." Lilita walks over to the shelf with the wooden cups and picks up two of them then moves to the trickling water, filling both cups and handing one to Melu, "here you go, drink all you like. If you need more just let me know and I will get you more."
Once Melu's thirst is satisfied Lilita will refill both cups and walk back to sit at the table motioning for Melu to sit beside her to await the return of Brother Garais hopefully with a little food. Lilita as sits takes a small sip of water from her cup as her eyes move about the common area taking it all in.
Slurping water from her cup in a manner not unlike that of a cat, Melu looks happy until most of the water is gone. “Much/clean drinkables/yes,” she says in her thickly hissing dialect. “Me/Melu no/not need much/bunches, no. I – “ Just then Brother Garais returns with a wooden platter set with sliced cheese, a sliced apple, and a stack of bread like crackers.
“I trust this will suffice, m’Ladies,” the monk says in a deep voice. “I’m sure that Warden of the Moon Tarris will return soon. Meanwhile I need to return to my post. We normally do not stand watches aside from a greeter at the gate at night but with recent events I’m sure you can understand our need to be more vigilant.”
Lilita quickly responds, "yes, thank you kindly." Then gives Tarris another formal respectful bow still feeling a bit overwhelmed as she works to get her shyness under control, "yes, of course, the temple inside the city was busy fortifying its outer defenses when I visited so your vigilance and wariness are prudent."
Then as an afterthought, before he leaves, Lilita fearfully and reluctantly adds "I do not wish to alarm you, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn't make known that I believe that there are two competing or warring factions of Strigoi. Those serving Maigrinstaff and those serving Rezgui and I might have unknowingly come to the attention of both sides. Worse yet in hindsight, I feel that I also might have poked a bit at the hornet’s nests. As a result, one if not both groups could conceivably be searching for me."
The monk pauses at this but remains silent.
"I am sorry," Lilita lowers her head feeling somewhat ashamed by her late confession, "I should have mentioned that before you offered us sanctuary! In light of this, if you feel that my presence could be putting everyone in additional danger I can leave if you like but I would ask you to please allow my companion here to remain.
“Fear not m’Lady,” Brother Tarris say, “The Order and Temple of Kuluth has always stood for defending those fighting for life against the incessant tide of darkness on this earth. While not all of my fellow followers of Kuluth might agree, if these children of darkness and their unholy masters were to attack here, in this place of strength, many, if not all, would be destroyed and far better for the floobs of Tarantis if this were so. Better to fight on our consecrated ground than the streets and alleys of the great city state.”
Lilita nods and whispers weakly, "thank you again for your kindness," silently hoping that she has not brought trouble with her.
With a nod of his bald head the monk leaves the hall. The lizard girl watches him go then effects a pose, tosses her head back and waves a languid hand as she mimic’s the monk’s exit. “Him/them Temple/Shama’s every/always so/is stiffy,” she says as she comes back to investigate the platter which is at eye level for her. Sniffing, a long, slender tongue rolls out and weaves like a drunken snake in search of a mouse as it angles towards a slice of fruit.
Lilita forces a smile on her worried face as she looks down at Melu, "yes, they are a bit formal, but this a holy place and they are very important people, so it is understandable and to be expected."
Lilita just sits down and watches her companion eat, for herself Lilita merely picks at little at her food but barely eats anything leaving Melu to eat her fill still feeling a bit sorry for the poor creature.
Mouthful of fruit, Melu plops down on the bench beside Lilita and curls her tail around Lilita’s waist. “Okay/things yes/no/maybe, batman/catgirl come/flit here/us, godmen/safe. Rock help.” She pats one of the dirty, handsewn pouches tied around her waist.
Lilita runs her hand softly over Melu's tail seeking to calm and reassure the lizard girl speaking softly, "there is nothing to worry about but if something should happen this is not your fight so best you run away or hide. Hold on to your stones to use only as a last resort."
Brother Tarris returns. “His Eminence agrees to meet with you, though I must caution that you take care for he is very ill and has taken to his bed. Age for us humans is one condition that we have no cure that isn’t an abomination or misguided.” The Senior Priest pauses, then adds, “although he was hale a few fivedays ago but has weakened considerably since then. It is fortunate that you came as you have.”
Lilita nods, "yes, thank you. I understand and will take care."
With the lizard girl in tow, Brother Tarris escorts them deeper into the monastery, passing down long, poorly lit hallways and up two flights of stairs until they come to a simple wooden door. Knocking softly before opening it, Brother Tarris nods to Lilita. Inside is a modest sized room, far from luxury yet furnished with masterwork furnishings befitting a former head of the Temple of Kuluth. Centered against the far wall is a large, four posted bed. Netting hangs down around the edges while a single lantern burns brightly on a nearby table. Age and illness are thick in the air, as is something else, something her trained nose can’t identify. Lying on the bed under a clean bedsheet is an old, skinny man in bedclothes, a beard as white as snow, covering his face. From the soft wheezes, he’s either having trouble breathing or snoring. Clutched in one gnarled hand is the journal she had brought from her parent’s townhouse.
At the doorway, Lilita's warm gaze falls upon the sleeping figure in the bed, her face is sad but filled with compassion as she slowly approaches. At his bedside, Lilita goes down on her knees at his side. Reaching out with small soft hands Lilita takes the hand of the sleeping Talis Panou into both her hands seeking to transfer a portion of her own radiant essence into him. Just as she has done before with the venerable woman Elder Caranne, a customer of hers at Pencelot's shop.
Not true healing but rather Lilita drawing forth some portion of Talis Panou's body's own frailty, weakness and pain into herself... allowing her to bear some of the burdens that he is experiencing and make it her own... at a temporary cost of a portion of her own health. Lilita's hope is to temporarily revitalize his Eminence giving him additional strength and vigor in order to speak with her without overtaxing himself.
The act nearly causes Lilita to swoon. The old man was nearing the journey all human’s take eventually. It could come at any time and that he hadn’t passed through the veil between life and death already was a testament of Panou’s powerful will. There was a peace there, a longing in his essence to move on to what awaits him. That desire too, was powerful, something that her mentors had warned her to take care of when using her gifts, least she succumb.
Tears welling up in her eyes Lilita struggles to bear some of his burdens looks up at him and whispers weakly, "Your Eminence, please forgive my disturbing your rest. I am called Lilita Lilitu and I believe that I may be the daughter of Anilia and Rakia Rezgui and I come seeking your help in order to discover the truth and my place in the world."
Eye’s open, milky and gray with great age yet strong as they fell upon hers. The weight of time’s passage had eased a little, thanks’ to her gift. “Ah, ‘bout time you made it, child.” He smiles kindly and lifts his head. With wide eyes Melu rushes over to fluff the priests pillows so that his head is supported. Panou smiles and places a hand on the lizard girls head. “Such innocence, yet such strength in you. Nothing no/not bother/worry, yes?” he says in a passible imitation of Melu’s tongue.
“Nealg!” the lizard girl replies with a grin.
Panou’s eyes meet Lilita’s. “Lilita Rezgui, the last I saw you, you were a young child, trooping along with a pack of other foundling’s sponsored by the Healer’s Guild, out on some field trip. But it wasn’t the first time, no. I was present when you were born, you know…or perhaps you didn’t know.” There’s sadness in the old man’s eyes. “Lilitu is your mother's surname, and when it was decided that you needed to disappear, it was given you to you. Records were altered.” A sigh rolled through the old priest and he looked tired. “I have instructed Brother Tarris to search the Order’s records for a specific scroll that will help you establish your birthright to your family’s possessions and wealth, such that remains. But I suspect that you have other, more urgent questions. Questions I wish to answer if I can, while time remains for me to do so. I have seen my last sunset and know that I won’t see the dawn so, ask child…ask.”
Lilita looked at the elder Priest sadly almost afraid to ask but she had to know the truth, "what happened to my mother? Is she dead if so, where was her body laid to rest so I may pay my respects?
As the words leap from her lips the old man smiles indulgently. There’s a peace about him that wasn’t there when she arrived, as if he'd held on for just this moment.
“So much to tell, so little time for complicated answers, so I will do my best, child. Your mother’s story is a sad, sad tragedy, and I would ask if you truly wish to know it, but I feel that you do. There was another rivalry between your father and Basha, one that went back to when your mother turned fourteen and began attending all the proper social events. They both desired her, but her heart was caught by your father, who was some years older but a dashing man-about-town sort. Part-time adventurer and full-time noble seeking to enrich and empower his family line.
“When Basha returned from his expedition he approached your father to show him the secrets that had been unearthed in a tomb that was meant to be left in peace. Artifacts and ancient scrolls, many tied to the original Strigoi clan lords that haunted Tarantis millennia ago. Basha, I was told, had changed. We suspected later that he became embraced by one of those very clan lords whom, it was said, are forever banished to the island and its temple by powerful magic. Suspected that Basha was seeking a way to break that banishment. He still might, for all I know,” the old man said with a sigh. “It was he who presented your father with the gift that embraced him, though we didn’t know it until later. When the embrace took hold your mother went to Basha, asking for his help to stop whatever curse it was. Of course, later we fully realized the horror of what was taking place with both Lords, but it was too late. Too late. Basha, simmering passions unleashed, forced himself onto your mother and began inflicting upon her the embrace. After several days she returned to your family’s townhouse a damaged woman who turned to me in hopes that somehow, I might have the knowledge or power, or by the grace of Kuluth, the embrace could be reversed. It could not. Your father went into a rage and went to Basha and a fight ensued, but they were nearly equal in terms of power at this point, so they withdrew. When your father returned home it was to discover that your mother had taken her own life, while there was time to do so.
Lilita hearing of her mother's tragic story, her eyes filled with tears as she began to weep, "am I the last of both family lines, have I no living relatives then? Is my employer Pencelot Foonse privy to all of this as well?"
“As for extended family, there are a few, though most died over the following year. It was terrible as the Rezgui and Maigrinstaff’s families fought their private war. Some were embraced and almost as quickly destroyed by the other side, some became inflicted by other means, turning into horrible man-beasts, soldiers of the Strigoi. A few of those might still be around, lurking in the deeps and shadows of the city though, with the return of your father, they may be answering his call, which the attack on young Melu’s slaver caravan suggests may be the case. There is one other, a distant relation of sorts, but her story is her’s to tell, not mine. And yes, Pencelot knows enough of your past and suspects much of the rest, that he was approached to be your primary mentor. It seems that he’s done a superb job, too.”
Tears still streaming down her face Lilita shakes her head, "Pencelot may have taught me well but I am a poor student, even now I should be minding his shop as is my duty and responsibility. He told me to stay away from the Black Rose, but I disobeyed! I am not but a willfully disobedient child! Worse still I am timid and weak, it is no wonder when my father appeared to me, he chastised me for my weakness and did not reveal who he was. I must be such a disappointment to him!"
Even upset as she is Lilita feels something stir inside her, "a distant relation you say, her story is her’s to tell." Repeating his words Lilita's gaze meets the elder Priest's eyes, "is she of Fey blood then, partially, or rather to be more specific, is she Half-Elven? Livvi! That might explain my father's interest in her, why he brought us together? Is it her, is it Livvi, are we distant cousins or is my brain so fevered with grief that my imagination plays tricks on me?"
Upon the name of the Half-Elf his Eminence seemed confused, his head shaking slightly, but he didn’t answer either way.
Lilita struggles to calm herself down knowing getting upset will do her no good. Everyone has been keeping secrets from her or at least it feels that way. She needs to know more about the nature of the Strigoi, "the curse can those afflicted be redeemed, cured, control it? How is the curse passed on, how is one embraced? The Strigoi are powerful and fearsome, what do they fear? What brings them harm or can be used to destroy them? What do they want, what are their goals?"
At this, the old priest sighed and shakes his head again.
“It’s an ancient curse, laid down by some God we suspect, one that goes far beyond Tarantis, or even Miran, as I have heard that the Strigoi haunt many worlds beyond ours. Some master their hunger and drives or find clever ways to control them, perhaps through pure will power or by other means. Master it they may but the urges, the unholy desires never fully leave them. They inflict pain and suffering because they are in pain and suffer their curse and consciously or subconsciously want others to feel as they do. The curse is passed on by the embrace, or so I was told once. It takes three, willing inflictions in moderation, the inception is a slow one if you will.
“Fear? I’m not sure they understand fear as they once did as mortals. Maybe it’s a fear of being dominated by another Strigoi,” he shrugs. “The historical records list as many as a score of different clans or factions throughout the city’s history but during my studies on the subject, I’ve noticed that rarely more than two are in power at any one time. There were several cases where a sort of council existed, but nothing of the sort in over five hundred years. I imagine that their goals are to rule in the shadows, using the citizens of the city as their hunting preserve though some clans, even some Strigoi are said to prefer to cultivate a private herd for simplicity. At the moment, I think that is how Basha is operating though I could never gather proof.”
Lilita tears up more thinking about her mother again looks at the elder Priest in horror and realization, "the Strigoi curse takes three, willing inflictions. When my mother went to Basha, asking for his help she wasn't alone was she? She took me with her. I was there, wasn't I? To witness it! My mother had to willingly accept the embrace, or he would have killed me in front of her!!! She did it to save me! That is how he forced her, isn't it?"
“That is how she explained it to me, child, and your father. It was too much for Rakia. A madness overtook him, one worse than the transformation that was boiling his blood. Rage and a need for revenge forced your father to confront Basha again, but Maigrinstaff had set a trap for him. We believe it was during this fight that Basha was able to remove one of your father’s canine teeth. It was Tan’s belief that doing so was part of some arcane ritual meant to slave your father’s will buy gaining control of his hunger. The tooth may or may not allow Basha to, if anything, incite the lusts of who the tooth belongs too. Tan researched it and discovered ancient writings from another world that explains how Strigoi regenerate – heal from taking physical damage. That part of their curse is to remain as they were when the embrace takes hold. They never age, but they cannot physical change either. Even their hair, if burned off or cut, grows back to as it was when the embrace took hold. That the tooth has not regrown was the basis of Tan’s curiosity.”
Shaking with fear, sorrow, and guilt Lilita feels responsible for her mother's death! Deep down inside she is as much a part of it all as her father and Lord Basha. Her mother died for her, weeping again feeling sick to her stomach Lilita continues to question everything, "why does my companion Melu keep going about my father's bluestone? It is somehow important isn't it?"
Panou’s seems to stare off into space for several pregnant moments, lost in thought. The slow rise and fall of his chest proved that he hadn’t passed on in the middle of things. “…the blue stone. A sapphire of incredible beauty about the size of a chicken’s egg?” The old priest changed topics slightly and smiles. “During the last infestation, I sought out a conversation with several Priests, followers of various gods and goddess of death and Necromancy to gain answers that might help the cause. Of the many long and dark talks, I gleaned a few useful bits. Many necromancers believe that the Strigoi’s Curse is a combination of corrupted death magic, a living virus, and corrupted healing magic. Tan would know more about this, I know. The other bit is about soul stones or something like them. The Blue Gem is one such thing; an artifact that once was used to imprison the undead soul of a Strigoi. I suspect that Basha has one as well and that it was through these artifacts that both men became Strigoi Lord’s, otherwise, they would have had to have been embraced and would have taken centuries to gain such power. In private, Tan once speculated that if the stones could be destroyed, it might destroy the Strigoi Lord possessing it.”
Lilita is just barely holding herself together, the more she learns the more she wishes that she had remained innocent and ignorant. Now it was all too late, there was no going back. "What about Tan Gregarari, the Magelord, is he someone that I can trust to help me? And the one they call the Widow is she real? How about Casmial Orseran what do you know of him? I also found this," Lilita takes out glass shard and places it into his hand, "I think it is just a piece of a broken mirror, but I didn't see any mirror about."
“The Magelord is a puzzle of another sort. He craves knowledge as power and power to gain more knowledge. A powerful arch wizard who dabbles in several arcane arts, some very strange to me,” the old man says. “Only you can say if you can trust him or not. Just as The Widow, whose interests, in my opinion, are as one who sees themselves a caretaker of sorts. Her history is murky and poorly known, but she seems to meddle in ways to benefit Tarantis and its floobs and not those who sit in power for power’s sake.”
“Casmial Orseran? I think he’s an artist…” There’s a blank look in Panou’s eyes until Lilita takes out the mirror shard. He gazes at it and blinks. “Where did you find that?”
Lilita looks away, her eyes downcast feeling emotionally and physically drained, "in my family's house where I found the journal, the portrait. The raven showed me the way, the Widow's raven I guess where once I got there more ravens were waiting. I found the mirror there inside the house just lying on the floor in a hallway, I think. It is probably nothing, but it somehow seemed out of place, so I picked it up with the rest of the things I borrowed including the dress I have on. Please, please, tell me where is the crypt with my mother's body? I need to go there."
There was silence.
Lilita softly repeats her question, "please, tell me where is the crypt with my mother's body?"
Melu makes a soft sound, both sad and bored sounding at the same time. The lizard girl tentatively approaches the bed and peers over the bed sheets at the still body, than back at a tear eyed Lilita. “Him/gone, no-more, no.”
Lilita looks at Melu and silently nods, slowly recovering the journal and the small portrait carefully returning both to her pack. As for the mysterious glass shard, Lilita leaves it be in the now-deceased Talis Panou's hand where she had placed it just before his death.
Placing her backpack on a nearby chair, Lilita walks around to the other side of the bed and slowly climbs up into it to lay down beside the old priest closing his open eyes. Lilita looks down at him sadly as she weeps glistening tears, mourning his loss... tenderly kisses his forehead and whispers, "thank you, your Eminence." Lilita lays there motionless beside Talis Panou, holding him close in her arms as if to comfort him in death. Her tears continue to trickle down her pale cheeks as she waits for the dawn of a new day when she will begin her long trek back to the city.
Mordecai's Story continues...
Mordecai quickly gets ready and rushes off to meet Livvi at the agreed upon destination. Following the directions that The Widow had provided; it took more than an hour to traverse the city to reach the street containing the townhouse. From the corner he could see several more walled compounds of adjacent townhouses. The street was upper crust without being in nob town, he notes. A few pedestrians move along on their business as he stands there. A merchant looking floob rides by on a horse. Watching the gate to ‘Lilita’s townhouse he could see that the garden beyond was overgrown and that the iron gate looked rusted.
"From the vardo to here," Mordecai whispers. "Hopefully, Livvi didn't go in on her own... Where is that woman?" Mordecai looks around for Livvi - his impromptu compatriot in this web of conspiracy and undeath.
There was no sign of the Bard, but he doses spot one of those red splotched crows perched up on a gutter on the townhouse. Approaching the gate, Mordecai’s eyes are drawn to a faintly glowing bardic glyph on the gatepost. The gate is also slightly open.
Mordecai nods at the crow and quietly says, "Pleasant morning to you, ma'am."
The crow just cock’s one dark eye at him.
Mordecai walks up to the gate and takes a quick look at the Glyph, before saying, "I hope these aren't the ones that explode...." He takes a breath and pushes past the gate and into the townhouse.
The gate, he notes, doesn’t make a noise. With all the rust on the iron one might think it should. Inside is a broad, paved path leading to the townhouse’s front door. Narrower, nearly overgrown paths lead left and to the right. The one on the left was showing evidence of recent use. Giving the Bard’s Half-Elf heritage and perchance for being stealthy whenever she could, it would be difficult to say which path she took.
"Well, in this case, the path most travelled is likely the better choice - someone came through here... might as well find out who," Mordecai muses to himself.
Mordecai makes his way down the left-hand path, keeping a lookout for traps, whether natural or manufactured. He does his best to stay quiet, although he realizes that he sticks out in this neighborhood like a sore thumb.
The path leads around the west side of the townhouse. As he follows Mordecai nearly walks past evidence of someone pushing through the overgrown grass and bushes. A few strides bring him to the wall of the townhouse and a short staircase leading down to an open cellar door. Behind him the crow, with a few flaps of it’s wings, comes to land on a moss-covered ledge above and lets out a muttering qork.
Mordecai arches an eyebrow and looks back at the crow. He whispers harshly at it, "If you're going to tag along, be quiet about it."
He checks to make sure his thieves' tools are on him, should he need him, then he unfastens and holds it in a defensive position. He makes his way, as quietly as possible, down through the open cellar door and finds himself standing on a landing, a stone landing a stride (5’) square. More steps descend into the darkness beneath the townhouse in front of him. To the right, three steps lead up to an interior door with a simple handle and latch (no lock). Dust covers the steps to the house interior and show no footprints.
"Let's make sure the upstairs is clear, before I find out what goes bump in the night down there," Mordecai whispers. He heads to the door upstairs, ready to do a systematic sweep of the home. He does his best to hide his path and movements. [Gm Rolls for Stealth: 3+2 = 5]
Opening the door, it pulls outwards. One of the hinges creaks softly but not too bad. Beyond looks to be a large kitchen, poorly lit by sunlight streaming through the shutters outside. Layers of dust have accumulated over everything and cobwebs are everywhere.
At the sound of the creaking hinge Mordecai turns quickly, looking back down at the way he came and the darkness beyond, straining to see or hear if anything or anyone was coming from the darkness in reaction to his actions.
He waits.
Not terribly enthusiastic about his current situation, he walks fully into the dusty kitchen, closing the door behind him. "Hopefully," he mutters, "the hinges that betrayed me will betray anyone who follows."
Seconds pass and nothing. No sounds, no muttering crows, no faint demands to know ‘who’s there?’. He begins walking through the home. He keeps wary of traps, taking care where he walks and what he touches, knowing that an undisturbed place such could have hidden dangers lurking about.
He's also on the lookout for clues regarding the, perhaps former, owners of the home... especially since he learned that Lilita’s family, her father specifically, took a turn to Undeath. If he finds anything of value along the way, so be it - he'll make a note to show it to Lilita before finding it a permanent home.
Just then something pinches his butt and a soft voice calls from the stairwell behind him, "You're late!"
Mordecai turns with a start, glaive out in a defensive position. He realizes it was Livvi that pinched him and sighs. He responds, "Sorry about that - someone broke into my place last night and are seemingly trying to set me up for something, so I had to take precautions and an inventory."
Emerging from her hiding spot at the bottom of the stairs the bard climbs up and punches him lightly in the arm. "Good to see you, Mord. Glad you could make it. I think we need to finish checking out the basement before heading upstairs. Someone was down here before me but didn't use this door here to go upstairs. So, it's either some miscreant who decided to use the abandoned townhouse as a place to hole up, or maybe something worse. If it's the something worse, I'm really glad you're here..."
"Yeah," Mordecai says somewhat drawn out, "I got the feeling that the basement would be where the most trouble is found, so I figured to do the quick and easy of casing the topside first... and let the sun brighten up the world a bit more. That said, I'm game if you are..." He turns to head back down... into the basement, and beyond that... into the darkness.
He whispers to Livvi, "I'm not so much worried about something being holed up in there, insomuch as something using it as an exit from a much darker place."
He continues stealthily as one can be in chain mail holding a heavy glaive.
Livvi leads him to the doors at the back hallway of the cellar and points to the left one and whispers, "Thought I heard a rat or something in here, but when I listened closely, there was only silence. I guess either one is good but was about to check out this left one. Ready?"
"More likely something heard you and went and hid for an ambush," replies Mordecai in a hushed voice.
Mordecai positions himself in front of the door, glaive in an offensive position, ready to strike anything coming within its reach of ten feet. He nods towards Livvi.
When he is ready, she carefully checks it for locks or perhaps a trap then quietly opens it so they both can peer into the room or passage beyond. Beyond the door lies a long, cross shaped wine cellar. Racks of bottles and stacks of small casks line the walls, covered in cobwebs and decades of dust. There’s an earthy smell coming from somewhere.
Mordecai looks around seeking out anything that doesn't belong, bumps and humps where there should be none, the possible source of the earthy smell, imperfections along the walls or floor that may mean something more or something hidden... //OOC Stealth 8, Perception 19
Livvi moves with the half-orc, but out of his swinging range. Quickly, they cover the room, checking corners and high spots, looking for potential hiding areas or threats. At the cross, Livvi goes right and assumes Mordecai goes left. At the end of the area she calls out, "Looks clear. Let's check out the other door before we do a more detailed search of these rooms..."
Mordecai winces slightly at her calling out aloud. He follows her to the door, and whispers, "Remind me to teach you tactical sign language. I'm not the quietest individual with all this metal on me, but don't cut yourself either."
With one eye on the floor, another on everything else, Mordecai reaches the door and notices slight scrape marks marking where it swings out, too the left. Made from thick, old cut wood, bound in brass.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
The door opens with a slight creak, releasing a thicker, fresher smell of disturbed earth. Mordecai’s ears pick up the sounds of soft squeaks and rustling sounds, quite a few of them which only become more pronounced as he opens the door further. An upward glance at the barrel ceiling shows a modest colony of bats.
Mordecai giving the room a once over asks Livvi, "Do you think something came up? Or decided to dig itself a burrow? Aren't vampires supposed to be associated with bats in some way?"
Mordecai tries to discern if it seems something escaped from deeper beneath or if the turned earth was dug from the surface.
He quips, "Should I poke the earth with my glaive?"
Livvi stares at the mound of dirt for a moment before pulling her instrument fully around to the front of her body and strums a few chords - a major tuning song with strong, open chords. The feeling of protection and strength wash over Mordecai as Livvi uses the cittern to cast protection from evil and good on the half-orc.
"Now you're ready to poke the mound with your pole..." she says with more than a hint of excitement in her tone and posture.
Mordecai suppresses a groan, whispering to himself, "Left yourself open to that one, didn't you?"
He half stows the glaive, setting it up so that it's easy to arm himself with it. He pulls out his maul and begins some exploratory passes of the fresh earth, trying to discern if there's something buried or if it possibly opens up deeper. He won't lower the maul into the soil deeper than two-thirds the length of the maul from the handle forward.
He eyes the bats above warily on occasion.
The first few passes with the maul reveals that the earth is loose, if not fresh, considering it was the floor of an old root cellar in an old townhouse. After some care, his work starts to show a pattern. A portion of earth about a stride by two strides long (5’x10’) roughly. The soil is loose to a foot depth, the limit that Mordecai was setting at the moment.
"Bigger than a grave...and certainly more than a rat's warren. Perhaps someone buried something else down here? Or they wanted an indoor swimming hole and gave up on it...keep digging. Do you want me to get rid of these bats? How do they get in and out, I wonder?" Livvi begins looking around the rest of the room, looking for an opening to the surface that the bats could use to get out and go hunting for insects, or fruit, or whatever...
Mordecai turns back and gives Livvi 'a look' when she instructs him to 'keep digging.'
"If the bats leave me alone, I'll leave them alone," replies Mordecai.
He then flips the maul and uses the handle to explore how deep the loose earth goes. He stands on the perimeter of the whole, not stepping in. The probing reveals that the looser soil goes deeper along the perimeter and that something hard, lay a foot down in the middle. Something that might be hallow. Between the harder ground and the buried object, the handle of the maul goes down to the head with a bit of wiggling.
Livvi eyes the bats, then shrugs. "If you don't mind the flying rodents, I'm ok leaving them alone. For now. But it seems you've found something in the middle of the dirt pile! Can you help me clear the dirt off it? I have an idea..." She moves her hands and whispers an arcane phrase, causing a spectral hand to appear and float over the middle of the pit! The mage hand starts digging the dirt off of the coffin as quickly as it can - not as fast as a good shovel, but it does get the job done slowly...
Once the duo clears the object enough to see it, Livvi will strum her cittern and play a light and airy jig. The notes quiver in the dark air of the cellar, almost visible. Slowly, as the song builds in intensity, the object in the dirt starts to float upwards! "Give it a push towards the floor, will you, Mord?" the bard asks while still playing the instrument.
Mordecai comments, "Well that certainly makes things easier."
He pushes the object out from over the loose earth towards the firmer floor closer to the door. Dirt shifts and pours off the sides of the long, box like object as it emerges from its burial place. Ornate woodwork and brass trimmings reveal an opulent coffin.
Livvi lets the coffin descend gently to the hard floor of the room. "Well, we seem to be the dogs who caught the cart we were chasing. Are you ready to take on whatever might be in this? Isn't there something that will kill them? A wooden stake through the heart or a silver weapon? Maybe if we grab some wood from the wine cellar...Or do we just go for it? It was buried after all...could a vampire even get into this under all of that dirt?"
"I'm sure a vampire can make it through. Now, as far as killing one - wouldn't know the trick to that, but we could try this..." - Mordecai points at the glaive - "... for now."
"With that said, you should probably check it for booby traps - eldritch or otherwise."
Mordecai readies his glaive and will open the coffin once he gets the okay from Livvi.
Livvi nods and carefully checks the coffin for traps. The Half-Elf runs her fingers lightly around the edge of the lid, feeling slowly for wires, levers, indentations, locks, or anything else that would indicate she had some additional work to do with her tools...
Shaking her head, she looks up at Mordecai and gives him a thumbs up, then readies herself to lift the lid. She stands across the coffin from Mordecai, so that she can pull the lid open towards her and give Mordecai a clear look - and attack vector - at whatever might be inside...she gives him a silent count, and quickly lifts the lid on the count of three.
Mordecai lifts his glaive ready to strike, but then pauses as a look of confusion comes across his face. He lowers the glaive.
Nestled inside is the desiccated corpse of a once well-dressed woman. The smell wafting from the open coffin is stale and bad, but nothing as bad as one might expect from an interned body. Laying on the woman’s breast is a bouquet of flowers that while wilted, don’t look all that old.
Mordecai comments, "I fear we may have desecrated a grave - although given the age of those flowers, the woman is likely exhumed and reinterred on a regular basis. We should return her as soon as possible. Before we do, let's see if there's anything we could use to identify this woman."
Mordecai inspects the body visually, taking care not to touch it. When Livvi is satisfied, he'll reseal the coffin and push it back to its grave.
Livvi joins Mordecai and looks over the body, the clothes, the coffin and its interior.
"I think you're right, Mord. The freshly churned ground, the recent flowers. Did Lilita dig this up? COULD that waif of a girl dig this much? OK...back into the ground with her. Unfortunately, I can't levitate the coffin again right now...so it's gonna have to be pushed in. Let's close her back up and set this back. Ready?"
Mordecai responds to Livvi, "I suspect that it wasn't Lilita who did this, but her father. This might be Lilita's mother."
The Half-Elf’s head tilt’s slightly as she looks down at the corpse. “I suspect that your right, if this her family’s home. There are plenty of stories about fiendish floobs keeping grisly trophies or loved ones they couldn’t bear to part from. If not that, then someone’s investing a lot of time and effort in maintaining a grave. Looking at the style of clothes I’d say that they’re about two decades out of date and the materials that they’re made from are expensive, suggesting a wealthy or noble birth.” [GM filling in for Player]
"That style and timeline seem to fit what The Widow described about Lilita's family," Mordecai says with a sigh.
Mordecai gives the corpse another look, seeking any of the symbols that Lilita or the Widow had shown him. Mordecai places the seal back on the coffin, places some dirt on the floor between the coffin and the grave to help it slide better, stows his glaive, and pushes the coffin back to its resting place.
Livvi helps manually move it back into the open grave. Once they get the coffin in place and covered. When they are finished, Livvi glances at Mord and says, “I think we should exit the root and wine cellar and check out the other doorway. I’ll lead so I can check it for locks or any type of tripwire or trap mechanism, disabling it if needed. Then we can check out the next room.” [GM filling in for Player]
As Mordecai waits for Livvi to conduct her investigation, she glances back at the covered grave and sighs. “Do we tell Lilita about this, if we see her again?”
"Yes," Mordecai responds matter of factly. "It'll perhaps give her better insight on what her father has become."
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
Mordecai immediately brandishes his glaive and takes point, whispering to Livvi, "Keep your eyes and ears open - be ready to make a move. Thoughts on what made that?"
Her more sensitive ears turned slightly, head cocked as she looks in the direction of the sound Livvi whispers, “Someone – “ There was another, lighter creak from above, causing the Half-Elf to amend her comment – “or several someone’s appear to have just entered the house. I think it’s coming from the back, not out front. But I could be wrong.” She shrugs.
After giving Livvi a moment to think on what may have caused the sound, Mordecai eventually starts heading back the way they came, stalking the origin of the creaks cause.
// OOC Stealth Check @ disadv due to armor... 12 and a perception check of 6...
As they reach the open doorway leading to the cellar’s main hallway there’s a sound.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like someone calling out a name.” She draws her rapier and slides the cittern to her back to keep it out of the way if a fight should break out.
Mordecai responds, "Didn't catch it. Did it sound like Lilita?"
Mordecai cautiously continues forward, as quietly as he can.
As he enters the central hallway there’s a dull thump above, and then the sound of a door opening comes from back near the stairway that they’d entered by. Possibly that door leading up, into the kitchen.
Livvi silently points to one side of the stairs, then at Mord, and then she points at herself and to the other side, indicating that they should quickly take up positions on either side in an ambush...
Mordecai whispers, "It's morning - it's likely not to be a vampire... But if you insist."
Mordecai takes position where Livvi pointed.
From her hiding spot, Livvi breathe’s a sigh of relief and steps out of her hiding spot and says, "Thank the goddess, it's you! Honestly, Lilita, Mordecai and I have had the devil's own luck trying to keep up with you - and now you appear with two new companions. It's like you don't even care about us. You're worse than the college boys; you spend one or two nights with me and then you're on to the next distraction. Well...get down here and introduce your friends!"
Mordecai steps out of hiding, but does not lower his weapon, he whispers to Livvi, "For all we know they're controlling her - we don't know who they are..."
"The lot of you, show yourselves - I've had a touchy past couple of days, and I'd feel better if you all just stayed in plain sight while Lilita explains what's going on here."
Mordecai eyes all three of them, Lilita and the companions, suspiciously - sizing them up in the case it should come down to a fight.
Lilita looks sadly at Mordecai and Livvi, "I am very sorry, please forgive me, I thought the two of you were right behind me when I left your residence. The next thing I knew I was all alone but that's alright I found my mother's home as did you apparently and a few new friends along the way."
Mordecai tries reading her, looking for differences from the Lilita he's familiar with, to gain some kind of assurance that she's not under some magical influence that is affecting her behavior. ( Insight Check 21 )
In his gut, based upon the healer’s expression and somewhat older looking eyes that Lilita had experienced some pain, even loss, since they had least met. Just what, however, he couldn’t tell.
Mordecai responds, "You sprinted out the door, Lilita... In the middle of the night... In a fog. Little chance to find you, but we did find a bloodsucker trying to make a meal out of an innocent girl. It was foolish of you to run out alone like that.
Lilita groans, "I did not sprint! I leisurely took my leave thinking you both were just behind but evidently you were both far too busy making cow eyes over each other to notice that I had departed." The silver-haired sorceress quipped slightly irritated at being called foolish and more than a little envious of what she perceives to be a budding romance between Mordecai and Livvi.
"I am sorry about the girl; I trust you two managed to save her. For a mercenary bounty hunter Mordecai, you always seem to be in the right place at the right time helping to rescue people who need saving, like a real hero," Lilita smiles.
Somewhat calmer, Mordecai stows the glaive.
<><><><><><><>
Livvi's Story continues...
Deep in the middle of the merchant quarter Livvi turned down a smaller side street and passing one of dozens of small townhouses lining the street until she came to a ivy-covered stone wall enclosing a small green space behind a wrought iron gate. The ground floor windows, what she could see of them, were shuttered and those on the upper stories of the three-story house were closed but un-shuttered. The portion of the garden that she could see looked ill kept and overgrown, quite unlike the rest of the neighborhood.
Mordecai wasn’t loitering around, as best she could tell. He might be still sleeping, or he might have already gone inside.
"Am I too late? Or too early?" Livvi thinks to herself after looking around for the half-orc. "Maybe he's already inside...impatient oaf." The young half-elf runs several scenarios through her mind while she waits for a few minutes, imagining the wort and most likely courses of events and actions. Finally, growing impatient, she whispers an arcane incantation and touches the wall near the entrance gate, leaving a common symbol for a bard with her magic. "In case I'm early..." she thinks.
Livvi will enter the garden and then the townhome, carefully looking for any dangers and calling out for Lilita and Mordecai.
The gate opens easily, squeaking hinges add to the evidence that the place as been abandoned for some time. Within the garden, grasses are knee high with weeds and overgrown brush even higher. A narrow path of flagstones and high grass winds around both sides of the townhouse proper. [GM Roll: Perception 15 + 7 = 22]
She might be wrong but the path of the right shows signs that someone has traversed it recently, maybe only a few hours before.
The path leads around the west side of the townhouse. As she follows Livvi nearly walks past evidence of someone pushing through the overgrown grass and bushes. A few strides bring her to the wall of the townhouse and a short staircase leading down to a cellar door.
She will follow the path, hoping it was the way Lilita went, but wary in case someone else, someone dangerous, used this path. At the door to the cellar, she investigates the area, looking for any evidence of who went this way. Using her years running with some of the thieves in town, she also looks for alarms, traps, and locks...luckily, her elven heritage allows her to see even in the dim light of the morning.
Right away her search uncovers that someone recently has oiled the hinges on the heavy cellar door. That it opens inward and is secured by a heavy looking lock below a thumb-latch handle. And while old leaves and twigs cover the steps down to the door they have been walked on, more than once in recent days and several tattered spiderwebs shiver in the slight morning breeze in the doorway.
Perception: 16. : Thieves' tools: 13.
At the cellar door, Livvi investigates the door and lock for traps, and then fishes out her old set of lockpicks to ensure that a mundane cellar lock wouldn't end her explorations prematurely! With a practiced set of motions, she realizes that the door is not locked. Shrugging her shoulders, then looking over them to ensure nobody is watching her, she whispers an arcane phrase and causes a spectral hand to materialize at the door handle. With a thought, she causes the mage hand to depress the thumb latch and push, causing the door to open inward slightly.
The latch depresses easily beneath her thumb causing the door to open inward slightly.
Within the doorway is a stone landing a stride (5’) square. More steps descend into the darkness beneath the townhouse in front of her. To her right three steps lead up to an interior door with a simple handle and latch (no lock). Dust covers the steps to the house interior and show no footprints. If Lilita had come this way, the Grey Lady hadn’t used the interior door. With her ability to see in dim lighting, Livvi sees the cellar steps continue down several strides (10’) and enter a passageway. Walking on the balls of her feet as her mentor had taught her, she quietly follows the steps down and into the passage, looking back and forth. Stealth: 11. : Perception: 25.
Descending the stairs as softly as a Half Elf can, Livvi listens with more than her ears. Her delicate nose picks up the smells of slightly dank stairs giving way to dry air. Not the sort of air that one might expect to find in a closed off basement. There was a hint of freshness, suggesting that either the basement was exposed often enough to the outside that the air was moderately fresh or that the cellars of the townhouse were vented. Dust enough coats the corners of the floor, as do cobwebs, both old and new, decorating the corners and narrow spaces. None, however, save one, a small spider busily laying down strings, cross the passage itself as she reaches the bottom. Without a doubt the Bard knew that someone or something was making visits to the cellars via the exterior door.
The stairs end in a small room. A few old crates lie stacked in a corner, a tall, brass tank of some sort collects dust in another. The passage continues through an open doorway straight ahead and two wooden doors are on her left and right. Just inside the door hangs a small lamp, the sort holding a small candle. Neither the lamp nor candle show any signs of having been used in decades. Somewhere, possibly coming from behind the door on her left, Livvi hears soft squeaking sound of the sort made by a rodent.
The small hairs on the back of Livvi's neck stand straight - every sense attuned to this moment. If this was Lilita's ancestral home, and if she had a tie to Lord Rezgui, either real or imagined, then perhaps the vampire was using this as its safe resting place during the day. Which meant that the vampire lord was probably here, in one of these rooms. Standing still as a statue, her mind races through her potential options:
1) The most dangerous likelihood is that Rezgui was, in fact, using this basement as his hide spot and was here now. She should leave now, find Mordecai, and return with him and his new weapon. That would be the safest thing to do and give them at least a chance to survive the encounter.
2) The most likely potential was that Lilita was down here on her own, just waking up from a night's rest. She was a strange bird, that one, and Livvi honestly didn't know how the Grey Lad would respond to being found. Perhaps a simple song on the cittern would be enough to draw the girl out, and they could try and talk again.
3) It was Mordecai who had beaten her here and knocked down the spider's webs. Of course, if it WAS the half-orc, Livvi doubted that he would close doors after passing through them, so this probably was the least likely potential.
4) Of course, it could be that nobody was down here at the moment, nor had been for a while, and her overactive imagination was working overtime. Still, based on the events of the last ten-day, it was probably a good thing she had an active imagination and often was able to see bad situations as they were developing.
Livvi knew she should get someone else - but she was a half-elf and a bard, and neither one would let her leave this basement without exploring the entire area and knowing all of its secrets. So, she keeps her right hand on the neck and strings of the cittern, still slung across her back but ready to be swung around and in a playing position with a quick tug and twist. She puts her ear against the door to the left, listening intently.
For the longest time she stood there, quiet and alert, senses straining to hear or smell something out of what she imagined would be its place. Then, just as she starts to relax a new sound drifts down the stairway behind her from the garden. A slight qork of a crow and a muttered response of a deep timbred male. It was faint, and had she not been attuned to such things, Livvi doubted that she would have ever heard it in the first place.
Livvi quietly sneaks to the edge of the main basement room and, if she can reach it, uses the copper tank to hide behind. Stealth: 24 If the owner of the voice is coming towards her, then she will change tactics and attempt to ease her way into one of the doors at the end of the hallway before the man comes into view. All the while, she is trying to identify the voice, or see the face. Is it Mordecai finally showing up? Lord Rezgui returning to his resting place before getting caught in the full sunlight of the morning? Someone else, perhaps?
A soft creak of leather on stone. Slow, practiced intake of breath. The sense of something starting down the stairs tingles at the edges of her nerve endings. The flutter of a wing just beyond, and above, maybe, the cellar door that she had left open.
From her hiding place behind the metal container in the corner of the room, Livvi watches. Slow, steady breathing - no other movement. He half-elf eyes staring intently through the darkness as if it were lit by a torch. Just a step or two more, so she could she his form and then his face. She was poised for combat but praying for a peaceful encounter.
From the landing above comes a glutaral male whisper, the sort someone might make to oneself when he or she’s alone. "Let's make sure the upstairs is clear, before I find out what goes bump in the night down there.” It’s followed by a soft, almost imperceivably creak of a hinge to one of the other doors. If not for her half-elven heritage Livvi might not have heard the creak at all. The voice, however, came off as someone trying to be stealthy but not very practiced at it.
Insight to determine if it is Mordecai: 15
(OOC: Thinking that from her vantage point she could see the figure and determine if it was Mordecai, a big half-orc fighter, or the handsome rogue from the rooftop and Bilina's bed, a human male of medium build, or Lord Cadrian, whom she hadn't seen in days but may still be pursuing the case of the missing girls. Because if it's Mord, she's gonna prank him! If it's the rogue, she's gonna watch him. If it's Cadrian, well...not sure! =)
Giving it some thought, the sound of the voice, it’s power and timbre makes her think of Mordechai, as dose the musky smell that comes from one who bathes less than he should and is a bit more hairy than he needed to be. Plus, the way he whispered overly loud at what sounded like one of The Widow’s crows lurking in the garden increases her gut feeling that it’s the Half-Orc going up the short steps and into the first floor above.
Livvi whispers an arcane phrase, and a spectral hand appears just behind Mordecai. Livvi causes it to pinch the half-orc on the butt, then she calls out from her hiding spot at the bottom of the stairs, "You're late!"
Mordecai turns with a start, glaive out in a defensive position. He sighs before responding, "Sorry about that - someone broke into my place last night and are seemingly trying to set me up for something, so I had to take precautions and an inventory."
Emerging from her hiding spot, the bard climbs up to Mordecai and punches him lightly in the arm. "Good to see you, Mord. Glad you could make it. I think we need to finish checking out the basement before heading upstairs. Someone was down here before me but didn't use this door here to go upstairs. So, it's either some miscreant who decided to use the abandoned townhouse as a place to hole up, or maybe something worse. If it's the something worse, I'm really glad you're here..."
"Yeah," Mordecai says somewhat drawn out, "I got the feeling that the basement would be where the most trouble is found, so I figured to do the quick and easy of casing the topside first... and let the sun brighten up the world a bit more. That said, I'm game if you are..." He turns to head back down into the basement.
He whispers to Livvi, "I'm not so much worried about something being holed up in there, insomuch as something using it as an exit from a much darker place."
The Half-Orc continues stealthily as one can be in chain mail holding a heavy glaive.
Livvi leads him to the doors at the back hallway. She points to the left one and whispers, "Thought I heard a rat or something in here, but when I listened closely, there was only silence. I guess either one is good but was about to check out this left one. Ready?"
"More likely something heard you and went and hid for an ambush," replies Mordecai in a hushed voice.
Mordecai positions himself in front of the door, glaive in an offensive position, ready to strike anything coming within its reach of ten feet. He nods towards Livvi.
When he is ready, she will carefully checks it for locks or perhaps a trap (Perception: 9) then quietly opens it so they both can peer into the room or passage beyond. Beyond the door lies a long, cross shaped wine cellar. Racks of bottles and stacks of small casks line the walls, covered in cobwebs and decades of dust. There’s an earthy smell coming from somewhere.
Mordecai looks around, eyes flickering from spot to spot, muscles tensing in preparation, moving across the dusty floor, then to the walls, racks, and stacks of barrels.
Livvi moves with the half-orc, but out of his swinging range. Quickly, they cover the room, checking corners and high spots, looking for potential hiding areas or threats. At the cross, Livvi goes right and assumes Mordecai goes left. At the end of the area she calls out, "Looks clear. Let's check out the other door before we do a more detailed search of these rooms..." [GM perception check 23]
Mordecai winces slightly at her calling out aloud. He follows her to the door, and whispers, "Remind me to teach you tactical sign language. I'm not the quietest individual with all this metal on me, but don't cut yourself either."
With one eye on the floor, another on everything else, The Half-Orc reaches one of the cellar’s side doors where he leans down to examine the stone floor, and then the door which is made from thick, old cut wood, bound in brass.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
<>
The door opens with a slight creak, releasing a thicker, fresher smell of disturbed earth. Mordecai’s ears pick up the sounds of soft squeaks and rustling sounds, quite a few of them which only become more pronounced as he opens the door further. An upward glance at the barrel ceiling shows a modest colony of bats.
As she passes the last rack of wine bottles Livvi notices that several bottles are missing. Not that there simply hadn’t been bottles in the slots, there are plenty of open, empty slots, filled with old cobwebs. These, were not.
"I wonder if it's been opened recently?" asks Mordecai rhetorically. He peers over his shoulder at Livvi and says, "Stay behind me." Balancing his glaive with his leg and one arm, he reaches for the door and opens it... slowly.
Mordecai giving the room a once over asks Livvi, "Do you think something came up? Or decided to dig itself a burrow? Aren't vampires supposed to be associated with bats in some way?"
Mordecai tries to discern if it seems something escaped from deeper beneath or if the turned earth was dug from the surface.
He quips, "Should I poke the earth with my glaive?"
Livvi stares at the mound of dirt, trying to discern if it's the same size as a freshly turned grave. She pulls her instrument fully around to the front of her body and strums a few chords - a major tuning song with strong, open chords. The feeling of protection and strength wash over Mordecai as Livvi uses the cittern to cast protection from evil and good on the half-orc. "Now you're ready to poke the mound with your pole..." she says, unaware of the double entendre - lost in the tension of the potential fight with a vampire!!
Mordecai makes a face and mutters something under his breath before stowing the glaive, setting it up so that it's easy to arm himself with it. He then pulls out a maul and begins some exploratory passes of the fresh earth, trying to discern if there's something buried or if it possibly opens up deeper. He eyes the bats above warily on occasion as he works.
The firs few passes with the maul reveals that the earth is loose, if not fresh, considering it was the floor of an old root cellar in an old townhouse. After some care, the Half-Orc work starts to show a pattern. A portion of earth about a stride by two strides long (5’x10’) roughly. The soil is loose to a foot depth, the limit that Mordecai was pacing himself by.
<>
"Bigger than a grave...and certainly more than a rat's warren. Perhaps someone buried something else down here? Or they wanted an indoor swimming hole and gave up on it...keep digging. Do you want me to get rid of these bats? How do they get in and out, I wonder?" Livvi begins looking around the rest of the room, looking for an opening to the surface that the bats could use to get out and go hunting for insects, or fruit, or whatever...If she finds a crack or chimney, and Mord agrees with shooing them off, Livvi will use her mage hand to gently push the bats off of their roosting spots towards the opening.
Mordecai turns back and gives Livvi 'a look' when she instructs him to 'keep digging.'
"If the bats leave me alone, I'll leave them alone," replies Mordecai.
He then flips the maul and uses the handle to explore how deep the loose earth goes. He stands on the perimeter of the whole, not stepping in. The probing reveals that the looser soil goes deeper along the perimeter and that something hard, lay a foot down in the middle. Something that might be hallow. Between the harder ground and the buried object, the handle of the maul goes down to the head with a bit of wiggling.
Livvi eyes the bats, then shrugs. "If you don't mind the flying rodents, I'm ok leaving them alone. For now. But it seems you've found something in the middle of the dirt pile! Can you help me clear the dirt off it? I have an idea..." She moves her hands and whispers an arcane phrase, causing a spectral hand to appear and float over the middle of the pit! The mage hand starts digging the dirt off of the coffin as quickly as it can - not as fast as a good shovel, but it does get the job done slowly...
Once the duo clears the object enough to see it, Livvi will strum her cittern and play a light and airy jig. The notes quiver in the dark air of the cellar, almost visible. Slowly, as the song builds in intensity, the object in the dirt starts to float upwards! "Give it a push towards the floor, will you, Mord?" the bard asks while still playing the instrument. (using the Mac-Fuirmidh cittern to cast levitate.)
Mordecai comments, "Well that certainly makes things easier."
He pushes the object out from over the loose earth towards the firmer floor closer to the door. Dirt shifts and pours off the sides of the long, box like object as it emerges from its burial place. Ornate woodwork and brass trimmings reveal an opulent coffin.
Livvi lets the coffin descend gently to the hard floor of the room. "Well, we seem to be the dogs who caught the cart we were chasing. Are you ready to take on whatever might be in this? Isn't there something that will kill them? A wooden stake through the heart or a silver weapon? Maybe if we grab some wood from the wine cellar...Or do we just go for it? It was buried after all...could a vampire even get into this under all of that dirt?"
"I'm sure a vampire can make it through. Now, as far as killing one - wouldn't know the trick to that, but we could try this..." - Mordecai points at the glaive - "... for now."
"With that said, you should probably check it for booby traps - eldritch or otherwise."
Mordecai readies his glaive and will open the coffin once he gets the okay from Livvi.
Although she had never heard of it, Livvi nods at her new partner and carefully checks the coffin for traps. Perception: 14 She runs her fingers lightly around the edge of the lid, feeling slowly for wires, levers, indentations, locks, or anything else that would indicate she had some additional work to do with her tools...
Finding nothing, she looks up at Mordecai and gives him a thumbs up, then readies herself to lift the lid. She stands across the coffin from Mordecai, so that she can pull the lid open towards her and give Mordecai a clear look - and attack vector - at whatever might be inside...she gives him a silent count, and quickly lifts the lid on the count of three.
Mordecai lifts his glaive ready to strike, but then pauses as a look of confusion comes across his face. He lowers the glaive.
Nestled inside is the desiccated corpse of a once well-dressed woman. The smell wafting from the open coffin is stale and bad, but nothing as bad as one might expect from an interned body. Laying on the woman’s breast is a bouquet of flowers that while wilted, don’t look all that old.
Mordecai comments, "I fear we may have desecrated a grave - although given the age of those flowers, the woman is likely exhumed and reinterred on a regular basis. We should return her as soon as possible. Before we do, let's see if there's anything we could use to identify this woman."
GM Note: Player left on vacation for two weeks.
Mordecai inspects the body visually, taking care not to touch it. When Livvi is satisfied, he'll reseal the coffin and push it back to its grave.
Livvi joins Mordecai and looks over the body, the clothes, the coffin and its interior. Perception: 21 From the style of clothes and the quality of the moldering material Livvi’s convinced that this is a noblewoman, though which house, she can’t pin down. Something else about the clothing suggests a style that was popular two decades ago. The flowers are rare in the city as well, being of a type that grows in the northern province. There’s something vaguely familiar about her features, despite the ravages of death. There was some sort of magic at play here, too, though what sort, she couldn’t divine. Subtle or old, maybe as the corpse is well preserved.
"I think you're right, Mord. The freshly churned ground, the recent flowers. Did Lilita dig this up? COULD that waif of a girl dig this much? OK...back into the ground with her. Unfortunately, I can't levitate the coffin again right now...so it's gonna have to be pushed in. Let's close her back up and set this back. Ready?"
"I suspect that it wasn't Lilita who did this, but her father. This might be Lilita's mother."
The Half-Elf’s head tilt’s slightly as she looks down at the corpse. “I suspect that your right, if this her family’s home. There are plenty of stories about fiendish floobs keeping grisly trophies or loved ones they couldn’t bear to part from. If not that, then someone’s investing a lot of time and effort in maintaining a grave. Looking at the style of clothes I’d say that they’re about two decades out of date and the materials that they’re made from are expensive, suggesting a wealthy or noble birth.” [GM filling in for Player]
"That style and timeline seem to fit what The Widow described about Lilita's family," Mordecai says with a sigh.
Mordecai gives the corpse another look, before placing the seal back on the coffin, and then placing some dirt on the floor between the coffin and the grave to help it slide better, stows his glaive, and pushes the coffin back to its resting place.
Livvi helps manually move it back into the open grave. Once they get the coffin in place and covered. When they are finished, Livvi glances at Mord and says, “I think we should exit the root and wine cellar and check out the other doorway. I’ll lead so I can check it for locks or any type of tripwire or trap mechanism, disabling it if needed. Then we can check out the next room.” [GM filling in for Player]
As Mordecai waits for Livvi to conduct her investigation, she glances back at the covered grave and sighs. “Do we tell Lilita about this, if we see her again?”
"Yes," Mordecai responds matter of factly. "It'll perhaps give her better insight on what her father has become."
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
lUpdated 9/13]
Straightening up he suggests, "Let's see about the rest of this house - see what insights we can gain on this vampire incursion."
“Agreed, I – “
Just then the creak of a floorboard from somewhere above comes from the cellar’s main passageway. The Half-Elf’s head jerks upwards as if trying to divine what may have made the sound.
Mordecai immediately brandishes his glaive and takes point, whispering to Livvi, "Keep your eyes and ears open - be ready to make a move. Thoughts on what made that?"
Her more sensitive ears turned slightly, head cocked as she looks in the direction of the sound Livvi whispers, “Someone – “ There was another, lighter creak from above, causing the Half-Elf to amend her comment – “or several someone’s appear to have just entered the house. I think it’s coming from the back, not out front. But I could be wrong.” She shrugs.
After giving Livvi a moment to think on what may have caused the sound, Mordecai eventually starts heading back the way they came, stalking the origin of the creaks cause.
As they reach the open doorway leading to the cellar’s main hallway there’s a sound.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like someone calling out a name.”
Livvi continues straining her half-elven ears to pick up as many audible cues as possible to determine if it is perhaps Lilita or someone else. Perception: 13 She also draws her rapier and slides the cittern to her back to keep it out of the way if a fight should break out.
Mordecai responds, "Didn't catch it. Did it sound like Lilita?"
Mordecai cautiously continues forward, as quietly as he can.
As they reenter the central hallway there’s a dull thump above, and then the sound of a door opening comes from back near the stairway that they’d entered by. Possibly that door leading up, into the kitchen.
She silently points to one side of the stairs, then at Mord, and then she points at herself and to the other side, indicating that they should quickly take up positions on either side in an ambush...
Stealth: 23
She watches the newcomers from her hidden vantage point, holding her attack until a positive identification can be made. If it is Lilita, or even a non-threatening commoner, she will simply stay in place. But if it is the vampire - Lilita's father - or someone/thing else that makes her doubt, she will probably attack it without warning or sound, preferring to end the threat quickly...
Mordecai whispers, "It's morning - it's likely not to be a vampire... But if you insist."
As the big Half Orc takes position where she had pointed Livvi hears the steps of someone stealthy coming down the stairs. There’s a hint of dust and travel and something else…something feline in a corrupted way drifting down. Someone whispers upstairs, another hisses softly but the words make no sense but it’s a response to someone in charge. Someone feminine and naggingly familiar.
From her hiding spot, Livvi hears, and then sees, Lilita and two others come down into the basement. Breathing a sigh of relief, Livvi steps out of her hiding spot and says, "Thank the goddess, it's you! Honestly, Lilita, Mordecai and I have had the devil's own luck trying to keep up with you - and now you appear with two new companions. It's like you don't even care about us. You're worse than the college boys; you spend one or two nights with me and then you're on to the next distraction. Well...get down here and introduce your friends!"
Mordecai steps out of hiding, but does not lower his weapon, and whispers, "For all we know they're controlling her - we don't know who they are..."
To those upstairs he calls out, "The lot of you, show yourselves - I've had a touchy past couple of days, and I'd feel better if you all just stayed in plain sight while Lilita explains what's going on here."
The Half-Orc eyes all three of them, Lilita and the companions, suspiciously - sizing them up in the case it should come down to a fight.
<><><><><><><>
Lilita's Story continues...
When morning came Lilita and Melu were given a hot breakfast (Lilita’s enjoyed a Long Rest <> Note: She’s also leveled) and at the instance of Brother Tarris, is provided with a ride back to the city in the company of a group of priests and monks. Brother Tarris had explained that news of Talis Panou’s death had to be delivered to the Temple. The trip proves uneventful and with the addition of a small, bureaucratically sealed scroll tube containing her legal claim to her family’s townhouse and anything else remaining, she finds herself standing at Tarantis’ north gate.
During the journey back to the city, Lilita and Melu sit silently side by side in the back of a wagon, Lilita's eyes are red and puffy from crying herself to sleep after the passing of Talis Panou the night before. He had shown her such kindness in his last day of life that Lilita would always feel herself forever in his debt. It seemed to Lilita that wherever she went, death seemed to follow.
As the wagon rocked back and forth Lilita looked sadly at her companion Melu. The lizard-girl seemed to be growing ever more attached to Lilita that the silver-haired sorceress was starting to worry that if Melu remained at her side for too long, death would eventually take her too. The last thing Lilita wished was put a friend in mortal danger but was unsure as to what to do about Melu.
Lilita's attention shifts from Melu to the sealed scroll tube poking out of her pack. Staring at it, the thought of what it represented started to concern Lilita. She had no idea where to go with it, who to take it to. The very idea of reclaiming her heritage frightened her, she was ill-prepared for any of it knowing that it would bring a whole new set of problems. Problems she was ill-equipped to face or deal with.
As the Temple group enters the city Melu, half hiding behind Lilita’s skirt, gwaks up at the massive gatehouse, than at the lines of travelers and merchants moving into the city (few seem to be leaving at this hour). It was an hour before noonfest (noon), and on the eve of the new fiveday. Tomorrow, officially, the festival of Silver started. And, perhaps, it was the eve of a war of darkness.
Lilita looked up at the massive gate understanding Melu's awe and wariness. Lilita drew the lizard-girl close to her and whispers, "don't worry you are not alone. I will help you get situated and later when you are ready you can decide if you want to make your life in the city or return to the wilds and try to find if any of people are still living and reclaim your old life if possible. Anything I can do to help you, know that I will do my best."
Melu suddenly tugs at Lilita’s skirt, the lizard girl’s nose twitching and wrinkling. She’s staring at a trio of raggedly clothed floobs. One man and two women whose features were in their prime, extruding a sense of strength that somehow didn’t go with their outer provinces attire. Melu’s hand slips a smooth looking crystal from one of her pouches and hisses. “man/beasts…girl/beasts? Not man/not beasts – Beasts!”
Lilita drapes her arm around Melu whispering, "please calm yourself, don't attract their attention and give us away. I understand you can sense them for what they truly are but in the city, we cannot attack someone, even their kind without just cause. Best to not let those creatures know that you can sense them so that we may take advantage of the element of surprise. No doubt war is coming to the city soon enough. For now, we must bide our time, watch and wait."
Melu holds up the gray colored crystal in her hand and peers through it at Lilita with a feisty grin. “Rock smash/stomp not-men-things flat/squish!” She then deftly returns it to the pouch.
The trio had moved past the City Guards and were making their way up the main avenue heading deeper into the city quarter.
Lilita quickly gives Brother Tarris and others her thanks and says her goodbyes. As they part ways, the priests and monks heading-on towards the temple so Lilita decides to try to follow the trio of were-beasts at a safe distance as to not attract their attention or notice. Her hope is to try to determine where they are heading and find out if possible, what they may be up to.
Glancing around, Lilita seems to have lost site of the trio in the crowds moving in and out of the gate area.
Lilita groans and quickly turns to her companion, "Melu, did you see which way the not-men-things went? We need to find them, quietly follow them and see where they are going and what they are up to!"
Melu wrinkles her nose, the whip end of her tail flicking excitedly like a cat’s. She gawks up at Lilita and nods then moves through the crowd on tip toes, as if trying to be sneaky while being speedy. The stance earns the lizard girl some odd looks and the occasional smile. Following, Melu leads Lilita past a number of stalls selling fresh vegetables and fruits and nearly becomes distracted by a pyramid of marion melons. Drooling slightly, Melu hops from one foot to the other before slaps the ground behind her with her tail and hurries forward, turning towards a narrow street leading deeper into the quarter.
Lilita follows close behind Melu hoping that the lizard-girl is able to follow their trail. Without a thought, Lilita sticks with Melu as the pair head into the narrow street deeper into the quarter hoping to catch sight of the trio again without either herself or Melu being spotted.
The lizard girl skulks forward with purpose, displaying a natural affinity to stealth though often her exaggerated antic’s draws more attention than if she’d walk normally. That said, if it were night, Melu would be hard to spot, short and as skinny as she is, and her movements would give her an advantage over her prey…or possible hunters.
The road turns and twists, once crossing through a small market square full of squabbling merchants and venders, arguing over who has rights to what space for their wares. More gawkers stand around, watching to see if it gets interesting. Like a bird dog, Melu flows through the crowd, tail tapping or flicking and occasionally glancing back to see if her new friend hadn’t gotten lost.
Lilita does her best to keep up with the much faster Melu trying not to attract unwanted attention as she does so.
Passing through a gap in the market crowd Lilita spots the three warebeasts further along the street beyond. Walking – sauntering might be a better word – along until a stocky, heavily tattooed Dwarf steps out of a tavern and take’s a stance that could be misconstrued as confrontational, or, the motions and stance of someone grown annoyed with having to wait for someone else who was supposed to arrive at an earlier time. The male of the trio, thick saggy hair falling down his back, gestures to the tavern entrance. A moment later, all four go inside.
Lilita not being fond of taverns let out a sigh as she watches the four of them go into the tavern. She looks down at Melu with a frown, "we're going to have to go inside too it seems. It's a tavern, a place where people partake of strong drink and carouse so please try not to attract undue attention, we are just looking to find out what they are up to and not cause trouble or get into a fight if we can help it. Alright? You can either stay here and keep watch or you can come inside with me, whichever works for you."
Heading to the door to the tavern Lilita opens it to head inside leaving Melu to decide if she wants to accompany Lilita or wait outside as she pleases. The lizard girl’s head cocks, watching Lilita for maybe half a second without tagging along.
Lilita can smell the smoke of a dozen different pipe weeds, the acrid aroma of under washed bodies, and other things before she reaches the doors. Both are propped open, allowing the foul air to escape, although one might assume, they are open to let fresh air in. Sounds of tittering, banging, and other lewd noises drift down from the windows above. Above the door itself is a carved image of a beer mug, indicating the sort of business operated within, if all the other ques weren’t enough.
The innocent young sorceress timidly peers sideways up and down and is shocked pale by at the sights and sounds she encounters just inside the gloomy smoke-filled tavern. Her delicate nose wrinkles up at the stench of the smoke and the myriad of other unpleasant odors that assault her senses. Most definitely this is not the sort of place Lilita cares to frequent. Feeling like a fish out of water she quickly finds herself wishing that the fey goddess was at her side feeling that Livvi would be much more skilled in interacting with the sort of folk that tends to favor such establishments.
“You/me safe,” Melu says with utter confidence. “You/me have Rock.”
Lilita nervously gazes down at the unflappable Melu and gives her companion a silent yet grateful nod. Though Melu is not in the league of the likes of the fey goddess, Lilita recognizes that she can count on the brave lizard-girl to stick by her.
With a determined look, Lilita somehow manages to find the courage to move deeper into the tavern in search of her quarry. As she meanders her long curly locks of silver hair cascade gracefully down, around, and well-past her shoulders jouncing behind her as she moves. Still having no coins in her purse Lilita knows that it won't take long before the pair are booted out so struggles to come with a plan that will buy them time to find out what the werebeasts are up to.
Unlike many taverns where the bar is located towards the back, this one’s bar is just left of the entrance. A tall, stained, formidable looking wooden structure dominates the front of the tavern. Build from iron wood, the bar could probably serve as a bunker if the pair working behind it so required it. One bartender is a tall, gray haired man in a stained apron. The other is a middle-aged woman with a bosom that was grossly oversized for her narrow waist. Her long brown hair in braids, she wags a finger at several leering patrons perched on stools. The haze gathering about the low ceiling makes the place look darker than it was. Of course, if someone would take the time to wash the windows, no doubt the lighting would be better.
Tables crowd the center space, cheap benches and stools surround them. Long benches line two of the four walls, the bar one, leaving the back wall where a staircase climbs upwards to the upper floor. At the foot of the stairs sits a large, bearded Half-Orc with one broken tusk and an eye long closed from some sort of injury. Probably a knife.
Melu sneezes, then rubs her flat nose vigorously. Even as she doses, her tail curls lightly around Lilita’s left ankle, the tip tapping ever so slightly. Off to the left, near the corner sits the tattooed Dwarf and the three strangers. A skinny woman with pock marks scaring her cheeks, is delivering four large wooden mugs to the table.
Lilita kneels down low next to the lizard-girl dropping her voice to a whisper as she hands Melu an empty sack, "take this and when I start playing my viol to entertain, move about collecting any coins the patrons here may wish to offer up. As you do this try to get as close to the werebeasts as you are able to. Linger near them as much as you can as long as you can and eavesdrop on what it is that they are talking about."
“K!” Melu eagerly takes the sack and put’s it on her head like a hat.
Rising back up to her feet Lilita pulls out her Viol as her eyes flicker nervously towards the tall, gray-haired bartender in the stained apron behind the bar. Cautiously Lilita approaches the man and politely asks in a respectful tone, "good sir if you please might I ask your permission to play a bit of music and earn some coin with my companion there. We would gladly split with you 50-50 any and all that I am able to earn with my playing?" [NPC Interactions Roll: 23/57]
The older man immediately starts to demand a higher cut but is cut off by the woman who’s gaze is taking Lilita’s measure. “It’s okay, Darizan. Let tha’ Entertainer ply ‘er trade. Ain’t costin’ us anything to let’er let loose.”
Darizan grunts than turns to pour a refill for another customer.
Assuming the bartender is open to such an arrangement and gives his permission Lilita will find a suitable spot where she can keep a close eye on the tattooed dwarf and the werebeasts as she plays in order to be nearby to help Melu should something go amiss.
Lilita begins to play... [GM Roll: Seduction check (with +2 Performance) 81+2=83%]
As the tune begins slowly, the cords reach out across the tavern and one by one, conversations sill or turn to whispers. Many eyes, mostly hard-faced men, turn her way. Some soften slightly, others seem to relax. Here and there some return to their conversations, but glance Lilita’s way as she plays. After gawking at her for several long moments the lizard girl pulls the sack off her head and starts dancing, nearly in tune with the music, around waving her tail or thrusting the sack at various patrons, many whom dig for coins.
Lilita continues to play as she watches Melu all the while hoping that the lizard-girl has clearly understood her instructions.
As the temp increases, Melu seems more intent on plying customers with the sack than the part of the plan where she’s to get close to the conspirators so she can ease drop on them.
Lilita seeing that Melu has gotten a bit carried away Lilita after finishing her first number starts her second as she slowly moves as she plays to the left, towards the corner where the tattooed Dwarf and the three werebeasts are seated hoping that Melu will take note of her movement and be reminded that she is supposed to be eavesdropping on them.
Doing a graceful pirouette on one foot, the lizard girl glances at the Dwarf and his companions and makes a sound and gesture one might make as if seeing long lost friends. With glee, Melu hurries over to their table and dances a jig, waving the sack which had grown some weight from the added coin. One of the women snarl slightly, giving the lizard girl an evil look while the Dwarf says something gruffly and waves Melu to go away. She mimics the gesture, switching the sack and holding it up with one foot while waving both hands and yammering in her broken, double-speak common.
Lilita watches Melu, a worried look on her face as she starts to get a bad feeling.
The Dwarf bellows, “Be gone wit’ ya, ya scaly skinned rodent! We ain’t got time fer ya!”
“Coin/now!” Melu bellows back. Puffing out her slim, busty chest, her face somehow manages to give the look of wagging a beard as she hops on one foot. The other foot wags the sack in front of the male werebeast demandingly. “Happy/sour-puss! Squeaky/rusty purse get/open!” The Dwarf stares at her mid rage while across the table the second werefemale starts to laugh at the absurdity of it all, earning glares from her two companions. “What?,” she laughs, “give it some coins, it’ll leave.”
Lilita stops playing and starts to move toward Melu calling out, "Melu, Melu, come away from there. Don't bother those people, they don't have time for your nonsense. If they don't wish to put a coin in the sack move on!" Turning to the Dwarf, Lilita gives him a worried half-frightened look, "I am very sorry, I do apologize, she doesn't understand. Please let me get her out of your way."
Melu glances over at Lilita, her tail poised to poke the Dwarf in his mustached nose. The sack gripped in the talons of her left foot, hoisted over her back and nearly level with her shoulder in a display of acrobatic flexibility of her race.
“Eh?”
The Dwarf stabs a pointed finger at Lilita. “This monkey yours? C’om get it fer I make a ‘bacco pouch out o’ it’s skin!”
Lilita's eyes look downward at the floor shyly, "not mine ser, well not exactly," her voice wavers a bit as she becomes flustered, "her name is Melu and she is a friend, a companion not a slave or servant so she is not mine but we do look out for one another. So please don't hurt her, she meant no harm or disrespect."
“Now Mardiat,” chides the laughing werefem, “Ain’t no way to treat Street Performers, they gotta eat, too.” She pulls several copper coins from a pocket and leans forward towards the open bag. [GM Rolls Perception check for Lilita: 12] The motion reveals a blue star tattoo on the woman’s forearm.
Lilita's face cannot hide her surprise at both the female werecreature's generous donation of copper coins and the familiar tattoo the woman bears. Lilita's gaze lingers on the woman's forearm with the star tattoo recognizing the mark, "you are an acquaintance of Mistress Domonique of the Black Rose please forgive our interruption, we will be upon our way and trouble you no more" Lilita says in a hushed tone as she reaches down for Melu looking to lead her away.
The humor on the woman’s face cools as she glances warily at Lilita. “I think not,” she hisses slightly. Before the woman can say more Melu’s antics go up a notch.
Blowing a raspberry at the Dwarf named Mardiat, Melu hop’s sideways, closer to the werebeasts, bag open and tail flicking. “Big/blond boobs/melon size/big/nice floob/thing!” The lizard girl says to the woman. The strange roll of compliments causes the male werebeast to grin and the other female to laugh as she glances from Lilita to the others, face turning. “My what?”
Melu’s tail pokes the women in the left breast as if trying to make a point. “Melons!”
Now it was the Dwarf’s turn to grin wickedly and sneer at his companions. “She’s got you there, Caradie. Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t been sayin’ since ya arrived, hee!”
Lilita blushes red at Melu's words and her poking of the woman's bosom, "please Melu, enough, that is extremely rude, come away with me now so these kind folk can enjoy their drinks in peace and quiet," the silver-haired sorceress tugging on the little lizard girl's arm still trying to get her to move away.
“Git,” the Dwarf snaps in agreement.
Grabbing the sack Melu hops around and then moves behind Lilita, the lizard girl’s tail lightly poking the healer’s ankle. Across the table the one named Caradie (of the big bust and tattoo) gazes narrowly at Lilita.
“Why do you sme – ‘er, seem familiar?”
Lilita offers a slightly nervous smile in the way of a reply, "I really could not say, my face and features are rather plain, so it is easy to confuse me with someone else. Again, my sincere apologies for interrupting you and you and your companions." Hand in hand with Melu Lilita seeks to slowly move away looking to head towards the tavern's open doorway.
Suspicion fills the Dwarf’s features as he eyes Lilita harder, than glances across the table at Caradie. “Ye know this ‘er tart?”
Lilita blinks and winces in irritation at being referred to as a tart but remains silent and holds her tongue wary of the dwarf and his companions.
The other two wearbeasts were also suddenly interested in the healer, far more than before. As she backs up, Lilita can see their nostrils twitching slightly, sensing the air. The male glances at the two females and something unsaid seems to be going on between them. Meanwhile Mardiat’s head twists from Caradie to Lilita.
“Where ya goin? Wha’, our coin no good now?” The Dwarf snaps, his hard eyes searching Lilita’s features, trying to remember if he should recognize her.
Startled by the dwarf's words and questioning tone Lilita's heart skips a beat, her cheeks flush, her eyes wide, intimidated by his hard-piercing stare. Lilita's voice wavers as she struggles to reply, "forgive me, I meant no disrespect, but you made it clear that you wanted me, and my companion gone. I just..," Lilita's voice falters and trails off for a moment but then suddenly she snaps back indignantly, "I am not a tart!"
“I don’t know,” Caradie admits as she stands up, “But maybe your right, Mardiat. Maybe we should ask some questions.” The other two were beasts slowly stand. Behind her, Lilia feel’s Melu sticking close, the lizard girl’s muscles tensing like springs. “We/you/me go/get?” Melu whispers, one eye peering around Lilita’s skirt, “or/maybe, rock/slamming time?”
Lilita bends down and gives Melu a brave smile trying to reassure the little lizard-girl, "no... it's alright Melu, relax, everything is fine. You have coins in your sack now, I bet you are hungry. Why don't you go see if they serve food here and get yourself something to eat or if not step outside and buy something from one of the street vendors, don't worry I'll be fine, just don't stray too far."
Melu didn’t reply, but she didn’t move either.
After reassuring her companion Lilita looks back at the dwarf and his companions and walks straight up to them, her gaze falls upon the woman called Caradie, "I am no one of any consequence, I imagine that you just recognize his scent, at least in part so ask your questions so that my friend and I can be on our way, we don't want any trouble."
“Eh? Who’s scent? Wha’ youse smellin?” the Dwarf growls, clearly angry about missing something and still glaring at the young healer suspiciously. “Wha’s this tart’s game?”
Caradie moves closer, close enough for Lilita to feel the were beasts body heat and smell the musk radiating off her. “No consequence? Maybe, but whose your master? Whose blood is it you share?”
The other two were beasts came around the table, one from each side. At the nearest tables, heads were turning, tongues wagging, eyes wondering if they were about to be front side seats at some sort of fracas.
Lilita meets Caradie's questioning gaze and in a low hushed voice she replies simply, "I am of the bloodline of Rakia Rezgui."
“Eh?” growls the Dwarf while the three werebeasts trade wary glances. Caradie’s nose wrinkles as if she’s sniffing the air while trying to be subtle about it. The male growls softly, “Such a daring thing to claim.”
Mardiat the Dwarf, confused, angry, and clearly feeling left out snaps at the male. “Darsin, wha’ are all ye flappin’ ‘bout? Is this ‘er tart workin’ fer yer boss? Der wasn’t any mention o’ a fourth,” he says, purposely ignoring Melu.
Lilita turns her gaze from Caradie to the Dwarf and back to Caradie again, "oh so he isn't aware as to your nature? Don't worry then, your secret is safe with me."
Hearing the male's words Lilita shrugs, "believe or don't believe, as you will. Your companion here asked a question and I simply answered it. The nose knows, does it not? In this case, I think true daring would be to threaten or otherwise seek to attempt to bring harm to a daughter of Rakia Rezgui, don't you? That would be foolish indeed but do what you feel you need to do!"
Lilita just smiles innocently, waiting...
Swearing loudly enough to draw more attention to the little drama at the back of the bar, Mardiat stomps one foot in fury. “Ain’t speakin’ no sense, none o’ ya! Rezgui’s o’ myth, everyone knows it!”
All three werebeasts turn to gaze coolly at the Dwarf.
“World’s full of myths, but myth or no, it’s never smart to speak like an ignorant fool.”
Caradie stares down at Mardiat, hands on her hips. “You were paid to provide some services, if you did’t think to ask questions about ‘whose’ coin it was doing the paying, that’s on you.
As the Dwarf scowls at the werebeasts Lilita feel’s Melu’s tail tapping urgently against the side of her foot from behind.
At Melu's prompting Lilita turns to look...
Sauntering towards them is the raven-haired beauty; the friend and/or handler of the Fey Goddess. “Good job, Mardiat. The Chief Adviser’s office will pay handsomely for anyone conspiring against The Lion.”
The scowl turns to confusion, then anger almost as rapidly as the spin that brings the Dwarf around to stare at the new arrival. Darsin hisses and the hair on the backs of all three werebeasts’ heads spike up as they too, whirl and tense, bodies arching slightly like wary cats. Melu scurries sideways, slipping around to put herself into a new spot behind Lilita.
“Bilina, wha’ are ye doin’ here?” Mardiat was starting to spit. Lilita’s healer’s training had included some instruction in bodily behaviors and physical ques and it wasn’t a stretch to understand that the Dwarf was dealing with far too much, too fast, and was close to lashing out destructively.
Lilita shares the Dwarf's confusion and agitation at the arrival of the somehow vaguely familiar raven-haired newcomer feeling that her invoking the Chief Advisers Office and The Lion in one breath that in all likelihood she has not come alone. Sensing a possible fight about to break out or worse the silver-haired sorceress quickly positions her Viol back up under her chin and innocently begins to play another tune as she starts to move away from the Dwarf and the werebeasts seeking as well to also avoid the path of the raven-haired newcomer. For her part, Lilita simply seeks to unobtrusively as she is able to attempt to make her way towards and mix with the other patrons in the tavern while seeking to locate the nearest exit all the while hoping that Melu will have enough sense to follower her lead.
[NPC response roll: 01%]
With barely a glance at Lilita the newcomer plants a hand on one hip, cocking it slightly as her smile turns into a smirk. “Come now, Mardiat. We’ve talked about this sort of thing before. One simply does not aid and abet inflicted floobs attempting to sneak into our beloved city.” The raven-haired beauty’s eyes flick towards the trio of werebeasts knowingly.
“Ain’t got no clue wha’ yer blatherin’ ‘bout, Bilina!”
“What do you mean, inflicted?” Snarls Darsin at the same time Caradie says, “We’ve more rights to be in Tarantis then you, *****!”
Beside Lilita, Melu bounces slightly then turns in the direction the healer is easing towards than hisses softly. [Perception check: 17] Out of the corner of her eye Lilita notices armored figures arriving by both the front entrance and the open doorway leading to the kitchens and back door. When Mardiat also notices the arrival of the City Guard he roars, “Treachery!” at no one particular. Grabbing the table that the group had just been sitting at the muscular Dwarf flips it violently in the direction of the one he calls Bilina. Chaos erupts within the tavern.
Lilita hearing the exchange, the sound of a table being flipped knows her worst fears have been realized! Her instincts correct Lilita feels that the most sensible course of action is for her to attempt to flee the scene to avoid being caught up in the middle of it all. Lilita had hoped that werebeasts would lead her to find her father but now her plan has been dashed.
The raven-haired beauty’s hands gestures, sending a flash of magic bursting forth while the werebeasts all react in various ways. The male begins to transform, taking on the features of a human-Tiger while the two females hiss. Caradie leaps sideways, avoiding the sticky webbing that engulfs the as yet unnamed other female. A score of City Guard are shouting and rousting everyone they cross as they pour in through the doors. At the back of the troop coming in from the kitchen is a familiar face. Amlack glances at his nearest coworkers before making eye content with Lilita.
Lilita grabs Melu by the hand and heads straight for Amlack hoping that he might be able to help get them both out through the doors calling out to him, "Amlack be careful, the three inside with the dwarf are man-beast shifters!" [NPC Reaction Roll: 83%]
The look Amlack gives her suggests that he’s not surprised by her information. He glances at the other members of his troop as they shove their way towards the flying furniture, curses and animal roars than nods his head towards the way he’d just he had just come. “We were…ordered here and told to expect anything. Agent Jazzadra came to our duty barracks a couple of hours ago, saying that she’s tracked some spies to a tavern and required backup to apprehend them. She warned us that they might be lycanthropes.” The young man looks embarrassed, “the Sarge had to explain what that meant. Anyway, I know your no spy or man, er, womanbeastthing. Go before – “a small magical explosion rocks back of the tavern, filling the place with smoke and additional shouts. One Lilita recognizes as the Dwarf who’s curses rose in tempo and taking on a course poetry in the process.
“Go!” Amlack shouts before rushing off, into the fray.
Peering around Lilita’s skirt, Melu peers at the violence rocking the place with a mixture of awe and chagrin. In one slender, taloned hand, is a brown, polished rock or crystal.
“Rock?!?”
Worried about Amlack, Lilita stops in her tracks turns and looks back as he rushes off towards the fight. Hearing Melu, Lilita looks at the Lizard Girl unsure and more than a little fearful, "alright Melu, do what you need to do with your rock just so you don't hurt any innocent bystanders!" Holding her breath, the silver-haired sorceress watches Melu silently.
With a mixed look of solemn seriousness and childish glee the lizard girl gives the rock a lick, hops from one foot to the other and back again with a vigorousness of someone waiting in line to use a loo. Taking a moment to check to see that her new friend was out of the line of throwing, Melu winds up and launches the rock through the door and towards the largest part of the melee inside where it bounces off the back of the mad Dwarf, drops to the floor and…dose nothing.
Lilita looks on unfazed and unsurprised at the rock on the floor unsure if that was Melu's intent or not as she tries to reach out for the Lizard Girl's hand to lead her away.
Melu blows a raspberry, thrusts her hand into a different pouch, produces another rock, this one with thin veins of crystal running through it. The rock sparkles as it comes into the light, those sparkles brighten even as she repeats her jig and tosses it inside. When it hits the floor there’s a clap of thunder, causing a sudden lull in the brawl as heads jerk in search of the source of the sound. The rock seems to boil and bubble, jerking and shaking and then expands rapidly, almost too rapidly to follow, swelling up into a vaguely humanoid shape. As the Earth Elemental grows larger, arms of a sort grow fists that grab and flail at any floob in reach. The lizard girl hisses in triumph while trusting both arms into the air and dances around Lilita.
“Rock help!” she squeals in glee. Inside the tavern the tempo of the brawl changes as more and more floobs seek exits. The Elemental moves out of view and the nearest wall shudders, sending up a plume of dust and knocking roofing tiles into the air.
When the clap of thunder booms, Lilita jumps back in fright and watches in awe as the elemental creature emerges from the stone unsure of what to make of Melu's powerful magic stone!
As the Lizard Girl pleased with herself dances around Lilita, the silver-haired sorceress is left to wonder with that sort of power how her people were captured and enslaved but then thought perhaps such stones are very rare. Pushing all that out of her mind Lilita looks back at the fight worried about Amlack unsure if she should remain and provide healing or just flee. In the end, Lilita hesitates just outside the door to the tavern peering inside watching and waiting if and when her own particular healing talents might be needed for any injured on either side of the fray.
A smug Melu follows, tail tapping playfully on the ground behind her. “Rock,” she says in satisfaction.
<><><><><><><><><>
Boosandie's story continues...
Several hours later, after another short rest and the realization that the sun was beginning to rise beyond Khatri’s tower, Boo is heading for her next rendezvous. The new piercings cause a throbbing and slight pain each time the rings brush against the inside of her undertunic. Only then, halfway across the quarter, did it occur to her that she never asked what the other magical ring did.
Boo flew away from the sprawling estate soaring high above the city, stretching her wings as she enjoyed the cool crisp morning breeze blowing through her long blonde locks. A new day after a long night of debauchery the throbbing pain she experienced was a small price to pay for the magic that her mentor's little gift now afforded her.
As she flew towards the merchant quarter and her destination Boo noticed how the cityscape below was passing quicker than her leisurely pace should accommodate. Perhaps it was something to do with that ‘other’ ring.
Interesting, she thought to herself as she looked down, evidently, the gift was more useful than she had assumed, or the second ring did something entirely different. Boo would have to remember to ask her mentor the next time she visited.
Hawker’s Weapons was among the finest in the city and had a reputation for both master work and magically enhanced weaponry. A retired foot captain, Hefton Hawker was reputed to be the best weapons smith in the city. Hawker’s Weapons specialized in restoration and repair of both master work and magical weapons, if anyone could craft the whip she desired, it was Hawker or his artisans. Her house, like many noble houses, patroned the good Captain as well, which only added to her reasons for visiting his weapons hall.
Her destination below her, Boo did not need concern herself with the usual aerobatics and space requirements positioned herself to fall feet first, her wings tightly folded up to gently land exactly where she wanted just a few feet in front of the workshop's entrance. Maybe not powerful, dangerous or flashy as far as magic goes but for a flyer like Boo, extremely useful none the less. Once safely on the ground, Boo strides inside the busy establishment looking about with a discerning eye to see what might be on display and what the various artisans were currently working on. Taking her time knowing that either Hawker himself would catch sight of her or be informed of her arrival. She was in no hurry, after all, she rarely ever was.
The combination of her exotic beauty and race and that of her noble status usually serves to draw attention to her quicker than a moon moth to an open flame. This time was no different. A nearby craftsman, working on repairing a suit of chain mail that had the look that the former owner had lost a battle with a massively clawed foe, glanced up as she came into view, did a double take, then went off in search of someone. With close to a dozen craftsmen, apprentices, and general labor hard at work the place was filled with enough competing sounds to make it difficult to hear. In one place a large series of bellows were being constantly compressed by use of a waterwheel. It’s air fed into a series of lead pipes that powered several machines, as well as enflaming the coals in a forge. Two sweating men take turns pulling various pieces of metal from the super-heated coals using tongs. Placing them on anvils shaped like body parts they hammer the glowing metal into shape. Opposite of them but using the same forge was a master weapons smith working on a hand-an-a-half sword. As he pitted hammer to steel a robed figure with a wild beard uses a scroll to cast a spell onto the blade.
Boo watches men hard at work for a time, fascinated but as usual, becomes easily bored and starts wandering about aimless thinking that she should also pick something for the traveler she needs to check up on for Khatri figuring a gift would be helpful as a sort of an icebreaker. Something to put him at ease, perhaps an enchanted dagger of some sort thinking that most people can always use one of those. Given the creature's appearance, Boo is unsure if her seductive charms will be sufficient to impress him so best to have a backup.
Boo senses rather than feels the arrival of Captain Hawker just as the older, rugged man reaches to touch her arm. He bows and says something, then raises his voice and repeats, “Welcome Lady Boosandie. If you please, come with me to my office and we can talk about what brings you.”
Boo turns and flashes the good captain a friendly yet seductive smile and follows him into his office where she finds a spot to sit down and make herself comfortable. After some initial chit-chat, she gets to the point and goes into detail regarding exactly what she is looking to have made, "so I would like to commission a special whip of silver and adamantine that will allow me to cast a Shocking Grasp spell through it on top of its normal damage. Maybe something ornate and fashionable that I could wear as sort of a belt that wouldn't stand out as a weapon, you know people in my circles can be. If I am to be armed, I would prefer to keep it understated. Oh, and I also require a minor gift for an acquaintance and was thinking a simple magical dagger should do the trick. Do you by chance have something suitable in backstock or a commissioned item that, say someone has failed to collect?"
As she described the whip Captain Hawker made a pretty accurate sketch. As he handed it to her for inspection he smiles. “We have close to a score of various daggers that should meet your approval. Most are simply magically enhanced, making them lighter and sharper (figure +1 standard). One is even more enhanced with some fine detail work on the blade (figure +2, more expensive).” He rubs his chin for a moment than adds, “I do have one that was meant for one of the younger Tangerin boys.” A minor house as nobles go. “It is enspelled to return to the throwers hand, a popular enhancement. “
Boo considers the available options, "alright then, let's just go with the dagger of returning since it is to be a gift. I trust it comes with a suitable sheath? If it is not too much trouble could you, please see that it is wrapped up in a bit of silk cloth so it will be a surprise? Thank you."
Taking back the sketch Captain Hawker sets it on his desk. “We can have it ready by next five day (next week, after the festival), unless you’re willing to pay to expedite it. The dagger has a fairly plain sheath but functional”
"No, let's not rush it. As I want it to also serve as an ornate decorative belt please be so kind to inform your artisans that I expect it to be as much a work of art as it is a serviceable weapon. I will return after the festival to pick it up, so no need to expedite it."
“Considering the type of magic the weapon is to focus for you we can’t use gemstones or the usual decoratives’ so I am envisioning several metals inlayed into the creation phase, including copper and silver with both act as a natural conduit for electrical current. We a long sword for a client last year using a similar technique.” The Captain pauses for a moment in reflection than adds, “I can have one of the wizards I keep under retainer to add a crystal to the pommel if you like. I’m told that it would act like an arcane battery if you will, either storing a few charges of your own innate magic or collecting lightning like energy (1d3 charges worth) if you find it directed at you for later use. I should caution though, that these crystals are finicky. Storing too many charges can result in an uncontrolled discharge, with the wearer at the center of such electrical fury.” The master weapons smith pauses again for propriety sake before saying, “Such enhancements do drive up the costs, if that is a concern…”
Boo nods understanding and considering his words, "oh well that is a shame but no matter it's not important. How about instead I just commission you to construct a standard (+1) magical whip that I can wear as a belt unnoticed instead and that will more than suit my needs. With this change, when can I expect it to be ready, before or after the festival?"
“As you wish, m’Lady,” Captain Hawker says with a smile.
Once things have been finalized Boo will kiss the Captain's cheek, "thank you very much, please just send the bill to my guardian, Chamberlain Terkan Vizzini and he will take care of it, as usual, good day to you, and do enjoy the upcoming festival," she smiles gathering up her things ready to see about seeking out the traveler as her next stop.
Lilita's story continues...
When morning came Lilita and Melu were given a hot breakfast (Lilita’s enjoyed a Long Rest <> Note: She’s also leveled) and at the instance of Brother Tarris, is provided with a ride back to the city in the company of a group of priests and monks. Brother Tarris had explained that news of Talis Panou’s death had to be delivered to the Temple. The trip proves uneventful and with the addition of a small, bureaucratically sealed scroll tube containing her legal claim to her family’s townhouse and anything else remaining, she finds herself standing at Tarantis’ north gate.
During the journey back to the city, Lilita and Melu sit silently side by side in the back of a wagon, Lilita's eyes are red and puffy from crying herself to sleep after the passing of Talis Panou the night before. He had shown her such kindness in his last day of life that Lilita would always feel herself forever in his debt. It seemed to Lilita that wherever she went, death seemed to follow.
As the wagon rocked back and forth Lilita looked sadly at her companion Melu. The lizard-girl seemed to be growing ever more attached to Lilita that the silver-haired sorceress was starting to worry that if Melu remained at her side for too long, death would eventually take her too. The last thing Lilita wished was put a friend in mortal danger but was unsure as to what to do about Melu.
Lilita's attention shifts from Melu to the sealed scroll tube poking out of her pack. Staring at it, the thought of what it represented started to concern Lilita. She had no idea where to go with it, who to take it to. The very idea of reclaiming her heritage frightened her, she was ill-prepared for any of it knowing that it would bring a whole new set of problems. Problems she was ill-equipped to face or deal with.
As the Temple group enters the city Melu, half hiding behind Lilita’s skirt, gwaks up at the massive gatehouse, than at the lines of travelers and merchants moving into the city (few seem to be leaving at this hour). It was an hour before noonfest (noon), and on the eve of the new fiveday. Tomorrow, officially, the festival of Silver started. And, perhaps, it was the eve of a war of darkness.
Lilita looked up at the massive gate understanding Melu's awe and wariness. Lilita drew the lizard-girl close to her and whispers, "don't worry you are not alone. I will help you get situated and later when you are ready you can decide if you want to make your life in the city or return to the wilds and try to find if any of people are still living and reclaim your old life if possible. Anything I can do to help you, know that I will do my best."
Melu suddenly tugs at Lilita’s skirt, the lizard girl’s nose twitching and wrinkling. She’s staring at a trio of raggedly clothed floobs. One man and two women whose features were in their prime, extruding a sense of strength that somehow didn’t go with their outer provinces attire. Melu’s hand slips a smooth looking crystal from one of her pouches and hisses. “man/beasts…girl/beasts? Not man/not beasts – Beasts!”
Lilita drapes her arm around Melu whispering, "please calm yourself, don't attract their attention and give us away. I understand you can sense them for what they truly are but in the city, we cannot attack someone, even their kind without just cause. Best to not let those creatures know that you can sense them so that we may take advantage of the element of surprise. No doubt war is coming to the city soon enough. For now, we must bide our time, watch and wait."
Melu holds up the gray colored crystal in her hand and peers through it at Lilita with a feisty grin. “Rock smash/stomp not-men-things flat/squish!” She then deftly returns it to the pouch.
The trio had moved past the City Guards and were making their way up the main avenue heading deeper into the city quarter.
Lilita quickly gives Brother Tarris and others her thanks and says her goodbyes. As they part ways, the priests and monks heading-on towards the temple so Lilita decides to try to follow the trio of were-beasts at a safe distance as to not attract their attention or notice. Her hope is to try to determine where they are heading and find out if possible, what they may be up to.
Glancing around, Lilita seems to have lost site of the trio in the crowds moving in and out of the gate area.
Lilita groans and quickly turns to her companion, "Melu, did you see which way the not-men-things went? We need to find them, quietly follow them and see where they are going and what they are up to!"
Melu wrinkles her nose, the whip end of her tail flicking excitedly like a cat’s. She gawks up at Lilita and nods then moves through the crowd on tip toes, as if trying to be sneaky while being speedy. The stance earns the lizard girl some odd looks and the occasional smile. Following, Melu leads Lilita past a number of stalls selling fresh vegetables and fruits and nearly becomes distracted by a pyramid of marion melons. Drooling slightly, Melu hops from one foot to the other before slaps the ground behind her with her tail and hurries forward, turning towards a narrow street leading deeper into the quarter.
Lilita follows close behind Melu hoping that the lizard-girl is able to follow their trail. Without a thought, Lilita sticks with Melu as the pair head into the narrow street deeper into the quarter hoping to catch sight of the trio again without either herself or Melu being spotted.
The lizard girl skulks forward with purpose, displaying a natural affinity to stealth though often her exaggerated antic’s draws more attention than if she’d walk normally. That said, if it were night, Melu would be hard to spot, short and as skinny as she is, and her movements would give her an advantage over her prey…or possible hunters.
The road turns and twists, once crossing through a small market square full of squabbling merchants and venders, arguing over who has rights to what space for their wares. More gawkers stand around, watching to see if it gets interesting. Like a bird dog, Melu flows through the crowd, tail tapping or flicking and occasionally glancing back to see if her new friend hadn’t gotten lost.
Lilita does her best to keep up with the much faster Melu trying not to attract unwanted attention as she does so.
Passing through a gap in the market crowd Lilita spots the three warebeasts further along the street beyond. Walking – sauntering might be a better word – along until a stocky, heavily tattooed Dwarf steps out of a tavern and take’s a stance that could be misconstrued as confrontational, or, the motions and stance of someone grown annoyed with having to wait for someone else who was supposed to arrive at an earlier time. The male of the trio, thick saggy hair falling down his back, gestures to the tavern entrance. A moment later, all four go inside.
Lilita not being fond of taverns let out a sigh as she watches the four of them go into the tavern. She looks down at Melu with a frown, "we're going to have to go inside too it seems. It's a tavern, a place where people partake of strong drink and carouse so please try not to attract undue attention, we are just looking to find out what they are up to and not cause trouble or get into a fight if we can help it. Alright? You can either stay here and keep watch or you can come inside with me, whichever works for you."
Heading to the door to the tavern Lilita opens it to head inside leaving Melu to decide if she wants to accompany Lilita or wait outside as she pleases. The lizard girl’s head cocks, watching Lilita for maybe half a second without tagging along.
Lilita can smell the smoke of a dozen different pipe weeds, the acrid aroma of under washed bodies, and other things before she reaches the doors. Both are propped open, allowing the foul air to escape, although one might assume, they are open to let fresh air in. Sounds of tittering, banging, and other lewd noises drift down from the windows above. Above the door itself is a carved image of a beer mug, indicating the sort of business operated within, if all the other ques weren’t enough.
The innocent young sorceress timidly peers sideways up and down and is shocked pale by at the sights and sounds she encounters just inside the gloomy smoke-filled tavern. Her delicate nose wrinkles up at the stench of the smoke and the myriad of other unpleasant odors that assault her senses. Most definitely this is not the sort of place Lilita cares to frequent. Feeling like a fish out of water she quickly finds herself wishing that the fey goddess was at her side feeling that Livvi would be much more skilled in interacting with the sort of folk that tends to favor such establishments.
“You/me safe,” Melu says with utter confidence. “You/me have Rock.”
Lilita nervously gazes down at the unflappable Melu and gives her companion a silent yet grateful nod. Though Melu is not in the league of the likes of the fey goddess, Lilita recognizes that she can count on the brave lizard-girl to stick by her.
With a determined look, Lilita somehow manages to find the courage to move deeper into the tavern in search of her quarry. As she meanders her long curly locks of silver hair cascade gracefully down, around, and well-past her shoulders jouncing behind her as she moves. Still having no coins in her purse Lilita knows that it won't take long before the pair are booted out so struggles to come with a plan that will buy them time to find out what the werebeasts are up to.
Unlike many taverns where the bar is located towards the back, this one’s bar is just left of the entrance. A tall, stained, formidable looking wooden structure dominates the front of the tavern. Build from iron wood, the bar could probably serve as a bunker if the pair working behind it so required it. One bartender is a tall, gray haired man in a stained apron. The other is a middle-aged woman with a bosom that was grossly oversized for her narrow waist. Her long brown hair in braids, she wags a finger at several leering patrons perched on stools. The haze gathering about the low ceiling makes the place look darker than it was. Of course, if someone would take the time to wash the windows, no doubt the lighting would be better.
Tables crowd the center space, cheap benches and stools surround them. Long benches line two of the four walls, the bar one, leaving the back wall where a staircase climbs upwards to the upper floor. At the foot of the stairs sits a large, bearded Half-Orc with one broken tusk and an eye long closed from some sort of injury. Probably a knife.
Melu sneezes, then rubs her flat nose vigorously. Even as she doses, her tail curls lightly around Lilita’s left ankle, the tip tapping ever so slightly. Off to the left, near the corner sits the tattooed Dwarf and the three strangers. A skinny woman with pock marks scaring her cheeks, is delivering four large wooden mugs to the table.
Lilita kneels down low next to the lizard-girl dropping her voice to a whisper as she hands Melu an empty sack, "take this and when I start playing my viol to entertain, move about collecting any coins the patrons here may wish to offer up. As you do this try to get as close to the werebeasts as you are able to. Linger near them as much as you can as long as you can and eavesdrop on what it is that they are talking about."
“K!” Melu eagerly takes the sack and put’s it on her head like a hat.
Rising back up to her feet Lilita pulls out her Viol as her eyes flicker nervously towards the tall, gray-haired bartender in the stained apron behind the bar. Cautiously Lilita approaches the man and politely asks in a respectful tone, "good sir if you please might I ask your permission to play a bit of music and earn some coin with my companion there. We would gladly split with you 50-50 any and all that I am able to earn with my playing?" [NPC Interactions Roll: 23/57]
The older man immediately starts to demand a higher cut but is cut off by the woman who’s gaze is taking Lilita’s measure. “It’s okay, Darizan. Let tha’ Entertainer ply ‘er trade. Ain’t costin’ us anything to let’er let loose.”
Darizan grunts than turns to pour a refill for another customer.
Assuming the bartender is open to such an arrangement and gives his permission Lilita will find a suitable spot where she can keep a close eye on the tattooed dwarf and the werebeasts as she plays in order to be nearby to help Melu should something go amiss.
Lilita begins to play... [GM Roll: Seduction check (with +2 Performance) 81+2=83%]
As the tune begins slowly, the cords reach out across the tavern and one by one, conversations sill or turn to whispers. Many eyes, mostly hard-faced men, turn her way. Some soften slightly, others seem to relax. Here and there some return to their conversations, but glance Lilita’s way as she plays. After gawking at her for several long moments the lizard girl pulls the sack off her head and starts dancing, nearly in tune with the music, around waving her tail or thrusting the sack at various patrons, many whom dig for coins.
Lilita continues to play as she watches Melu all the while hoping that the lizard-girl has clearly understood her instructions.
As the temp increases, Melu seems more intent on plying customers with the sack than the part of the plan where she’s to get close to the conspirators so she can ease drop on them.
Lilita seeing that Melu has gotten a bit carried away Lilita after finishing her first number starts her second as she slowly moves as she plays to the left, towards the corner where the tattooed Dwarf and the three werebeasts are seated hoping that Melu will take note of her movement and be reminded that she is supposed to be eavesdropping on them.
Doing a graceful pirouette on one foot, the lizard girl glances at the Dwarf and his companions and makes a sound and gesture one might make as if seeing long lost friends. With glee, Melu hurries over to their table and dances a jig, waving the sack which had grown some weight from the added coin. One of the women snarl slightly, giving the lizard girl an evil look while the Dwarf says something gruffly and waves Melu to go away. She mimics the gesture, switching the sack and holding it up with one foot while waving both hands and yammering in her broken, double-speak common.
Lilita watches Melu, a worried look on her face as she starts to get a bad feeling.
The Dwarf bellows, “Be gone wit’ ya, ya scaly skinned rodent! We ain’t got time fer ya!”
“Coin/now!” Melu bellows back. Puffing out her slim, busty chest, her face somehow manages to give the look of wagging a beard as she hops on one foot. The other foot wags the sack in front of the male werebeast demandingly. “Happy/sour-puss! Squeaky/rusty purse get/open!” The Dwarf stares at her mid rage while across the table the second werefemale starts to laugh at the absurdity of it all, earning glares from her two companions. “What?,” she laughs, “give it some coins, it’ll leave.”
Lilita stops playing and starts to move toward Melu calling out, "Melu, Melu, come away from there. Don't bother those people, they don't have time for your nonsense. If they don't wish to put a coin in the sack move on!" Turning to the Dwarf, Lilita gives him a worried half-frightened look, "I am very sorry, I do apologize, she doesn't understand. Please let me get her out of your way."
Melu glances over at Lilita, her tail poised to poke the Dwarf in his mustached nose. The sack gripped in the talons of her left foot, hoisted over her back and nearly level with her shoulder in a display of acrobatic flexibility of her race.
“Eh?”
The Dwarf stabs a pointed finger at Lilita. “This monkey yours? C’om get it fer I make a ‘bacco pouch out o’ it’s skin!”
Lilita's eyes look downward at the floor shyly, "not mine ser, well not exactly," her voice wavers a bit as she becomes flustered, "her name is Melu and she is a friend, a companion not a slave or servant so she is not mine but we do look out for one another. So please don't hurt her, she meant no harm or disrespect."
“Now Mardiat,” chides the laughing werefem, “Ain’t no way to treat Street Performers, they gotta eat, too.” She pulls several copper coins from a pocket and leans forward towards the open bag. [GM Rolls Perception check for Lilita: 12] The motion reveals a blue star tattoo on the woman’s forearm.
Lilita's face cannot hide her surprise at both the female werecreature's generous donation of copper coins and the familiar tattoo the woman bears. Lilita's gaze lingers on the woman's forearm with the star tattoo recognizing the mark, "you are an acquaintance of Mistress Domonique of the Black Rose please forgive our interruption, we will be upon our way and trouble you no more" Lilita says in a hushed tone as she reaches down for Melu looking to lead her away.
The humor on the woman’s face cools as she glances warily at Lilita. “I think not,” she hisses slightly. Before the woman can say more Melu’s antics go up a notch.
Blowing a raspberry at the Dwarf named Mardiat, Melu hop’s sideways, closer to the werebeasts, bag open and tail flicking. “Big/blond boobs/melon size/big/nice floob/thing!” The lizard girl says to the woman. The strange roll of compliments causes the male werebeast to grin and the other female to laugh as she glances from Lilita to the others, face turning. “My what?”
Melu’s tail pokes the women in the left breast as if trying to make a point. “Melons!”
Now it was the Dwarf’s turn to grin wickedly and sneer at his companions. “She’s got you there, Caradie. Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t been sayin’ since ya arrived, hee!”
Lilita blushes red at Melu's words and her poking of the woman's bosom, "please Melu, enough, that is extremely rude, come away with me now so these kind folk can enjoy their drinks in peace and quiet," the silver-haired sorceress tugging on the little lizard girl's arm still trying to get her to move away.
“Git,” the Dwarf snaps in agreement.
Grabbing the sack Melu hops around and then moves behind Lilita, the lizard girl’s tail lightly poking the healer’s ankle. Across the table the one named Caradie (of the big bust and tattoo) gazes narrowly at Lilita.
“Why do you sme – ‘er, seem familiar?”
Lilita offers a slightly nervous smile in the way of a reply, "I really could not say, my face and features are rather plain, so it is easy to confuse me with someone else. Again, my sincere apologies for interrupting you and you and your companions." Hand in hand with Melu Lilita seeks to slowly move away looking to head towards the tavern's open doorway.
Suspicion fills the Dwarf’s features as he eyes Lilita harder, than glances across the table at Caradie. “Ye know this ‘er tart?”
Lilita blinks and winces in irritation at being referred to as a tart but remains silent and holds her tongue wary of the dwarf and his companions.
The other two wearbeasts were also suddenly interested in the healer, far more than before. As she backs up, Lilita can see their nostrils twitching slightly, sensing the air. The male glances at the two females and something unsaid seems to be going on between them. Meanwhile Mardiat’s head twists from Caradie to Lilita.
“Where ya goin? Wha’, our coin no good now?” The Dwarf snaps, his hard eyes searching Lilita’s features, trying to remember if he should recognize her.
Startled by the dwarf's words and questioning tone Lilita's heart skips a beat, her cheeks flush, her eyes wide, intimidated by his hard-piercing stare. Lilita's voice wavers as she struggles to reply, "forgive me, I meant no disrespect, but you made it clear that you wanted me, and my companion gone. I just..," Lilita's voice falters and trails off for a moment but then suddenly she snaps back indignantly, "I am not a tart!"
“I don’t know,” Caradie admits as she stands up, “But maybe your right, Mardiat. Maybe we should ask some questions.” The other two were beasts slowly stand. Behind her, Lilia feel’s Melu sticking close, the lizard girl’s muscles tensing like springs. “We/you/me go/get?” Melu whispers, one eye peering around Lilita’s skirt, “or/maybe, rock/slamming time?”
Lilita bends down and gives Melu a brave smile trying to reassure the little lizard-girl, "no... it's alright Melu, relax, everything is fine. You have coins in your sack now, I bet you are hungry. Why don't you go see if they serve food here and get yourself something to eat or if not step outside and buy something from one of the street vendors, don't worry I'll be fine, just don't stray too far."
Melu didn’t reply, but she didn’t move either.
After reassuring her companion Lilita looks back at the dwarf and his companions and walks straight up to them, her gaze falls upon the woman called Caradie, "I am no one of any consequence, I imagine that you just recognize his scent, at least in part so ask your questions so that my friend and I can be on our way, we don't want any trouble."
“Eh? Who’s scent? Wha’ youse smellin?” the Dwarf growls, clearly angry about missing something and still glaring at the young healer suspiciously. “Wha’s this tart’s game?”
Caradie moves closer, close enough for Lilita to feel the were beasts body heat and smell the musk radiating off her. “No consequence? Maybe, but whose your master? Whose blood is it you share?”
The other two were beasts came around the table, one from each side. At the nearest tables, heads were turning, tongues wagging, eyes wondering if they were about to be front side seats at some sort of fracas.
Lilita meets Caradie's questioning gaze and in a low hushed voice she replies simply, "I am of the bloodline of Rakia Rezgui."
“Eh?” growls the Dwarf while the three werebeasts trade wary glances. Caradie’s nose wrinkles as if she’s sniffing the air while trying to be subtle about it. The male growls softly, “Such a daring thing to claim.”
Mardiat the Dwarf, confused, angry, and clearly feeling left out snaps at the male. “Darsin, wha’ are all ye flappin’ ‘bout? Is this ‘er tart workin’ fer yer boss? Der wasn’t any mention o’ a fourth,” he says, purposely ignoring Melu.
Lilita turns her gaze from Caradie to the Dwarf and back to Caradie again, "oh so he isn't aware as to your nature? Don't worry then, your secret is safe with me."
Hearing the male's words Lilita shrugs, "believe or don't believe, as you will. Your companion here asked a question and I simply answered it. The nose knows, does it not? In this case, I think true daring would be to threaten or otherwise seek to attempt to bring harm to a daughter of Rakia Rezgui, don't you? That would be foolish indeed but do what you feel you need to do!"
Lilita just smiles innocently, waiting...
Swearing loudly enough to draw more attention to the little drama at the back of the bar, Mardiat stomps one foot in fury. “Ain’t speakin’ no sense, none o’ ya! Rezgui’s o’ myth, everyone knows it!”
All three werebeasts turn to gaze coolly at the Dwarf.
“World’s full of myths, but myth or no, it’s never smart to speak like an ignorant fool.”
Caradie stares down at Mardiat, hands on her hips. “You were paid to provide some services, if you did’t think to ask questions about ‘whose’ coin it was doing the paying, that’s on you.
As the Dwarf scowls at the werebeasts Lilita feel’s Melu’s tail tapping urgently against the side of her foot from behind.
At Melu's prompting Lilita turns to look...
Sauntering towards them is the raven-haired beauty; the friend and/or handler of the Fey Goddess. “Good job, Mardiat. The Chief Adviser’s office will pay handsomely for anyone conspiring against The Lion.”
The scowl turns to confusion, then anger almost as rapidly as the spin that brings the Dwarf around to stare at the new arrival. Darsin hisses and the hair on the backs of all three werebeasts’ heads spike up as they too, whirl and tense, bodies arching slightly like wary cats. Melu scurries sideways, slipping around to put herself into a new spot behind Lilita.
“Bilina, wha’ are ye doin’ here?” Mardiat was starting to spit. Lilita’s healer’s training had included some instruction in bodily behaviors and physical ques and it wasn’t a stretch to understand that the Dwarf was dealing with far too much, too fast, and was close to lashing out destructively.
Lilita shares the Dwarf's confusion and agitation at the arrival of the somehow vaguely familiar raven-haired newcomer feeling that her invoking the Chief Advisers Office and The Lion in one breath that in all likelihood she has not come alone. Sensing a possible fight about to break out or worse the silver-haired sorceress quickly positions her Viol back up under her chin and innocently begins to play another tune as she starts to move away from the Dwarf and the werebeasts seeking as well to also avoid the path of the raven-haired newcomer. For her part, Lilita simply seeks to unobtrusively as she is able to attempt to make her way towards and mix with the other patrons in the tavern while seeking to locate the nearest exit all the while hoping that Melu will have enough sense to follower her lead.
[NPC response roll: 01%]
With barely a glance at Lilita the newcomer plants a hand on one hip, cocking it slightly as her smile turns into a smirk. “Come now, Mardiat. We’ve talked about this sort of thing before. One simply does not aid and abet inflicted floobs attempting to sneak into our beloved city.” The raven-haired beauty’s eyes flick towards the trio of werebeasts knowingly.
“Ain’t got no clue wha’ yer blatherin’ ‘bout, Bilina!”
“What do you mean, inflicted?” Snarls Darsin at the same time Caradie says, “We’ve more rights to be in Tarantis then you, *****!”
Beside Lilita, Melu bounces slightly then turns in the direction the healer is easing towards than hisses softly. [Perception check: 17] Out of the corner of her eye Lilita notices armored figures arriving by both the front entrance and the open doorway leading to the kitchens and back door. When Mardiat also notices the arrival of the City Guard he roars, “Treachery!” at no one particular. Grabbing the table that the group had just been sitting at the muscular Dwarf flips it violently in the direction of the one he calls Bilina. Chaos erupts within the tavern.
Lilita hearing the exchange, the sound of a table being flipped knows her worst fears have been realized! Her instincts correct Lilita feels that the most sensible course of action is for her to attempt to flee the scene to avoid being caught up in the middle of it all. Lilita had hoped that werebeasts would lead her to find her father but now her plan has been dashed.
The raven-haired beauty’s hands gestures, sending a flash of magic bursting forth while the werebeasts all react in various ways. The male begins to transform, taking on the features of a human-Tiger while the two females hiss. Caradie leaps sideways, avoiding the sticky webbing that engulfs the as yet unnamed other female. A score of City Guard are shouting and rousting everyone they cross as they pour in through the doors. At the back of the troop coming in from the kitchen is a familiar face. Amlack glances at his nearest coworkers before making eye content with Lilita.
Lilita grabs Melu by the hand and heads straight for Amlack hoping that he might be able to help get them both out through the doors calling out to him, "Amlack be careful, the three inside with the dwarf are man-beast shifters!" [NPC Reaction Roll: 83%]
The look Amlack gives her suggests that he’s not surprised by her information. He glances at the other members of his troop as they shove their way towards the flying furniture, curses and animal roars than nods his head towards the way he’d just he had just come. “We were…ordered here and told to expect anything. Agent Jazzadra came to our duty barracks a couple of hours ago, saying that she’s tracked some spies to a tavern and required backup to apprehend them. She warned us that they might be lycanthropes.” The young man looks embarrassed, “the Sarge had to explain what that meant. Anyway, I know your no spy or man, er, womanbeastthing. Go before – “a small magical explosion rocks back of the tavern, filling the place with smoke and additional shouts. One Lilita recognizes as the Dwarf who’s curses rose in tempo and taking on a course poetry in the process.
“Go!” Amlack shouts before rushing off, into the fray.
Peering around Lilita’s skirt, Melu peers at the violence rocking the place with a mixture of awe and chagrin. In one slender, taloned hand, is a brown, polished rock or crystal.
“Rock?!?”
Worried about Amlack, Lilita stops in her tracks turns and looks back as he rushes off towards the fight. Hearing Melu, Lilita looks at the Lizard Girl unsure and more than a little fearful, "alright Melu, do what you need to do with your rock just so you don't hurt any innocent bystanders!" Holding her breath, the silver-haired sorceress watches Melu silently.
With a mixed look of solemn seriousness and childish glee the lizard girl gives the rock a lick, hops from one foot to the other and back again with a vigorousness of someone waiting in line to use a loo. Taking a moment to check to see that her new friend was out of the line of throwing, Melu winds up and launches the rock through the door and towards the largest part of the melee inside where it bounces off the back of the mad Dwarf, drops to the floor and…dose nothing.
Lilita looks on unfazed and unsurprised at the rock on the floor unsure if that was Melu's intent or not as she tries to reach out for the Lizard Girl's hand to lead her away.
Melu blows a raspberry, thrusts her hand into a different pouch, produces another rock, this one with thin veins of crystal running through it. The rock sparkles as it comes into the light, those sparkles brighten even as she repeats her jig and tosses it inside. When it hits the floor there’s a clap of thunder, causing a sudden lull in the brawl as heads jerk in search of the source of the sound. The rock seems to boil and bubble, jerking and shaking and then expands rapidly, almost too rapidly to follow, swelling up into a vaguely humanoid shape. As the Earth Elemental grows larger, arms of a sort grow fists that grab and flail at any floob in reach. The lizard girl hisses in triumph while trusting both arms into the air and dances around Lilita.
“Rock help!” she squeals in glee. Inside the tavern the tempo of the brawl changes as more and more floobs seek exits. The Elemental moves out of view and the nearest wall shudders, sending up a plume of dust and knocking roofing tiles into the air.
When the clap of thunder booms, Lilita jumps back in fright and watches in awe as the elemental creature emerges from the stone unsure of what to make of Melu's powerful magic stone!
As the Lizard Girl pleased with herself dances around Lilita, the silver-haired sorceress is left to wonder with that sort of power how her people were captured and enslaved but then thought perhaps such stones are very rare. Pushing all that out of her mind Lilita looks back at the fight worried about Amlack unsure if she should remain and provide healing or just flee. In the end, Lilita hesitates just outside the door to the tavern peering inside watching and waiting if and when her own particular healing talents might be needed for any injured on either side of the fray.
A smug Melu follows, tail tapping playfully on the ground behind her. “Rock,” she says in satisfaction.