The Scribe Master taps her chin as she considers. "Well no, not really. Many spellcaster and others interested in the Weave hold Ms. Glenmiir in high regard, so she's likely not unpleasant to speak to. I don't know much else beyond what I've already told you. As for working behalf of the Library, these victims all reported the crime to us here. None of them are likely pleased with the thefts, and so I don't exactly think they'll be upset that you're following up with them," she says.
"Thank you for all your help, Cassra. I guess we should go speak to all the victims before it gets too late. Should we go see Mr Foss first since his practice yard is nearby?"
Briny nods, looking at the sky to estimate how much of the day is left. "Sure, we might as well start with the closest location. We can always sort the thefts into chronological order later, if need be."
OOC: Assuming that Sylyra and Uragum have no objection to going to Foss's first.
The sun has fully set by the time you exit Mantor's Library, but the populace is still active within Scholar's Square. Jaunty tunes, chatter, and uproarious laughter bleed through tavern walls onto the packed streets traversed by wary townsfolk.
Shouts and the clamor of steel on steel are clearly audible even before the stout doors to Marten Foss's practice yard open. A middle-aged dwarf props one of the double doors open with the stump of an arm that has been amputated just above the elbow.
Inside, a wide practice yard is surrounded by covered walkways set with chairs and tables. A number of people in various stages of exhaustion rest beneath them. The yard is well-lit in the evening, and as the door opens you are assaulted by the sharp smell of unwashed bodies, oiled metal, and dust.
The dwarf frowns as he looks you over and bids you enter, "Come 'bout the book, I suppose?" His voice is gruff and clear over the clanging steel, grunts, and excited shouting beyond him.
For Hex and Sylyra:
You notice a small pendant, with the symbol of a mailed hand clutching a sword, hanging from a peg near a weapon rack.
Sylyra is initially completely offended by the sights and smells, but then something within him stirs, and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to clear his mind. Leaving the others to do the talking, the elf steps by the dwarf to enter the practice yard. His eyes move from blade to blade. Snippets of memory begin to flash behind his eyes. Learning to hold a shortsword. His first time trying to wield a longsword. The bloody result of dropping his offhand and its defense. His family's sparing quarters had been cleaner than this, but this place feels much more visceral — more real. Before he realized it, his hand was in the fold at the small of his back and clasping the handle of the dagger hidden there. His lips spread in a smile. Feeling pleased, Sylyra turns to give his focus back to those at the door.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Hex INT: 4 Sylyra INT: 15
For Hex:
You've probably seen the symbol somewhere before, but don't know what it represents.
For Sylyra:
Before he departed, your old colleague Arnald wore this symbol.
"Aye," Marten answers, sweeping his arm past the practice yard, and noting Sylyra's grin. "For a gold piece, someone with a desire to learn how to swing a sword can come bang away on chunks o' wood for an hour or two under the eye of someone that knows what they're doing. For two, I'll tell 'em what they're doing wrong."
In the yard, a handful of men square off against a single dwarven woman wielding a pair of handaxes. From the looks on the faces of her opponents, she seems to be holding her own quite well.
"'Course," Marten says, never taking his eyes off of the bout in the courtyard as he explains. "The book contained the personal memoirs of Ren o' the Blade from his time here in Phlan. He's a personal hero o' mine. Had the book for nearly a decade. It was part of a collection; most of it's archived in Mantor's Library, but the book that got stolen had special meanin' to me. Now I won't get my hopes up but I'd love for it to be found safely."
"Do you have any idea why someone would want to steal it? Seeing as you are probably the most knowledge about the book, you might be able to shed some light on how it's related to the other two books that were stolen - a treatise about the Weave and a history book called Lords and Lineages of Phlan."
Uragum looks about the area, the court yard with others training, the man and the compound in general. "Do you mind showing us where the book was taken from. If where and possibly how it was stolen, we might be able to gain some clues from that," Uragum says.
To Hex, Marten furrows his brow and replies, "Oh no, no idea o' any o' that. Far as I know, Ren weren't a weaver and he weren't no lord o' Phlan neither."
To Uragum, he says, "Well it ain't as exciting as you're thinkin'. Just had it on this bookshelf over here. No locks, no traps...didn't think it was worth takin'. Nothin' special in there that I was aware of."
He cackles as the dwarven woman in the courtyard feints a swipe with a handaxe, only to spin out of the way, tripping one of her opponents to the ground, answering every question intently but keeping his eyes on the combat.
Briny glances briefly around the practice yard and over at the bookshelf. "So anyone who comes into the yard would have had access to the book, do you keep any record of the people who come to practice? A daily sign-in sheet perhaps? Do you remember anyone new coming to your yard around the time when the book was stolen?"
"No, no records or nothin' like that, but I don't think anyone in their right minds would be so brazen to steal somethin' from me after they seen me fight. Weren't taken durin' the day, neither. Went missin' overnight, whoever done it broke into the yard to take it," Marten answers without looking back.
The bookshelf is a haphazard collection of journals and fighting notes. A few are nicely bound, but most have a poor binding or are quite worn down from apparent frequent use. None of them have titles related to Marten's aforementioned hero and seem to be unrelated. There is little organization to the books, making it nearly impossible to discern where the stolen book had been stored.
"Did you notice if any other book or anything else had been taken? Perhaps the thief knew it was valuable to you and took it to distract from what they actually wanted."
"Nope, nothin' else missin'," Marten says, his eyes still studying the combat sharply. "'Twas the book and only the book, no coins or weapons or nothin' else. Not that I keep much o' the good stuff here," he adds.
"Broke in the way anybody'd break in, I suppose. Picked the lock on the front door and waltzed 'emselves right on in."
The Scribe Master taps her chin as she considers. "Well no, not really. Many spellcaster and others interested in the Weave hold Ms. Glenmiir in high regard, so she's likely not unpleasant to speak to. I don't know much else beyond what I've already told you. As for working behalf of the Library, these victims all reported the crime to us here. None of them are likely pleased with the thefts, and so I don't exactly think they'll be upset that you're following up with them," she says.
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Knowing how far assumptions can take one, Sylyra's lips thin as he bites back a complaint.
"Thank you for all your help, Cassra. I guess we should go speak to all the victims before it gets too late. Should we go see Mr Foss first since his practice yard is nearby?"
Briny nods, looking at the sky to estimate how much of the day is left. "Sure, we might as well start with the closest location. We can always sort the thefts into chronological order later, if need be."
OOC: Assuming that Sylyra and Uragum have no objection to going to Foss's first.
The sun has fully set by the time you exit Mantor's Library, but the populace is still active within Scholar's Square. Jaunty tunes, chatter, and uproarious laughter bleed through tavern walls onto the packed streets traversed by wary townsfolk.
Shouts and the clamor of steel on steel are clearly audible even before the stout doors to Marten Foss's practice yard open. A middle-aged dwarf props one of the double doors open with the stump of an arm that has been amputated just above the elbow.
Inside, a wide practice yard is surrounded by covered walkways set with chairs and tables. A number of people in various stages of exhaustion rest beneath them. The yard is well-lit in the evening, and as the door opens you are assaulted by the sharp smell of unwashed bodies, oiled metal, and dust.
The dwarf frowns as he looks you over and bids you enter, "Come 'bout the book, I suppose?" His voice is gruff and clear over the clanging steel, grunts, and excited shouting beyond him.
For Hex and Sylyra:
You notice a small pendant, with the symbol of a mailed hand clutching a sword, hanging from a peg near a weapon rack.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
DM: Does Sylyra recognize the symbol?
Sylyra is initially completely offended by the sights and smells, but then something within him stirs, and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to clear his mind. Leaving the others to do the talking, the elf steps by the dwarf to enter the practice yard. His eyes move from blade to blade. Snippets of memory begin to flash behind his eyes. Learning to hold a shortsword. His first time trying to wield a longsword. The bloody result of dropping his offhand and its defense. His family's sparing quarters had been cleaner than this, but this place feels much more visceral — more real. Before he realized it, his hand was in the fold at the small of his back and clasping the handle of the dagger hidden there. His lips spread in a smile. Feeling pleased, Sylyra turns to give his focus back to those at the door.
(Does Hex also recognise the symbol?)
Hex nods in response to the dwarf. "And I'd assume you're Marten Foss?"
Hex INT: 4
Sylyra INT: 15
For Hex:
You've probably seen the symbol somewhere before, but don't know what it represents.
For Sylyra:
Before he departed, your old colleague Arnald wore this symbol.
"Aye," Marten answers, sweeping his arm past the practice yard, and noting Sylyra's grin. "For a gold piece, someone with a desire to learn how to swing a sword can come bang away on chunks o' wood for an hour or two under the eye of someone that knows what they're doing. For two, I'll tell 'em what they're doing wrong."
In the yard, a handful of men square off against a single dwarven woman wielding a pair of handaxes. From the looks on the faces of her opponents, she seems to be holding her own quite well.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
"Tell us about the book that was stolen," Sylyra says.
OOC: I have a fully functioning computer again!
"'Course," Marten says, never taking his eyes off of the bout in the courtyard as he explains. "The book contained the personal memoirs of Ren o' the Blade from his time here in Phlan. He's a personal hero o' mine. Had the book for nearly a decade. It was part of a collection; most of it's archived in Mantor's Library, but the book that got stolen had special meanin' to me. Now I won't get my hopes up but I'd love for it to be found safely."
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
"Do you have any idea why someone would want to steal it? Seeing as you are probably the most knowledge about the book, you might be able to shed some light on how it's related to the other two books that were stolen - a treatise about the Weave and a history book called Lords and Lineages of Phlan."
Uragum looks about the area, the court yard with others training, the man and the compound in general. "Do you mind showing us where the book was taken from. If where and possibly how it was stolen, we might be able to gain some clues from that," Uragum says.
To Hex, Marten furrows his brow and replies, "Oh no, no idea o' any o' that. Far as I know, Ren weren't a weaver and he weren't no lord o' Phlan neither."
To Uragum, he says, "Well it ain't as exciting as you're thinkin'. Just had it on this bookshelf over here. No locks, no traps...didn't think it was worth takin'. Nothin' special in there that I was aware of."
He cackles as the dwarven woman in the courtyard feints a swipe with a handaxe, only to spin out of the way, tripping one of her opponents to the ground, answering every question intently but keeping his eyes on the combat.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Briny glances briefly around the practice yard and over at the bookshelf. "So anyone who comes into the yard would have had access to the book, do you keep any record of the people who come to practice? A daily sign-in sheet perhaps? Do you remember anyone new coming to your yard around the time when the book was stolen?"
Sylyra walks over to the bookshelf and takes a look, noticing what books remained, and trying to notice anything that looks out of place.
Sylyra Perception: 12
"No, no records or nothin' like that, but I don't think anyone in their right minds would be so brazen to steal somethin' from me after they seen me fight. Weren't taken durin' the day, neither. Went missin' overnight, whoever done it broke into the yard to take it," Marten answers without looking back.
The bookshelf is a haphazard collection of journals and fighting notes. A few are nicely bound, but most have a poor binding or are quite worn down from apparent frequent use. None of them have titles related to Marten's aforementioned hero and seem to be unrelated. There is little organization to the books, making it nearly impossible to discern where the stolen book had been stored.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
"Broke in how?" Sylyra calls over the sounds of the skirmish.
"Did you notice if any other book or anything else had been taken? Perhaps the thief knew it was valuable to you and took it to distract from what they actually wanted."
"Nope, nothin' else missin'," Marten says, his eyes still studying the combat sharply. "'Twas the book and only the book, no coins or weapons or nothin' else. Not that I keep much o' the good stuff here," he adds.
"Broke in the way anybody'd break in, I suppose. Picked the lock on the front door and waltzed 'emselves right on in."
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Sylyra's brow furrows. "You know that's how they broke in, or you suspect that's how they broke in?"