Iromae nods when Shenua suggests there is no sense knocking. "Any thoughts from you Vorenus? Otherwise, I agree with Shenua." She too feels the frustration of their search. 'If only Shenua hadn't got that bag,' she thinks as alternatives move through her mind. Having given up on truly tracking anyone here, she starts to look about, wondering if there was anywhere where she might be able to step out of sight without catching too much attention. To stay unseen for just a bit of time. A place to cast a spell. And then to have the avenues to get out of there too. (Perception: 21)
She isn't sure she would risk casting a spell. And there are still alternatives they can try. But best to take a look now, in case.
“I would love to grab that hand of whoever is behind that door and pull them out into the light, question them until they provided answers… but that would bring a swarm down on us really quick. And they likely wouldn’t have much that is useful. I feel like we are chasing a dead end. I’m with you.” Vorenus nods and then walks along behind Iromae and Shenua, assuming his prior manner, keeping his head slightly bowed, looking up from time to time to see if there is anything else he can spot.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
As you move on, the service way opens gradually, the tight stone corridor giving way to a broader rear lane that runs along the back of several temple buildings. The soundscape changes again — low voices, the creak of carts, the clink of metal — the everyday logistics that keep a holy district running.
Iromae:
As you scan for a place to step aside, you notice something useful: a small record-keeper’s annex just ahead — a recessed doorway with a slate board listing delivery hours and a narrow bench beneath it. People wait there briefly, step inside, then leave again. It would not be strange to pause there, nor would it draw attention if you chose that moment to do something discreet.
As your mind ponders the possibilities, some things begin to click as you walk:
The concealed panel you passed is not unique. You spot two more similar service panels set into temple walls farther along. Each is subtly different, yet each is clearly maintained.
From what you can tell, temple staff and lay workers use this area constantly: linen carriers, incense porters, scribes with satchels, stable hands leading horses through narrow cuts.
No one is giving you more than a passing glance. Here, purposeful movement is normal.
What stands out, now that you’re no longer trying to tail a single person, is the pattern: Packages come into the Temple District from multiple directions — gates, markets, and courier offices — but some of them never pass through the public temple doors. Instead, they divert into these service ways, handed off quietly, redistributed internally, and moved again.
Moreover, the man with the horse did not return to the street because he did not need to. His route clearly runs through temple infrastructure. And the hooded watcher heading Templeward was not fleeing — he was returning to a place where he belonged.
As the group walk on, Iromae speaks in a quiet voice. "I'm not certain anything covert is happening here. But it certainly could. There's other panels just like that other one. Probably for all kinds of legitimate purposes. But a lot of packages pass through here without going through the public entrances. This could be where covert items could easily be exchanged."
She pauses for a moment, thinking. "We never saw the man with horse return to the street because the point wasn't for him to come drop something off. His route was through the hidden temple infrastructure. Just like our watcher, he simply went back where he belonged. Here."
Again she pauses, and her voice almost seems quieter now as she again speaks. "I have an idea. It's not without danger. And I probably need to have you two go on without me." There's a bit trepidation in Iromae's voice. "I can perhaps see if the bag that we are looking for is somewhere around here. If this was a destination. Although I fear it's more of a transfer point." She can't bring herself to put into words how she would be doing that.
She keeps her pace slow, figuring that wouldn't be a problem here. And it gives her time to get a little feedback from her friends if she is going to take advantage of the place she had spotted where she could stop for a bit to accomplish her task.
Shenua considers Iromae's words. "Hmm… what you're saying makes perfect sense. So that means we shouldn't keep looking for those two men, right? What do we do, then?"
When the cleric proposes her idea, Shenua nods. "Well, I'm certainly out of other ideas, and yours could be really helpful. Is there anything you need us to do? Give you a bit of cover, perhaps?"
The artificer then follows Iromae's instructions, moving to the spot she considers best. What she does is try to cover her from view, while simply talking to Vorenus — as if they were just idly passing the time.
"So… how's life in general?"she asks the sorcerer casually. "How do you think things are working out back at home? You know. Home. Our real home."
Vorenus looks at Iromae with a serious look on his face, connecting eye to eye and nods quickly. Then he turns back to Shenua and holds his hands together, occasionally looking up, scratching his chin, looking pensive. He’s mindful to shift his body to obscure Iromae if he sees anyone approaching as he has this casual conversation with Shenua. “I see.. yes. Well, home. Haven’t thought about that really. I wonder if time is passing right on, if we would be noticed to be gone. Or is it stuck in time, we carry out whatever here and then return to that moment back home. I have no idea. Life is.. good. I feel scared, but … free. That you know me for who I truly am. The real me. If we survive this thing, let’s never drift apart again. We need to live near each other, okay? Maybe we could get together a couple of times a week, for tea, or some ale. Some conversation. But not scatter to the four winds again. How does that sound?” Vorenus gives Shenua a smile and he keeps looking, eyes watching for anyone approaching, trying to shield Iromae as they have this conversation, giving her space to do whatever she must do.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"Oh gods!"Shenua exclaims. "I really hope it's the latter. I have so much work to do back home — and my parents would be worried! I really hope we can return at the exact same moment we left. If that's even possible..."
She seems a bit lost in thought for a moment, considering whether it might be scientifically possible that time stopped the instant they went beneath her guild. Then she pulls herself back to the present as Vorenus speaks about never drifting apart again.
At that, she smiles fondly. "Of course we won't! Not after we've been reunited again. '’m sure there will be plenty of things for us to do together — even beyond sharing an ale every few days."
She pauses, then adds warmly, "And let's hope Kalis and Diego are with us when we do that, yes?"
As Shenua suggests providing a bit of cover, Iromae frowns. She sounds a little nervous as she speaks. "I actually was thinking you should be farther away..." She stops as she clearly seems to have another thought, and she seems to relax a bit. "No, no. On second thought, I can try it a bit differently. I guess you can try and provide a bit of cover. I have a spot though where I can stop. And hopefully won't be observed."
Iromae continues to walk at a measured pace towards the recessed doorway she had seen. It was a record-keeper’s annex with slate board and bench. Slipping into the spot, she takes a moment to look at what might be written on the slate. Partly out of curiosity, partly because it seemed like something a person coming to this spot would ordinarily do, and in part to just give herself a moment. (Perception maybe, just to notice anything on the board: 25)
Then, taking a deep breath, she reaches for the symbol of Deneir she wears about her neck. 'Ok, it is just a prayer, right? Nothing wrong with that,' she thinks. Then aloud, she does start with a softly spoken prayer. "Deneir be with me as I seek knowledge. Guide me and keep me safe."
She then begins to chant, a bit louder but as quietly as she can and still properly cast her spell. With a motion of her hand, she completes casting Locate Object. She brings to mind the description of the exact thread that they were tasked with finding, trying to sense its presence.
Iromae slips naturally into the recessed annex, her movement unremarkable among the quiet flow of temple workers. The slate board is close enough now to read clearly. It lists delivery windows and categories, written and rewritten in careful hands:
Incense & oils — Third bell Textiles & linens — Morning Records & transcriptions — On call Special consignments — By writ only
Beneath that last line, someone has added a small chalk mark — a simple angled slash — fresh enough that the dust hasn’t yet been smeared by passing sleeves. It’s not a symbol you recognize as religious, but it is deliberate.
You steady yourself, fingers brushing the symbol of Deneir, and begin your prayer. No one nearby reacts. A clerk passes, nods absently, and continues on. The rhythm of the place covers you.
As the spell takes hold, the world seems to thin. For a heartbeat, there is nothing. Then ... direction. Not a pull or a line, but a clear, undeniable knowing in your mind: The object you seek is within range. It lies ahead and slightly to the right, deeper into the Temple District ... and it's not moving.
The sense does not align with any single public temple entrance. Instead, it points toward a cluster of structures — chapels sharing foundations.
The magic settles into a steady certainty, not fading nor shifting. Whatever path the thread took after Pale Fountain Square, it ended here — not lost nor destroyed.
As the hint of a direction came, Iromae was delighted. 'It is somewhere here! The risk paid off!' She knew the effect could persist for 10 minutes. So, without any signal to Vorenus and Shenua, she sets off in the direction indicated. Hopefully the pair will understand and discretely keep an eye on her.
She tries hard to maintain the same measured steps as before. Bit she is excited this worked and eager to better pinpoint the location. Her hope is that proximity would make narrowing down the location easier.
Shenua stops talking the moment Iromae begins to walk away. "She must have sensed something," she exclaims, though in a hushed tone. "Let's follow her," she tells Vorenus, and then sets off after the cleric.
All the while, she keeps her awareness on their surroundings, watching carefully in case anyone decides to follow them. (Perception: 15)
Vorenus sets off in a hurry, wanting to be close to Iromae, but not too close. Walking casual. Ish. But quickly. "She's onto something." he speaks with the words aimed behind him. "She gets so focused, I love it!" Then in a little more measured manner, "That's it my child, follow your instinct. Seek inner peace. True knowledge leads us where we may not expect it! We shall follow the enlightened one." And so forth. He looks ahead and behind, head on a swivel as they move forward toward the package or the thread..
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
As you walk, Iromae, the sense sharpens. What was a broad direction becomes more precise with each dozen steps — the feeling tightening like a compass needle settling. The thread is still ahead and right, but now clearly below street level. Not deep underground, but not on the same level as the flagstones either.
The Temple District here grows denser and quieter. Foot traffic thins. The sounds change: fewer voices, more echoes. Stone walls rise closer together. You pass a narrow chapel side-door left ajar, incense smoke curling out; a records hall with shuttered windows and a brass-bound door; and a pair of acolytes carrying bundled linens, heads down, not looking at you.
No one challenges you. No one greets you. A few glance up, register three people walking with intent, and look away again.
About thirty feet on, the spell tightens again. The object is now very close — within a short walk. Still stationary. Still beneath stone. The sensation places it under a structure, not an open yard. Somewhere with a foundation and access below.
You pass a recessed stairwell sealed with an iron grate. The spell does not react to that.
You pass a cellar door marked with chalk tally-marks. The pull flares briefly, then settles — closer than before, but not exact.
Ahead, the lane bends slightly right. On that bend stand three connected buildings, sharing a continuous stone base. Their upper uses differ — a small shrine, an annex, and a storage hall — but the masonry below them is old and unified.
As you draw level with them, the spell becomes unmistakable.
The thread is directly beneath one of these structures — close enough now that if you changed direction, you’d feel it immediately.
Behind you, your friends keep pace, eyes moving, posture easy but alert. Vorenus does not notice anything of note.
Shenua's observant eyes, however, observe that they are not being observed — no guards, no watchers breaking from corners — just the normal, distant motion of temple life. As they catch up to the halting Iromae, she notices something more: one of the doors along this shared foundation — a heavy, iron-banded service door — has fresh wear around its lock. Not broken; used.
Shenua follows Iromae closely, not wasting time asking what she has perceived, choosing instead to trail her without interruption. She doesn't want to risk breaking her concentration.
After the hurried walk — during which the tiefling has kept a constant watch on their surroundings, buildings and people alike — they finally come to a halt. The place where they stand seems to form the shared foundation of three connected buildings.
Only then does Shenua dare to speak. "What is it, Iromae? What did you feel?" She glances around before adding, "So… the thread is in one of these three buildings, then?"
Her gaze lingers on the stonework. "I think— yeah. I think this service door has been used recently." She gestures toward it. "Should we try this one first?"
The artificer reaches for the door handle, testing whether it is locked. If it isn't, she takes a cautious peek inside, listening carefully and scanning for anything useful. (Perception: 9)
As Iromae walks her excitement grows. The location gets more and more clear and soon she realizes it is below. But which of the three structures? And how can they get within?
Once Shenua speaks, she is startled a moment. She had almost forgot about them as she focused on following her spell. "Yes, the thread. It's below one of them," she says softly, though her tone reveals her thrill at having found it. When the service door is mentioned, she looks and nods her head. "Let's try it."
Iromae still keeps her concentration on the spell, eager to move inside and finall ypinpoint the exact location.
Vorenus follows right behind Shenua, listening for sounds of movement, looking for any sign of the thread, or anyone who would be problematic for them. He helps Iromae in, hoping she keeps concentration and the ability to guide them to where the thread lies.
Perception : 17
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
It doesn’t give at first — then there’s a quiet click as the latch yields. Not locked. Just shut.
When she eases the door inward a few inches, the smell hits first: cool stone, dust, old oil, and something faintly metallic. The space beyond is dim, lit only by a narrow shaft of daylight from a grated window farther in. No voices. No immediate movement. Just the soft echo of the door’s hinge and the distant hum of the district above.
Inside is a service passage, sloping gently downward. Crates are stacked along one wall, most marked with chalk sigils or numbers. A low cart sits idle, one wheel wrapped in cloth to muffle sound. Footprints — not fresh mud, but polished wear — trace the stone floor in a narrow path, as if the same route is walked often.
Iromae steps across the threshold, still holding the spell.
The sensation tightens sharply.
The thread is no longer just “below.” It is very close — within a short distance now. The pull angles down the passage and slightly left, deeper under the shared foundation. It does not feel sealed away behind solid stone. There is a way to reach it from here.
Vorenus, listening carefully, catches more detail: a soft, intermittent scrape somewhere ahead — not voices, not footsteps. Wood or metal shifting gently. Like something being moved … or adjusted … with care.
No alarm sounds. No guards rush in. The door remains quietly ajar behind you, opening back onto the lane.
You are inside a space that is clearly meant to be used, but not openly.
"It seems we are in luck!"Shenua exclaims, keeping her voice low. "This place looks empty. I'd say we can move even deeper."
She turns to Iromae. "Is the spell holding? Where is it leading? Just point the way and we'll follow."
The turquoise-haired tiefling starts forward in the direction indicated, then stops herself.
"In any case, it won’t hurt to be careful, will it?" she adds quietly. "Let me cast a teeny-tiny spell, just in case."
She draws her faithful lockpick from her coat and begins murmuring the incantation, letting magic wash over her senses as she focuses on granting her eyes the ability to detect any magic in the area for the next few minutes.
Vorenus also risks a small spell, he reaches down to pull out his not-oft-used dagger and casts light on the blade. He inserts the blade into or out of the scabbard to adjust the amount of light for the situation. He nods to Iromae and Shenua, walking after them, waiting to see where the magic leads. If any closer sounds of activity, he blinks out the light.
(If it is mod / full light ) :
Vorenus nods to Iromae and Shenua, following after them, keeping his senses alert, listening for any change in direction of the sounds in the distance, or signs of movement towards them.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Iromae is quite pleased as the sense of the location of the thread sharpens. She continues to follow her magical sense, ready to finally find the exact spot. She's aware that they've moved into a much less public place. Their presence here, were they noticed, would likely be questioned. But with no immediate indication of others, and focused on her target, she does not dwell on that too much at this point.
"It's very close," Iromae says quickly. "I don't think the way is blocked. We should be able to reach it."
Iromae nods when Shenua suggests there is no sense knocking. "Any thoughts from you Vorenus? Otherwise, I agree with Shenua." She too feels the frustration of their search. 'If only Shenua hadn't got that bag,' she thinks as alternatives move through her mind. Having given up on truly tracking anyone here, she starts to look about, wondering if there was anywhere where she might be able to step out of sight without catching too much attention. To stay unseen for just a bit of time. A place to cast a spell. And then to have the avenues to get out of there too. (Perception: 21)
She isn't sure she would risk casting a spell. And there are still alternatives they can try. But best to take a look now, in case.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
“I would love to grab that hand of whoever is behind that door and pull them out into the light, question them until they provided answers… but that would bring a swarm down on us really quick. And they likely wouldn’t have much that is useful. I feel like we are chasing a dead end. I’m with you.” Vorenus nods and then walks along behind Iromae and Shenua, assuming his prior manner, keeping his head slightly bowed, looking up from time to time to see if there is anything else he can spot.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
You do not linger at the panel.
As you move on, the service way opens gradually, the tight stone corridor giving way to a broader rear lane that runs along the back of several temple buildings. The soundscape changes again — low voices, the creak of carts, the clink of metal — the everyday logistics that keep a holy district running.
Iromae:
As you scan for a place to step aside, you notice something useful: a small record-keeper’s annex just ahead — a recessed doorway with a slate board listing delivery hours and a narrow bench beneath it. People wait there briefly, step inside, then leave again. It would not be strange to pause there, nor would it draw attention if you chose that moment to do something discreet.
As your mind ponders the possibilities, some things begin to click as you walk:
The concealed panel you passed is not unique. You spot two more similar service panels set into temple walls farther along. Each is subtly different, yet each is clearly maintained.
From what you can tell, temple staff and lay workers use this area constantly: linen carriers, incense porters, scribes with satchels, stable hands leading horses through narrow cuts.
No one is giving you more than a passing glance. Here, purposeful movement is normal.
What stands out, now that you’re no longer trying to tail a single person, is the pattern: Packages come into the Temple District from multiple directions — gates, markets, and courier offices — but some of them never pass through the public temple doors. Instead, they divert into these service ways, handed off quietly, redistributed internally, and moved again.
Moreover, the man with the horse did not return to the street because he did not need to. His route clearly runs through temple infrastructure. And the hooded watcher heading Templeward was not fleeing — he was returning to a place where he belonged.
As the group walk on, Iromae speaks in a quiet voice. "I'm not certain anything covert is happening here. But it certainly could. There's other panels just like that other one. Probably for all kinds of legitimate purposes. But a lot of packages pass through here without going through the public entrances. This could be where covert items could easily be exchanged."
She pauses for a moment, thinking. "We never saw the man with horse return to the street because the point wasn't for him to come drop something off. His route was through the hidden temple infrastructure. Just like our watcher, he simply went back where he belonged. Here."
Again she pauses, and her voice almost seems quieter now as she again speaks. "I have an idea. It's not without danger. And I probably need to have you two go on without me." There's a bit trepidation in Iromae's voice. "I can perhaps see if the bag that we are looking for is somewhere around here. If this was a destination. Although I fear it's more of a transfer point." She can't bring herself to put into words how she would be doing that.
She keeps her pace slow, figuring that wouldn't be a problem here. And it gives her time to get a little feedback from her friends if she is going to take advantage of the place she had spotted where she could stop for a bit to accomplish her task.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Shenua considers Iromae's words. "Hmm… what you're saying makes perfect sense. So that means we shouldn't keep looking for those two men, right? What do we do, then?"
When the cleric proposes her idea, Shenua nods. "Well, I'm certainly out of other ideas, and yours could be really helpful. Is there anything you need us to do? Give you a bit of cover, perhaps?"
The artificer then follows Iromae's instructions, moving to the spot she considers best. What she does is try to cover her from view, while simply talking to Vorenus — as if they were just idly passing the time.
"So… how's life in general?" she asks the sorcerer casually. "How do you think things are working out back at home? You know. Home. Our real home."
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
Vorenus looks at Iromae with a serious look on his face, connecting eye to eye and nods quickly. Then he turns back to Shenua and holds his hands together, occasionally looking up, scratching his chin, looking pensive. He’s mindful to shift his body to obscure Iromae if he sees anyone approaching as he has this casual conversation with Shenua. “I see.. yes. Well, home. Haven’t thought about that really. I wonder if time is passing right on, if we would be noticed to be gone. Or is it stuck in time, we carry out whatever here and then return to that moment back home. I have no idea. Life is.. good. I feel scared, but … free. That you know me for who I truly am. The real me. If we survive this thing, let’s never drift apart again. We need to live near each other, okay? Maybe we could get together a couple of times a week, for tea, or some ale. Some conversation. But not scatter to the four winds again. How does that sound?” Vorenus gives Shenua a smile and he keeps looking, eyes watching for anyone approaching, trying to shield Iromae as they have this conversation, giving her space to do whatever she must do.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"Oh gods!" Shenua exclaims. "I really hope it's the latter. I have so much work to do back home — and my parents would be worried! I really hope we can return at the exact same moment we left. If that's even possible..."
She seems a bit lost in thought for a moment, considering whether it might be scientifically possible that time stopped the instant they went beneath her guild. Then she pulls herself back to the present as Vorenus speaks about never drifting apart again.
At that, she smiles fondly. "Of course we won't! Not after we've been reunited again. '’m sure there will be plenty of things for us to do together — even beyond sharing an ale every few days."
She pauses, then adds warmly, "And let's hope Kalis and Diego are with us when we do that, yes?"
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
As Shenua suggests providing a bit of cover, Iromae frowns. She sounds a little nervous as she speaks. "I actually was thinking you should be farther away..." She stops as she clearly seems to have another thought, and she seems to relax a bit. "No, no. On second thought, I can try it a bit differently. I guess you can try and provide a bit of cover. I have a spot though where I can stop. And hopefully won't be observed."
Iromae continues to walk at a measured pace towards the recessed doorway she had seen. It was a record-keeper’s annex with slate board and bench. Slipping into the spot, she takes a moment to look at what might be written on the slate. Partly out of curiosity, partly because it seemed like something a person coming to this spot would ordinarily do, and in part to just give herself a moment. (Perception maybe, just to notice anything on the board: 25)
Then, taking a deep breath, she reaches for the symbol of Deneir she wears about her neck. 'Ok, it is just a prayer, right? Nothing wrong with that,' she thinks. Then aloud, she does start with a softly spoken prayer. "Deneir be with me as I seek knowledge. Guide me and keep me safe."
She then begins to chant, a bit louder but as quietly as she can and still properly cast her spell. With a motion of her hand, she completes casting Locate Object. She brings to mind the description of the exact thread that they were tasked with finding, trying to sense its presence.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Iromae slips naturally into the recessed annex, her movement unremarkable among the quiet flow of temple workers. The slate board is close enough now to read clearly. It lists delivery windows and categories, written and rewritten in careful hands:
Incense & oils — Third bell
Textiles & linens — Morning
Records & transcriptions — On call
Special consignments — By writ only
Beneath that last line, someone has added a small chalk mark — a simple angled slash — fresh enough that the dust hasn’t yet been smeared by passing sleeves. It’s not a symbol you recognize as religious, but it is deliberate.
You steady yourself, fingers brushing the symbol of Deneir, and begin your prayer. No one nearby reacts. A clerk passes, nods absently, and continues on. The rhythm of the place covers you.
As the spell takes hold, the world seems to thin. For a heartbeat, there is nothing. Then ... direction. Not a pull or a line, but a clear, undeniable knowing in your mind: The object you seek is within range. It lies ahead and slightly to the right, deeper into the Temple District ... and it's not moving.
The sense does not align with any single public temple entrance. Instead, it points toward a cluster of structures — chapels sharing foundations.
The magic settles into a steady certainty, not fading nor shifting. Whatever path the thread took after Pale Fountain Square, it ended here — not lost nor destroyed.
As the hint of a direction came, Iromae was delighted. 'It is somewhere here! The risk paid off!' She knew the effect could persist for 10 minutes. So, without any signal to Vorenus and Shenua, she sets off in the direction indicated. Hopefully the pair will understand and discretely keep an eye on her.
She tries hard to maintain the same measured steps as before. Bit she is excited this worked and eager to better pinpoint the location. Her hope is that proximity would make narrowing down the location easier.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Shenua stops talking the moment Iromae begins to walk away. "She must have sensed something," she exclaims, though in a hushed tone. "Let's follow her," she tells Vorenus, and then sets off after the cleric.
All the while, she keeps her awareness on their surroundings, watching carefully in case anyone decides to follow them. (Perception: 15)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
Vorenus sets off in a hurry, wanting to be close to Iromae, but not too close. Walking casual. Ish. But quickly. "She's onto something." he speaks with the words aimed behind him. "She gets so focused, I love it!" Then in a little more measured manner, "That's it my child, follow your instinct. Seek inner peace. True knowledge leads us where we may not expect it! We shall follow the enlightened one." And so forth. He looks ahead and behind, head on a swivel as they move forward toward the package or the thread..
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
As you walk, Iromae, the sense sharpens. What was a broad direction becomes more precise with each dozen steps — the feeling tightening like a compass needle settling. The thread is still ahead and right, but now clearly below street level. Not deep underground, but not on the same level as the flagstones either.
The Temple District here grows denser and quieter. Foot traffic thins. The sounds change: fewer voices, more echoes. Stone walls rise closer together. You pass a narrow chapel side-door left ajar, incense smoke curling out; a records hall with shuttered windows and a brass-bound door; and a pair of acolytes carrying bundled linens, heads down, not looking at you.
No one challenges you. No one greets you. A few glance up, register three people walking with intent, and look away again.
About thirty feet on, the spell tightens again. The object is now very close — within a short walk. Still stationary. Still beneath stone. The sensation places it under a structure, not an open yard. Somewhere with a foundation and access below.
You pass a recessed stairwell sealed with an iron grate. The spell does not react to that.
You pass a cellar door marked with chalk tally-marks. The pull flares briefly, then settles — closer than before, but not exact.
Ahead, the lane bends slightly right. On that bend stand three connected buildings, sharing a continuous stone base. Their upper uses differ — a small shrine, an annex, and a storage hall — but the masonry below them is old and unified.
As you draw level with them, the spell becomes unmistakable.
The thread is directly beneath one of these structures — close enough now that if you changed direction, you’d feel it immediately.
Behind you, your friends keep pace, eyes moving, posture easy but alert. Vorenus does not notice anything of note.
Shenua's observant eyes, however, observe that they are not being observed — no guards, no watchers breaking from corners — just the normal, distant motion of temple life. As they catch up to the halting Iromae, she notices something more: one of the doors along this shared foundation — a heavy, iron-banded service door — has fresh wear around its lock. Not broken; used.
Shenua follows Iromae closely, not wasting time asking what she has perceived, choosing instead to trail her without interruption. She doesn't want to risk breaking her concentration.
After the hurried walk — during which the tiefling has kept a constant watch on their surroundings, buildings and people alike — they finally come to a halt. The place where they stand seems to form the shared foundation of three connected buildings.
Only then does Shenua dare to speak. "What is it, Iromae? What did you feel?" She glances around before adding, "So… the thread is in one of these three buildings, then?"
Her gaze lingers on the stonework. "I think— yeah. I think this service door has been used recently." She gestures toward it. "Should we try this one first?"
The artificer reaches for the door handle, testing whether it is locked. If it isn't, she takes a cautious peek inside, listening carefully and scanning for anything useful. (Perception: 9)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
As Iromae walks her excitement grows. The location gets more and more clear and soon she realizes it is below. But which of the three structures? And how can they get within?
Once Shenua speaks, she is startled a moment. She had almost forgot about them as she focused on following her spell. "Yes, the thread. It's below one of them," she says softly, though her tone reveals her thrill at having found it. When the service door is mentioned, she looks and nods her head. "Let's try it."
Iromae still keeps her concentration on the spell, eager to move inside and finall ypinpoint the exact location.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Vorenus follows right behind Shenua, listening for sounds of movement, looking for any sign of the thread, or anyone who would be problematic for them. He helps Iromae in, hoping she keeps concentration and the ability to guide them to where the thread lies.
Perception : 17
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Shenua’s hand closes around the iron handle.
It doesn’t give at first — then there’s a quiet click as the latch yields. Not locked. Just shut.
When she eases the door inward a few inches, the smell hits first: cool stone, dust, old oil, and something faintly metallic. The space beyond is dim, lit only by a narrow shaft of daylight from a grated window farther in. No voices. No immediate movement. Just the soft echo of the door’s hinge and the distant hum of the district above.
Inside is a service passage, sloping gently downward. Crates are stacked along one wall, most marked with chalk sigils or numbers. A low cart sits idle, one wheel wrapped in cloth to muffle sound. Footprints — not fresh mud, but polished wear — trace the stone floor in a narrow path, as if the same route is walked often.
Iromae steps across the threshold, still holding the spell.
The sensation tightens sharply.
The thread is no longer just “below.” It is very close — within a short distance now. The pull angles down the passage and slightly left, deeper under the shared foundation. It does not feel sealed away behind solid stone. There is a way to reach it from here.
Vorenus, listening carefully, catches more detail: a soft, intermittent scrape somewhere ahead — not voices, not footsteps. Wood or metal shifting gently. Like something being moved … or adjusted … with care.
No alarm sounds. No guards rush in. The door remains quietly ajar behind you, opening back onto the lane.
You are inside a space that is clearly meant to be used, but not openly.
The spell is steady. The object hasn’t moved.
"It seems we are in luck!" Shenua exclaims, keeping her voice low. "This place looks empty. I'd say we can move even deeper."
She turns to Iromae. "Is the spell holding? Where is it leading? Just point the way and we'll follow."
The turquoise-haired tiefling starts forward in the direction indicated, then stops herself.
"In any case, it won’t hurt to be careful, will it?" she adds quietly. "Let me cast a teeny-tiny spell, just in case."
She draws her faithful lockpick from her coat and begins murmuring the incantation, letting magic wash over her senses as she focuses on granting her eyes the ability to detect any magic in the area for the next few minutes.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
(If it is dark) :
Vorenus also risks a small spell, he reaches down to pull out his not-oft-used dagger and casts light on the blade. He inserts the blade into or out of the scabbard to adjust the amount of light for the situation. He nods to Iromae and Shenua, walking after them, waiting to see where the magic leads. If any closer sounds of activity, he blinks out the light.
(If it is mod / full light ) :
Vorenus nods to Iromae and Shenua, following after them, keeping his senses alert, listening for any change in direction of the sounds in the distance, or signs of movement towards them.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Iromae is quite pleased as the sense of the location of the thread sharpens. She continues to follow her magical sense, ready to finally find the exact spot. She's aware that they've moved into a much less public place. Their presence here, were they noticed, would likely be questioned. But with no immediate indication of others, and focused on her target, she does not dwell on that too much at this point.
"It's very close," Iromae says quickly. "I don't think the way is blocked. We should be able to reach it."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer