Tuu'Saayn heard that voice - but this time it was clear that it was only inside his head.
"Without prompting, you have done my bidding. I would offer you a boon - a bargain."
As he settled in to watch the crowd, someone, or something spoke to him. The voice sent a shiver down his spine, a feeling of cold hit him momentarily, like a chill winter wind that only he could feel. He took a deep steadying breath and focused his awareness on the voice.
Insight: 9 (anything at all that he senses or "gets" from the voice, good, evil, any familiarity, species, etc.)
***OoC: did he see Gus get hit with the flour? and..... a 4 on the insight roll before mods for the voice :( ***
Torm, disgusted by carnage at the tavern and the obvious failure of duty by the Watch, walks to Tuu'Saayn's side and places a bronzed hand on the Tiefling's shoulder.
"There has been far too much chaos in our brief time here,"he says in a low raspy voice, "The Watch has failed in all their duties. Citizens are abducted. Tavern skirmishes are allowed to escalate into massacres. The citizens are penned up like cattle awaiting the slaughter."
Torm gives Tuu'Sayn's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
"It appears our group has come upon this city in a most dire time of need. A need for structure and organization. We should find this Lieutenant Higgins. Which may require getting beyond these barricades."
Torm's deep black eyes fix on Tuu'Sayn, "We must bring justice for these people."
Torm's words and the feeling of his hand on his shoulder pulled him back from the voice and brought him out of his own head. He felt, more than heard Torm's voice. A sense of reassurance washed over him, a soothing balm on a festering wound. For a moment, he felt a sense of hope, maybe, just maybe, this odd little band could right the ship. Perhaps the scales could be balanced. He smiled at Torm, "Thank you, my friend." was all he could muster in response.He was emotionally drained, and feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
***OoC: if he saw Gus get hit, he blurts out a quick, "What the?!?" This would spark a situation in need of immediate action and put him squarely back into his comfort zone, find a problem fix a problem, react, let instinct take over. "This way, quickly!" he says to Torm and is off like a burst of lightening in pursuit of the would be thief.
If he did not see Gus get floured he nods in agreement to find the lieutenant and tries to collect himself enough to be useful. This is a massive uphill battle as his thoughts keep shifting back to the voice. Who are you, and what do you want from me? He finally asked the voice mentally.
Gus studies the young half-elf, head tilted slightly, goggles askew, one flour-dusted brow quirking as the fellow continues to rant about The Sunlight Court and the sacred duty of message-bearing.
“Oh dear, oh my,”Gus murmurs, feigning sudden realization as he brings a hand to his chest with theatrical concern. “You’re a messenger for the Sunlight Court? Well now that explains everything. No wonder you’re so… incandescent with purpose.”
He steps slightly closer, lowering his voice into a confidential tone, eyes gleaming with mischief behind his goggles.
“They’re impeding your return, sir? The nerve. Someone of your… stature? Clearly a personage of great import.”Gus nods emphatically, gesturing to the empty space beside them as if to summon a guardsman out of sheer indignation. “We should wave someone over! A guardsman! A Lieutenant.....A Lieutenant Higgins, perhaps! Would you have heard of him?
He gives a theatrical look around then frowns.
“But… where is the watch?” His voice dips again, conspiratorial now. “No patrols. No whistles. No heavy boots stomping up behind us to ask inconvenient questions.”He leans in a little, lowering his goggles with a finger to stare the messenger straight in the eye. “Don’t you find that a bit odd?”
Then, with a slight smile, Gus steps back and brushes more flour from his lapel.
“Tell me something,”he says lightly, as though the thought just occurred to him. “This message of yours—important, is it? Urgent, secret, or all three? Not that I’m prying, no no. Just curious what the Sunlight Court is so keen to hear that they’ve sent their best messenger."
He pauses, then adds with a casual shrug, “I dabble in courier work myself. Mostly volatile compounds and taxidermied spiders, but same principle. I appreciate a well-delivered message.”
He gives a little grin.
Persussion: (Nat 1+3) Definitely the dice are on holiday ....sigh.
[This thread is bananas, it consistently happens that by the time I get what I think is a timely response up, there are three post already a head of mine.....!]
Persussion: (Nat 1+3) Definitely the dice are on holiday ....sigh.
[With a set-up like that, there's no way he can resist bragging - he's just not going to be sharing any secrets!]
The poor lad almost visibly preens, obviously easily flattered.
"Chancellor Keen himself, of the Middle Council, gave me this duty - and a long time the Market Council kept me waiting while they gathered. Barely half of them were present, even then.
As for the errant Watch - you should seek them at their watch-house, along the Eastern Wall. I'm sure there are such knaves behind this gate, but they will not answer!"
Gus lets out a loud, scandalized gasp, clutching at his chest as if the very idea has wounded him.
“They kept you waiting?”he repeats, his voice rising theatrically. “You? A herald of Chancellor Keen—of the Middle Council, no less?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then spins half a turn to gesture vaguely toward the Market. “What has the world come to when the likes of you are made to wait on merchants and their squabbling committees? Barely half present? Pah! That’s not a council, that’s a dinner meeting.”
He leans in again, voice low but quick, every word full of feigned outrage and curiosity braided together. “And no full audience? Did they even offer you a seat? Refreshments? A silvered horn to announce your presence? Or did they just shuffle in?”
Then, with a conspiratorial glance toward the unmoving gate, Gus paces a slow half-circle around the lad.
“And the Watch… tucked away along the Eastern Wall? Skulking in their house delaying your duty to Chancelloe Keen?”
He pauses dramatically before placing a hand lightly on the half-elf’s shoulder. “You are clearly a courier of significance, my good fellow. And Keen, you said? Chancellor Keen entrusted you directly? Why, that must have been a message of no small weight. I can only imagine the words you bore…”
He lets the thought dangle, then adds with a little chuckle, “Well, almost imagine. Of course, I couldn’t possibly pry into official Court business. But should it concern matters of city safety, draconic threats, or, say, certain… arcane disturbances, one does like to be informed, for civic preparedness and whatnot.”
He adjusts his goggles with the air of someone trying very hard not to be impressed and failing, hoping to coax just a few more crumbs from the lad’s puffed-up pride.
“You must tell me, what did the Council do when they heard your message? Gasp? Faint? Applaud? Or did they simply blink, too daft to grasp the gravity of your words?”
Tuu'Saayn dashes up behind the fleeing thief. He watches her strides and times his strike. He quickly kicks at her trail leg, knocking it behind the other, hoping to trip her. When she hits the ground he leaps on her and attempts to restrain her until backup arrives. If she offers much resistance he hisses into her ear, "I've been dying to hit something... be still and answer some questions and you will walk away from this."
intimidation 8
Bonus action unarmed strike to prone DC 13 DEX
If she slips the first try he uses his attack action to tackle her: another unarmed to the same end.
Torm's tall frame snaps into action behind Tuu'Saayn as they dash after the thief that assaulted Gus.
As the Tiefling kicks at the heel of the cutpurse, Torm lunges forward to assist dropping the assailant, attempting to grapple her.
Athletics: 6
He mistimes his lunge and rolls recklessly across the path, ending face down in the dirt. "Why have you forsaken me, Helm,"he questions the earth pressed against his nose.
He adjusts his goggles with the air of someone trying very hard not to be impressed and failing, hoping to coax just a few more crumbs from the lad’s puffed-up pride.
“You must tell me, what did the Council do when they heard your message? Gasp? Faint? Applaud? Or did they simply blink, too daft to grasp the gravity of your words?”
"Fear not, good citizen - for all is well." The poor schmuck can't help but boast
"The Chancellor greeted the Market Council with his fondest good wishes, assuring them of his friendship and fellow-feeling, and bidding them pay no attention to any rumoured disagreements or squabbles of the Middle Council. There has been a brief period of realignment, but there is no cause for apprehension or alarm, and all will return to normal in short order."
He looks quite proud to have been entrusted with such vital diplomatic waffle.
"The Market Council received me very poorly - they could not see the wisdom in the Chancellors words, and simply bade me leave. I hope that more reflection will bring them wisdom."
Tuu'Saayn dashes up behind the fleeing thief. He watches her strides and times his strike. He quickly kicks at her trail leg, knocking it behind the other, hoping to trip her. When she hits the ground he leaps on her and attempts to restrain her until backup arrives. If she offers much resistance he hisses into her ear, "I've been dying to hit something... be still and answer some questions and you will walk away from this."
Unable or unwilling to fight two armed men, the woman curls up on the ground, pulling her legs up and trying to shield her face with her arms.
"Oh Pleasedon'thurtmepleasedonthurtme."
The scene is attracting a lot of attention from surrounding stall-keepers and shoppers - but no-one seems willing to interrupt the pair, with the Watch absent and no-one in charge.
Gus’s brows rise so high they nearly disappear into his mop of hair. He clasps his hands in front of him, nodding slowly as if he’s just been entrusted with the deepest secrets of the realm.
He nods sagely, eyes gleaming with curiosity masked as admiration.
“But the Market Council, mm? They dismissed you? That’s… bold. Foolhardy, even. To ignore such an elegantly framed reassurance suggests they’re either incredibly dense… or they may already know something.”
His, chin tilts as if puzzling it out aloud.
“What is it , I wonder? What rumor, what misstep, has them so on edge that even a message of acknowledgment strikes them so?”
Then, almost as an afterthought, he glances back toward the half-elf and adds:
“And you, of course, surely you gleaned more than just the words on the page. Your task was not merely to deliver, but to observe, no? What did you see in that chamber? In their faces, hinting at what’s really going on?”
He gives a tiny, approving nod, voice returning to a whisper: “After all, the Sunlight Court doesn’t just send anyone into a storm of politics unless they’re confident the messenger can fly straight through it and report the weather on the other side.”
"What is happening here? Not the recycled garbage the shop keepers talk about, what do the dark whispers say?"
If she continues to cooperate he eases off, even extending a hand to help her up. "We have seen enough blood today. We just want information," he reassures her.
He gives a tiny, approving nod, voice returning to a whisper: “After all, the Sunlight Court doesn’t just send anyone into a storm of politics unless they’re confident the messenger can fly straight through it and report the weather on the other side.”
"I'm...I'm not sure" The lad falters, no longer sounding so certain of himself.
"I was summoned by the Chancellor, as he was visiting the Sunlight Court, and I've not visited the Middle Levels for days. I am the...most junior of the Court Messengers, and I was greatly honoured to receive such an important task - but I know little of the politics between the three Courts."
"What is happening here? Not the recycled garbage the shop keepers talk about, what do the dark whispers say?"
If she continues to cooperate he eases off, even extending a hand to help her up. "We have seen enough blood today. We just want information," he reassures her.
"I don't know, Sirs, I swear."
You get some suspicious looks from those around, but no-one intervenes
"All the Watch up and left, and I heard they took some Lady with them - the Lieutenant dragged her from the market kicking and screaming they say - but that's all I know and I haven't heard any whispers about anything: I could ask old Artemis, but I couldn't find him."
11
She might or might not be telling you everything she knows, but she does look terrified.
Torm pushes himself up from the road, spitting dirt from his mouth and beating the dust off his robe and armor. His black eyes never waiver from the young woman.
He moves to hover over the terrified woman, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as she nervously relays what she knows. When she finishes he hisses the name, "Higgins."
He glowers at the trembling figure on the ground and asks,"Is Artemis the baker?"
"Tell me everything you know of him and where he may be found. Where do you access the lower levels?"
17
"He..um.. I don't know where his stall is, but he's twenty nine years old, and only has three fingers on his left hand. He has this iron bracelet that he never takes off, it's not very nice, I don't know why he keeps it when the rest of his clothing and furnishings are so expensive. He's always richly dressed. He doesn't usually let his seamstresses work in the market: they attract too much attention - but sometimes he has one or two with him.
The only way to the other levels is the North Gate - the rest of the lower levels are straight across, the middle and Sunlight levels are up the Great Stairs."
[She's lying about something - how could she not know where to find her fence? The rest of it seems truthful enough.]
"Lies,"hehisses to the cowering woman. He blinks slowly, his normaly jet black eyes now set with smoldering embers for pupils. Twin dots of hell flame bore into her shriveling soul, daring her to withhold the truth.
"I..I don't know! I couldn't find him! Pleasedonthurtme! Help! Help!!"
[Honestly, the trick with the eyes would have worked - if she hadn't been staring at Torm instead. Now you've driven her to shouting for help, people are moving to intervene - best bring this to a close, one way or another...]
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As he settled in to watch the crowd, someone, or something spoke to him. The voice sent a shiver down his spine, a feeling of cold hit him momentarily, like a chill winter wind that only he could feel. He took a deep steadying breath and focused his awareness on the voice.
Insight: 9 (anything at all that he senses or "gets" from the voice, good, evil, any familiarity, species, etc.)
***OoC: did he see Gus get hit with the flour? and..... a 4 on the insight roll before mods for the voice :( ***
Torm's words and the feeling of his hand on his shoulder pulled him back from the voice and brought him out of his own head. He felt, more than heard Torm's voice. A sense of reassurance washed over him, a soothing balm on a festering wound. For a moment, he felt a sense of hope, maybe, just maybe, this odd little band could right the ship. Perhaps the scales could be balanced. He smiled at Torm, "Thank you, my friend." was all he could muster in response. He was emotionally drained, and feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
***OoC: if he saw Gus get hit, he blurts out a quick, "What the?!?" This would spark a situation in need of immediate action and put him squarely back into his comfort zone, find a problem fix a problem, react, let instinct take over. "This way, quickly!" he says to Torm and is off like a burst of lightening in pursuit of the would be thief.
If he did not see Gus get floured he nods in agreement to find the lieutenant and tries to collect himself enough to be useful. This is a massive uphill battle as his thoughts keep shifting back to the voice. Who are you, and what do you want from me? He finally asked the voice mentally.
[Everyone saw Gus get hit - people tend to notice him, despite his small size]
15
Hot on the heels of the fleeing woman, hearing her laboured breathing, Tuu'Saayn is quickly close enough to strike...
Over here, near the western edge of the market, the sense of connection to the voice is gone.
Gus studies the young half-elf, head tilted slightly, goggles askew, one flour-dusted brow quirking as the fellow continues to rant about The Sunlight Court and the sacred duty of message-bearing.
“Oh dear, oh my,” Gus murmurs, feigning sudden realization as he brings a hand to his chest with theatrical concern. “You’re a messenger for the Sunlight Court? Well now that explains everything. No wonder you’re so… incandescent with purpose.”
He steps slightly closer, lowering his voice into a confidential tone, eyes gleaming with mischief behind his goggles.
“They’re impeding your return, sir? The nerve. Someone of your… stature? Clearly a personage of great import.” Gus nods emphatically, gesturing to the empty space beside them as if to summon a guardsman out of sheer indignation. “We should wave someone over! A guardsman! A Lieutenant.....A Lieutenant Higgins, perhaps! Would you have heard of him?
He gives a theatrical look around then frowns.
“But… where is the watch?” His voice dips again, conspiratorial now. “No patrols. No whistles. No heavy boots stomping up behind us to ask inconvenient questions.” He leans in a little, lowering his goggles with a finger to stare the messenger straight in the eye. “Don’t you find that a bit odd?”
Then, with a slight smile, Gus steps back and brushes more flour from his lapel.
“Tell me something,” he says lightly, as though the thought just occurred to him. “This message of yours—important, is it? Urgent, secret, or all three? Not that I’m prying, no no. Just curious what the Sunlight Court is so keen to hear that they’ve sent their best messenger."
He pauses, then adds with a casual shrug, “I dabble in courier work myself. Mostly volatile compounds and taxidermied spiders, but same principle. I appreciate a well-delivered message.”
He gives a little grin.
Persussion: (Nat 1+3) Definitely the dice are on holiday ....sigh.
[This thread is bananas, it consistently happens that by the time I get what I think is a timely response up, there are three post already a head of mine.....!]
[With a set-up like that, there's no way he can resist bragging - he's just not going to be sharing any secrets!]
The poor lad almost visibly preens, obviously easily flattered.
"Chancellor Keen himself, of the Middle Council, gave me this duty - and a long time the Market Council kept me waiting while they gathered. Barely half of them were present, even then.
As for the errant Watch - you should seek them at their watch-house, along the Eastern Wall. I'm sure there are such knaves behind this gate, but they will not answer!"
Gus lets out a loud, scandalized gasp, clutching at his chest as if the very idea has wounded him.
“They kept you waiting?” he repeats, his voice rising theatrically. “You? A herald of Chancellor Keen—of the Middle Council, no less?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then spins half a turn to gesture vaguely toward the Market. “What has the world come to when the likes of you are made to wait on merchants and their squabbling committees? Barely half present? Pah! That’s not a council, that’s a dinner meeting.”
He leans in again, voice low but quick, every word full of feigned outrage and curiosity braided together. “And no full audience? Did they even offer you a seat? Refreshments? A silvered horn to announce your presence? Or did they just shuffle in?”
Then, with a conspiratorial glance toward the unmoving gate, Gus paces a slow half-circle around the lad.
“And the Watch… tucked away along the Eastern Wall? Skulking in their house delaying your duty to Chancelloe Keen?”
He pauses dramatically before placing a hand lightly on the half-elf’s shoulder. “You are clearly a courier of significance, my good fellow. And Keen, you said? Chancellor Keen entrusted you directly? Why, that must have been a message of no small weight. I can only imagine the words you bore…”
He lets the thought dangle, then adds with a little chuckle, “Well, almost imagine. Of course, I couldn’t possibly pry into official Court business. But should it concern matters of city safety, draconic threats, or, say, certain… arcane disturbances, one does like to be informed, for civic preparedness and whatnot.”
He adjusts his goggles with the air of someone trying very hard not to be impressed and failing, hoping to coax just a few more crumbs from the lad’s puffed-up pride.
“You must tell me, what did the Council do when they heard your message? Gasp? Faint? Applaud? Or did they simply blink, too daft to grasp the gravity of your words?”
Persuasion: 10
Tuu'Saayn dashes up behind the fleeing thief. He watches her strides and times his strike. He quickly kicks at her trail leg, knocking it behind the other, hoping to trip her. When she hits the ground he leaps on her and attempts to restrain her until backup arrives. If she offers much resistance he hisses into her ear, "I've been dying to hit something... be still and answer some questions and you will walk away from this."
intimidation 8
Bonus action unarmed strike to prone DC 13 DEX
If she slips the first try he uses his attack action to tackle her: another unarmed to the same end.
Torm's tall frame snaps into action behind Tuu'Saayn as they dash after the thief that assaulted Gus.
As the Tiefling kicks at the heel of the cutpurse, Torm lunges forward to assist dropping the assailant, attempting to grapple her.
Athletics: 6
He mistimes his lunge and rolls recklessly across the path, ending face down in the dirt. "Why have you forsaken me, Helm," he questions the earth pressed against his nose.
"Fear not, good citizen - for all is well." The poor schmuck can't help but boast
"The Chancellor greeted the Market Council with his fondest good wishes, assuring them of his friendship and fellow-feeling, and bidding them pay no attention to any rumoured disagreements or squabbles of the Middle Council. There has been a brief period of realignment, but there is no cause for apprehension or alarm, and all will return to normal in short order."
He looks quite proud to have been entrusted with such vital diplomatic waffle.
"The Market Council received me very poorly - they could not see the wisdom in the Chancellors words, and simply bade me leave. I hope that more reflection will bring them wisdom."
Unable or unwilling to fight two armed men, the woman curls up on the ground, pulling her legs up and trying to shield her face with her arms.
"Oh Pleasedon'thurtmepleasedonthurtme."
The scene is attracting a lot of attention from surrounding stall-keepers and shoppers - but no-one seems willing to interrupt the pair, with the Watch absent and no-one in charge.
Gus’s brows rise so high they nearly disappear into his mop of hair. He clasps his hands in front of him, nodding slowly as if he’s just been entrusted with the deepest secrets of the realm.
He nods sagely, eyes gleaming with curiosity masked as admiration.
“But the Market Council, mm? They dismissed you? That’s… bold. Foolhardy, even. To ignore such an elegantly framed reassurance suggests they’re either incredibly dense… or they may already know something.”
His, chin tilts as if puzzling it out aloud.
“What is it , I wonder? What rumor, what misstep, has them so on edge that even a message of acknowledgment strikes them so?”
Then, almost as an afterthought, he glances back toward the half-elf and adds:
“And you, of course, surely you gleaned more than just the words on the page. Your task was not merely to deliver, but to observe, no? What did you see in that chamber? In their faces, hinting at what’s really going on?”
He gives a tiny, approving nod, voice returning to a whisper:
“After all, the Sunlight Court doesn’t just send anyone into a storm of politics unless they’re confident the messenger can fly straight through it and report the weather on the other side.”
Gus places a proud, approving pat on the arm.
Persuasion: 13
"What is happening here? Not the recycled garbage the shop keepers talk about, what do the dark whispers say?"
If she continues to cooperate he eases off, even extending a hand to help her up. "We have seen enough blood today. We just want information," he reassures her.
"I'm...I'm not sure" The lad falters, no longer sounding so certain of himself.
"I was summoned by the Chancellor, as he was visiting the Sunlight Court, and I've not visited the Middle Levels for days. I am the...most junior of the Court Messengers, and I was greatly honoured to receive such an important task - but I know little of the politics between the three Courts."
"I don't know, Sirs, I swear."
You get some suspicious looks from those around, but no-one intervenes
"All the Watch up and left, and I heard they took some Lady with them - the Lieutenant dragged her from the market kicking and screaming they say - but that's all I know and I haven't heard any whispers about anything: I could ask old Artemis, but I couldn't find him."
11
She might or might not be telling you everything she knows, but she does look terrified.
Torm pushes himself up from the road, spitting dirt from his mouth and beating the dust off his robe and armor. His black eyes never waiver from the young woman.
He moves to hover over the terrified woman, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as she nervously relays what she knows. When she finishes he hisses the name, "Higgins."
He glowers at the trembling figure on the ground and asks, "Is Artemis the baker?"
The woman shiggles backwards, desperate to get away from that intense stare
"Baker? No, he's an Artificer - he buys the things I...find, and he has some ladies who work for him, over in the lower levels."
Tuu'Saayn fishes 2 gold pieces out of his pouch. He holds the woman's eyes with his gaze as he presses the coin into her hand.
"Tell me everything you know of him and where he may be found. Where do you access the lower levels?"
insight: 25 nat 20
If he believes her he gives her 2 more gp and tells her to steal no more.
17
"He..um.. I don't know where his stall is, but he's twenty nine years old, and only has three fingers on his left hand. He has this iron bracelet that he never takes off, it's not very nice, I don't know why he keeps it when the rest of his clothing and furnishings are so expensive. He's always richly dressed. He doesn't usually let his seamstresses work in the market: they attract too much attention - but sometimes he has one or two with him.
The only way to the other levels is the North Gate - the rest of the lower levels are straight across, the middle and Sunlight levels are up the Great Stairs."
[She's lying about something - how could she not know where to find her fence? The rest of it seems truthful enough.]
"Lies," he hisses to the cowering woman. He blinks slowly, his normaly jet black eyes now set with smoldering embers for pupils. Twin dots of hell flame bore into her shriveling soul, daring her to withhold the truth.
***Thaumaturgy; ADV intimidation: 8
"Where is he?"
"I..I don't know! I couldn't find him! Pleasedonthurtme! Help! Help!!"
[Honestly, the trick with the eyes would have worked - if she hadn't been staring at Torm instead. Now you've driven her to shouting for help, people are moving to intervene - best bring this to a close, one way or another...]