He releases her. If any get too close or look to get hands on he turns calmly to face them, hands clasped behind him.
"A caught thief cries for help. Best to be on your way and leave her to her fate."
If no one else chooses to tempt fate, he turns to Torm and says, "I guess we need to find this man now too. More missing people and more questions." He shakes his head and walks calmly back towards Gryn and Gus to share what little they learned.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Torm reaches down and pulls the girl up by her collar, never releasing his grip as she swats at his arm and continues her cries for help.
"You owe our companion for your assault against him," he tells the girl in a flat emotionless tone.
He turns his cold gaze from the girl and roars aloud for any to hear that may be considering interfering: "This thief will be held accountable for her crimes against another. Stand away!"
Intimidation: 7 (argh!! @#$!) [[*** edit *** if advantage is given based on the next post: 11. It is really NOT my time for dice rolls]]
The tall self-righteous Aasmir shoves the frantic girl ahead of him, never loosening his grip, and tries to make their way back to Gus.
Tuu'Saayn scans the crowd for drawn weapons or anyone looking to make a poor choice.
As Torm makes his statement Tuu casts thaumaturgy again, this time creating tremors in the ground centered on Torm to try and add a bit of flair to his intimidation ***possibly granting ADV on the check??***
Perception: 17
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Gus is mid-sentence with the junior messenger—his arms raised in mock exasperation, as though delivering the climax of a grand tale.
“…and that, my good sir, is how you began the morning a humble courier and now find yourself the central figure in a political intrigue most dire! Mark my words—next time they’ll hand you the scroll and the sealed wine bottle. You'll be delivering intent as well as message!”
He clasps the young half-elf’s shoulder with a grin that’s all teeth and twinkle. “Chin up, lad. History’s doorstep rarely knocks politely, but today, you answered.”
But his attention drifts as the air shifts, just faintly. The tremors are subtle, but real. The voice of Tuu’Saayn rolling like a thunderclap across the square. Gus blinks once, then pivots to the side just in time to come face to face, again, with a most familiar pair of eyes.
“Ah! There she is,”he announces brightly to the messenger, gesturing toward the disheveled woman now being half-dragged by Torm and radiating panic. “You were wondering about the flour, I imagine. Well. You see. This enterprising soul made a rather bold, if somewhat messy, exit from our last conversation. Call it a ‘flourish,’ if you will.”
He chuckles at his own joke, then steps forward with a slight tip of his head toward the restrained woman, voice warm, smooth, conspiratorial.
“No hard feelings, mind you. I quite like a bit of initiative in the evening, keeps the senses sharp.But you’ll understand if I’m just a little curious now. After all…”He glances toward the crowd, then back at her, eyes narrowing with interest behind his lenses. “...why the panic?”
He turns to the half-elf, indicating the messenger with one hand and the woman with the other as if connecting dots only he can see.
“Here we have a herald of Chancellor Keen himself, sent to soothe tensions amid the subtlest fractures in the Middle Council. And here,” he gestures to the woman, “a sudden, dramatic reaction to a question as simple as ‘where’s the Watch?’, and then, an attempt to vanish entirely.”
He claps his hands together once, softly. “Now, when disparate events begin to rhyme, I get very interested.”
He steps in closer to the woman, this time crouching down slightly, lowering his voice just for her. Gone is the easy mirth. The glint behind his goggles is pure, razor-sharp curiosity.
“So tell me, my dear. What exactly did you think I’d stumbled onto?”
With a sigh, Gus dusts a bit of lingering flour off his shoulder.
[As Tuu'Saayn returns to the North Gate, rounding the last pillar he feels again that sense of.. connection - and knows the voice is waiting for his response. Not a God, then, whatever it is: Gods usually have a longer range]
He steps in closer to the woman, this time crouching down slightly, lowering his voice just for her. Gone is the easy mirth. The glint behind his goggles is pure, razor-sharp curiosity.
“So tell me, my dear. What exactly did you think I’d stumbled onto?”
"You... You said things you couldn't know. I've never seen you before: How do you know so much about me?"
She looks almost dumbstruck by Gus' pronouncements - but then, he has that effect.
Gus smiles wide, brushing a puff of flour off his shoulder with a theatrical flourish, then gives the woman a sly, sideways glance.
“Well now,” he says, voice light and teasing, “looks like one street performer has spotted another. I flatter myself to say I’ve staged a few good acts in my day, but that sack of flour misdirection? That’s bold. Messy, yes. But bold.”
Gus continues as he realizes a thought. “You know, I always did enjoy a bit of symmetry in the evening. We began this day with sticky buns, and here I am, covered in flour the starting point for....sticky buns. Poetic, really.”
Then his smile fades just a touch, not menacing, but unmistakably calculated. The eyes of someone who’s shifted from amusement to analysis.
"I'm sure," Gus continues, with a mock sigh, "that in your attempt to cover your tracks, you might have chosen to omit certain details, mislead my friends, perhaps even make a game of it. And all that… well, that’s led to what I can only describe as the overzealous use of thaumaturgy on their part." He glances back at Tuu and Torm, his grin widening with mild amusement.
His focus snaps back to her, and his tone sharpens slightly, though it still carries that smooth cadence. "But now, my dear, there is me."He lets that hang for a moment before continuing. "Try as you might, deceiving me would be... quite the waste of your time, you see. And as for pleading for help—am I not the one who’s been so wronged here? Flour, on my person, no less! So let's skip ahead, shall we? Let's start over, but this time, with all the information you left out the first time."
Gus lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and throws his hands in the air, sending a small puff of flour adrift like a theatrical cloud of disappointment.
“Oh, marvelous,” he mutters, pacing in a tight circle around her as if inspecting a very disappointing turnip at market. “Truly. My evening began with high hopes, sticky buns, a nice brisk conspiracy, an unfortunate incident involving the tavern, perhaps a clandestine meeting behind a tapestry, and now I’m being told you don’t know anything?”
He stops in front of her again and tilts his head looking up at Tuu'Saayn and Torm a questioning look on his face.
Quote from Naiya_Varma"I'm sure," Gus continues, with a mock sigh, "that in your attempt to cover your tracks, you might have chosen to omit certain details, mislead my friends, perhaps even make a game of it. And all that… well, that’s led to what I can only describe as the overzealous use of thaumaturgy on their part." He glances back at Tuu and Torm, his grin widening with mild amusement.
Tuu'Saayn remains stoic, standing nearby and watching the crowd for more trouble. He does catch Gus' eye, offering a silent wink of approval for his mastery of " name that cantrip."
The feeling of unease creeps back as they walked.
Who are you, what do you offer, what do you want in return? He projects mentally to the unseen voice.
Perception: 17
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
[Poor Tuu, probably the only genuinely good person present in the party… and having gone through mild moral bankruptcy with respect to the tavern is now handed that choice….]
Are you going to kill them all, or allow the chaos unfolding to do it? What of my companions?
Seeing nothing before them but locked gates and more questions, Tuu'Saayn is beginning to wonder if they have many options but to follow a disturbing, but somehow soothing to listen to, disembodied voice.
Insight: 14 to see if he can get any kind of handle on the motives of the voice or an idea of just what he may be asked to do in return
"I will kill those I must, those I deserve and, of the rest, why would I leave any living soul remaining, though they matter not?
As the banquet unfolds, some will organise, against their fellows - They will fight, and kill, each other trying to save themselves, and thus do to my Lords will.
But you... Do you choose life, or will you die here with the rest?
Soon I will be finished with these...Appetisers, and the Main Course will be served."
[The voice is old, wise, and patient - but it's the voice of someone far beyond Tuu'Saayn's understanding. Feel free to take your time coming up with questions, but understand that there are only so many times it will ask for your decision.]
"Maybe we should find some of the Watch to let them in on what's been happening?" Gryn feels the Watch may know what's going on and they have been suspiciously absent.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Free ale for the next five minutes! His voice boomed out, much louder than normal, enhanced by a minor spell. A cantrip, cast with a plan and good intentions. Thinking of the havoc it inadvertently caused brought the bile back into his throat. The voice laughed. Whatever else he knew or didn't know were now irrelevant. He laughed.
I will make no deal with you devil. A price unspoken is a price too high. I will live or die as they do, free to choose my own path.
Whatever was behind the voice thrived on chaos. It had no value for innocent lives. It and whatever it served were not aligned to the theology of his order. His loyalty was not so easily thrown away.
"Maybe we should find some of the Watch to let them in on what's been happening?" Gryn feels the Watch may know what's going on and they have been suspiciously absent.
4
Gryn doesn't notice any sign of the Watch from the area by the North Gate - just confused citizens milling around, someone sobbing, some angry and shouting at the gate.
Tuu'Saayn feels the connection to the unknown entity sever. He looks a little pale, a sickly rusty pink color in the cheeks, freckled with beads of sweat. "We're %=(£ed," he says simply. He glances around nervously before nodding with his head to indicate the area where he and Torm captured the girl. ***the keen observer would notice that was the first time Tuu used profanity in common***
He releases her. If any get too close or look to get hands on he turns calmly to face them, hands clasped behind him.
"A caught thief cries for help. Best to be on your way and leave her to her fate."
If no one else chooses to tempt fate, he turns to Torm and says, "I guess we need to find this man now too. More missing people and more questions." He shakes his head and walks calmly back towards Gryn and Gus to share what little they learned.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Torm reaches down and pulls the girl up by her collar, never releasing his grip as she swats at his arm and continues her cries for help.
"You owe our companion for your assault against him," he tells the girl in a flat emotionless tone.
He turns his cold gaze from the girl and roars aloud for any to hear that may be considering interfering: "This thief will be held accountable for her crimes against another. Stand away!"
Intimidation: 7 (argh!! @#$!) [[*** edit *** if advantage is given based on the next post: 11. It is really NOT my time for dice rolls]]
The tall self-righteous Aasmir shoves the frantic girl ahead of him, never loosening his grip, and tries to make their way back to Gus.
Tuu'Saayn scans the crowd for drawn weapons or anyone looking to make a poor choice.
As Torm makes his statement Tuu casts thaumaturgy again, this time creating tremors in the ground centered on Torm to try and add a bit of flair to his intimidation ***possibly granting ADV on the check??***
Perception: 17
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
[Torm's whole aura is 'Bad Cop' - he gets advantage to intimidate suspects, witnesses, victims and criminals!]
"Not the gnome!" The woman gasps, clearly almost as frightened of Gus as she is of Torm "He's mad!"
And only a couple of minutes later, Torm and Tuu'Saayn return to the North Gate with the woman held by the throat.
Gus is mid-sentence with the junior messenger—his arms raised in mock exasperation, as though delivering the climax of a grand tale.
“…and that, my good sir, is how you began the morning a humble courier and now find yourself the central figure in a political intrigue most dire! Mark my words—next time they’ll hand you the scroll and the sealed wine bottle. You'll be delivering intent as well as message!”
He clasps the young half-elf’s shoulder with a grin that’s all teeth and twinkle. “Chin up, lad. History’s doorstep rarely knocks politely, but today, you answered.”
But his attention drifts as the air shifts, just faintly. The tremors are subtle, but real. The voice of Tuu’Saayn rolling like a thunderclap across the square. Gus blinks once, then pivots to the side just in time to come face to face, again, with a most familiar pair of eyes.
“Ah! There she is,” he announces brightly to the messenger, gesturing toward the disheveled woman now being half-dragged by Torm and radiating panic. “You were wondering about the flour, I imagine. Well. You see. This enterprising soul made a rather bold, if somewhat messy, exit from our last conversation. Call it a ‘flourish,’ if you will.”
He chuckles at his own joke, then steps forward with a slight tip of his head toward the restrained woman, voice warm, smooth, conspiratorial.
“No hard feelings, mind you. I quite like a bit of initiative in the evening, keeps the senses sharp. But you’ll understand if I’m just a little curious now. After all…” He glances toward the crowd, then back at her, eyes narrowing with interest behind his lenses. “...why the panic?”
He turns to the half-elf, indicating the messenger with one hand and the woman with the other as if connecting dots only he can see.
“Here we have a herald of Chancellor Keen himself, sent to soothe tensions amid the subtlest fractures in the Middle Council. And here,” he gestures to the woman, “a sudden, dramatic reaction to a question as simple as ‘where’s the Watch?’, and then, an attempt to vanish entirely.”
He claps his hands together once, softly. “Now, when disparate events begin to rhyme, I get very interested.”
He steps in closer to the woman, this time crouching down slightly, lowering his voice just for her. Gone is the easy mirth. The glint behind his goggles is pure, razor-sharp curiosity.
“So tell me, my dear. What exactly did you think I’d stumbled onto?”
With a sigh, Gus dusts a bit of lingering flour off his shoulder.
[As Tuu'Saayn returns to the North Gate, rounding the last pillar he feels again that sense of.. connection - and knows the voice is waiting for his response. Not a God, then, whatever it is: Gods usually have a longer range]
"You... You said things you couldn't know. I've never seen you before: How do you know so much about me?"
She looks almost dumbstruck by Gus' pronouncements - but then, he has that effect.
Gus smiles wide, brushing a puff of flour off his shoulder with a theatrical flourish, then gives the woman a sly, sideways glance.
“Well now,” he says, voice light and teasing, “looks like one street performer has spotted another. I flatter myself to say I’ve staged a few good acts in my day, but that sack of flour misdirection? That’s bold. Messy, yes. But bold.”
Gus continues as he realizes a thought. “You know, I always did enjoy a bit of symmetry in the evening. We began this day with sticky buns, and here I am, covered in flour the starting point for....sticky buns. Poetic, really.”
Then his smile fades just a touch, not menacing, but unmistakably calculated. The eyes of someone who’s shifted from amusement to analysis.
"I'm sure," Gus continues, with a mock sigh, "that in your attempt to cover your tracks, you might have chosen to omit certain details, mislead my friends, perhaps even make a game of it. And all that… well, that’s led to what I can only describe as the overzealous use of thaumaturgy on their part." He glances back at Tuu and Torm, his grin widening with mild amusement.
His focus snaps back to her, and his tone sharpens slightly, though it still carries that smooth cadence. "But now, my dear, there is me." He lets that hang for a moment before continuing. "Try as you might, deceiving me would be... quite the waste of your time, you see. And as for pleading for help—am I not the one who’s been so wronged here? Flour, on my person, no less! So let's skip ahead, shall we? Let's start over, but this time, with all the information you left out the first time."
"But...but...but I don't know anything!" The woman sounds genuinely confused as to what this eccentric gnome thinks she knows.
Gus lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and throws his hands in the air, sending a small puff of flour adrift like a theatrical cloud of disappointment.
“Oh, marvelous,” he mutters, pacing in a tight circle around her as if inspecting a very disappointing turnip at market. “Truly. My evening began with high hopes, sticky buns, a nice brisk conspiracy, an unfortunate incident involving the tavern, perhaps a clandestine meeting behind a tapestry, and now I’m being told you don’t know anything?”
He stops in front of her again and tilts his head looking up at Tuu'Saayn and Torm a questioning look on his face.
Tuu'Saayn remains stoic, standing nearby and watching the crowd for more trouble. He does catch Gus' eye, offering a silent wink of approval for his mastery of " name that cantrip."
The feeling of unease creeps back as they walked.
Who are you, what do you offer, what do you want in return? He projects mentally to the unseen voice.
Perception: 17
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
[We don't have the budget for it, but imagine it voiced by Morgan Freeman]
"I? I am who I've always been. I am a Knight, who follows a Lord - I serve where I am ordered, doing my Lord's work.
What I want is a small thing: Nothing you should balk at. I ask for a single, simple act.
What I offer is just this: Of all the souls in this Night Market, I will let you live."
[Poor Tuu, probably the only genuinely good person present in the party… and having gone through mild moral bankruptcy with respect to the tavern is now handed that choice….]
Are you going to kill them all, or allow the chaos unfolding to do it? What of my companions?
Seeing nothing before them but locked gates and more questions, Tuu'Saayn is beginning to wonder if they have many options but to follow a disturbing, but somehow soothing to listen to, disembodied voice.
Insight: 14 to see if he can get any kind of handle on the motives of the voice or an idea of just what he may be asked to do in return
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
"I will kill those I must, those I deserve and, of the rest, why would I leave any living soul remaining, though they matter not?
As the banquet unfolds, some will organise, against their fellows - They will fight, and kill, each other trying to save themselves, and thus do to my Lords will.
But you... Do you choose life, or will you die here with the rest?
Soon I will be finished with these...Appetisers, and the Main Course will be served."
[The voice is old, wise, and patient - but it's the voice of someone far beyond Tuu'Saayn's understanding. Feel free to take your time coming up with questions, but understand that there are only so many times it will ask for your decision.]
"Maybe we should find some of the Watch to let them in on what's been happening?" Gryn feels the Watch may know what's going on and they have been suspiciously absent.
Tuu'Saayn replayed the interactions in his mind.
Free ale for the next five minutes! His voice boomed out, much louder than normal, enhanced by a minor spell. A cantrip, cast with a plan and good intentions. Thinking of the havoc it inadvertently caused brought the bile back into his throat. The voice laughed. Whatever else he knew or didn't know were now irrelevant. He laughed.
I will make no deal with you devil. A price unspoken is a price too high. I will live or die as they do, free to choose my own path.
Whatever was behind the voice thrived on chaos. It had no value for innocent lives. It and whatever it served were not aligned to the theology of his order. His loyalty was not so easily thrown away.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
"Ah, such certainty. The innocence of youth. You may call upon me, if you change your mind before the end."
And with that, the connection is broken - though possibly the voice can still hear you.
4
Gryn doesn't notice any sign of the Watch from the area by the North Gate - just confused citizens milling around, someone sobbing, some angry and shouting at the gate.
Tuu'Saayn feels the connection to the unknown entity sever. He looks a little pale, a sickly rusty pink color in the cheeks, freckled with beads of sweat. "We're %=(£ed," he says simply. He glances around nervously before nodding with his head to indicate the area where he and Torm captured the girl. ***the keen observer would notice that was the first time Tuu used profanity in common***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond