Thia was sad to part ways with the warforged for the night, she felt as though they could probably chat for hours, but it was time to settle in for the night if she wanted to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for the next morning. So for now, she'd settle into her room. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she had to meet with Alexis of the Veiled Valour.

Truly she hoped she could learn more from, and about Corti in the future. Inspired by her conversation with Corti tonight, Thia would pull out her calligraphy supplies. She'd begin jotting down notes and even sketching parts of her hand from memory. Soon enough Thia would be sprawled out with paper drafts all around her. She'd have lost track of time and would fall asleep with her face on a sheet, pen in hand.

Tarian stepped closer to Milo and regarded the group with a nod. “As members of the esteemed Suits, I assume you wouldn’t gamble your lives getting in the way of your boss’s business. It’ll only take one of you to escort us there. The rest of you can go enjoy your courtesans for a bit.”

Tarian looked down at Milo for a moment. Her expression—eyes pressed out, brows slightly raised—screamed “please understand what I’ve just said.”

“No, no Arc, I couldn’t. The research. But do keep me appraised of any developments. If the unit agrees, you could bring it here for further tests. Much better than dragging all our equipment through the streets.” Tiberius Cannith urged Arc to get out there and explore, completely oblivious to the darkness that had descended upon Duskrock.

————————

“Your charms have no use here halfling”, the gang leader says, as he pulls out a lucky talisman hanging around his neck. “Minor enchantment, useful for ensuring fair card games. Anyway, I’ll bring ya to the boss, but you, and particularly the gal ‘ere need to leave yer weapuns wiv ma boys. Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of them. He he he.” He invited them further down the alley with a sweeping gesture of his left hand, his right still gripping the handle of the butcher’s knife in his waist band.

Brandt goes up to the door where he last saw Sparks and knocks. "Boss, there's something I want to talk about. Someone wants to come work for us." 

Well, he did ask nicely.” As he stands and turns to Tarian.  Taking out his dagger and rapier,  setting it on the ground, and kicking it over.  “Never liked working with those things anyways.”  As he gives a wink.  

Arc gives his uncle a sad smile and leaves his study. Once outside, he takes note if the time and heads for his own study/room. "Best to get some work done before getting to sleep." He mutters to himself absentmindedly. After a short walk to the far end of the estate, Arc enters his study, its untouched, much like his Uncle's, the servants don't clean here. On various selves are ranging variations of numerous failed creations. Artificial arms, exploded weapons, a strangely melted looking suit of armor.... however in the back of his room lay his work table and in the corner, a simple bed. 

Taking off his jacket, Arc rolls up his sleeves and gets back to work on his current project, a portable turret. While not yet a physical creation, it helped to have a model to work off of, and the plans he was making would help in the future. He'll make as much progress as the hour allows him, before washing up and going to bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.

Tinkering Tools Check: 23

The paper-panelled door slides open and Derbert Sparks still fully dressed and eerily illuminated by a candle on his nightstand, looks out into the corridor, directly up at Brandt. “It’s the middle of the night, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow? What do they want?”

 OOC: I'm assuming that this conversation is taking place in the morning. My interpretation of things was that Brandt and Colette spent the night training and doing other things.

Corti grinned as she heard the activity, it had been a good night so far, and playing for a good crowd would be the perfect way to end it. "Hello, Duncan. You mean Milo? That's all right, if he needs something important I'm sure he'll be around to ask tomorrow." She surveys the crowd, smiling to herself. "All right! I'll get started right away."

She walks up to the stage and plays a version of one of the chants from the strike that day. She plays the rest of that night, until the crowd dwindles too much, switching between work songs, war songs, drinking songs, and even a ballad or two. Once it gets later into the night she tries some of her tragedies. After all, laughs are easy enough to get if your timing is right, but tears are the real test of a performer. When the bar is empty, or at least when the last patrons are too drunk to hear any song that's played, she helps Duncan clean up, and then rests for the night at the same table as the last time.

Tarian slowly unbuckled the crossbow sling from her shoulder. “Look, I’m his bodyguard. There’s one of me, and six of you here alone, not counting the untold numbers you’ve got where we’re headed, and your men at every casino and brothel in the Docklands and the Eastern Fields. If I actually was strong enough to take you all on with my weapons, I’d be strong enough to take you on without. And if not,” she nodded at Milo, “my boss and I would both be dead either way, right?” She gently set the crossbow down. “So leave me my sword, at least. Let me look like I’m doing my job.”

“Arrite, let the lass keep’er sword. Now then, follow along, the boss is waiting for you already.” With that, the gang members parted to let Tarian and Milo follow the apparent leader of the group down the alley towards a nearby gang hideout.

After ten minutes or so, they arrive in front of a shuttered storehouse, noone anywhere near them apart from the group. The halfling with the mutton chops approached the building, and with swift fingers unhooked a hidden latch in the panelling. After only a couple of seconds, a hidden door in the wall opened up, and Tarian snd Milo were led inside. 

The building had looked large from the outside, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight. The inside of the storehouse had been stripped bare by the previous owners, leaving only the skeleton of the building, now reappropriated by the  gang. All three floors of the building were illuminated by candkes, giving an almost religious atmosphere to the place, were it not for the busy atmosphere created by the many gang members present.

Dozens of gang members resting in hammocks and cots lining the top two floors of the warehouse or drinking and gambling in the corridors, several smiths snd armourers in a separate area who could be heard sharpening weapons and stitching together clothes with hidden armour plates. 

The far end of the hall on the third floor, where Tarian and Milo were now being led to, had been entirely sectioned off, and was constantly guarded. Whoever their boss was, he’d be waiting for them there. 

As he is being led by the gangsters and before he is pushed through the door.  “One second there, tell me why do you take orders from the one you’re taking me to?  Fear? Money? Power?  I’ll tell you there is nothing to fear from a man of his station.  Only the amount of fear that you let reside, he uses it as a weapon to tear people down and keep you docile.  The little bit of a change he throws at you is nothing as he sits in his castle behind closed doors counting his treasure.  Power? A criminal and nothing more has no station to move anything of consequence in the shadows.  Do you know where real power is?  Right there sitting for you in broad daylight.  No more worrying from the guards, no more sticking to the shadows and alleys, no more goon work for copper.  Do you know where the real money is?  City councils, governing boards, tax collectors.  Nothing strikes fear in the hearts of men than the one that can assemble soldiers with a stroke of a pen.  Help us with him, I will take over, and show you where true Fear, Power, and Money comes from.  I will be the biggest criminal of all, I will be a politician.  And you, you all will prosper under my protection of the law.  You WILL BE.... the law.”

Persuasion: 18

As Milo finishes, he hears the gangsters snicker as they shove him through the door and into the improvised throne room. In fact it looked far more like a butcher’s slab, with only the addition of a mounted seat looking onto the bloody table in the centre of the room betraying the notion that this could be a butcher shop. 

Seated, or rather slumped into the throne was a massive human male, a mountain of meat. He slowly applauded Milo with his two pan-sized hands, his large face splitting into an evil grin, with several gold and silver crowns glistening there. With a voice slick and glib as an eel, the large man started: “Aye, it eould likely be fear. The don’t call me Borrick the Blade for nuthin’. Unfortunately for you, I’ve been at this game for longer, and if anything, the Suits know how to rig any game.” At that, the small attendance of the remaining gang members gave a malicious chuckle.

”Enough pleasantries. Missy here lied to us, an’ I don’t appreciate that. No use denying it, you an investigator.  Now, that fact and that you’re standing here now should set your hairs on end. Ain’t many in your situation that got out alive. But, seeing as you’re with the errand boy who set this whole thing in motion, you’re either better than you look, or you are flexible enough in your morals to not die for them. Anyway, the girl... I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

Tarian sighed. “Not an investigator, a freelancer. ‘Morals’ have nothing to do with my work. I just take jobs that pay. Sometimes that means finding bodies and sometimes that means guarding them. What brought me here right now is a guard job. Guarding this gentleman, in fact.” Tarian gestured toward Milo. “He says he has business with you, Mister Blade. Whatever business you and I may have will have to wait until my employer finishes his.”

Tarian positioned herself behind Milo, putting herself between him the few remaining gang members. “Though, if it helps you conduct your current business, my other employer only hired me to find her and return her as alive and intact as possible. I’m not getting paid to investigate you or the Suits, and it’s not near enough to die for this.”

Milo rubs his eyes bringing his finger to his temples “Honestly I tired to give her the nickname as Constable and she was totally against it. very very against the idea of being labeled an investigator... against the idea of fun too.  It seemed our interests aligned and that I could hire her for the evening.  You should know I’m much more than a errand boy.  I have secured high level trade routes for in and out of Dusk Rock and am being appointed to meet with sub-councils to secure even more support.  That’s high volumes of shipments in and out of the city with minimal oversight.  You want to rig the game, or run it?  It wasn’t a lie when I said I am moving into the world of politics, what better way to protect and elevate our businesses?...” Milo takes out his pipe and begins to light it “I assume this is okay, yes?”

Milo starts to light up his pipe, and soon the room is filled with the fragrant smoke of his pipe, tasting of exquisite tabuk. The big man started laughing again. “I like the balls on you, kid. But you won’t make it far in politics by playing your trump card as soon as you meet other players. And nothing is worse than only thinking you hold a trump card. The Suits are gonna get the Docklands once the Skins are out, and then we’ve got the entire harbour to move shipments through, I very highly doubt that you have any better lines open. But, you did deliver for me, and for that I will pay you.” At that he threw Milo a small bag containing ten gold coins.

Turning towards Tarian, the gang Boss grinned: “Well, as for your business... We have the lady. “John” has gotten our message, but I can’t imagine him hiring you. So tell me who you work for. If you’re honest, I might let you get out of here.”

"Sorry for the disturbance boss, but one of the women here wants to come along and work for the company. She can cook, she knows how to hunt and forage after being a captive of the black tear raiders, and let's be honest, the workers would probably appreciate having someone with her particular skill-set around, if you understand me."

“Brandt, Brandt... I admire your enthusiasm and will to start hiring people already, but we have bigger fish to fry for the moment. Now, if it’ll make her happy, she can tag along, but she won’t get a salary from me. With her skills I’m sure the workers are going to prove their appreciation and make her a rich woman in time. 

Now, for tomorrow, do you have a plan on how to get a Cannith to agree to our proposal?”

“Mister Blade, if I had any friends, I’m sure they’d tell you I’m a terrible liar. So let me tell you the ‘truth’ here: you don’t need me to answer that question. You just want me to confirm what you’ve already been told. You’ve had a watch on me since this afternoon, but now he’s wondering if I’m going to say something other than what he told you. And if I do, will you believe him or me? And if you believe me, will he see the chopping block like she did?”

Tarian turned her head to the side and smirked toward the men behind her.

“But I’ll leave that matter of trust up to you. Do you believe him or not? Because, as a professional courtesy, I don’t discuss my employers. That includes any of your men who may or may not have been using the medical services that I also provide. No questions asked, no questions answered. I told you, Mister Blade, I’m not some investigator. I do a lot of things in Duskrock, but the only thing I’m interested in doing right now is getting three people home safely: me, him,” she gestured to Milo, “and her, in that order. I assume she’s somewhere in this building, poorly bandaged, but unaware of where she is and she’s not seen your faces? If you let me return her, Mister Blade, they get their feel-good story and you have nothing to do with any of this. I’ll even throw in her medical care as a courtesy.”

"I was going to tell that Canniths that they can either back your project and get a cut of the profits as well as the benefits on having their name attached to a project that's going to help bring peace to the continent, or that they can have empty factories while their workers build your railroad."