Milo, not phased by the panic of the addict.  Takes a sip of his wine.  With a very serious look to his eye he leans in forward and simply says “Run.”  Before leaning back. 

Although putting up a calm facade, he will be taking the dodge in preparation for his something stupid.

The gambler calmly steps back from Milo, face a little pale and gaze determined. Without a look back, he heads towards the rooms upstairs. 

After a couple of minutes, Milo relaxes and gets back to reading the newspaper.

Linus « Lightning » Stormwind Challenging Blue Borishnikov

Known as one of the flashiest skippers and a constant audience favourite, Linus Stormwind has announced that he has made a wager with Blue Borishnikov, who races for House Orien. Details to the wager are unclear, but according to Stormwind, they involve  “beautiful ladies and their favours”. 

It is unusual that the veteran Borishnikov would agree to such a—

A shriek from outside shook Milo up from his lecture. Getting up from his chair and heading outside, he saw a small group of people gathered around a quickly growing pool of blood on the pavement outside of the establishment.

Milo steps forward through the crowd to get confirmation of what he already knew.

Before him, Milo sees a white cloth already stained with blood, covering up the body of a man who lept from the top of the Velvet Glove. It doesn’t take long for Milo to recognise the rings on the man’s hand as belonging to the gambler he spoke with before. 

Two members of the watch are trying to cordon off the area, now crowded with passersby and clients of the Velvet Glove, as well as a couple of the girls. A mix of horror and morbid curiosity keeps them here, but after the two guards carry off the body to a nearby cemetery, the crowd quickly disperses again.

"Ok. Thanks for the help, I genuinely do hope that this whole strike thing works out for you." With that, Brandt heads down to the Foundry.

Wilfred’s offer would definitely stop Thia in her tracks, her surprise obvious. She was humbled and very appreciative of Alexis opening new doors for her. She’d blink, her mind racing a mile a minute. Thia would open her mouth to speak a couple times then stop, trying to put her her thoughts into words. Everything was screaming Yes! Of course! But deep down there was some guilt and fear. The guild was her family. They took her in and provided for her when she was presumed to be an orphan after the disappearance of her parents. Of course her anxiety could be blowing things out of proportion, considering it’s not like Wilfred asked her to leave the guild.

Taking a breath to calm herself and gather her thoughts, Thia put on her self encouraging smile and finally spoke, “My only obligations at this time was to carry on my study and research.” She’d pause, “Truthfully, my end goal, would be to bring back any findings or new techniques to assist in the teaching a of new generation.” She’d look down at the Veiled Valours insignia on their sleeves, “I believe in helping people. I believe in what you and Alexis do. I believe in always learning and growing as an individual. I believe in sharing knowledge with those eager to learn.” She’d pause yet again before continuing, “Assuming I don’t have to cut ties completely with my guild... my family... to pursue this apprenticeship, I would be humbled and eager to learn from you.” Out of habit, she’d clasp her hands in front of her and bow her head to the pair. 

Milo thinks to himself “that’s one way to run I suppose.”  Then he walks back into the tavern to wait for Sparks.

Corti reels from Arc’s answer. She is not too familiar with the gods and the inner workings of religion,but she knows enough to realize the gravity of this idea. Holding her head with one hand, she slowly begins to respond, “That sounds... I’ll be honest, Arc, I don’t know how that sounds. I don’t know much about science, or gods for that matter, but... if you really think that this could help us, then like I said — I’m happy to try and help. You’ll need much more warforged support than just me though...” she trails off, thinking about the possibilities of such a thing, before shaking her head and bringing herself back to the present, “Sorry, I’m just wondering — do you mean a kind of spiritual leader, or a full god?”

Wilfred gave Thia another warm smile. “Of course. We have our own quarters, if you need them, but otherwise you are free to conduct your research. I want to take you on rounds at least every other day, and might give you tasks, either for me or the organisation as a whole, but the rest of the time you’re free to pursue your own pursuits. Does that sound good?”

————————

It takes Brandt only a couple of minutes to reach the Foundry. He looked disheartened at the small group of about a dozen workers. If the Steel mills didn’t have anyone that could help him out, this seemed even less likely. But asking never hurt. As he approached the iron fence, a large half-orc with the physique of a pit fighter approached him: “What do you want? Mei Ling isn’t here, and Corti is talkin’ to one of the Cannith’s out back, you’ll have to wait a while.”

————————

Heading back into the Velvet Glove, Milo was soon approached by a young boy, around ten, in shoddy clothes. Probably an orphan. “Mister? I was sent here by Mr Sparks, he said you should come up to the Hill ta meet’im, sumthin’ ‘bout the papers.” 

Milo briefly sighs, just having out his feet up again.  Tosses the paper down and head out the door.

Thia would nod eagerly. “That sounds fantastic!” She’d smile a big enthusiastic smile. 

"Full God. Big-G." And he also holds up a hand as if to pause Corti's train of thought, "I should also mention, this is a long term project. MUCH more research, gathering supplies, and so on, need to be done before even prototypes can be thought up. So please don't lose to much sleep over it anytime soon." He measures the Warforged woman in front of him for a her reaction, ".....well since you have answered all of my questions, and even offered your help in my future project. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Sure, I can wait. Any of you have a smoke you can spare?"

The afternoon sun set at just the wrong angle, sending its blinding rays through the gaps in Tarian’s window shutters right onto her face. She winced awake, immediately reached for her sword, was on her feet and had it drawn before the bleariness in her eyes cleared enough for her to tell that the body at her door was just her empty armor.

She sheathed the sword and tossed it back on the bed. “Coffee,” she grumbled, holding her head. There was a scratch at the shutter. “You’re not coffee,” she grumbled at the cat on the other side, but made no move to open the shutter for it. Instead, she got herself dressed and ready for more work.

Downstairs, Elise tapped two wooden planks together with a soft mallet in the middle of the common room. She had an arrangement of other planks scattered about on the floor, some in stacks, all at right angles to each other. Tarian carefully stepped over and around them, over to the counter.

“Hey, Elise, where’s Dannar?”

Elise grabbed another plank and began tapping it into the other two. “Upstairs, 2-B. Fixing a squeaky bedroom door.”

“Huh. And my apartment still leaks in the rain.” Not to mention I don’t even have a separate bedroom.

Elise shrugged. The disinterested look on her face told Tarian what she already knew: you get what you pay for.

“He leave the paper for me?”

Elise thumbed a cup on a nearby table. Dannar left the paper underneath his coffee cup. Tarian sighed, unfolded and flipped through the pages of brown circular stains for the story on the escaped patient found dead.

Wilfred nodded, approvingly : “Good. We’ll continue our round and then I’ll show you where our quarters are. It’s up to you to come and move there or not.” The three of them passed through the Outer Ward for another hour, treating coughs, and mild cuts, bruises and sprains. Thia did wonder where all the mild symptoms came from, and whether they were a sign of clashes between the mostly Cyrean refugees and local farmers, but neither Wilfred nor Alexis were asking, and she decided to follow their lead, and maybe ask their opinion later.

Around mid-afternoon, the small group entered the city again, and Thia found herself in the Eastern Fields Ward. After a quick stroll, the three of them arrived at an old church of the sacred flame, now disused and crumbling, with half of the toof collapsed. On the heavy oaken doors, Thia saw the double chevron and line of the Veiled Valour. Alexis explained: “This is our headquarters in the city. During the war, the church had fewer and fewer means to maintain their churches and cathedrals. This one here belinged to the sacred flame, but after it stood empty for nigh on ten years, it became a spot for the homeless and wounded veterans. Out of those circles, we formed the organisation, also as a means to rebuild ourselves. Now, with the ceasefire and the ongoing peace negotiations, more and more refugees, orphans, and veterans need our help, and we have slowly started to fix the place up.” With that, she led the way inside. 

Thia was astonished to see that the interior of the church had been stripped almost entirely, with only the heavy alabaster altar reminding her that this place had once served a religious purpose. Now, the sltar was used as a big community table, and the basin once holding holy water as a sink to wsh plates and cutlery in. Where once there were wooden benches for the believers, now there lay dozens of mattresses, stuffed with straw and serving as resting places for the wounded or the needy. “On cold nights, people off the streets join us here for a meal, but they are usually very understanding when we need the space for someone to recover”, Wilfred added. In the far corner, where Thia could imagine the pulpit like in her university lecture halls, was a surgeon’s station, for amputations and emergency procedures. It had a lit brazier nearby, probably to help boil wine or serve to otherwise sterilise equipment. 

Inside the church, she found a few people, mostly members of the Veiled Valour, although some patients were lying on the straw mats too. “Our living quarters are in the outhouse, behind the church. It’s a bit crowded, we each just have a hammock and a footlocker, but it helps to have people close by in case of an emergency”, Alexis smiled.

Krathgar the half-orc looked at Brandt, somewhat confused: “Tabuk, That stuff is expensive. Don’t have the denars for it. We have ale though, or Forger’s Water.”

Tarian opened up the copy of the Herald, immediately leafing to the article on the escapee.

Insane Escapee Found Dead After Manhunt

Thomas Reed, thirty six years old, had staged a bloody escape from the Duskrock Asylum for Combat Veterans, leaving two wardens dead. His Body has been found last night in the Eastern Fields, stabbed to death.His story has opened a few questions about the Duskrock Dragoons, by some dubbed the Doomed Legion, or simply the Doomed.

The man, known as Reed to the Asylum is now believed to actually have been Marcellus Riley, First Sergeant of the Third Column. He had a reputation for violent tendencies, and research into his service record revealed a dishonorable discharge from the Dragoons after service in Cyre. Sources claim that Reed had been discharged after killing an officer, but that he received a reduced sentence due to extenuating circumstances.

First Sergeant Riley is not the first of the Dragoons to meet an untimely end. Severl other members of the Third Column have died as a result of accidents or their own hand, giving credence to the supposed curse on the unit. Some see a far more mundane, though conspiratorial reasonbehind the deaths- Dubbed the Terror of the Terraces, rumour has it that a serial killer is behind the multiple deaths. The city guard is so far not leading an investigation into any serial killers however. 

We leave the final verdict to the reader; Was Reed or Riley a danger to society that met his end at the hand of a vigilante? Did he simply annoy the wrong gangster? Or is there truly a serial killer stalking elite soldiers throughout the city and killing them? Riley’s story is over, but his death throws up questions that might yet occupy Duskrock for a while.

Ed., Nellie Cochrane

Hmm. Nellie Cochrane, is it? There’s a name I’ll have to remember. If she’s a Herald editor, I could probably find her—or maybe leads to her—in Uptown.

Tarian folded the paper back up and tucked it back under Dannar’s cup. “I’m headed out again.”

“You’re a pretty busy lady for one who said she was dead earlier.” Elise tapped little scraps of wood into notches she made on the joints of the wooden frame.

Tarian looked upward and nodded toward the stairs. “Even the dead need a place to rest, and my coffin isn’t paying for itself.”

 “True enough.” Elise chuckled and waved to Tarian. “Have fun. Don’t come back needing a real coffin, though. I don’t want to make you one.”

Tarian nodded and waved as she stepped out. No guarantees. I have a feeling I’ve stepped in something big, but at this point I don’t know if I’m ankle deep, neck deep, or in over my head.

The trip back to see Saelvek and Sylvia was uneventful. Tarian grabbed a bite to eat and some coffee on the way. Tea was for contemplation; she’d have time for that later. Coffee was for when she knew she was on edge and had to stay there.

On the way up to the “Krulls” apartment, Tarian procured the letter she had written earlier from her bag. Apologize for not having the money to send the letter yourself. Give it to them. It’s not that hard. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Thia caught herself turning in circles while she looked around the church many times over. It was inspiring to see such a transformation of the space and the community that was forming. The awe on her face turned into a smile as she took it all in. From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow...

Finally focusing back on the pair leading her, Thia was realizing how much stuff she actually had. She couldn't imagine hauling all her research books and documents here and burden the space with it. Perhaps I could try to find a balance between both she pondered. Having a back up 'safe house' for her, or her comrades couldn't be a terrible idea...

"I greatly appreciate you opening your home to me. I can absolutely stay here on the days that I apprentice, to remain close by and accessible. I'd be happy to contribute in any way possible while I'm here." She'd return Alexis' smile.

”Yes, yes of course, that makes sense,” Corti says as Arc waits for her reaction, “This is all incredible.” She finishes, talking to herself more than to Arc. She lets out an odd, mechanical sounding whistle, and then focusing back on the arcanist in front of her.

Corti is a little surprised by Arc’s offer, “Well...” she sticks out her hand, smiling, “How about friendship?”