Union! Game Thread

One of Brandt's eyebrows goes up when he enters into the Golden Gear and sees what's going on. Slam poetry? Despite his initial confusion, Brandt joins with Thia in chanting Corti's name.

Corti flashes a grin and a bow towards the cheering crowd and her friends before turning to Neil. "It's a pleasure, Mr. MacFergus. I'll be out of the city for a short while, but when I return I will certainly come back here," She gestures at the inside of the Golden Gear, "That or letting some of the strikers know, is probably your best bet for getting word to me."

After shaking MacFergus's hand and thanking him, Corti jumps back off of the stage, and makes her way through the crowd to rejoin her friends, "That wasn't quite what I had expected but it was certainly entertaining nonetheless!" She is still jittery from the adrenaline, and shuffles her feet as she talks.

Thia would chuckle, "Definitely entertaining." She'd smile and give Corti a pat on the back. "Do we wish to stick around, or move on to our meeting location?"

Corti glances back around the room behind her, putting her hands on her hips, "I've likely caused enough ruckus here for one day," She looks back to Thia and Brandt and smiles, "Sure, we may as well head on to the meeting."

So, the Third—possibly a ghost column—abandons their defense of Thelamyria, and the town burns. Empress Selene’s immortality research is destroyed. Viktor, the commander of the forces that took Thelamyria, is killed, and Arceneaux, subordinate rumored to be his lover, takes his place. No word on where the Third was, only on where they weren’t. But several of the Third were listed on the payroll for the First column, who were doing covert ops in Cyre.

Tarian, lost deep in her thoughts, absently muttered the question that line of reasoning led to: “But what if at least part of the Third actually were doing the covert operations assigned to the First?”

Her face tautened and she shook her head and waved her hands as she realized she had spoken her thought aloud. “No, no, no, that’s not my question.” She popped open the locket, and turned it so that Davin could see. “You’re right about it not being the Duke.” Tarian took another brief glance at the picture. “You see, I’d ask Captain Hector about it myself, but from what Sergeant Riley told me the day before he died, I think the Third was supposed to kill me. Since I can’t ask him, I’ll have to ask you: why?”

Tarian snapped the locket shut and thrust it back into her coin purse. “It’s fine if you don’t have the answer right now. You can tell me later. If you need to ask the Captain yourself, Riley said he’d headed east, to the Badlands. I don’t have any more information on him than that. Though, since you said you didn’t have much time, I’d guess if I returned later then this place’d be empty.”

Even if I never see him again, it’s no matter. Whether it’s from Pendrell, or Captain Hector, or the Duke of Ganovar himself, I will have my answers.

With that, Brandt, Thia and Corti head on to their meeting. They'd be early, so Thia could get a room, take a shower  and change. Meanwhile Brandt could eat or get a drink. 

It takes the group a while to head to do Golden Rooster Inn, because the streets are busy, and there is a frantic energy in the air. On their way, they pass a newsstand, with a scrawny teenager shouting out the headlines:

"Brother Kobe wants a seat at the table for Cyre!; Deadly Disease Spreading in the Outer Ward- Human Catastrophe or a Foreign Plot?; Unions demand Action or Threaten Further Blockades!; Grimme Future for Zhivargo?- Garronian Forces on the Northern Front!. Get the issue for two copper and read all about it now!"

Hearing the name Master Kobe and Deadly Disease, Thia will stop to purchase a copy of the paper from the newspaper boy. If anything, it could be some reading material while we wait for the meeting. While she completes the transaction, she also takes a moment to look around closely at the citizens. She sensed from frantic energy and would try to pick up why. Is it because word got out about the disease? Thia would nibble on her lip. I definitely need to speak with this Master Kobe...

Pendrell looked at Tarian and the locket very intently, before continuing, carefully choosing his words: "You asked about an apothecary named Owena Rydderch. I assume she's a female relative. Since you also asked me about Captain Blake in connection with her, mother is likely. There's one thing that ties the third to her, possibly, assuming I'm correct with my theory about what they were doing: The laboratories at Cyre… Now, it's possible you know or can prove that Owena was never there, but if you're looking for a connection, that is the only one I can see. Is Owena still alive? Because if the Third was indeed looking to find or destroy research, Owena could be a missing piece, or a loose thread. In the latter case, you could be targeted by association... but the locket speaks against that possibility... I am stumped on how the Duke would fit into the picture...

To my mind, all points to Thelamyria and the last days of Cyre as a place where you might find answers. Unfortunately, you're right, and I will have to leave town. I'm headed to Sharn or Wroat, to continue my research and get away from whoever is hunting the Dragoons. Find me there, if you need my help again." With that, Pendrell got up and showed Tarian to the door.

Arc didn't recall leaving his Uncle's study, but when he finally got out of the maze in his own head, he found himself in his room. Looking down at his table at his notes and current project, his gaze shifts over to the shelves and he walks over to the shelf with numerous books. Pulling out one certain journal, he opens it to look down at his numerous ideas and theories that he had recorded, but yet to test. The biggest one, taking numerous pages. ".....I need a drink." Recalling the bar he had visited the other day, he sighed and grabbed a bag of his things, mostly out of habit, then left his room. Not giving word to anyone, he walked solemnly towards the tavern. Guided by his natural good memory, his mind looked at his options. Each terrible, with little to no odds of success, or worse, of destruction.

Thia quickly opened the newspaper, reading over the different stories:

Brother Kobe wants a seat at the table for Cyre!; 

As preparations for the peace talks are under way in Duskrock, the seat of the newly founded Corphyrian Council, interest groups from all sides are getting ready to make their cases heard, from Goblinoids dreaming of their own nation in the Q’barran Swamps, Drakenkin and Goliaths from the Firecrest mountains looking to maintain their autonomy, Orcs trying to reclaim the Khargash cities in the Togatoka jungle, and tribes of halflings, minotaurs, and centaurs trying to get back their rights before the Last War.

Closer to home, the Cyrean refugees, still unable to return to the burnt and poisoned lands of their forefathers, are hoping to get a more permanent place on the Council, striving to build a new Cyre. A key leader of this Cyrean political faction is a man referred to as Brother Kobe, a woodelf druid, who has started to organise the refugee camps into a government in exile. 

While the Cyrean tale is a tragic one and many in Duskrock sympathise with the view that one of the first imperial nations and a people who suffered so terribly from the war, the final constellation of the Council is likely to be subject of much debate.

ED. Samwell Baxter

Deadly Disease Spreading in the Outer Ward- Human Catastrophe or a Foreign Plot?;

In a shocking revelation, this reporter has learnt that in the past weeks, dozens of Cyrean refugees have been falling victim to a disease, spreading like wildfire in the crowded camps. While private organisations are doing what they can to alleviate the suffering of the affected, the response from the Magistrate has been very muted. According to her sources, this reporter believes that the reason for this lacklustre response is nothing but fear! 

Magistrate Corsyr is afraid that where he to order a formal investigation into the disease, he would have to admit that the conditions in the camps are appalling, and that Duskrock is not doing enough. Where he to look into the disease, he would see that women and children are dying, because the city’s gates are closed to them, and the Council does not wish to concern itself with such matters, as Cyre still continues to suffer, even after the weapons are silent.

Unfortunately, while much of the current situation can be blamed on the poor handling of the situation, the disease itself cannot. Though certainly a place where disease festers and spreads, the disease is unlike anything so far encountered, according to a source who oversaw treatment for some of the affected. Weakening the social fabric, and sowing confusion and anger among the population could point to foreign elements who deliberately poisoned these helpless souls to foment unrest. 

While the weapons of war may be silent, the reader must know that the silent weapons of subterfuge and espionage still very much work in the background. 

ED. Nellie Cockrane

Unions demand Action or Threaten Further Blockades!;

A week after their march on Union Square was broken up by a Sparks Enterprises representative promising improvements to housing, sanitation, and public infrastructure in the Forge, unrest and dissatisfaction is once again growing, at the lack of action taken on any of these promises. While the representative has seemingly disappeared from public life, Mr Derbert Sparks himself only replied that “negotiations” were under way and that his new project, which still hasn’t been granted by the Council, would provide relief. Foreman Mark Bellows, union representative of one of the largest manufactories in the city, demands that the Council or the Magistrate gave them something for their wait, and set an ultimatum for the end of the week, three days hence. He threatened that the “workers of Duskrock will strike again, bringing the machines of state to a halt, if necessary”. When asked whether he was afraid of reprisals, he mentioned that union representatives had been targeted in the past, but that he could assure any public figure or otherwise, that he was very replaceable, and that fifty more of his team could take his place, should anything happen to him.

ED. Thom McGuyer

Grimme Future for Zhivargo?- Garronian Forces on the Northern Front!; 

Although as yet not officially confirmed, sources with Naval Intelligence report that several small fishing villages between Arzantsy and Stavrovsky have been occupied by the forces of Marshal Grimme, who is using access to the sea to raid along the coast, slaughtering imperial and worker forces alike. With his corps at his back, Grimme is poised to become a dangerous player in the Zhivargo Civil War, and a dangerous detriment to piece on the continent.

Editorial Letter, by Marcus Albus 

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Once she was done, she looked around her, and noticed that many of the people on the street were better off citizens from the Terraces or from Uptown, hurrying about to make preparations ahead of the announced strike, should the Magistrate fail to deliver. She spots several people with large bags filled with fresh produce and dried meats.

Thia would start walking again while reviewing some things in the paper, but as she read down the line she'd almost feel as if her eyes would go cross-eyed. She'd blink a few times and pass the paper to Corti or Brandt, should they be interested in reading some of it. More and more as the day went on, she felt as though there's so much more to discuss, and so much she does not understand. One thing she knew that bothered her though, was that they weren't able to keep their findings under wrap. 'a source who oversaw treatment' Thia would frown. Had someone else besides her figured it out? Or did someone from last night disclose information? Either way, there was nothing she could do but head to that meeting to spew the facts to the others so they can shed some light on it all.

Brandt takes the paper once Thia passes it to him. He spends a few moments reading it before passing it to Corti. All of these complications. When I started this job, I only had to make sure that no one bothered Sparks or his workers while they built this railroad. And now I have to help deal with General What's-Her-Name. Damn it, my job is to shoot people, not deal with ******* politics. 

Corti watches her companions read and notices the looks of concern build on their faces. She takes the paper from Brandt, and reads it over. The Cyrean camps... they certainly seem like an easy target, but if the council doesn't care in the first place then what is the point of poison as a weapon? Surely the Council wouldn't order something this horrible, I must be missing a piece. Corti folds the paper and tucks it into a pocket in her skirt, At least Mark is his usual self. 

The group arrives at the Golden Rooster Inn, a spacious building with a taproom in the ground floor and two levels of rooms available for guests. The place seems to cater to mercenaries, explorers and adventurers in general, judging by the mounted beast heads, exotic weapons, and maps. The place is fairly quiet, with only a handful of travellers sitting at the oaken tables, and the tall bar keep joking around with his regular patrons.

At the sound of metal on hardwood coming from Corti's stepping into the tap room, he looks around, surprised. With a businessman's smile, he approaches: "Welcome to the Golden Rooster. What can I do you for?"

"Good day." Thia would smile at the businessman, "I'd like to rent a room this evening, please."

Tarian thanked Pendrell for his time before making her way home. Back in her room, she emptied her pack of the day’s purchases and re-packed everything. It was a tight fit, and several items were lashed to the outside of the pack rather than put back inside. When she had at last secured the straps to the central pouch, she realized the light in the room diminished.

That took a lot longer than I thought. I wonder if they’re already waiting at the Golden Gear? Or if anyone is, for that matter. We discussed a place, but not a time, so if anyone’s there I can tell them the truth: business took longer than I expected, and I haven’t met with Sparks yet to accept the job. Corti might be there, but I don’t know how long Brandt would wait. Nothing for it but to go and find out for myself.

Tarian shouldered the bag containing what few possessions she had in Duskrock and headed downstairs. She briefly passed by a middle-aged man, his face buried in the paper, as he marched up the stairs to his second floor apartment. Tarian regretted not speaking to him as she strode through the empty lobby. She realized she had taken Elise and Dannar’s banter for granted now that they weren’t around to see her off, and who knew if or when she’d be back again.

The world suddenly seemed a lot less friendly, even to Tarian. No matter. There’s a job to be done. Off to the Golden Gear to see if it’s just me who’s willing to do it.

Tarian quickly makes her way to the Golden Gear tavern, and after the usual greetings from the bartender who is starting to consider her a regular, she noticed that the bar was empty, but for Arc, who was sitting alone in a corner, nursing a drink and appearing deep in thought, with a troubled expression on his face. Damn, Brandt said something about Sparks not being a regular here... Are they meeting him at the Golden Rooster? 

No matter, Arc was here, and he looked troubled.

SIlas the barkeep smiled and nodded at Thia: "Of course, my lady. A single room, or enough space for your friends as well? And would you like refreshments to be brought upstairs?"

“I didn’t expect to see you here. I also wouldn’t expect you to have bothered to ask for leave, so I’d guess you’re here for other reasons.” She unburdened herself from her pack and sat across from Arc. “Bars in the Forge don’t really seem like the kind of place you’d frequent, so you probably don’t want to be seen by people who know you.”

Tarian flippantly waved a hand. “You’re being too conspicuous, though. If you’re trying not to be noticed, you might want to wear a facial expression that suits you. Disdain and frustration seem to come naturally to you when I’m around.”

Thia will take a moment to think, it’d probably be more private for this meeting...

”For all of us, please. And refreshments would be lovely.”