Perian's trip from Sector 1 to 3 does not go completely without a hitch. The shipment is raided just as the transport is about to exit Sector 2, forcing the Freerunners into a hostile situation. Fortunately, Agomir's group is nearby, diverting the resulting melee while Perian, Verad, Volya, Sparrow, Ashen Feather and a reluctant Pixie ("Aw, but that looks like fun!" "The MISSION, Pixie.") slip away into an alternate route that involves much more running and fast talking than sitting quietly in a cramped space. [Private to Kares Perian: Let's assume you've gotten back what motes you may have used in the last thread, during the peaceful part of the journey. When it got 'exciting' you used 12 motes, you can divide it among personal/peripheral as you choose. You can decide how it was used, whether you used Performance to get away, or had to use some Resistance to soak some blows before retreating...]

They manage to safely enter Sector 3 on foot, approaching the area of the eastern slums, and then... the Diseased Quarters. It is a dreary, dimly lit place, its borders denoted with black flags warning of contagion. Within, the streets and buildings are dirty and in disrepair, lacking the conveniences of Immaculate-run, Council-backed facilities. The denizens are often shrouded, their faces and bodies hidden, mistrusting of visitors. Not only those with debilitating, difficult diseases are sent here, but also those who are hopelessly crippled, unable to labor in the factories and mines.

Few stayed here for long, before the Water District was overtaken. The sick and infirm who could not afford medical aid, or suffered afflictions unresponsive to treatment, were sent downward in regular shipments. (Now and then they were sent up. That was even worse, because that meant Wood District would use them.) If they died, they were sent down too, to the unmarked graves of the Forbidden Level. Now the caretakers of the diseased and crippled are faced with the uncomfortable fact that they are the patients' last hope. No more passing on unpleasant cases to the district below. No more discreetly disappearing bodies. The patients' suffering is something they can no longer delegate to others to deal with, nor turn their senses away from.

"Don't touch anyone or anything," is Volya's typically brusque advice. "Don't stare, just keep walkin'. Don't breathe more than you have to." This results in Pixie going red in the face trying to hold her breath for as long as possible. "And don't fool around or I'll have Feather sedate you with a draught."

[Private to Kares Perian: Ok, couple things. How richly are you dressed, first of all? would you stand out as being someone of even middling wealth? Also, if you'd like to be attentive of your surroundings, roll Perception+Awareness.]

Over the course of the alternate route, Perian shows commendable stamina and a definite knack for finding weak spots in structures and objects. With some effort, he explains away the group as a set of down on their luck laborers who hoped to carve out some revenue from the deeper passages. They certainly have enough worn clothing, rock dust, and sweat to support the tale. [Private to GM: 5 / 17 personal motes. Glowing seems like a bad idea.]


Once he has entered the Diseased Quarter, Perian sinks his head deeper into his cloak's hood, wary that the circlet he bears might draw even more attention in this poverty stricken area. He heeds Volya's warnings, though his posture suggests that illness is the least of his worries - the Chosen have many advantages in such matters. Even so, and despite her advice, Perian stares. Not at the people, but the architecture, the lay of the buildings, the slowly creeping devastation...

Beyond the evident disrepair, Perian is discomfited by the aura of the place, and fragments of memories that do not belong, that say this place should be drasticaly different. Caught by hints of the past, he pays less attention to the present than might be suitable.

[Private to GM: No rich clothing - plus, wandering inside barrels and the like is a sure way to ruin the same. Good quality, though, and well maintained.

Perian is trying to hide his circlet, since it's a way to draw all kinds of trouble if noticed (and would draw even more here), so he's going along with the traditional 'hooded cloak to conceal features' look.

Perian wants to pay attention, but scored a failure on Per+Aware.]

Indeed, in the glory days of the Pillar of Creation, poverty and disease would have been unheard of. But in those days, the districts were not forced to live mostly independent of one another, barred from the surface world; nor were the people controlled with fear and resource control. Over two thousand years ago, Perian might have been walking among breathtaking Earth District architecture, on a street offering the finest textiles produced by the Pillar's insect weavers, or dazzling, magically enhanced haute couture by its most celebrated designers.

Now the windows are empty, often broken; the architecture long since robbed of its luster; carvings eroded away, replaced by flat and featureless brick. No more do patrons of the arts stroll on smoothly paved streets in bright essence silks and shimmering jewelry, such privileges now strictly confined to the higher districts. The jarring differences between Perian's broken memories, and the sad reality of this disease-ridden area with its people barefoot in rags, keep him distracted for a time.

Not until Blood Sparrow suddenly jostles him, interposing herself between him and a figure in a ragged, faded cloak who suddenly hurries away, does Perian snap out of his reverie. Mute as ever, the silent but efficient woman apologizes by bowing her head, then resumes her current position behind the group. "Careful there," says Pixie, her voice muffled as she buries her nose and mouth into a scarf, "these folks like to be grabby. Poor wretches." She shakes her head and shudders.

Verad has long since removed his circular emblem and other obvious jewelry, slipping them away to places unknown. He holds his fists closed. "I must admit it is a good place to hide something... or someone. Patrols in this part of the Sector are scarce."

Unwilling to take any chances, Volya signals for the group to walk in closer formation, with Perian and Verad at the center. "They're desperate but also cowards. They'll think we're a gang." Though few other denizens of the Quarters show themselves openly, they can nonetheless feel the gazes on them, peering from windows and alleyways, behind rubble piles and garbage heaps, at bonfires that could be for warmth, for burning contaminated materials or bodies. At one point they pass a canvas tent where a poor woman and a child kneel in front of a dead man on the ground; the woman keens and wails while the child stares, blank-eyed and catatonic. The wails intensify as a trio of figures covered entirely in white clothing, masked and gloved, step in to claim the body. "Keep moving," Volya reiterates harshly.

Ashen Feather, now walking to Perian's left, decides to draw the group's attention back to their task. "We are heading for Verdant Mercy Hospice." Verdant Mercy is, as the dark-skinned thaumaturge explains it, is the only clinic within the Diseased Quarters' perimeter. Privately owned, and thus understaffed and undersupplied. "The alcohol shipment trade would have bought our way in to the inner ward; we believe they are sheltering some of the ex-monks there. Now we'll have to convince the caretakers to divulge their secret without a bargaining chip. I have heard great things of your persuasive skill, Perian, I trust you will be able to help us?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:31, Sun 02 Aug 2009.

When he stps by the tent, Perian is drawn towards the fallen man, almost unconsciously. Volya's reminder, and the approach of the men in white, are enough to divert him from his half formed urge, and he moves on. Still, the state of the quarter is never far from his thoughts.

Perian nods thoughtfully as Ashen Feather describes the problem at hand, wrenching his mind back ino the present. "Persuasion is certainly an option, and should not be overly difficult, I hope. We have common goals, after all. Besides," he breaks off to stare at an empty niche, where a statue of dancing naiads *should* stand.

"Besides, my tales have won me some slight support before. Enough to barter with, certainly - and that is without accounting for my own talents." Again, Perian's speech halts, but this time he remains in the present. "What do we know of the Hospice's owner? Even with limited funding, such an effort suggests that this person is rather is exceptional, be it for good or ill."

Ashen Feather answers Perian; being a doctor-thaumaturge himself, he seems most suited to know about the Hospice and its owner. "He is called Harvest of Stones. As far as I know he is genuine in his purpose, a man who has himself lost a loved one to the plague camps, or worse. Should he have a more sinister ulterior motive to helping this wretched sub-sector, I do not know it. If he does, it would likely involve the Undead, and I doubt even a former Immaculate would take refuge with a man so morbidly ambitious."

No more plague-shrouded citizens dare to bother the group of Freerunners headed by Volya Mori, as they crowd closer together and move purposefully toward the Hospice. It is difficult to miss once it comes within visual range: Verdant Mercy is one of the few clean and whole buildings in the entire vicinity, its plain grey stone walls so well kept that they may as well be white compared to the ruined carvings and ramshackle structures around it.

"Harvest is a strict and disciplined individual," Ash continues solemnly. "Though he is not known to be unmerciful he has been forced to set some ground rules so that desperate individuals do not take advantage of the Hospice's services. He is also understandably mistrusting of visitors from outside the Diseased Quarters. He may be tough to crack."

Standing at the front of the Hospice building are two figures wearing a white armband with a green circle painted on it. Another smaller figure, auburn-haired and no older than a young teenager, is also present. Her eyes scan the immediate area, and as soon as she catches sight of the approaching group, she dashes toward the Hospice's front door and disappears.

One of the apparent guards, a stocky woman with dark hair, raises a hand for the group to stop. The other is an older man, wiry as a combat veteran but dressed in civilian clothes, watching the group with his one good eye. "State your business with the Verdant Mercy Hospice. We only take patients who are gravely ill, and rejected by officially sanctioned hospitals. If none among you fall within this criteria we will have to ask you to leave."

Volya answers promptly, lowering her hood to reveal her beastwoman features. "We do not wish to waste your time. However the good Doctor Harvest is expecting us. I am Volya Mori, of the Mori Freerunners." She pauses then, for Perian to add any words. After all, he would be the negotiator.

Perian listens to Ashen Feather's description carefully, a hint of approval in his expression as the doctor's past and present are discussed.

"Dedicated and fair, if hard pressed by necessity. Some of the greatest are born from that kiln."


Once Volya has made her request, Perian steps up to her side, assessing the guards' response to her words as he moves. Whether they relax or tighten their grip, he nods seriously, then speaks.

"We lay no claim on your supplies or expertise, save what courtesy requires. Nor do we pursue your patients, whatever their pasts may hold. We come bearing gifts that may aid your cause, but will not force them upon you."

He pauses a moment, for his words to be weighed, then deliberately steps forth.

"There is some urgency involved, so we'd appreciate it if you'll let us know what process to follow, once we are admitted."

---

OOC: 3 successes on Per+Soc. Average.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:22, Fri 21 Aug 2009.

The woman guard (likely a volunteer, after all this hospice is not likely to have a great deal of money to pay freelancers) gives Perian a guarded look as she considers his words. Neither of the two are carrying lethal weapons, but rather paired short staves made of metal and stone, wood of course being quite rare in Earth District.

Meanwhile the older male veteran stares at Volya's revealed features with his single dark eye. "She does appear to have the proper lineage," he says after a moment. "I thought the Blackrend Freerunners held territory in Sector 3."

"No, it is Aveska in Sector 3, and Blackrend in Sector 7," Volya says, her muzzle gracelessly baring a hint of fangs, "do not presume to know more about my brothers and sisters than I."

"Freerunner or not," says the woman tensely after casting her glance over the others with Volya and Perian, "I think good Doctor Harvest will have to decide for certain. That said we have some policies. We do not like large groups roaming in our halls, we must ask that only two of you enter, and that you hand your weapons to us for safekeeping. The rest will wait within sight of us and unarmed."

The pair at the door wait for the Freerunners and Perian to react and decide.

Perian listens to the guards' demands without a flicker of expression, then replies intently, his voice carrying and compelling.

"I trust you are satisfied of our bona fides, now. After all, the only ones to run with Free's kin, and know where they are based, would have to 'Runners, would they not? So we concur that a meeting with Doctor Harvest is essential."

His smile is pleasant and comforting, until it vanishes. The words that follow are methodical, precise, hinting at anger underneath.

"But we are Freerunners, not fools. I'll do you the courtesy of not returning the favor and demanding proof that you are who you claim to be. If you have cause to worry, imagine how much more danger we face, and consider."

"Those who remain outside will not disarm themselves. They have no reason to seek to harm your patients, and every reason to need to defend themselves if attacked. With as much force as is necessary. Or do you deny that Peaceforcers may come this way? Do you guarantee that the gangs never come cloes enough to trouble you here? If so, what purpose is served in your being here?"

Again, Perian's tone lightens, but there is a thread of mockery within.

"And I will step with only one companion into your Hospice, unarmed and helpless, to be dealt with as you see fit. I think not."

"We hope to work together, we bring you gifts of great value, but you take it upon yourselves to refuse them without knowing what they are, simply because your interpretation of the rules makes things easier for you. I'm afraid that is not an option - allow me to perform some introductions."

"I am Kares Perian, chosen negotiator of the 'Runners. Will you bar me passage and safety?"

"With me comes Volya Mori, whom you recognise. Will you deny the legitimacy of the Freerunners when you know so little about them?"

"You work for the Hospice. As fortune has it, one of my companions is skilled in medicine. While I converse with Doctor Harvest, will you refuse expert assistance?"

"I believe Verdant Mercy has performed remarkable deeds, under the circumstances. With me is one who has connections among important figures in the Coils - and may thus ensure you have more funds. Will you bar passage to someone who could assist you so greatly? Will you demand that one's indentity, to endanger any support that might come?"

When he has finished asking his questions, Perian stalks forwards, coming to a stop beside the men.

"As a sign of the trust you are so quick to demand and so slow to return, I will disarm myself. And bring four companions along, who will act as they see fit."

"We desire Freedom - we have come to help you, not spill blood or steal supplies. If you are so comfortable and confident with your resources and condition, then by all means refuse our help. I am sure that Doctor Harvest will be glad to know you acted so righteously."

He steps back a pace and makes a production of slipping off his reinforced leather gloves, tossing them to one of the 'Runners behind.

"There. Done. All the threat my 'weapons' might pose is now safely disarmed. Now will you let us in, or at least summon the Doctor, that he might know how well you perform your duty?"

[Private to GM: Acting to speed things up and assert the 'Runners as a force to be reckoned with, not a group of beggars asking for handouts.

Also, being social does not mean always agreeing with everyone...

Plus, I've got a fun story concept I'd like to tell, if I can get my hands on a few barrels of water and a doctor or two. So getting in is OOC important as well.]

As Perian outlines his own demands, one by one, it becomes quickly apparent to him that the two guards are not accustomed enough to social conflict to formulate a strong counterargument. Nor are they stupid enough to see some of the reason in his statements, though the woman tries to interject once or twice before Perian is done.

"Enough, enough, I understand," she says, as soon as the next opportunity to speak comes up. She holds up her hand again, this time in a more appeasing gesture. "I apologize that our initial demands may have seemed harsh, but times here have been very tense of late. It is difficult to know who to trust, and how much. But by the gods, I'm not fool enough to turn you away. We truly are desperate for help."

The auburn haired woman takes the reinforced gloves Perian offers. Her lips press together, showing her not completely happy with the arrangement, but resigned, as well. "I admit to not understanding why you would need your weapons among us. We are doctors and volunteers, and very sick patients. However I cannot truly refuse you, and the only way you can know we are what we are is if you enter our facility."

"The people you leave outside can keep their arms, then," says the veteran, shrugging his wiry shoulders. "But I'd suggest three with you and two outside would be more of a compromise. Of course the doctor, your connected man and Volya Mori are welcome enough."

Volya seems relieved she will keep her weapons. It's uncertain whether Verad is even carrying any; if he is, they are well hidden. As for Ashen Feather, he carries only a staff which could very well be a walking stick.

Deciding some input would be helpful, the Freerunner Leader advises Perian quietly. "Perian, both Pixie and Sparrow are fast on their feet. If there's trouble they can get to us, one way or another. I think they can stay in place as our lookouts, unless you're truly reading some potential for hostility inside." Her tone and expression show she is willing to trust Perian with the final judgment here, as Perian is better at judging motivations.

Pixie shrugs. "I don't care if I'm left out." She just doesn't want to admit the idea of walking around a place full of sick, dying people creeps her out, of course. "But if I'm gonna be out I'd rather have a buddy with me."

Silent as ever, Blood Sparrow just shrugs. She will go wherever Volya or Perian decide.

[Private to Kares Perian: After posting this I thought it might seem ambiguous.. so, to clarify, the guards are letting you go in when you're ready. They'd prefer you went in with Volya, Verad and Ashen, but couldn't really stop you if you really wanted to bring one more.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:24, Mon 24 Aug 2009.

"We've had cause to be careful in the past, and it's a lesson that is best not forgotten," Perian replies, which is as far as he'll appologise for going about armed. At the older guard's words, he nods in agreement. "Very well. I don't want to be unreasonable, and we are hoping to work together. Myself and three others it is."

After a brief, quiet discussion with Pixie and Blood Sparrow about their role outside the Hospice, Perian returns to the gate, nods briefly towards both men, and prepares to step inside.

"Will you lead us, or are directions sufficient?" he asks, all traces of irritation gone from his voice and posture.

[Private to GM: Your response was quite clear. I asked for four people in order to be able to compromise down to the number I wanted...

Feel free to skip me forward to meeting the Doctor, or whatever awaits next.

On a vaguely related note, if anything I do is stunt-worthy, I'm low on personal motes. If not, that's fine too.]