@ Cara & Manaolama

By the time Cara and Manaolama had made their presence known in the South Side, the sun was starting to edge down over the land.   To the South East, a low length of darkness spread--stormclouds beyond Bull's Isl.

The faintest tips of sails on the horizon said there were ships coming--two of them, racing against the storm.  The dockworkers were going to be busy tonight, and the chances were better than ever that the Briney Goose=--and many other south-side taverns--was going to be overrun with sailors.

Word wasn't out in public yet about the boys' disappearance.   But there was street gossip that some sort of crackdown had happened in the merchant's quarter.   One of the open-air markets had been shut down by the blue-coats to investigate a possible magical threat.   But when all was said and done, there hadn't been much of excitement to see.

Cara and Manaolama took their leisure in a little plaza, a couple of blocks from the docks, themselves.   There were a couple of restaurants, and one had an open terrace, with a good view of the road to the docks, and an alley on the far-side, abutting the Blue Sails warehouse.

The watcher hunched on the corner, peering impassively over the entire scene, unmoved, unblinking--unseen by most except those who knew what to look for.

The Blue Sails warehouse was an enornmous wooden structure, built back when the Dockwards did more shipbuilding than trade.  It had been a shipwright's workshop, aa fairly open structure in which they bliterally--built some of the Kumlar's first ships.  It still had a lot of the original caulking and detailing in the black stone that had served as it's foundation.  The ancient yew timbers were heavy with ancient sigils and signs, oiled down until they almost glistened in the afternoon sun. The magic of the shipbuilders had long since dwindled, but the memory of magic remained.

The Blue Sails was a thriving business, made more so by it's proximity to the docks.  One could stand on it's front step and see the ships berthing for loading and unloading.    It was almost always open, though it's business depended on the tides.

At the front door, the proprietor had put out a couple of tables and chairs.  A couple of rough looking dock workers had taken up position there, apparently playing a dice game set out on a mat with a lopsided drawings of a house and rooms.  Probably "Lucky Pig".

It was inevitable that they'd need to wait.  As fast as the watcher's might be, it was still an unexpected visit.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:51, Sat 11 July 2020.

@Garland

Garland held back, letting the time draw out, like footsteps leading towards a doorway to the next room.

Some said fate was like a blind path, leading one onward blind, but Garland could see the potential outcome of walking through that door.

Gaining an ally in the Queen, though...  It would afford him some greater measure of protection.   Mira would have to work harder, be more discrete than she might prefer.

Still, Stefen had simply said the Blue Sails had ties to the Ember Blades.  The Ember Blades had their fingers in a lot of pies.  Not every business wanted public investors.  Nd if you didn't want certain unforeseen "accidents" to happen, you accepted their discrete backing.

Chances were better than average that the Blue Sails "had ties" with a number of shady enterprises.  But with the death of Garalnd's father, the Ember Blades had increased their stake.  Soon enough they were probably going to start gathering the notice of the royal court.  And that was going to be a nightmare in the works.

Probably, that was still years off.  But Mira was ambitious and she played the game of Shah better than Garland had once anticipated.

Cara didn't bother lurking in the alleyway, she was there to be noticed.  She didn't bother looking back at Manaolana either as she stepped out onto the main thoroughfare and beat a bullseye towards the open terrace.  "Are you the strong silent security type, looming behind me, or are you more at home as the first line of defense?"  She asked with a slight tilt of her head as they crossed the street, her boots echoing across the cobblestones with almost military precision.  She walked like any who stood before her needed to get the hell out of her way, and in truth, almost all who noticed her did.  Double takes, scowls, and furtive warding gestures followed in her wake, rippling out about her noticed the presence of the Oathsworn within their midst.  Not everyone knew the stories, but most did, and a palpable aura of distrust followed her wherever she walked.

She approached the terrace, the open yard of an ale house called the Harpy's Last Note, and claimed a table.  She did not bother to wait for Manaolana, allowing the man to take his pick for how he wanted to play it.  He could choose to loom behind her, the silent security goon watching over his charge, or he could take a seat at the table as her equal. Immediately,  she began rolling up the sleeve of her right coat, revealing the iron vambrace beneath.  Surely she did not mean to reveal another of the horrors that infested her left arm here?  The proprietor of the establishment had spotted them, a barrel chested man in his mid forties with a gut to match, and even then was making his way outside to greet them.  She unclasped the armor, showing that there was no alien sacrilege within.  No unholy corruption of flesh and body, no indescribable sensation of righteous fury thwarted as there had been when she had unsealed the thing within her left forearm.  Just her arm, lighter than the flesh of her hands and face, and scarred with glyphs and ritual geometry of her strange magics.  The proprietor eyed her, his sharp beard and mustache surrounding a scowl, his gaze falling between her coat, her arm, and Manaolana's huge bulk.

"You..."  He croaked, the lack of surety clear in his already raspy voice.  "This isn't the place for trouble, a them that start it find themselves on the wrong end of some very dangerous people."  He managed at last, his hands wringing a filthy cloth until his knuckles were white.  Cara turned to acknowledge him after a long moment, reaching into her coat with her right hand and withdrawing a roll of vellum.  The innkeeper tensed and then noticeably relaxed as she pulled it out, concern giving way to curiosity.

"Then we are in the right place."  She said at last, breaking at least some of the tension.  "I am glad to hear that there will be no trouble, Master...?"  She trailed off, eyeing him.

"I'm no slav... I'm no one's Master."  He said in righteous indignation, only catching himself halfway through.  A number of emotions were playing themselves out along his face, anger, concern, fear, perhaps even an element of pride. "Stenton Harris, is my name, and this is the the Harpy's Last Note.  Do you know what that means? Do you have any idea who holds dominion here?"   It was part threat, part pleading.

"Stenton Harris."  Cara repeated, giving neither her own nor Manaolana's name in response.  She instead went back to her work, flattening out the vellum and placing the forearm guard in the middle of it.  Then she withdrew a piece of charcoal, and began inscribing a series of glyphs and sigils upon the vellum.  Though the foreign marks were meaningless to even the most erudite College Mage, the intent was clear.  She was inscribing a Ritual Circle.  "Two ales and a loaf of bread, should you have anything freshly made today.  If not, just the ale will do." She didn't bother looking at him, and he stuffed whatever response he might have made and took the opportunity to retreat back through the main door.  For her part, she had nothing more to add.  She let the time pass by diligently working on her ritual, allowing Manaolana to perform the role of lookout on his own, should he choose too.

---

Describe the Action: Inscribing a spell of haste into the forearm guard.

Roll the Dice 18:04, Today: Cara rolled 0 using 4 Fudge dice.

Determine Approach: Pretty clearly Lore.  Brings her total to +4

Choose an Action: Certainly "Create an Advantage," seeking to create the Aspect Glyph of Alacrity upon the right vambrace.

---

People and Things introduced.

Stenton Harris - Owner of the Harpy's Last Note, an alehouse under the jurisdiction of the Ember Blades.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:09, Tue 28 Apr 2020.

Manaolana is not apparently bothered by Cara's lack of bother. He is, rather, stolidly impressed by her bearing. He has worked out by now that Cara is a person of some power and is certainly overabundant with confidence, not to be trifled with. He simply nods at her question and adopts a position behind her, looming, as she said, as the dutiful bodyguard. He had rather hoped to play another part with which he had been dabbling lately, but, again, Cara was not to be trifled with.

As he stood watching and listening, his eyes surveyed the room. He caught in the shadows of the doorway another figure with whom he was surprised to be acquainted. Brollox the Butcher is a fairly well-known operative of the Ember Blades and otherwise a blade for hire. He had the distinction of having lost a fight in a barroom brawl to a former associate of Manaolana's, Zaichus the Swift. Zaichus had hired Manaolana and several others to protect him during a business negotiation but ended up securing the agreement to a large discount on said transaction if Zaichus could beat a chosen champion. Manaolana could still see the scar on Brollox's face where Zaichus had slashed him.

----

People and Things introduced:

Brollox the Butcher - operative of the Ember Blades and sword for hire

Zaichus the Swift - crafty and mysterious merchant and apparent swordmaster

There was no part of this that wasn't a bad idea.  Of all the jobs that Sachea had thrown to her dog, this one felt like dark clouds on the horizon; this one felt dangerous.  That was saying something.  It wasn't the threat of blood and violence though, this one reeked of something else- politics and power.  Both were things best avoided if you wanted to increase your longevity.  And now Garland stood silently, feeling the weight pulling at him like a millstone around his neck.  If he closed his eyes and listened just right, he could almost hear the water lapping at his toes.  "The Gods can all burn," the young man blasphemed under his breath; a curse he had learned from his father.  "Bet they think this is just hilarious..." he muttered as he moved.

Garland did stick to the alleyways.  Both to avoid being noticed, and because that is where he was likely to find what he wanted to see.  The Queen's man aside, ties could mean a lot of things. With Mira it usually did.

There were levels of investments, and levels of protection provided to those investments.  If this venture brought in enough coin there'd be muscle on site, but so much that it'd to attract notice of the city watch or customs inspectors.  Just enough to do the job.  And then there'd be a bunkhouse within sprinting distance though, probably no more than a few minutes away.  And that meant runners.

The best runners were the young ones, barely men if that.  Small, quick, able to get about without much notice.  They were also poorer and had delusions as the the grandeur of life within one of the gangs.  This was dreg work, done to earn their way in.  Worse came to worse, they were expendable.  Garland had recruited enough to know the type so, sticking to the back alleys he kept his eyes out as he approached the Blue Sail's place.  If he could pick out the runner loitering about he'd be better positioned to deal with them beforehand.

---

Notice to Overcome I assume: Garland rolled -2 using 4 Fudge dice (Notice brings that to +1)

Harris muttered as he left, casting a worried scowl at the two new additions to the Harpy's Last Note.  But coin was coin, and business was business.  He'd had worse--much worse--clients  in his day.

But still, with half the Dockward holding it's breath on account of the sudden blue coat crackdowns, anything unusual gathered more attention than usual.  And he didn't need more attention.

Brollox had been in the Harpy's Last Note, ostensibly on business.   He'd wrapped a whole leg in oil-cloth and was having a conversation with a dour-faced woman behind a formal bar.   He scowled at Manaolama, obviuosly recognizing him, too.    The butcher had a knife at his side, but he didn't look particularly intent on any kind of violence.

Brollox absently fingered the scar on his jawline,  and then he shook his head, returning to converse with the matron.




---
I've altered Brollox a little bit...  Because in my mind, most city folk do actually have a day-job...  It doesn't change his mercenary activities, mind you...  But as an actual butcher and a meat-seller, one might wonder just precisely how he procures all his stock...

Also,  Glyph of Alacrity succeeded with style.   2 free invokes available.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:59, Sun 03 May 2020.

Harris returned momentarily.  a couple of wooden tankards and a small basket with two smallish loaves of bread.  One was dark brown with a thick crust, the other a reddish blonde.

"Wife bakes every morning, so the bread's fresh." Harris said.  "She says the black rye's a little heavy."  He laid everything on the table, then wiped his hands on a cloth at his belt.  "The flax-bread.  that's my favorite, though she don't make it too often on account of the yeast doesn't sit long.   But with the Cormorant coming in tonight, well... them sailors probably haven't had good fresh bread for months."

--
The activity of inscribing runes and sigils on clothes, body, items... this is probably a common enough occurance that people don't get bent out of shape about it.  Like people writing in a journal on the bus, you may get some curious onlookers, but mostly not...  and those who are very intent on finding otu what you're doing.  well, they'd probably find a way to try to scry on you...

@Garland;

After waiting fora bit, letting his awareness flow, he could see the configuration quite clearly.    Two in front, one down the alley, and another on the rooftops.   They were young, perhaps no more than thirteen or fourteen.

There was one of them, playing with dog, near a side entrance to the warehouse.  The door had been painted black and decorated with chains and anchors, but it looked like it hadn't been opened in years, with the amount of detritus piled up in it's entry-way.

The boy was a young dark-skinned kid with a shock of black hair and enormous eyes.  He was rolling a leather-ish sphere about the size of his head, back and forth, and the dog--a mixed-breed mongrel of some sort, was barking and growling happily as it occasionally nipped and tried to savage the ball.

But to Garland, it was clear that the one on the corner and the one on the rooftops were in clear sight of the front entrance, and likely there was a guard there hired by the warehouse, though he couldn't see from his vantage point.

The problem was that Garland couldn't easily isolate any of the boys without one of the others likely seeing it.     He'd need to use a distraction, or lead one of the boys away from their post...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:21, Sun 03 May 2020.

"Good."  Cara said, scratching the vellum clean with a razor and beginning to inscribe a new circle with the charcoal.  "Leave it all here, I reckon we'll be left waiting for a while.  The fools likely as not will choose to flex their self-perceived importance rather than capitalizing quickly on this once in a lifetime offer."  Without bothering with either subtlety or tact, she placed the ale, the bread, and whatever else the proprietor brought into the center of the new Ritual she was working.  Even though the magics she was wielding were utterly foreign, any clever mind looking on could guess at her intent.  She was inspecting the provisions for the tricks of her craft, hostile spell work or more mundane poisons that might be mixed in with the ingredients.  She was masterful at her craft too, summoning the magic with a simple efficiency that spoke to long years of training and use.  Each glyph was quickly done, and yet still elegant and precise in its execution.  "See that we are not disturbed by any except those who hold dominion here, as you so delicately put it.  Likely as not you'll wish to set aside a private room, but I won't tell you how to conduct your business."  She dismissed him with a curt nod, and then pricked her finger again with a pen knife.  She pressed her thumb at each of the four quadrants of the circle she had crafted, closing it with a just audible hum.  Then she sat back and closed her eyes, focusing on what she had achieved.

---

Describe the Action:  Using Ritual Magic to check the food for poisons and cursecraft.

Roll the Dice:  19:31, Today: Cara rolled 3 using 4 Fudge dice.

Determine Approach:  Notice, that brings me up to a +5.

Choose an Action:  Overcome, detecting any hostile Aspects that might be on the food.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Mon 04 May 2020.

Manaolana listens quietly to this exchange, his head cocked a bit. He works out Cara's strange magic with a frown, but refrains from questions. Best not to trifle with ways that were strange to him needlessly.

He keeps a half-eye on the room, with perhaps an eighth of that half on Brollox, but otherwise sits perfectly still, set as a statue, waiting for sign of trouble...

The bread,and ale were both free of contaminants.  No worldly poisons that Cara knew of, nor magical effects infused the food or drink.

Harris kept an impressively neutral face at Cara's words.  It's possible he didn't actually care about her business, so long as it didn't bring trouble to his doorstep.  It was also possible that he was going to tattle everything he'd heard to someone up the chain.   But the man didn't offer an opinion or commentary otherwise, until Cara made the statement that Harris might wish to set aside a private room.

"I'm sorry." Harris said evenly, no inflection in his voice to suggest emotion.  "I'm sure you'll forgive an old man grown hard of hearing.   Were you requesting that I make a private room available to you?  It's a silver for the day, three if you want it overnight as well."

Four silver was a steep price, even by Druvir standards.   But there was a ship coming in that evening, and it was a good bet that this man and everybody else who lived in the neighborhood, would be angling to lighten the sailor's newly-full purses.

Even as the shopkeep offered the price of the room and Cara had assured herself that the bread and ale was untouched by malicious intent, someone bellowed from across the way--from within the Blue Sails warehouse.


"This will not stand!" A heavily-accented male bellowed.  "This is robbery, pure and simply!  Find our stores immediately, or I will single-handedly bring this place to the ground!  Do you hear me!  To the ground!"

That got the attention of the two ruffians playing dice outside the front entrance.   They rose as one, and one of them--the bearded one with the cloth skull-cap drew a wicked-looking falchion from the frog at his side.

There was an exchange of words Cara and Manaolama couldn't hear, then there was another wordless bellow and one of the two men--the one with the sword--appeared to be thrown against the wall clearly visible in the doorway.  The other took up a defensive stance while pulling a wicked looking black club from his side.

"Mair's Blood, Again?"  Harris muttered.  "Tide's gonna come early."

"The blue tide" is a euphemism for the city guard, particularly around the dockward area.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Thu 07 May 2020.

Manaolana continues to stand motionless through this, save for his eyes, which follow this with interest. He makes no sign to do anything of consequence until Cara does, however. While his interest in matters of civilization was strong, he knows how to follow a mission.

Cara frowned, her already furrowed brows creeping ever inward at the innkeeper's lack of comprehension.

"We are interlopers here, and thus are here to be seen until we have achieved our aims. I have no intention of skulking about in back rooms until such is required of us by your patrons, Master Harris.  Should we require a private room, you will know of it, and not by me."

Then the shouting began.  At first, Cara seemed to ignore it completely, focusing entirely on finishing her work of tightening the leather straps that secured her vambrace into position.

"A blue tide would be most displeasing at this time, Master Harris.  Perhaps my associate here can be of assistance in resolving the issue in a discreet manner."

The clipped, overly formal words were coupled with a nod in the direction of the commotion.

"The last thing we would want is arrests, but sometimes the situation requires brutal violence.  The key there, is efficiency.  No one wants a mess."

She emphasized the point, likely for Manaolana's sake rather than the innkeeper's.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:21, Thu 07 May 2020.

@Cara & Manaolama

Harris offered Cara only a blank look as he tried to make sense of Cara's words, but then shouting erupted across the courtyard, and Cara made her even more confusing offer of violent intervention.

"Milady," Harris began, "What Old Migram does or says is his business.  It's got nothing to do with me.  "
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sun 10 May 2020.

"Like a not," one of the other patrons sitting in the little patio area leaned back and shook his head.  "The old fox got caught with his hand in the honeypot.  Was bound to happen eventually."

He was a commoner, with serviceable heavy pants and a light tunic with poofy sleeves and vambraces that were more affectation that servicable.  He had shoulder length brown hair and the scruff of several days growth.  The woman he was with was swathed head to toe in light cotton and cowled with a gold mangtika with a bright blue gem in the middle of her forehead.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, and for a moment, the man stiffened, his own eyes went blank for a moment.

He swallowed hard, struggling to breathe it looked like.  Then his mouth moved as if he'd taken something sour.  When his eyes opened, there was a coldness, a distant regard and a pleading at the same time.

When he spoke, it was with a nasal quality, a slower cadence, and a ripe disdain ripping from every syllable. "One wonders why one should makes a public display to discuss private business.  Why distracts a watcher from it's watch?   Please do not mistake curiosity for obligation.  You requested a word.  Please do not waste my time.  Why the summons?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:39, Wed 20 May 2020.

Harris looked at the commoner and the woman, then at Cara and Manaolama.  He shook his head and turned to return inside.

Brollox had emerged, but he, too, glanced at the woman then the  man.   "Ah fer fucks sake."  he said to Mana.  "Body-leapers.  Fucking creepy."
This message was last updated by the player at 05:10, Fri 22 May 2020.

Cara made a show of setting down the bread she had been in the process of cutting open, placing the small knife upon the table and clearing room between her and the speaker. "House Yisil has had no reason to have business in the South End, and thus has made no attempt to establish proper channels."  She said simply, still not raising her gaze to make eye contact with the Body-leaper.  "That has changed.  Someone has been poking their nose where it doesn't belong, laying claim to that which they should not have sought to possess.  They have attracted the attention of the Great Houses, and will soon pay the price for their hubris, hence..."  She spread her arms wise to encompass her presence, finally raising her head to encompass the man that served as likely unconsenting puppet to a distant master.  Her eyes, already dark and piercing, Burned with Stolen Secrets.  Arcanist Ellis Yassur was an Oracle of no meager talent, and the blood and power she had claimed from him thrummed within her chest.  She could feel its addictive pull, the rush as she drew on it and shaped it to her will.  The magic was a small thing, a hidden thing, but as she pulled upon the power of her Mantle  the trails of power that bled from this hapless man materialized before her like pale smoke.  She sent her will along them, seeking to know whose hand pulled the strings at the other end.  "AS such, it becomes necessary for me to know to whom it is I speak.  Two Watchers went forth, when I only called for one.  You have not announced your affiliation, wise considering the magic you employ here, yet that presents both me and the interests I represent with a problem.  Someone today is to pay for what they have taken, and someone is to profit a great deal from that punishment.  It is my hope that you are the latter, for while the favor of House Yisil is something only a few are brave enough to court, all know only too well the cost of our displeasure."

---

Describe the Action:  Spending a point of Boon Mana from Arcanist Ellis Yassur's Lesser Boon and tagging my free invoke of My Eyes Burn with Stolen Secrets to investigate this Body-leaper, with the intention of learning the true name and identity of the one employing such magics.

Roll the Dice: 15:42, Today: Cara rolled 2 using 4 Fudge dice ((1, 1, 1, -1)).

Determine Approach:  Investigate, which is at +2, and my spending my free Invoke brings my total to +6.

Choose an Action:  Feels like I'm seeking to Create an Advantage related to knowing who this person is, and what faction they represent.  But maybe this is just an old fashioned Overcome.  I'm not sure.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:47, Tue 12 May 2020.

Etzagith started following the guard into the warehouse, but the fight erupted barely inside the doorway.  Slipping in that close to the contest would be risky.  He turned to assess the other door that he could see:  It appeared to be boarded up, but a youth stood guard in front of it.  Who guards a boarded up door?  The boarding up is a ruse, it actually opens.  Etz was just working out a bluff to get past the youth when he noticed Garland approaching from the alley.

The young man guarding was clearly listening to the fighting and wondering if he should go get involved, not paying attention to the direction from which Garland approached.  However, Etz figured, another distraction can't hurt.  Moving to be out of sight of the main door, where the shouting and fighting was still going on, Liza Gallim sashayed towards the youth.  "Does this sort of thing go on all the time?" she asked, "I heard the Blue Sails was discrete.  This doesn't seem all that discrete to me."  She locked eyes with the young man, and fervently hoped that Garland wouldn't kill him. He's just trying to earn a living.

12:59, Today: Etzagith rolled -2 using 4 Fudge dice.  Deceive (+4) to create an advantage for Garland, not that he needs it.

This message was last edited by the player at 18:02, Mon 11 May 2020.

One of the benefits of being raised by monks was that one learned to sit back and watch a situation carefully as it evolved. The prospect of violent conflict did not trouble him; the need to engage in such, however, is not clearly evident as the conversation unfolds. Most of this was, frankly, going over his head, though the advent of a "woman" that he recognized as his friend's disguise set off an alert in his mind. Through all this, though, he remains statuesque, both in form and in general lack of movement.

@Cara

"Our displeasure?"  the man raised an eyebrow, even as his body went still.  The internal struggle seemed to have been overcome for the moment and he was fully in thrall to the outside presence.   "invokation of a Khunic house.  That is intriguing.  However, there is little interest in politics; your problems ae simply of no concern."

As Cara turned her focus inward and then out along the elusive tendrils connecting the speaker to whoever was animating him, she found herself momentarily in a dark room.

There was a circle around her, a broad expanse of copper, inlaid with symbols of a runic style not familiar to her.  There was bluish and greenish smoke swirling around, and a series of candles of varying heights and thicknesses.   There was the smell of copper on the air, and the memory of an ozone charge, acrid and pungent, but underlaid by something thick and loamy, like ancient mulch rife with lichens and mosses.

Even as she looked around, the  eddies of colored smoke swirled, reveling a great map on a wall, held in place by large wax daubs.  The map looked like trade-routes and paths, though the configuration was unfamiliar to Cara.   Some of the locations were named: Ayasa, Nimur and one circled--Dimue.

Outside the circle, a large shadow padded back and forth.  Black fur and emerald eyes, it moved silently, with a feline grace, it's eyes never leaving Cara's.  She was safe in the circle.  Was the big cat guarding her or waiting for her to leave?


"Well, that was also intriguing."  The man said.  "You may use the address, Ruis.  How should one who claims to speak for the House of Yisil be addressed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:02, Wed 20 May 2020.

@Etzagith

The youth took in the figure of the swaggering Liza Gallim and offered a over-done shrug.  "Don't know."  He said.  Then after a moment, "What does discrete mean?"

Garland still looked reluctant to make a move.  Perhaps he doesn't want to kill the lad, either, or maybe he's just trying to avoid butting into whatever play I'm making.  Well, I guess Liza Gallim is going to be more short-tempered than I had thought.  You don't get to be a lady pirate captain by being sweet.  "This bullshit right here!" she hissed through clenched teeth and pointed back towards the front where the loud fight could still be heard.  As she turned back, she gave a quick glance to Garland and gave the briefest nod.  "Your owner -- what's his name -- said that you IDIOTS could provide a place that doesn't draw attention, that the guard wouldn't give anything in this place a second glance.  Now you have brawling going on right in the doorway?  Why not sell tickets?  You could put on a show!  Invite the whole town!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:23, Sun 17 May 2020.

Cara leaned forward, steppling her fingers and resting them against the bridge of her nose.

"In my time here, I have noticed that many Greenlanders appear to have a strong preference for names rather than titles.  I only grasp the edges of nuance of the distinction, yet it seems such a strange contrivance to me still.  Mantle bound in blood, Mantle bound in deed, Mantle bound in flesh.  All that I am, all that I will be, is captured by the name Oathsworn."

She answered, the sing-songed nature of her tone betraying a rote answer.  Everything from the accent to the words chosen was a little off, but such was often the case for the ways of her people to those of these lands.

"No Khundari would dare wear the Coat of Red and Black otherwise.  I suppose it is entirely possible that I have wrapped myself in stolen Khundari flesh to engage in this deception, as you have wrapped yourself here."

She gestured vaguely in Ruis' direction.

"But enraging House Yisil, particularily when it is known that they have an Oathsworn operating within the city, seems a particularly foolish venture.  If names are something upon which you insist, I am Oathsworn Cara, Mantle Bound to House Yisisl.  Is it your wish that I discuss the business that brings me here out in the open, or shall we have the Master of the Inn procure us private rooms?  I am not bothered, either way.  Although Oathsworn occasionally have need to operate in the shadows, we much prefer House business be carried out in the open, where everyone can see and tell the tale.  That said, it is our intent to wound a rather powerful organization for their hubris.  You might not wish to have the discussion of such conducted so publicly.  The choice is yours, Ruis."

Manaolana stands back in his stone-like fashion. He is taking in this conversation stolidly, though internally he is enjoying the dialogue. Such high speech is terribly interesting.

@Etzagith & Garland

Garland stepped up.  "Ma'am." He said in a fairly neatral expression, thouhh he held himself as if he expected an attack. "Give the kid a break. You're scaring him."

The kid glanced back and forth between Lizza and Garland, obviously flustered.

"Wait," Garland said, as if an idea had just dawned on him.  "You're not with the Blue Sails, are you?"  Garland laughed and shook his head, laying a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Ma'am.  You've frightened the kid for no reason.  He doesn't work for the Blue Sails."

The kid looked momentarily relieved until Garalnd's hand tightened.  "So, who do you work for?"

Control, on behalf of Garland, rolled -1 using 4 Fudge dice.  Provoke(+4) the kid vs Will(+1) == Result(+3) vs Will(+1) == Success!

The kid stammered, his eyes going wide, and wincing as Garland applied more pressure on the kid's shoulders.   "Uillean Savarius" he finally offered. "Promised me a silver... I just gotta wait and watch and scream if someone tries the door."

The kid stiffened his lip and looked up. at the both of them.   "How much is it worth to you if I don't scream?"

The kid made an Average(+1) Rapport attempt. Up to you whether it matters or not...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:20, Tue 19 May 2020.

@Cara & Manaolama

"Your attempts to intimidate are noted, Oathsworn Cara, Mantle Bound to House Yisil." Ruis' voice sighed.  But Cara did notice that he pronounced her worsd very closely to how she pronounced it, even thick on her tongue though it had been.

Unlike the Dresden Files, names DONT carry quite the same kind of weight and impact.

"Bored now."  Ruis said.  "What do you want?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Wed 20 May 2020.

"You mistake my attempts to be wise to roaming ears as an attempt to intimidate you, Ruis."

Cara corrected, not laying off on the aggression, but making it clear that it wasn't directed at him.

"The Blue Coats run their rackets and schemes, yet there are many criminal elements within the city that lay claim to the shadows.  One of them has laid claim to something that is not rightfully theirs for the stealing, in the reckoning of such things.  House Yisil means to take it back, and to set an example, so that such not happen again.  This faction possesses many peers and rivals within the city, rivals who stand to gain considerably from this opportunity, if they were forewarned and thus ready to capitalize on their peer's moment of weakness.  I am here as a representative of my Great House to offer such an opportunity, free of charge."

She paused to see if she had still lost his interest.

"My caution in this is that you have yet to offer proof of who you are, and what faction you represent.  It would do my House little good to forewarn those whose we intend to harm.  We favor directness, but even for a Great House that is a bit much.  It is my hope that you are of the faction we intend to aid, but as two Watchers went out, I have nothing yet to go on to suggest that you are.  A coin flip is an awfully big risk to take, considering the stakes."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:15, Wed 20 May 2020.

@Cara & Manaolama

"Ah." the young peasant said, still unmoving.  "Politics begets little but more politics." The voice said.  "The Almani are unaffiliated.  Druvir but safeguards memories of a legacy.  But power speaks to power and you commanded a watcher when few would even have seen it.  That is of interest.

There are clouds in Druvir.  Stormclouds.  Concern for the legacy." the voice went on, though the man in front of Cara began to show signs of weariness.  "An agent is needed.  A courier. In exchange, perhaps information, perhaps assistance.  The hand, however, must remain unseen."

It was said as a statement, but Cara twigged on the fact that not once had the speaker actually used a pronoun to refer to itself.  The Almani didn't strike any immediate recognition for her, either.


--
Whoops.  previous OOC comment shoulda been that the power of names doesn't have quite the same power here...  though I suppose it could be used as a contributing factor in a ritual...
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Wed 20 May 2020.

With the so-called guard out of the way, Etzagith took a look at this boarded up door.  There's probably a latch here, or I'll just pull off a board or two.  As silently as possible, he slips inside.

To her credit, she did not furrow her brow.  It was always rather furrowed, but she didn't deepen the expression.

"Then you are not who I was hoping for, and we have already given you much knowledge for free."

She shrugged.

"Knowledge gained is knowledge earned, well done.  The Great Houses all trade in influence and favors, Yisil is no different.  I would hear that which you seek to achieve, and how an Oathsworn might be of assistance."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:00, Fri 22 May 2020.

"A simple task.  but an action of respect, nonetheless."  Ruis said.   "The facility houses the First Sieversi, bound in days for transport aboard the Cormorant.  Attend the Sails, secure the First Siversri and deliver it to the master of the Cormorant.  In exchange, a boon of commensurate stature will be acknowledged and abided."

"There is no presence in Druvir. Only the First Siversrsi, the legacy.  Swear an Oath to keep it safe until aboard the Cormorant and respect will be returned in equal measure."

The man leaned back, a small gurgle leaking from his mouth, which hung open, slackening.   "This vessel fades.  Act or do not;  It will be so.  The legacy remains."

"Well, that sounds fun!"  Brollox said, his stinking breath all too near Manaolama's shoulder.   "What the hell is a Seversi?"

And as the man slumped back, his head dipping down, the cowled woman returned.  She stopped in the doorway of the tavern, her brows furrowed together momentarily over the two wooden cups.   She scowled, making her face unpleasant with sourness.

And across the street, the fight that had begun in the doorway of the Blue Sails had almost as quickly quelled to quiet.   One of the dice-playing guards appeared to have been injured, and a small group--including the blue-coat who'd pounced on the event--seemed to be tending to the guard's wound.

'Ola does not flinch at Brollox's proximity, nor does he move yet. If Brollox thinks about getting much closer to Cara, though, things will change.

"Do you know this overinquisitive man?"

Cara inquired with a tilt of her head to Manaolana, wiping her hands as clearing them of the business she had just conducted.

"Nobody of concern." Brollox said with a smile and a slight flourish.  "It ain't everyday you see a body-leap in play!  And in publicno less!  Those who weren't curious?  They'd be fools."

Manaolana breaks his stony stance and nods, shifting a step away from Brollox. "Indeed, we are acquainted. Brollox, this is my compatriot Cara. Cara, Brollox. Brollox, while I am certain this is fascinating, we would appreciate a moment of privacy in this conversation." His tone is calm but his eyes are steely, as are the sinews throughout his tense frame. Brollox might remember the discomfort of having the fists attached to those steel-coil muscles smash into him.

Brollox offers a low whistle, then gives a deep nod, the grin never leaving his face.   "My deepest apologies.  I'll take my leave, then."

And he moved off the patio and walked away, towards the Blue Sails Warehousde, where Migram was talking with one of the youths nearby.

It looked like the warehouse keeper had paid the boy a coin or two, then the boy went running off, carrying a wooden bucket.
This message was last updated by the player at 08:08, Sun 24 May 2020.

"This session ends." Ruis said faintly. "One hopes the legacy will remain."

And the body Ruis inhabited slumped back, slack-jawed and blank-eyed.

The cowled woman also came forward.  She stopped a respectful distance away, eyed Manaolama with some trepidation, then  offered. "If I may.  He sometimes needs sttimulation to come back.  Specifically after so long a visit.   May I?   He's too heavy for me to douse him elsewhere."  she lifted on of the cups and took a brief sip.

Cara rose.

"By all means, attend to your companion."

She gathered her belongings, sheathing her blades.  She drew closer to Manaolana, dropping her voice so that no others might hear her.

"Whatever Ruis was, that was not an Ember Blade, which means our business here is unresolved.  Without knowing how the others fare, I think it best we continue along the path set before us, and seek to meet this Seversi.  I will swear no more Oaths without knowing more, but this is too interesting to let past."

Indeed, such a thing was perhaps the perfect bait for the Oathsworn.  She could not help but investigate it more, and it was only convenient that in doing so she was technically adhering to the arrangement she had made with the other Veiled Hand agents that day.

Manaolana waves for Cara to move to the side with him. He asks seriously, "With respect, does this tie in with our mission? And am I of ongoing use to you in this matter? I will confess that I do not understand much of anything that just occurred." His face is calm and open, though there is a particular tension around the edges of his face.

Cara frowned at Manaolana breaking cover, even for a moment.  They were in public, and any manner of eyes and ears could be tuning in.  Nothing for it then but to commit, and play the role he had laid out for her.  She could spin this.

"Our mission was to make Contact with the Ember Blades.  Something we have thus far failed to do."

She did not know that Brollox was a member of that organization.

"I have been attempting to attract their notice, and I would say that the demonstration we just witnessed is certainly enough to set tongues to wagging.  Sadly, the one who came running was not the one we sought.  I'm curious if Ruis was a representative of the one who conjured the Water Wyrd, or the Thought Form, but they left that question unanswered.  So I pursue the threads that have been laid out to me, and hope that in pulling them we find our true targets, so that we can do what we came here to do."

Which was to be a distraction, and perhaps have an opportunity to interrogate one of the higher ups within the Blades.

Manaolana's eyes glint for a moment at Cara's words. He says, perhaps a bit loudly, "Oh, the Ember Flames, eh? Ah, I think I can help with that. Especially with good coin on the line, this might interest someone.." He shoots Cara a knowing look before strolling out, looking to see where Brollox is.

He looks about for Brollox, to see if he can find him...

Brollox, for his part had made a pretty clear bee-line for the Blue Sails warehouse.     By the time he'd gotten there, the youth had returned with a full bucket, and Migram splashed most of it on the floor in the doroway where one of his guards had not so ceremoniously bled all over it.

Curiously, his dousing was in unison with the woman's dousing of Ruis' speaker.   He shook his head and eyes wet wide as he looked around, clearly disoriented.   "It wasn't me!"  he held his hands up.  glancing at the woman, then back and Cara and Manaolama.  "Whatever I did, whatever I said.  I'm just a hisan, a vessel.     He brought his hands to the nape of his neck, pulled his shirt down to show a brand of a three intertwined circles.  Sigils of distance and communication, luck, shadows and some others were intertwined in such a way that suggested it had been branded into him over several sessions, one on top of the other.

He'd made a deal with someone, somewhere, to trade the use of his body in exchange for payment in luck and circumstance.  Such things were the subject of stories, and the moral of those stories were often that one shouldn't make deals that one doesn't fully understand...
This message was lightly edited by the player at 11:07, Wed 03 June 2020.

"... So, I was told to pick up the first seversi.  Said it's important I keep it safe." Brollox said.

Migram, the portly shop-keeper looked visibly worried.  Without his guardsmen, he fretted visibly.

"so, we make this simple."  Brollox said lightly, even pleasantly.   "Give it over to my keeping, and I'll make sure it gets where it's got to go.  You won't need to fret about it any more."

"Dangerous piece of work that. I've heard that men died to find it, rode others and leapt bodies just to keep it out of the wrong hands.  You wouldn't want that to happen to you, would you?  Let me take that weight off your shoulders.  I mean, we have an understanding, right?  I'm only thinking of your safety, Migram.  You've had a lot of attention today..."

Brollox is clearly intimidating Migram, the Blue Sails shop-keeper.

Etzagith emerged from the warehouse, coming out on one edge of the large freight entrance.  He swiveled to walk along the entrance as he replace the earring, and he visibly transformed into Liza Gallim, lady pirate.  She spotted Cara and Monaolana, and strutted in their direction, but not directly towards them.  I don't want to mess up anything they might have going on.  She sauntered past them, keeping her head straight ahead but meeting their eyes, and continued into the pub that they had just left.  Finding an empty table, she sat down, asked the serving girl for some strong tea, and pulled out the vellum to see what she had.

A firm voice from behind Brollox--a deep tone, resonant--speaks about ten feet from the man. "Or she could not, and you could listen to a better idea."

Brollox turns to fins Manaolana standing there, his somber eyes burning like sunlight through a forest. His chiseled form is less now like a statue and more like a coiled spring, taut, save for his face, which is a curious kind of calm.

"I would have a word, Brollox." There is nothing insincere or sarcastic at all about his tone, indicating that either the Khadidi did not quite understand what he interrupted or simply didn't care.

Cara looked up, to see that her bodyguard had departed, and that the tough he had named appeared to be cutting in on the deal that she had begun to make with the Ruis.  She rose from where she was seated, gathering her ritual equipment with a muttered curse, and stuffing it into her satchel.  That task completed, she stormed across the courtyard to where Manaolana had confronted the man, her coat swirling behind her as she beat a hasty path.  She said nothing as she drew closer, keeping just behind Manaolana.  Instead, she rested her hands upon the pommel of her two dueling blades, and stared pointedly at the man who dared insert himself into House business.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:49, Wed 10 June 2020.

Shifted Manaolama over to the Inside the Wareghouse thread.

@Etzagith
Etzagith / Liza swaggered into the Harpy's Last Note and helped himself to a seat near a window with sufficient angled light to allow him to see what it was he had purloined.

A barrel chested man in his mid forties with a fair paunch and hair tied back into a simple braid stood to one side with a cou0le of patrons, laughing quietly.   A woman bustled in a back-room visible through a pass-through window, as she--presumably--tended the kitchen.

The pages were  long and tedious, full of jargon.  But Etzagith's attention was piqued by some very clear words:  letter of Marque, disposition of prisoners, suspension of tithe.

The signature at the bottom was thick and bold, and more importantly, legible:
Duke Churthen pf East Penryn.

--
OOC: Reminder: He's the husband of Duchess Jaelle, first in line to the throne  (See message #2 in the 00.00 thread

Etzagith gritted his teeth at the evidence of the conspiracy right in front of him.  He glanced around the alehouse and spotted Cara through the window, still standing outside, but Manaolana had moved off.  It was only mid afternoon, so the alehouse was still pretty quiet.  The patrons that were here seemed involved in their own business and the staff were preparing for the rush to come.

One lone drunkard at the bar and one youth sitting lazily in a doorway across the street were the only two that could realistically be lookouts for whatever conspiracy is going on.  As he watched the drunkard through the corner of his eye, the man took what looked like a long pull on his mug, but the level of ale when he set it down had not changed.  So him for sure, then, but maybe also the kid.  I think it's time to ditch this disguise; if they are Ember Blades, they might know me well enough to see through it.  That would be worse than just being here as myself.

Liza spit a mouthful of tea on the floor, then looked down at the cup as if there were a mouse in it.  She grabbed the vellum and strode towards the kitchen, quivering with fury.  She shoved the door open and stomped through it, but her demeanor changed completely as the door closed behind her.  Seeing the serving girl, she said, "The tea was lovely, darling.  I didn't want to leave the coin on the table, there's a dodgy character at the bar and I was worried he might grab it."  She dropped a few coins in the girl's hand, triple the cost of tea, then continued through the kitchen to the back door.

In the alley, Etzagith pulled off the wig and earrings, dropping them into the pouch over the cat figurine.  He pulled out the cloak and tunic that gave Liza hips and breasts, shook them out, and slipped them on.  The entire transformation took barely three seconds.

The Chameleon slipped out of the alley and sidled up to Cara.  Barely above a whisper, he said, "I have the evidence that Duke Churthen is involved, and someone in there is working for him."  He nodded towards the warehouse.  "We have until sundown, when the warehouse involvement, at least, will be over.  There is someone in there who knows the details -- would you rather confront him with force or subterfuge?"  Etzagith regretted that he hadn't picked up a patch with the Duke's symbol.  Maybe I can fashion one quickly -- hmmm, probably not convincingly.  But, oh, this works.  "We can go in as Duke's agents, if you like, I have a chip that will cast an illusion of the Duke's symbol on our cloaks."

@Cara  See last paragraph.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:59, Wed 17 June 2020.

Cara's eyes narrowed as the woman approached, then relaxed ever so slight as Liza spoke.  She looked away, whispering under her breath.

"Subterfuge.  We have a poacher moving in on our cover, and Manaolana taking umbrage with that fact."

She tilted her chin at the altercation occurring just inside the warehouse, where Manaolana was confronting Brollox.

"Let's slip in unnoticed and find your contact."

She rose, and moved to the open door.

OOC:  Moving to Inside the Warehouse
This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Sat 13 June 2020.