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.