Rowan looks up as Dharmesh's mental voice reaches her, having been lying on the bed eating a plate of fish and potatoes. She's getting grease absolutely all over the sheets, and quite visibly does not care. She rolls her eyes. "I"m well, thank you, how are you? Oh, that's excellent. Et cetera. The cell is an old one, been here for decades. They, well, I'm not sure if I can call it worship but they have deals with Ranalc. Contracts and bargains and favors owed for services rendered, that's more the way the Eldest work. They're entrenched, embedded in local groups, and they've been staying quiet for years and years. I don't know much about them specifically, but cells like this almost always have a single leader and a lot of people who don't really know jack shit about the rest of the cell outside their contact and their subordinates."

Dharmesh glanced somewhat disdainfully at the slovenly display of Rowan's before turning His gaze from her. He ignored the sarcasm with which she began her answer, instead cataloging everything she said, His mind devoting itself to the task at hand, formulating plans of action as He continued to maintain the connection between her mind and His own.
"I see. Do you know the identities of any members? What of the other groups they have hidden themselves in? What have they been doing recently to your knowledge? Any purchases or convenient acquisition of territories suitable for storing things?"

Rowan doesn't seem particularly bothered by the judging look at her dietary habits. "I don't know of any individual members of the cell. They've got people embedded in local Umbral Court groups, for sure, and also we think in the local peacekeeping body, as well as the tattoo artists. And, I'm not making this up, we think that the largest local groundskeeping service might be owned by them. Don't know of any property acquisitions, don't know much about their activity beyond that they're moving."

Well. Groundskeeping had not been what He was expecting to hear. He allowed that minor revelation time to sink in before continuing to communicate, His patience beginning to wear thin at the lack of actionable information being provided.
"It is a start, but chasing such vague details is a waste of My time and energy. Do you know nothing of means of identification? Gathering places, times of meetings, anything? You say you know they are moving, where are they moving from? Where are they moving to?"

"Identification, yeah, they have a system of tattoos that mark them - I don't know the full code, but I know a star and moon symbology is involved as their entry level 'hi I belong to a cult' marker. They don't meet often, and never in large groups - the only people a cell member has contact with is their handler and their minions. But they're moving money, moving resources - large sums withdrawn from accounts owned by fronts, shell businesses moving assets. That groundskeeping service is the most active right now - they have a lot of wealthy clients, and the sums that are being reported changing hands don't make any sense for a groundskeeping business. Same thing with the tattoo artists, they're placing orders and the sums don't line up with what they're claiming is being paid for."

Rowan's voice is crisp and professional, now, with none of the casual laziness that she was exhibiting earlier. Something about the ease with which she rattles off the information hints at a mind much sharper than she had let on, earlier - not necessarily the most disciplined, but there's a very keen memory there, and quick information processing and recall.

Dharmesh's mood began to brighten by the slightest fraction as actually actionable information was provided, His mind picking apart the words as they were spoken, taking them in and examining them before formulating a response.
"At last, we are getting somewhere. If this cult has a fascination with the moon, then we should pay close attention for the new and crescent moons in particular, and anything to do with a heptagram. That aside, it would seem that the adage of following the gold will hold true. These clients, what are their names? Who is moving the most money most frequently?"

Rowan nods easily. "Biggest movers and shakers are Urtar Blackfingers, Three-Knife Kelly, and Erran Scythehand, in that order. You're going to want to watch out for Blackfingers, though - we're fairly sure he works for the Black Triune, and while I know that you're scary et cetera, I'm fairly confident you do not want to mess with the Triune."

"I know of these three, yes. Blackfingers is a poisoner, and he does serve the Triune. We should not seek him out unless there remain no further options, engaging the Triune would take more time than can be spared and require more investment in this endeavor than I possess. Scythehand is a tattoo artist, certainly worth speaking to to learn of more members, but probably not much else. Kelly is a local crime lord. He will be the most straightforward to find, and a man such as him may be convinced to sell his associates to save himself. I believe the information you have provided will be sufficient for now, let us await Shovash, then we should pay a visit to Kelly's home."
His messaged delivered, Dharmesh ceased communication and sat down on the floor, legs crossed as He performed simple mental exercises to pass the time and generally ignored Rowan, awaiting Shovash's arrival.

Rowan returns the favor, not paying any mind to Dharmesh as she sits and reads a book while eating. It looks like it's written in the old tongue of the First World.

  It only takes three hours, give or take, before the heavy footsteps coming down the hall stop at their door, and the latch rises. The Shovash who walks through the door is a pale indigo tint, with silver horns and wings, and tattoos glowing faintly oxblood. It isn't a palette she uses often, but it isn't as unlikely as what she was wearing. The dress rises all the way up to a rounded collar at her throat, without a cutout or concealed slit anywhere, and the hem nearly to her knees doesn't even pull open as she walks. That, though, is the strangest of all. Shovash walked in. Through the door.

  "Dharmesh. Rowan." She acknowledges them as the chairwoman might her board: a courtesy to smooth working together, a superfluous but procedural trick of etiquette. "I don't see any reason I would want this to drag on. We shouldn't play games with them, just get the superweapon away from them. All agreed, on that much? "

Rowan looks up at Shovash and nods politely. Her veil is firmly in place once more, now that she's finished eating. "Sounds like a plan. Dharmesh here has figured out which of the cell members he wants to go after - a crime boss, Three-Knife Kelly, he's been moving a lot of money through this groundskeeping service involved with the cell. I'm ready to move out at your signal, and I know roughly where to go looking for Kelly."

Dharmesh did not move from His seated position as Shovash entered the room, though He did turn His head to observe Her entrance. As She spoke, He nodded, sending a tendril of thought Her way. "Rowan speaks truly. This cell is funded by a number of wealthy individuals, but the largest contributors are, in order of significance, Urtar Blackfingers, a poisoner, Three-Knife Kelly, a local crime lord of one of the more prominent families, and Erran Scythehand, a local tattoo artist. Blackfingers would take too long to hunt down and break to be worth the effort for our schedule, and Scyhthehand's primary value would be the identification of more members. Kelly is the most logical choice of the three"

As He communicated, more than mere words were delivered. Images of the three people they were speaking of swam in Her mind's eye, an overhead view of the city with one building in particular shining like a beacon. As these images burned themselves into the memory of His equal, Dharmesh unfolded His legs and rose in a single liquid motion. "We have wasted enough time. Let us begin."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:23, Sun 25 Oct 2020.

  "Gardeners in a cult.  What is this, Galt?"  Shovash shakes her head in dismay, then gives Dharmesh an inattentive nod in passing.  She crosses the room and takes a seat on the bed that makes it look as though Rowan had weighs nothing, by comparison of the dent.  "Scythehand is also a personal connection of mine I want to keep friendly, so there'll be no painting a target on his back while I'm here.  Besides, I've wanted a few crime lords for some time now.  This will be a good chance to pick one up."  If she is surprised to learn her contact serves a wicked fairy noble who plans to reshape Golarion as a nightmare, it doesn't show.

  "Nidal is generally, in fact, a nation I'd prefer good terms with.  I don't have nearly the presence on the plane of shadows that I should.  Do we know where the family receives illicit guests?  It's a walled compound with sentries, I imagine."

"Kelly has a compound on the edge of the city. Big place, mansion, walls, guards. Oh, do you want some fish? I got enough for two." Rowan gestures at the plate, which does indeed have a good deal of fish and potatoes remaining. "Didn't think Dharmesh here would want any. It's not really up to his standards, I expect. I'm ready to leave whenever."

  "Ah. Considerate of you," Shovash replies drolly, before taking the plate and raising it to the large hemisphere of her belly.  The equally large hemisphere of steel covering those organs twitches then splits along the jagged seam shaped to resemble teeth.  It's bigger on the inside, with dozens of teeth the armor had no room to represent and a depth when it stretches open that must extend well behind her.  She tips the entire meal back and licks the plate clean in one swipe with a tongue almost a foot wide.  "Oh, better than I expected.  One of the street vendors?  Now I wish I had time to savor it properly."

  Setting the empty plate aside, Shovash stretches back until something pops near the base of her tail, then takes her time rising to her feet, even catching her wings on the bedframe for extra leverage.  "Should be a quick errand.  The mortals aren't even where it becomes interesting.  Everyone ready?  Good."  Obviously, Shovash doesn't wait for a response, just takes hold of Rowan's wrist and wraps her tail around whatever part of Dharmesh happens to be solid that day.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:08, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

Dharmesh didn't flinch at the sight of Shovash's second mouth, long since having grown used to Her habits and transformative nature. He stood impassively as Her tail wrapped around His waist, continuing to communicate telepathically with both Shovash and Rowan."Very well. To Kelly's home then. I will place us within the entrance hall, it should convey the proper message." He waited a few moments for any dissent before pulling the power to the forefront once more, casting Himself and the other two beyond mere physicality, their bodies torn down to their base components only to be reassembled once more inside the opulent home of their target, not a drop of blood or speck of bone out of place.

  "What...?  No!"  Shovash pulls back so hard out of the spell, Something That Shouldn't Be scuttles out of her shadow and under the bed.  But he's gone already, and now that's a factor she'll just have to account for.  There had been something taller, set deeper into the compound.  After counting off a slow, complicated pattern on the fingers of one hand, she heads for the top of that.

Rowan and Dharmesh arrive in the entry hall, where they find a number of very confused servants and guards standing around. One of them clears his throat and then says, very tentatively, "You lost, friends?"

Meanwhile, Shovash alights on the lone tower in the complex, finding a large window looking out over the city. Inside, a tall and slim man is lying in a bed upholstered with silk and velvet - opulent, to put it mildly. The rest of the bedchamber is similar, all tasteful dark woods and plush velvet cushions.

  "Really, a vampire?" Shovash asks herself with a little laugh, as though she isn't just then hanging upside-down from a rooftop with bat wings and big pointy teeth.  With a combing gesture and a curse, she straightens the knot holding the room's abjuration together, then pulls herself back up.  The curses become more colorful briefly, and then there is soft clapping.  "Ladies.  So glad you could join me today.  Close in, there won't be long."

  A few moments later, the air in the room below shifts, admitting the sudden presence of five women.  Each is thin, pale, and some manner of barely-dressed.  Without a word or signal, they advance in perfect coordination, two on either side of the bed.  The last raises her hand above the sleeper and intones something ominous, then bends down and begins to crawl atop.  "Kelly.  Kelly, the girls are here.  I told them what a big deal you are.  Don't be sleepy~"

As Dharmesh reformed and touched down upon the floor of the entrance, He looked around at the wealth on display and the shocked people around Himself and Rowan. When one of the guards spoke, He slowly turned to face the man, gazing directly into and through his eyes, for all the world seeming to look upon his soul and weigh its worth even as He sent the slimmest tendril of Thought to the man, just enough to communicate without overwhelming him. "Unless this is not the home of the man known as Three-Knife Kelly, I am not lost. I am Dharmesh of the Untwisting Iron, Lord of That Which Thinks, and I and My associate have business with your master. If you will tell him that we have come, we will be able to leave all the quicker."