The northwestern portion of town houses the ritzier, more noble side of Tideswallow. Behind a thick barricade of enchanted stone walls, meant to act as both a barrier in times of siege, as well as a less-than-subtle means of keeping out the riffraff, the wealthiest and most influential of the city’s residents live and work. While the common populace rarely ventures within the walls, much of the aristocracy can be seen coming and going on a daily basis.

-Town Hall
-Law-Master’s Court
-Various offices
-High-end Housing
-City Council’s Private Residences
-Very High-end establishments for food and entertainment
-City Archives and Library

It is a rare privilege for a commoner to gain access to this district for any reason other than an appointment with someone who is already working within. However, for the lucky few who can get ahold of one, many businesses and individuals within the district have personal seals and writs of passage they may provide to those they deem necessary. Such things can fetch a fine price with folks looking to make their way inside for... less-than-legal reasons...
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:57, Sun 13 Sept 2020.

After a quick stroll through connecting districts of the city Mystrala shows up at the entrance to the office district, flashes the guards a sheet of paper they recognize very quickly, and continues on her way into the district.

Not looking for anything in particular she seems content to just wander about a bit, taking in the sights that are clearly at least a bit unfamiliar to her.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 2):

While your experience with the Entertainment District has been nothing if not pleasant, one step into the Office District causes you to suddenly realize just how dingy and poorly maintained much of the rest of the city really is. The streets are pristine, swept and possibly even polished, if your eyes aren’t deceiving you, until the cobblestone shine like darkly-shaded mirrors beneath your feet. Every building is a work of art, from the first set of inns you pass immediately on your right and left, to government buildings standing tall on their hill above everything else in the city.

Beside them (the City Hall and Council Hall, as you are vaguely aware) you can see the meandering slope of Sulthor van Ellsworth’s villa. A long, winding path wraps up through numerous fields of grapevines and willow trees all the way up to a large four-story home at its precipice. The entire property is enclosed by a high stone wall topped by a wrought-iron fence with spiky pickets covering the tops of it.

Beyond that, a large bordello stands amidst a series of smaller buildings, looking somewhat out of place at first until you suddenly realize its architecture actually matches most of the surroundings better than those smaller buildings do. Apparently the newer parts of the district have simply been added in between existing buildings as time has gone on. You start to notice this trend more and more as you move toward the southern end of the district; with numerous buildings of varying styles added in amidst the grand gothic architecture of the original parts of town.
OOC: Whoops, some dialogue from another thread snuck into this one... ignore that.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:02, Fri 18 Sept 2020.

"Don't worry about me, I am just looking at the district."
Mystrala answers the overly intrusive citizen politely, but doesn't seem inclined to engage with random people while she looks around.  Passing by the iron gate she moves along to finish her first pass through the district before seeking anything in particular.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 4):

One thing that really strikes you about this part of town is the lack of road-side stalls and carts. Every other district plays home to numerous merchants and vendors who simply love peddling their wears on the side of any major street they can find space on... but not here. This stretch of the city is utterly devoid of vendors, despite the heavy amount of foot traffic you pass through. Men and women of every manner go by, all dressed in the finest garb you’ve ever seen in this city. Many seem to simply be wandering while others are clearly rushing toward some goal or another. It is an odd mix of folks, with the only unifying feature about them being a general air of indifference toward everyone else nearby. No conversation. No friendly “Hellos” or “How are yous” being shared. No interaction at all out on the streets.

For such a beautiful part of town, it all feels so very sterile.

Torn between interest in the overall difference and distaste for what that difference brings out in people Mystrala spends a little while longer looking through the district, keeping an eye out for any sort of cracks in the blank facade of its non interaction based culture, the little known friendly shop keeper, the secret locals only gambling den, or even a back door access point between districts that avoids the inspection point with guards.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 6):

Make a perception check (If you’re just doing this subtly in the general vicinity) or investigation check (If you’re going out of your way to really investigate what you’re looking for).

Starting to press her luck a bit by wandering the same paths in the district and looking around in more detail Mystrala doesn't seem to be to concerned about being discovered in her search.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 8):

The district seems a pretty universally heartless, soulless place. The more you watch, the more dismal the populace here appears. You are nearly out of the district (Heading toward the Town Square) when you offhandedly pass a figure in an alleyway, cloaked and hooded, and a line of children standing around them. You notice a large sack of a bread and other baked goods that they are passing out to the kids, before sending them running back out of the alley toward a large orphanage near the district gates.

More interested in the answers to this tiny glimpse into the underlying truth of the district than in anything even remotely like stealth or secrecy Mystrala changes course to follow the man who was passing out bread, waiting only for the majority of the children to be on their way before she separates herself from the general flow of foot traffic to investigate the alleyway more closely.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 10):

He notices you approaching and does his best to straighten up from crouched, almost squatting position he had been in while dealing with the children. The man before you is human, but a big human. The hood conceals much of his face, but you can see a fairly thick gray and black beard protruding from beneath it. His skin, what little of it you can make out beneath the hood, is a dark shade of hazelnut brown, and heavily creased with deep-set lines around his mouth and nose.

The bag of baked goods rests behind him, still about a quarter full of pastries and breads.

“Something I can help you with, ma’am?”

Greeting the big man with a warm smile and an almost pleading tone Mystrala opens up with the tried and true technique of asking for a minor favor to build investment from him. "I believe you can, I am considering expanding my business into this district more directly and there are a number of unexplained situations, and I think you might be just the local to help me uncover some piece of it.  I see you are helping children, likely ones without families of their own, yet the entire rest of the district has no signs of anything of the sort, how is it these two streets in the same district are so different, and nobody seems to notice?"

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 12):

He shrugs. “Someone ought to help em, but since no one else outside the orphanage do, I figure the least I can do is spare some of my day-olds... You say you’re looking to expand here? Where from, if I might be so bold? This quarter ain’t exactly the most open or friendly to its newcomers, but you look to be the sort of lass with a classy enough background you might be able to fool some of them into thinking you belong here... no offense meant, of course.”

Mystrala pulls a small stack of little pieces of robust paper with the name, mermaid symbol, and address for Thermal Remedies from her pocket and hands them over to the helpful man. "My business is based out of the entertainment district, but geared to cater to a more upscale client than even that district tends to have.  Some few around here are already members or have heard about it and considered no doubt, but I have only just completed the remodel and upgrades that are likely to be appreciated by those of discerning taste.  While I doubt any of your day old baked goods market will overlap, those who seek out your freshest and finest work may appreciate you passing word along to them."

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 14):

You can see a bit of a smirk crease his lips. He holds out a large, gloved hand toward you. “Suppose that was deserved. Name’s Ishgar. I own “Buy the Dozen,” the bakery just up the road from here. If this little venture of your’s gets off the ground round here, give me a holler. Could provide a touch of catering as needed. Who don’t love a good pastry alongside a nice bath, eh?” The laugh that accompanies this makes it virtually impossible to know for sure whether he’s being serious or not...

You don’t remember passing a bakery, but as he points it out, you notice it quickly enough. Amidst all the similarly-gaudy building around it, it is initially pretty hard to pick out. Much of this district begins to run together after a while; becoming one vast sea of flanged spires, flying buttresses, and multi-tiered quarters for all manner of business.

Accepting he handshake in exchange for the little cards she has to offer Mystrala's little hand matches his for strength and firmness in every way, but doesn't make any effort to push him. "I am sure I can find a way to help promote your business as well, perhaps I should invest in a few samples before I return, something to make this trip more personally worthwhile."

Stepping away from the man she turns partially in the direction he indicated for his shop, to accompany him back to it now that they have come to an arrangement.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 16):

The crowds have grown a bit thicker in the few minutes you have spent conversing with Ishgar. It is beginning to grow late in the evening and you suspect much of this traffic is from the various businesses letting out. Dusk is beginning to set in and you can see the faintest hints of fog beginning to creep in to the lower-lying portions of the Office District. The Town Square, you suspect, will already have a thick, knee-high layer of wispy fog covering it; as it often does in the evening during this time of year.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:03, Sun 20 Sept 2020.

While not native to this place Mystrala is always watching for details, for tells that describe unusual situations, or important opportunities.  Perhaps even more inclined to do so in unfamiliar surroundings.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 18):

Never the less, the way forward is mostly unobstructed. You got a good glimpse of where Ishgar pointed and have no trouble finding your way there. Without issue, you push your way carefully through the crowd marking their way either home for the evening or toward some other destinations within the unfamiliar district.

After a short jaunt down the road, you find the indicated building; with a large wooden sign shaped like a frosted cupcake hanging from just above the door. Upon it in gold lettering reads “BUY THE DOZEN CONFECTIONARIES” in a fancy, swirling script. The interior is darkened, however, and the door is sealed tight.

Mystrala makes her way to the shop before she even thinks to look for the man who directed her to it, only when she discovers the door locked and him not on hand to open it does she start to look around for him, heading back to the alley if he isn't just making his way there more slowly.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 20):

The streets are still fairly well-populated but you don’t see any signs of Ishgar’s presence anywhere. Whether he followed you or not, you’re unsure of where he ended up when you left the alleyway. You wait before the closed shop for a few minutes, but nothing seems to change. No one inside. No one coming to open it.

After waiting for a few moments, and searching the alley one last time, Mystrala shrugs it off, the whole thing was a bit of a long shot anyways.

Turning back in the direction of home she heads for the exit that will take her out of the office district and back home to the more logical entertainment district, where she likely plans to stay until such time as the event she has been invited to starts.

Returning to the Office District after the Market Day Mystrala makes a brief stop at a pastry shop identified by the large wooden sign shaped like a frosted cupcake, hopefully before they close for the evening, but keeps her focus on making her way to the villa of Lord Sulthor van Ellsworth.

Somewhere along the way she must have found the time to change because when she gets there she presents herself, and the sigil she was issued, to the guard at the gate wearing a fancy dress, although not one so fancy as to restrict her movements.  Open and flowing with the breeze or even without a breeze it is an impressive mix of fashion and function in any setting.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 23):

Entering the district with little issue, you soon find that the streets are fairly deserted tonight; making exploration far easier this time around. You suspect most folks are out at the Market still; as the lantern strings would keep the festivities going well after dark. If it was anything like how it turned out most years, the majority of the town would still be out browsing the stalls and wagons well into the midnight hours.

With the Office District virtually to yourself, you find your way to the bakery quite easy to navigate. The wide streets of this district leave you feeling a bit exposed, but the relatively straight shot you have down to the bakery means that you can easily see anyone approaching long before they ever get near you. No big turns or side alleys needed in order to get where you’re going.

Upon reaching the building, you find it shut up and shuttered for the day. It wouldn’t surprise you if they have a stall set up in the Market, which would explain their absence here.

Only, even as you near the building, you notice a small violet glow emanating from far back within It. A colored candle or lamp perhaps, spilling from some back room behind the counter. The building’s large front windows give you a decent view of the interior, but the light is too far back to make anything else besides simple silhouettes visible within. One you are quite certain is the counter. Another a set of chairs. You can see the hall from which the light is coming, but no details.

Well aware of the frequent need for after hours work inside any business Mystrala takes the closed, locked, and darkened entrance as sufficient explanation and presses on with her quest to reach the villa without any of the easily found pastries, they will likely have far better stock already in place anyways.

In reply to Mystrala (msg # 25):

The villa proves easy enough to find simply by sight. Following the course of the three hills that make up the Office District’s geography, you locate the manor seated high at the top of the smallest. A long, winding path leads up the hill to the manor at the very top, twisting with a serpentine suggestion to its oddly-meandering path. There doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to its twisting course, beyond perhaps forcing visitors to walk longer and gaze upon the rows and rows of grape vines, apple trees, and well-maintained herb gardens that coat the entire hill.

Around the villa’s base runs a 4ft tall stone wall topped with 5ft-high upward facing iron pickets sharpened like pikes. There is a good bit of space between each, however, and you don’t suppose it would be terribly difficult to squeeze between two if one really had to. This barricade runs the entire perimeter of the orchard, connecting to the grand city walls themselves at the very back of the property. The only genuine opening appears to be a tall, opulent iron gate at the very edge of the street. A pair of guards in full helms, lobstered armor, and cyan cloaks stand beside the entrance; a curved glaive resting in each one’s grip.

From the road, you find the front gate currently wide open. In fact, it looks as though it has rarely ever been closed; judging by the lack of any major wear on the stone paving around it. The guards appear to be the only thing separating the villa from would-be visitors.

This message was deleted by the player at 07:12, Tue 27 Oct 2020.

Tegan, Yshtar, and Bartimaeus walked up to the gate restricting commoners' access to the Office District.

Tegan took note of the gate and its surroundings. He had been posted to spots such as this many times during his service in the Saltspire Militia, although the gates had always been on the exterior walls of the city. He knew such duty to generally be quite boring -- and given the local weather, with its damp fog off the harbor, in this place it would be bordering on dreary and uncomfortable.

Marking a gate-guard by his accoutrements and uniform, Tegan strode over and nodded affably as he said "Good day." He knew from experience that a smile or a kind word could brighten a guard's day -- many people who were stopped at posts such as this were in a hurry (largely because they deemed themselves to be much more important than they really were, in the grand scheme of things). They resented being halted (and sometimes even questioned) and frowned or scowled the whole time, venting their displeasure as best they could on the man or woman who was, in their eyes, unnecessarily delaying their progress.

"I'm thinking that you need to see this," Tegan added, pulling the Writ of Passage from his haversack and handing it to the guard.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:54, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

While trekking towards the office district Yshtar thought how much more simple it would have been if she just took the advice of Drina Forgemire and took a look at the kobolds infesting the city sewers. Then she wouldn't have been forced by an undead composer thing to venture down his halls and wouldn't have seen the purple vistas of the Lady. She sighed. At least she had a couple of things she wanted to research in the Archives. She turned to Bartimaeus when Tegan marched to the guard and quietly started talking to him.

"Quite smooth so far. It looks like nobody is really paying any overt attention to us. When do you think we will get further attention?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:15, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

A pair of guards bar our way at the gates to the Office District. The gate itself is little more than two portculli set into a large stone archway in the district’s massive barrier wall. The gates are currently raised to allow traffic through, but the guards are clearly keeping an eye out for those who don’t look like they belong. Taking the initiative and approaching them before they pick you out as newcomers seems a smart idea.

Both are human, one a tan-skinned man in his early 40s, the other a paler figure of a more ambiguous age and gender. Both wear the typical chain-and-leather armor of the city guard, as well as simple half-capes hanging from their right shoulder with a dark blue checkerboard pattern on them. Both guards quickly scan over the writ before handing it back. The man takes one look at Tegan, then at the three of you as a whole. “Awfully well-armed for a book delivery, ain’t ya?”

In reply to GM (msg # 31):

Tegan had a smart-mouthed reply on the tip of his tongue, but decided that giving voice to it would most likely not prove helpful to their intended purpose. And so it was that he replied politely "I can see why that might occur to you."

"As for myself, I have arrived in town only this morn, and I am still wearing the armor and gear that I wore during my journey to this place."

"Is that a problem? Insofar as I know, my Writ should be in good order."

In reply to Tegan (msg # 32):

The guard gives you a look you recognize from your own days as an enlisted defender. Your superiors would often wear it when addressing a new recruit or a known trouble-maker. It’s a look of someone just waiting for you make a mistake so they can deliver a bit of disproportionate retribution.

After a pregnant pause and another look over the writ, he hands it back to you. “Well don’t bother lookin’ for lodging inside. The wharf district’s got some places for outsiders to bed down, but the Office District ain’t a place for newcomers. Get the job done and get out. Plain and simple... Your friends here to guard your back while ya drop this book off, I take it? Sure you need all the help ya can get for such a daunting task.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:56, Sun 22 Nov 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 33):

~I know the sort of fellow this one is,~ Tegan thought to himself.

~Although he fancies himself quite witty, he is rather slow-witted. But his primary trait is that he is a bully. He enjoys lording it over those who must recognize his authority by virtue of his position in the Guards.~

~A diligent sergeant or officer would have cured him of that, but for whate'er reason, it has not been done. And so, he continues his bad habits. I would love to break him of them and teach him some manners, but today is not the day.~

And so it was that Tegan nodded and replied "Lodging in the Wharf District -- got it." He refused to rise to the bait of replying to the other man's pointed jests about needing people to watch his back whilst he delivered the book.

Instead, he retrieved his Writ and stepped inside the gate, knowing that Bartimaeus and Yshtar would take that as their cue to move up and engage the Gate-Guards in discussion.

~I am not overly worried about Bartimaeus, but I find myself wondering how short Yshtar's fuse is.~

In reply to Tegan (msg # 34):

With that, you are let through the gate. Bartimaeus and Yshtar are free to follow or engage the guards as needed. It seems that, for the moment at least, all three of you are permitted to pass on authority of the single writ. Whether you choose to present the one Bartimaeus acquired or not is entirely up to you at this point.

"Ah, a slight misunderstanding. We met each other in the Town Square with a similar destination, if not errand."

He presented his writ to the guard.

"I expect, or, that is to say, I hope I shall be in the Archives for a substantially longer period of time, but presumably there is procedure within for obtaining that permission...?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 36):

The guard barely even glances at your writ, having already decided the three of you are together. “Couldn’t say. That’s something for the archivists to tell ya. Just don’t go touching nothing that ain’t yours while you’re in there. We clear, outsider?”

He motions for you to move through and does the same for Yshtar; clearly assuming she’s present to guard you or some such explanation.

Beyond the gate you find yourself on the main thoroughfare of the Office District; an upward stretching expanse of road, large enough to fit two lanes of traffic down, with ornate buildings on either side of you. This entire quarter is made up of three large hills that all overlook the rest of the city. The closest one appears to house a large vineyard. The second and clearly tallest of the three, which you can see beyond that one, supports the governing offices and court. The third you can only make out a small portion of. It appears to contain the more extravagant housing within this sector; likely for government officials, if you had to guess.

Traffic is moving at a steady, if somewhat slow pace, with people wandering here and there on the edges of the street while numerous carts rattle their way up and down the middle portions. Many of the folks you pass look barely present; clearly lost in their own thoughts and schedules more than anything else. You pass a wide octagonal pavilion on your left, inside which a series of small offices are set up. Lines and lines of people from every walk of life seem to be gathered here; interfacing with either tellers at the office windows or guards standing amongst the crowd. Several are coming away positively beaming, while most seem to be leaving with far more disgruntled expressions.. On the right, you wander by a decadent pleasure house the size of a small castle; a sign out front reads “The Sea’s Bounty,” and it is flanked by a carved stone bas-relief of a winged creature with the tail of a serpent and upper body and face of a beautiful woman, riding upon a cresting wave.

Further down the street you see businesses of all manner. Many of the clothing, jewelry, and accessory shops look so far out of a typical person’s price range that you can’t help but wonder how they stay in business at all. A small cottage-like structure sits nestled into the back of an alleyway between two of them, its tiny stone-and-thatch bulk looking insanely out of place amongst the rest of the modern buildings around it. Everywhere you look there is some new curiosity... yet the more you look around, the fewer and fewer guards you see. While the gates and some of the businesses boast an impressive amount of defense to keep common people out if they don’t have business here, the rest of the district seems to handle itself without the need of armed enforcers on every corner.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:50, Mon 23 Nov 2020.

"As crystal, guardsman. Blessings upon you."

Having passed through the gate Bartimaeus folded the writ back up, securing it in his vestments, and walked up to Tegan.

"Right. Now we only need to find where the archives actually are. Don't suppose you all know. Hmmm."

After the walk up the hill Bartimaeus decided directions were in order. Outside of a large inn he spied a group of porters lounging momentarily after having loaded a coach with several steamer trunks and approached them, clearing his throat. "What direction to the City Archives, please?" and flipped a silver to the most senior-looking of them.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 38):

The coin is caught by a dwarven man with gray hair and a beard reaching practically down to his knees. He snatches it out of the air as he stands atop the edge of the cart, finishing securing a series of ropes meant to hold everything in place. “Archives? Yer’ll be wannin the Hill o’ Judgement. Governing-looking buildings and whatnot. Archives are right at the base of it, so no need to climb the whole trek upward. Yer’ll know it when ya see it. Positively beautiful bit o’ architecture that one. Marble and alabaster, shipped in from the high North. Cost the Shadesworns  more than one damn fortune to build back in the day, but it’s held up nicely over the years.”

Yshtar looked around looking at all manner of rich and soft people trudging away at their leasure or at the schedule of their masters.

"I haven't been to such districts in a long time. Too much work to do."

She said to particularly no one before Bartimaeus started talking to the dwarf and his comrades. She stepped next to the priest of Oghma recognizing the dwarf's need for a little gossip.

"The guards on the way in were quite stingy this morning. Anything happen or are they always like this?"

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 40):

“Festival Season,” he says with some notable amount of distaste. “Gets this way every year. Too much to set up in too little of a time. Always gets done, o’course. Just a real mess behind the scenes is all.”

With that, he begins the preparations for the cart to begin heading out.

"I suppose that makes sense," Tegan said as the Dwarf offered up "Festival Season" in response to Yshtar's inquiry as to why the City Guards seemed out of sorts.

"Festivals, fairs, carnivals and what-not always bring a flood of sneak-thieves, cut-purses, rigged-game sorts, and general ne'er-do-wells into a city in addition to the otherwise honest visitors who serve as their marks -- which means more work for the City Guards, of course. And that is in addition to all the work involved with set-up and clean-up. I can well imagine why moods might be gruff and tempers short."

That was giving the Guardsman who had taken Tegan to task the benefit of the doubt, of course. In his own mind the Half-Elf had the man pegged as an out-and-out bully, with mayhap stresses from the Festival stoking his fires of ill-temperment. Not that it really mattered all that much, now that the threesome were well away from the fellow.

Turning to Bartimaeus, he remarked "And in answer to your question, nay, I had not the foggiest notion as to where the Archives might be. You did well to ask directions."

Glancing now at both of his new-found companions, he added "And now that we have them, shall we put them to good use?"

Yshtar nodded and started looking for and walking toward governing-looking buildings made of marble and alabaster on a hill.

"Let's go."

Once there she started looking for anything looking like City Archives.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 43):

Continuing on your way, you pass more and more of the upscale businesses, homes, lodgings, and entertainment facilities. Numerous individuals of the city’s upper crust roam the streets, standing out quite clearly from the more ordinary population moving about around them. The upperclass, you are quickly coming to realize, do little to hide their apparent wealth and station in this part of the city.

As you move along to the more even ground between the villa hill and the one housing the government center, you immediately catch sight of a large marble building, built to resemble like one of the Tenebrian Empire’s opulent circular palaces. In many ways, its shape reminds you of a cupcake or some similar pastry, with its round base supported by numerous marble pillars, its wide brim near the center of its height, and the swirled dome atop its crown. A plethora of stained glass windows line what you can only assume to be staircases inside, while a hefty set of ebony double doors await at the very front, open to allow entrance.

Across the street from it, you spot the only other building in this section of town to rival it in height. With its massive bulk, dozens of spiny steeples, and illustrious flying buttresses, you are confident it is a church or temple of some manner. The single vast window of golden-tinted glass above its carved stone doors stretches out in the shape of a rotund sun with twelve spiked rays jutting from it.

These two structures seem to almost be staring one another down as you approach.

In reply to GM (msg # 44):

"Based on what the Dwarf told us, I would guess that the circular building made of marble is our destination. It seems a bit . . . overdone for a library, but I suppose that is neither here nor there," Tegan said.

"Shall we?"

“Just a moment! Just a moment! Appreciate the architecture! Rotundas like these are rarely seen so dramatically opposed. One of them would be the jewel of any city, but two?! Simply stupendous.”

---

OOC:
Bartimaeus will enjoy the vista; does he also know to whom the temple is dedicated?
20:35, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  Religion.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:58, Tue 24 Nov 2020.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 46):

Observing the temple a moment, you recognize it instantly as a church dedicated to Amaunator, the god of Sunlight and Law. His influence has been quite noticeable all throughout the city and he has a fairly grand temple in the Town Square as well. This one, however, makes the other look like a penniless hovel by comparison. The sheer grandeur and immensity of the structure is stupendous and awe-inspiring to look upon.

The other building you are quite certain is the archives. And while it certainly does seem far too grand to be a simple library, Bartimaeus would know that its purpose goes well beyond that; as this is the primary repository for ALL knowledge within the city dating all the way back to the settlement’s founding some 500 or so year back. It would have grown over the years, to be certain, and most likely moved from one location to another as the town expanded into a true city, but this is as much the cradle of knowledge and information in this city as any main archive would be in any other metropolis.

"When you are done admiring the view, let's go into the Archives. We don't have all day for researching."

Yshtar didn't even glance at the church, her singular focus for now was getting into their destination and doing her research.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:01, Tue 24 Nov 2020.

Bartimaeus gave Yshtar a broad grin.

~~ Ah, the energy of unfocused youth. Never has time for the present. ~~

“Of course,” he replied, and gave one last look to the temple of Amaunator. “We’ll need to see the inside, as well. Inspiration, Yshtar. That’s what temples offer. A promise of what we may become. Another time.”

He turned to the archives and began ascending the steps. “For our present must now be concerned with the past and what has been. May the Lord guide my steps to Him.”

---

OOC:
Cast Guidance on B.

Tegan listened to what Bartimaeus had to say as the threesome ascended the steps of the Library building.

Turning to Yshtar, he chuckled and asked "Does he always talk like this?"

Stepping through the large double doors of elegantly carved wood, you find yourselves entering a veritable bastion of knowledge. Four stories rising up to the spiral dome of the ceiling; each floor absolutely teaming with bookshelves and scroll racks. The tallest shelves act as walls, splitting up the main central chamber of the cavernous interior into a maze of corners and alcoves where scribes move about in silent diligence.

Stained glass windows all around the structure cast rainbows of color all across the interior, while small enchanted lanterns hang from the edges of bookcases and balconies all about; their enchanted glasswork glowing flamelessly. Two massive staircases spiral up the interior walls, diverging away from one another right at the open end of the antechamber you three first step into. They then converge at the far wall, two floors higher, before carrying on their helix ascent until reaching the fourth floor; of which you can see precious little from down here.

Directly ahead of you, passing through the arched antechamber at the very front fo the building, you come to a desk manned by a young human woman who looks to be in her late teens or early twenties. Her face is youthful, but nondescript. She looks like a hundred other nameless individuals you’ve passed by without a word, every day of your life. Her hair is extremely short, blonde, and mostly concealed by the draped hood of her dark purple robes. She acknowledges you with some curiosity as you enter. “Good day to you all. Welcome to the Repository and the Prime Archives of Tideswallow.         I... don’t believe I’ve ever seen your faces here before. Are you here on research business or do you seek an audience with one of the archivists, professors, or          others currently employed in our research projects here?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:08, Tue 24 Nov 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 51):

"Most impressive," Tegan muttered under his breath as he glanced around at the interior of the building. He halted when the threesome came near to the desk and the young Human female who was stationed behind it.

"Good day to you, as well," he responded with a nod when she greeted them and inquired as to their business.

"I am here to return a misplaced volume to Lady Shadesworn. Do I . . . ummm, should I deliver it to her personally, or do I simply hand it over to you?"

"I am not from this city, and I am unfamiliar with your procedures."

Bartimaeus was positively giddy. So much so, he had to gather himself together and stop looking at the library stacks and focus on the young woman.

“Ah! Yes, right... Good morning! Ha. A-HEM. Blessings of the Lord of Knowledge upon you. I am Brother-Scholar Bartimaeus Gianakos of the Oghmanic Monastery of Q'kwarm. My abbot has granted me the privilege to spend my sabbatical year abroad here in Tideswallow.” Again he presented his letter from the abbot. “Do you offer carrels and study shelves for visiting scholars? For the meantime my access to these facilities is limited by writ from the Town Square library. What may I do to acquire a reader’s license for an extended presence in the District, and proper perusal of this... wealth of knowledge?”

“Oh, of course, if Tegan here will be meeting the Lady Shadesworn, I would be honored to attend, present my regards, and ... my abbot’s apologies for Brother-Cleric Restim, ha. Ha ha.” he finished, somewhat lamely.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 52):

She seems taken aback a moment by the two introductions, then simply smiles and nods.
“Ah of course, not a problem then. If it’s just a delivery, I can certainly take it here. But if you’re looking to present it to her Ladyship yourself, I can also send you up to her if you’d prefer. Either way, it shouldn’t be much trouble. I believe she is meaning to check out a bit early today anyway.”

Turning to Bartimaeus, she gives a slight bow. “Always and honor to host your order, Brother Gianakos. I trust you will have more... tact than your predecessor. And we do offer all of that and more. However, if you’re intending to stay a while, then I think an introduction with Lady Shadesworn would be quite necessary. It’s not that we don’t trust you to have pure intentions, it’s just.... well.... Brother Restim didn’t exactly leave the best taste in a lot of mouths around here and I think it might be prudent if you attained permission and a license directly from her; just in case.“

She shuffles a few things about on her desk a little uncomfortably before adding, “Did he survive, by the way? If it’s not rude of me to inquire. Restim is something of a legend around here these days. A cautionary tale, you understand. It was before my time that the incident happened. They say the shelf-imps stung him no less than a hundred times when they finally caught him... is any of it actually true? I just know we haven’t seen a representative of your order here since, so most of the scholars around here are quite certain he died or was put to death for his crime after the imps were done with him or something.”

Bartimaeus returned her bow. "He survived. The severity of his wounds was exaggerated, though your imps were remarkably thorough in their placement. I will say his penance involved a great deal of time working his way to become the Magistri Effluvivorus. Ha. Ahem. Which way to the Lady's office? Oh dear, terribly sorry, no manners at all. May I ask your name?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 55):

“Just a moment, I’ll let her know you’re coming.” She pauses for a few seconds, the fingers on her left hand twitching slightly beneath the desk as she casts some simple spell or another. Soon she is finished and points toward the staircase just to the left of the doorway you’ve entered through. “Take those stairs all the way to the fourth floor. Lady Shadesworn will be meeting you just outside her private chambers upstairs. She’s likely to bring you back down to the third floor for the official side of business, but she insisted you go all the way up, I’m afraid. She’s likely in the middle of finishing something up there and wants to work on it until the last possible moment here...”

She gives you a somewhat shy smirk before adding, “Aelli. Aelli Stormstand.”

~Shelf-Imps?~ Tegan thought to himself as he listened to the cautionary tale of the troublesome Brother Restim. ~By all the good gods, these people have given themselves over fully to heavy-handed security measures, from short-leash Writs to Imps who seemingly are tasked with guarding the dusty tomes in the Library . . . errr, Archives, I suppose this is.~

It seemed as if Bartimaeus had his sights set on an audience with Lady Shadesworn herself, although Tegan thought it rather silly to trouble such a high-ranking individual over the return of a book. As he continued to listen, however, based upon what the young woman at the desk told the cleric, a License from Lady Shadesworn was going to be necessary if Bartimaeus intended to conduct any substantial research.

~Why am I not surprised?~ the Half-Elf thought dryly. ~This city is starting to get on my nerves. I wonder if I shall need a Writ or License afore I take a piss? And whom would I need to petition for such a thing -- the Purveyor of Official Writs for Bodily Functions, mayhap?~

Tegan stood off to the side and waited patiently as the two bookish sorts -- Bartimaeus and the woman behind the desk -- continued their patter . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 18:25, Wed 25 Nov 2020.

Looking to where she pointed, he said, "Fourth floor? Certainly. And thank you, Sister Stormstand," Bartimaeus said with a smile and less formal bow, before heading off to the Lady's office.

Yshtar patiently waited as the rest of the team exchanged words with Sister Stormstand. She assessed she could have gotten in had she obtained at least some manner of official paperwork but thankfully this was not needed. With mild amusement she watched as Bartimaeus interacted with a non adventuring type. What a fraud this guy is.

"Thank you."

The armor clad woman nodded at the desk clerk when they got the instructions to go upstairs and let Tegan and the priest of Oghma lead the way. She found it to be doubtful the good Lady Shadesworn would have any questions for her.

Tegan gave a parting nod to the young woman who had given her name as Aelli Stormstand, then turned to start ascending the stairs -- all the way up to the fourth Floor, it seemed.

~I find myself wondering what a Shelf-Imp looks like. I surely don't want 100 of them pursuing me, though, as they did the ill-fated Brother Restim. Or, mayhap 'twas only 50, if they each stung him twice -- or if three times, 33 -- or thereabouts. Still, that seems like a lot. He must have made off with a very valuable book. Or, mayhap he taunted the Imps when he foolishly judged that he had a sufficient head start on them.~

~Mayhap if I did actually not take a book -- what if I only reached out and touched it without a Writ giving me permission to do so -- and with only one finger . . . not a full five-finger touch? And I need to make sure that 'tis only a little book . . . and a thin one . . . a very thin one.~

"Are there really such things as Shelf-Imps, Bartimaeus?" he asked.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Wed 25 Nov 2020.

Ascending the grand marble staircase which spirals around the entire perimeter of the archives, you find the path upward to surprisingly easy. While none of you are any strangers to a bit of physical exertion, you discover that none is needed to climb the intimidating mountain of steps ahead of you. You suspect some enchantment or another makes it effortless for anyone in the building to go up and down without having to worry about tiring themselves out. Judging by the number of elderly scholars you see mulling through the main chamber below you as you ascend, this seems like a necessity in a building of this size.

The second floor, when you arrive there, appears to be a balcony ring entirely filled with scroll cases. The center of the room is completely open, with a clear view down to the main chamber below. Some of the tallest of the ground floor’s bookshelves reach up to this floor and are eye level with you as you pass through. Looking down upon the shelves, sure enough, you spot the occasional fiendish sentinel skulking amongst the tomes. Imps with tiny purple robes perch amongst the shelves here and there; though you only see about a dozen across the entire chamber below. They seem to barely pay you any mind, but you can’t help sense the feeling of tiny, mistrustful eyes upon you whenever you look away. Numerous men and women in hooded robes similar to Aelli’s and the imps’ peruse the documents contained on this floor; often searching out one scroll in particular to bring over to a desk nearby and begin transcribing its text into a series of other languages. The work looks exceedingly monotonous, but they go about it with a practiced gusto you’ve rarely seen in the scholarly sort before.

The third floor Is another ring around the open central chamber, though this time there are no bookcases in the open space beyond the balconies. You’re high enough up now that the entire ground floor chamber is visible to you from above and the people below look like little more than dolls set in a model. This level appears to house documentation exclusively relevant to the town itself. Histories, almanacs, and artifacts of the city’s past, all laid out in a sort of open museum format. A few curators move about the various pieces, dusting occasionally stopping to eye you all as you pass by, but otherwise simply patrolling the floor in case of guests who show some actual interest in the history of Tideswallow.

As you reach the final set of stairs, a voice reaches your ears from further up ahead. “Oh, just a moment! You can wait there. Please, no need to trouble yourselves, I’m nearly there!”

Looking up the stairs, you see an elderly human woman in a soft green, fur-lined robe descending with some noticeable effort. She carries a pair of tomes with her that look thick enough to each weigh as much as Yshtar’s armor; her arms tucked underneath them as she attempts to balance them in front of her.

---

This is just a very general post of your journey up the stairs. If you wished to stop on any of the floors to look around or anything else, feel free to do so.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:50, Wed 25 Nov 2020.

Yshtar greeted the noblewoman after not really stopping at any of the stairs. She paid little attention to the worker drones and the shelf-imps whatever they were: Making their host wait would have been impolite and the danger of meddling around forbidden books outweighed any sane curiosity. As such if Bartimaeus stopped she gently nudged him to continue upward.

"Lady Shadesworn, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Bartimaeus nodded and shrugged his shoulders at Tegan’s question. “Hmmm? Oh, yes, of course. The cataloguing system commonly used in public archives was, well... I won’t say it was invented by them, but I will say that imps’ talent for malicious compliance earned them a place in the heart of bibliotaxonomists everywhere. They don’t get bored, and are incredibly motivated by books out of place. Devils are natural librarians.

“The real trick is reminding them to not attack readers taking volumes off the shelves. I mentioned a reader’s card earlier because possessing one signals to the imps they’ll get in trouble if they attack the reader. (And by “trouble”, I mean they’ll be placed in a forcecage facing the children’s reading room.) Brother-Cleric Restim claimed in his defense that his reader’s card had not been accurately updated, thus the attacks on him.” Bartimaeus shrugged again, signaling he was agnostic to whether or not Restim’s claim was true. “He ought to have double-checked, in any case.”

At the 3rd floor Bartimaeus bowed low to the Lady. “Good morning, Your Grace. Please accept the compliments of the Oghmanic Monastery of Q’kwarm. I am Brother-Scholar Bartimaeus Gianakos, and your servant.”
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:04, Sat 28 Nov 2020.

Tegan had been looking over his shoulder and eyeing the Imps dubiously as Bartimaeus explained about them, so he did not see the elderly Human woman descending the stairs until she called out to them.

He started, then recovered and sketched a bow directed at the newcomer. "Lady Shadesworn, I am pleased to meet you. I am Tegan -- Tegan Adalondor -- recently arrived from Saltspire."

Tegan could not help but notice the two books that the Archivist was carrying, and he nodded towards them with his chin. "Those look to be extraordinarily heavy, your Ladyship. Might I take temporary custody of one or both of them and slip it -- or them -- into my haversack and carry it . . . them . . . for you until we reach your destination?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:25, Sun 29 Nov 2020.

“A pleasure, to make all of your acquaintances,” she says with some noticeable effort. To Tegan’s offer, she politely shakes her head, continues down a few more steps, nearly stumbles under the weight of the books, and finally relents. “Perhaps... just one of the tomes. The last thing I want is to appear an invalid in front of the staff here. But I MAY have overdone it with these two, I fear. Trying to get everything where it belongs at once rather than making two trips, you understand... Though I would prefer it not enter any sort of extra-dimensional space. There’s still a great deal we don’t yet know about these volumes and the slightest chance that one of them might prove to react negatively to such a thing is a risk I would prefer not to take. At least not until they’re in a more controlled environment.”

Upon taking up the book she offers you, a hefty grimoire of some manner with no names or titles decorating its stone-bound cover, you realize just how hefty they really are. However, between your natural strength and the boon imparted by your gauntlets, the weight is easily manageable. The moment you take it from her, you can instantly feel the fiery gaze of a dozen beady little eyes narrow in on you from the shelves nearby.

“We’ll just be heading to the other end of this floor. There’s a reliquary there which should prove far safer than the dusty old chambers these were discovered in originally. Or the stuffy old attic we’ve been keeping them in, for that matter...” She begins leading the way down the circular hall, to the opposite end of where the staircase ascends. She walks with significantly more ease now that she only has to worry about handling one of the heavy tomes.

“So than, I am to understand you’ve a delivery to make? How wonderful! We’ve not been expecting anything new until a bit closer to Harfest. What were your names, by the by? I’m afraid I’ve never seen any of you around here before. I like to make it a point to know who’s browsing the archives for the first time.” Upon hearing Bartimaeus’ name, she immediately becomes a bit more formal. “Well, well. A pleasure to have another of your... esteemed order present once more. I trust the incidents of the past will not be repeated while you are here? Security has improved significantly in recent years.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:58, Mon 30 Nov 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 65):

Tegan smiled at Lady Shadesworn's concern about the book that she handed to him being put into extra-dimensional space. "I don't really know what that is, your Ladyship. But I'm going to slip it into my haversack, and leave the flap open so that you can keep an eye on it. I understand that it must be quite valuable."

The Half-Elf's curiosity got the better of him as soon as he had the volume in his hands, and he turned it this way and that, examining it. Other than its weight, there did not seem to be anything remarkable about it -- at least to Tegan's eye. One he had looked it over, he slipped it into the haversack that hung on his right hip.

When the Head Librarian -- at least that was what Tegan reckoned her to be -- spoke of his making a delivery, he nodded. "Aye, your Ladyship. I have another book in my haversack that I am delivering at the request of Master Ixvil Hangvor. He sends his regards, by the way. He would have delivered it himself, but he was leaving town this very afternoon."

Tegan felt the corners of his mouth lifting up in a smile as he observed Lady Shadesworn's reaction to learning who Bartimaeus was, and he quickly lifted a hand to mask his amusement. However, the Half-Elf knew the cleric to be quick-witted and glib, so he felt certain that Bartimaeus would safely land on his feet, so to speak.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:40, Tue 01 Dec 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 66):

She motions for you to hold a moment as you open the haversack. Her expression is still friendly, but her voice has a much sterner tone to it now as she addresses you. “I really must insist, young man. The properties of these books haven’t been fully appraised yet. Their weight, especially, is unaccounted for. Big as they are, no simple tome should be this heavy. If it is, in fact, carrying within it an extra-dimensional space of some sort, like your bag is, mixing the two could cause some rather... catastrophic reactions that I would prefer not occur within my archives. Please. Leave it out of the bag for now.”
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 02:32, Tue 01 Dec 2020.

"My Lady, my presence here is best explained either by Abbot-Cleric Iliopoulos's hope that I may restore the former and rightly-mourned relationship between our institutions through my discretion and tact; or by him granting a favor to Steward-Librarian Protopapas, relieving his office of the chronic and sustained gadfly of primary source document requests. Only in the latter case might your enhanced inventory management be tested."

Bartimaeus smiled at the thought, shrugged, and said, "I estimate the prior probabilities of the latter as no greater than one-in-three, and tenure is worth such risks."

As Shadesworn had turned her attention to Tegan and her tome, Bartimaeus quieted himself and allowed the Lady to direct the conversation as she desired.

In reply to GM (msg # 67):

It had never dawned on Tegan that the interior of his haversack was some sort of . . . ~Extra-dimensional space -- is that what she calls it?~ He found himself staring blankly at Lady Shadesworn, not having the faintest inkling what "extra-dimensional space" was. ~I expect that this all makes more sense to Bartimaeus. I'll have to ask him about it later, and hope that he uses small words when he explains it.~

Rather than admit to his ignorance, the Half-Elf simply nodded his assent to the Librarian's insisted-upon course of action. "Of course, your Ladyship. It shall be as you requested. I shall carry the book."

Then another thought occurred to him. He cleared his throat a trifle nervously and remarked "The book that Master Hangvor entrusted to me -- I'm thinking that if a problem was going to occur by reason of my placing it in my haversack, it would have already happened. Do I have the right of it?"

In reply to Tegan (msg # 69):

To Tegan, she simply turns with a kindly, reassuring smile. “Thank you. Truth be told, I’m likely just being overly cautious. But we’ve had incidents in the past with artifacts like this, so it’s best not to take chances.”
She thinks on your quandary a moment, then adds “Indeed. I’m quite sure whatever it is he’s sent you with, it’s a far more mundane bit of reading than these. Still, we can look into that matter once we’re in the reliquary. There are wards in place there to keep accidents from damaging the other parts of the collection here. It makes it an ideal spot for studying newly-recovered bits and bobs that we’re yet unsure about.”

To Bartimaeus, she merely laughs. It’s a soft, gentle sound; clearly the chuckle of a woman whose had a great deal to laugh about throughout her life. “For what it’s worth, Brother Gianakos, what happened all that time ago is no more than water under the bridge to us. Your predecessor made a silly mistake and paid for it in the most immediate fashion possible. As far as I’m concerned, any bad blood that may have sprang up between our organizations ended right then and there when the imps descended upon the poor fool. Either way, you and your friends are most welcome as fellow inquirers into the mysteries of the world.”

The four of you continue along the curved corridor, tracing a path around the perimeter of the archives main chamber, until you finally reach a set of heavy brass doors set into the marble wall. There is a good bit of space between the doors and the nearest exhibit on either side, as though space has been specifically set aside to ensure nothing is too close to the entrance of the reliquary. “Ah, here we are. She looks over at Bartimaeus and Yshtar a moment as you all approach the doors. “My apologies, but seeing as young Master Adalondor and I have our hands a bit full here, would one of you two mind getting the doors?”

“Certainly, Lady Shadesworn,” Bartimaeus replied, and went to open them.

Yshtar has been silently observing the others' conversations with Lady Shadesworn so far pondering whether to pretend to be hired muscle only here to protect the books or the rest of her traveling companions. For now she decided to stay back and let the others take lead. She noted the apparent dangers of the books, and defences of the establishment with a professional face.

"With pleasure."

The two of you push open the heavy metal doors, their weight now clearly attributed to the reinforced nature of their interior as you step into the room beyond. Thick iron bands and fittings crisscross over the finely crafted embossing on the inside; something that looks to have been added long after the brass portion of the door was forged, carved, and engraved. They don’t really fit with rest of the door aesthetically, but you don’t doubt their effectiveness as a means of deterring entrance. Or exit.

The moment you step inside you get the unmistakable feeling of being somewhere... off limits. It feels a bit like stepping into the vault of a bank or a monarch’s private safe. Still, nothing apparent jumps out at you as being a threat.

The interior of the reliquary is a stunning mix of brass and iron architecture, with the brass clearly setting the foundations while the iron was added atop it some time later as a means of keeping the fine craftsmanship free of wear from whatever goes on within. Numerous locked alcoves line the walls, while iron cages rest overtop of what you can only assume to be priceless artifacts, tomes, and intriguing pieces of physical history. Much of it likely pertains to the city itself in some way, but you’d imagine anything this grand must have some pieces relevant to the world at large as well hidden away in it.

At the far end of the room is a large stone desk, ringed from the back by a semi-circular altar-like structure that was clearly moved into the room at some point. Large runes are set into the spires of it, giving it the look of some manner of standing stone circle. The desk itself has a similar sigil engraved upon its face. They all sit still and silent. Inactive, if they ever had any activity to them in the first place. Both the standing stones and the desk look wholly out of place amidst the metallic surroundings.

Lady Shadesworn heads over to the desk, placing the book she’s been carrying carefully upon a small brass pedestal about halfway between the doors and her destination as she passes by. “Well, that’s a weight off my shoulders then. Both figuratively and quite literally. Please, come in. We’ll speak in here a moment, you can make your delivery to me directly rather than going through the mess of retainers downstairs, and then you’re all free to browse the archives to your hearts’ content.”

She gestures toward the same pedestal she just set the first book down on. “Master Tegan, you can rest that one right atop its twin here.”

In reply to GM (msg # 73):

Tegan had been busy admiring the metalwork in the room when Lady Shadesworn began speaking. ~By all the good gods, I wish that Mains was here to see this. He would really be impressed by this metalwork. I wonder if this was done by Dwarven smiths? They are reputed to have developed techniques that they jealously guard from the eyes of non-Dwarves.~

He was more than a little relieved when Lady Shadesworn directed him to place the volume that he had been carrying for her atop the book that she had already placed atop the pedastal.

Since these books could apparently react with their surroundings in the most unexpected manner (well . . . unexpected to Tegan, in any event), the Half-Elf was also anxious to get rid of the second volume that he was carrying, and the sooner the better.

He was inclined to just pull the book that he was delivering on Master Hangvor's behalf from his haversack and thump it down atop the fancy desk, but for all he knew, doing things in a logical and reasonable manner (such as, for example, placing a heavy object in his haversack so that it could be carried more easily) would violate some obscure rule of magicka, causing great consternation and harm.

And so he waited for Lady Shadesworn to tell him how to handle the book that he was delivering to her, and *exactly* what to do with it.

~Bloody hells. If she tells me to squeeze it between my butt-cheeks and jump 'round the room three times like a big hop-toad--  "Counterclockwise, Master Tegan, counterclockwise  -- and mind me well on this, lest you rue the consequences" -- why, I just might do it. These magicky goings-on have me entirely flummoxed.~
This message was last edited by the player at 03:20, Wed 02 Dec 2020.

~~ Something is off, ~~ thought Bartimaeus. ~~ Truly off. ~~

His eyes moved over the displayed items. ~~ ...Riches... ~~

Looking at the pattern of ironmongery laid over the brass his thoughts flit to, ~~ Is she hedging out Faerie's Sidhe Queen and the Inganic Grand Sultan through metallurgical alchemy? ~~

The number of concealed relics confused him. ~~ What treasures inside are hid from view here, of all places? Having breached the archives' defenses, what contingencies are in place to deter further larceny? ~~

Walking down the corridor, Bartimaeus noted the disparity between metal and stone: ~~ Artifice versus naturalism? But ... the runes... ~~

Throughout he stayed quiet, listened, watched, and thought.

---

OOC:
Bon soir, DM. For your skill check menu tonight, our scholar has prepared a fine selection of skills ranging from awareness of surroundings, to insight into magical functions, to antiquity and theology. In the event you find the flavor of one offering pairs well with another, I encourage you to explore your palate. Not knowing what thing might be noticed, the options have remained open to you. Bon appetit.

22:25, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Religion.
22:24, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 10 using 1d20+5.  History.
22:23, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 14 using 1d20+5.  Arcana, thing 1.
22:23, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 12 using 1d20+5.  Arcana, thing 2.
22:23, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 22 using 1d20+2.  Perception, thing 1.
22:22, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 4 using 1d20+2.  Perception, thing 2.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 75):

Tegan: Placing the book down, you find the sense of relief that sweeps over you almost palpable in the air. Whatever these tomes are, there seems to be some rather powerful magic connected to them. It is unlikely that such things should floating around for just anyone to read. As such, your hardly surprised when an ornate iron cage like those surrounding similar artifacts in the room slowly rises from the floor around this pedestal, enshrining it in a latticework of metal that seams together weave together and lock at its zenith.

As the cage locks itself, Lady Shadesworn calls you over to the desk. “Now then, Master Tegan, you had something for me, yes? And from Master Hangvor of all people? How lovely! I’ve not had much time for casual visits lately, I’m afraid, elsewise I’d have gladly stopped by the library myself if he’d merely informed me.” She takes a seat behind the desk and awaits you there.

---

Bartimaeus: The room is a veritable veritable treasure trove of artifacts, mysteries, and hidden knowledge. If ever there were a place in the city that you could spend the rest of your life, this would sure be it.

The first piece that catches your eye is a leather robe, decorated with writing across every visible inch of its surface. At first you fear the material to be human flesh, tanned and engraved (hopefully after the poor soul expired, but just as likely not...). However, a closer inspection reveals it to be bear-hide, turned to leather through a primitive process not practiced by hunters and trappers in this region for decades, if not centuries. An antique, and one which currently holds a detailed account of an entire tribe’s lineage and history. The writing becomes impossibly small in places and would require a great deal of time to work out, but what you can see describes the sounding of a series of fishing colonies along the coastline of the Vethrethil Basin; likely an archaic descriptor of this part of the Eastern Coastline, though you can’t really be sure. Mention of jagged spires cutting the surface of water makes you immediately consider the Fiendfall Reef out in the harbor.

The next piece that grabs your attention might have been a sealed tome bound with a hefty lock, but even as you are looking at it your attention drifts to the standing stones behind the desk instead. Something about their make and arrangement seems... off. As though they were assembled incorrectly when they were brought in here or that some are missing. You can’t put your finger on it, but the perfectionist in you is POSITIVE the way they are currently arrange is inaccurate to their original placement wherever they originated. The sigils are easy enough for you to understand, though. Interlocking knots of vines. A cauldron giving birth to a pair of grand trees. A moon waning into a gibbous. These are standing stones of a pantheon that once held sway in the southern reaches of the continent; though you’ve never heard of it reaching so far east as where modern-day Tideswallow lies. The cauldron rune you are quite familiar with from your studies, as it is a creator deity’s persona seal. The central standing stone and the one that has been repurposed into the desk are both massive, inert runestones honoring the Dagda. He Who Brings Joy and Sorrow. Plenty and Famine. Life and Death on a Whim.

Fascinating... but irrelevant to your current searches. Such gods have been dead for centuries.

---

Yshtar: Books and old scholars trinkets hold little interest for you. You are not a fool, however. You know they have a worth to them. That knowledge and power go hand in hand. You have been through enough to know what terrible strength a learned mage or a studious wizard might wield... still, there is little of interest as you look around...

Until finally your eyes catch sight of it. In the corner of the room back the way you came, there stands a sword that appears to be entirely forged from the purest silver you’ve ever seen. It stands nearly 7ft in length, propped up by a series of iron stands and laid behind a pane of thick glass. Its entire face is completely coated in what appears to be an entire novel’s worth of lettering. You can’t read the words, but they descend down the blade in a beautiful cascade of calligraphy that practically calls out to you from where the sword rests. Whatever this heirloom is, it is bathed in such a blissful aura of positivity that you find the corner of your mouth beginning to twitch into an involuntary smile at the mere sight of it. You know full well that the warm glow emanating from it is little more than light from surrounding lamps reflecting off its lustrous surface. Yet for the briefest moment, you could have sworn it were being illuminated by some inner light stemming from the blade itself.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:48, Wed 02 Dec 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 76):

~The bars of that cage look to be made of iron or steel -- I wonder how they make it rise up out of the floor like that? And where is it kept whilst it is out of sight -- "under" the floor, so to speak?~ Regardless of the details behind the sudden appearance of the cage that had risen around the two books that had been placed on the pedestal, Tegan was glad to be rid of the book that he had been carrying in his arms. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the tome somehow had a stench of evil about it, and he wiped the palms of his hands on his tabard, as if to rid them of a layer of mud or grime (although there was none to be seen).

When Lady Shadesworn spoke to him, Tegan turned away from his study of the iron cage. "Ah, yes -- the book from Master Hangvor . . . I have no idea what it is all about, but he said something about it having been 'misplaced'."

He lifted the volume that he had been carrying in his haversack and set it down gently atop the Librarian's desk.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 77):

She pulls it across the desk, clearly curious what sort of find would warrant sending a trio of newcomers all the way here with it. Now that you are not distracted with surroundings or the bizarre events unfolding around you, you finally get a good look at the cover. The book appears to be titled “Sights of the East Shores” and it appears to be a traveler’s companion, a sort of guidebook to cities along the eastern coast of Veltria. Tideswallow is almost certainly listed amongst its pages, but the book itself looks far too ordinary to require attention from the Archives.

Nonetheless, Lady Shadesworn takes it, pulling it across the wide stone desk between the two of you in order to get a better look at it. “Well now... I don’t know what I was expecting, but this certainly i-“ As she opens cover of the book, there is an immediate hissing of air and a sudden silence while a look of shock crosses her face. Then, a fraction of a second later, the entire back of the room where the two of you sit/stand is engulfed in a massive fireball, centered on the first page of the now-open book.

---

Go ahead and roll a Dexterity Saving Throw when you get the chance, Tegan. Bartimaeus and Yshtar are far enough from the desk that it won’t engulf them, but you are right on the cusp of it.

In reply to GM (msg # 78):

OOC: As requested:

14:35, Today: Tegan rolled 18 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 16.  Dexterity Saving Throw (Fireball).

Our paladin, the assassin.

Le sigh.

R B D M

In reply to Tegan (msg # 79):

The localized inferno completely engulfs Lady Shadesworn, catching her entirely off-guard. You, however, have been through enough combat situations to know how to adapt to sudden changes. Throwing yourself backwards just as the flames erupt, you manage to toss yourself almost completely out of the way of the fireball. Singed and with a bit of excess heat radiating through your armor, you come out of the blast comparatively healthy...

Lady Shadesworn, however, caught the full brunt of the blast. As the flames die out, you see two thirds of her right arm and the hand of her left, both of which had been clutching the book itself when the spell erupted, have been completely incinerated. Little more than blackened bone and sinew remain. Her face is a mess of freshly-charred flesh, but you can still see her mouth moving; taking in pained breaths as the damage sinks in. Her robe is surprisingly untouched, clearly protected by some manner of enchantment upon the cloth itself. It seems only exposed flesh and non-magical equipment was directly damaged by the spell.

You can hear a quiet gasping for breath as you survey the area. Lady Shadesworn is still very much alive, but has taken a grievous amount of damage.

---

14:27, Today: GM, for the NPC Fireball Trap, rolled 33 using 9d6. You take only 17 fire damage thanks to your save.
Paula, meanwhile, in the tradition of my important NPCs always having the worst luck:
15:04, Today: GM, for the NPC Paula Shadefang, rolled 1 Dexterity Saving Throw using 1d20 ((1)).
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:15, Wed 02 Dec 2020.

Tegan was already moving as the fiery magicks erupted out of the book that Lady Shadesworn was holding, and the force of the blast flung him even further away from the desk, where he hit the floor with a grunt of pain and a great rattle and clang of his armor. His Cerulean-blue tabard was now blackened and smoking, but between his quick reaction and the protection afforded by his heavy armor, he instinctively knew that he had been lucky -- he could have been injured much more severely, if not killed outright.

From flat on his back, he stared about with a blank look on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like unto a fish that had suddenly and unexpectedly pulled from the water.

With a grunt of effort the Half-Elf laboriously pulled himself to his feet, his look of consternation turning to one of horror as he got a good look at Lady Shadesworn.

"Oh . . ." he gasped as he stared at the unfortunate woman. Suddenly realizing that his mouth was still open, he shut it.

Clearing his throat, Tegan reacted as he would in a battle -- by addressing what needed doing first. He stepped around the desk, but did not touch the Librarian.

Clearing his throat, Tegan addressed the other victim of the fiery magicks. "Lady Shadesworn . . . I know that you are in great pain, but I can help."

"You must allow me to touch you, as my healing magicks require it. I . . . I think that I can heal the worst of your hurts, although mayhap not all of them."

"You need not speak -- merely nod your head if you will allow it."

Normally, there would not even be a question -- anyone who had suffered serious hurt would be eager to receive any healing that would ease their pain. But in this case, Tegan was uncertain as to whether Lady Shadesworn might suspect him as being involved in an attempt on her life -- in which case she might not want him anywhere near her.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Wed 02 Dec 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 82):

She pulls in a few more agonized breaths before finally nodding slowly toward you. Her eyes fix on you and you realize for the first time since meeting her that they are clearly prosthetics. Some form of carved crystal orbs set into the sockets. They acknowledge your presence, but seem to see little else at the moment.

Her eyes slowly travel down the length of her arms, now seeing the full extent of the damage done. From her mouth you catch a few strained whispers. “S...Sul....Thor... Bring... Sulth...or...”

Bartimaeus shielded his eyes from the blast, taking a few steps back as a wave of pressure and heat passed over him. Blinking, he regained his composure to see Tegan moving to Shadesworn’s side.

~~ Book. Explosion upon opening. Or upon reading. Assassination. ~~

~~ Town Square librarian compromised. ~~

~~ We are the patsies. ~~

~~ Shadesworn must live, or we die. ~~

Bartimaeus ran back to the reliquary doors and shouted, “MEDIIIIIIIIIC!”

---

OOC:
15:55, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 17 using 1d20+5.  Arcana.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 84):

Though you aren’t intimately familiar with the spell, you’re confident the book was set with some manner of glyph or contingency which would have caused the fireball to trigger. The trick is determining what exactly caused it. Because depending on how specific the requirements for detonation were, their could have either been a trap meant specifically for Lady Shadesworn, or simply one meant to cause as much collateral damage as possible. If Tegan or Yshtar or yourself had opened the book, would it have detonated then? In whatever crowded, public space you’d been standing in at the time? Or was it set specifically to only go off in Lady Shadesworn’s hands or when she read it?

Unfortunately, without the book in question, it would be fruitless guessing.

Racing out of the Reliquary, you find there is already a small crowd of curious attendants heading your way. Amongst them come a trio of the robe-wearing imps, who immediately set their sights on you. You hear one let out a feral snarl at the sight of you. As your calls for a medic go up, a few of the curators suddenly find their legs and race over to you; inquiring as to what has happened.

Bartimaeus scowled back at the imp, pointing a finger at it. "Tear me to pieces later, you flying fanged pedant!" To the gathering crowd he said, "Your mistress needs medical attention IMMEDIATELY! Fetch a jolly jumping MEDIC."

He paused. Then shouted again, louder, holding his hands palm-outwards.

"STOP: GUARDS! GUARDS! Theft in the reliquary!"

In a lower voice to those before him he said, "Because that's what will happen if you all rush in here."

He turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the crowd, "Yshtar! There'll soon be a crowd pressing on me with the door open. Help! Tegan, does she live?"

---

OOC:
11:25, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Intimidation, crowd, "stay back".
Cast Mage Hand (no somatic or verbal components, invisible hand); prepared to use reaction to shove non-imp, non-guards away from the door.

Tegan could hear Bartimaeus shouting for a healer, but he did not hear the cleric calling for the person whom Lady Shadesworn had requested -- "Sulthor " the Half-Elf believed the name to be, although the Librarian's badly cracked and blistered lips, as well as the obvious strain that it was for her to speak, had made it a little difficult to understand her.

~Curious . . . Bartimaeus calls for a healer, yet he has done no healing himself. Mayhap the clerics of Oghma are scholars, but not healers -- at least not all of them.~

Turning to Yshtar, Tegan said "Lady Shadesworn has requested that someone named Sulthor be brought to her. Can you stick your head outside the door and call for him -- or her? If you need to reach out and grab someone by the scruff of their neck in order to make them listen to you, well . . . obviously, 'tis urgent."

"Aye, she yet lives," he called out the door in response to Bartimaeus' inquiry. ~And I am about to make certain of that.~

Thinking that mayhap Lady Shadesworn was lapsing into shock -- if, indeed, she had not already done so -- so that thinking clearly or expressing herself would become more difficult for her, Tegan resolved to be more assertive about pressing his own healing upon the Librarian -- for who knew how long it would take for aid to arrive from outside the room?

Turning back to Lady Shadesworn, he spoke gently and said "Aid is on the way, Lady Shadesworn. In the meantime, I am going to touch you lightly on the shoulder, so that I may heal you to the best of my abilities. It will . . . repair at least some of the damage that has been done to you, and should ease your pain somewhat."

OOC: Unless Lady Shadesworn obviously rejects Tegan's healing, he will employ his paladin's healing touch.

Stepping closer to Lady Shadesworn, Tegan lightly touched her nearest shoulder. He knew from using the same power to heal a burn that Mains had suffered in the forge that he did not need to touch the wounded area in order for his power to function, and he reckoned that even a light touch upon the Librarian's ruined hands might well cause her additional pain.

"May this healing be a balm to your hurts, and bring you relief from your pain," he said. A flash of radiant white light, tinged with an undertone of violet coloration, erupted from underneath his gauntlet, where it rested upon Lady Shadesworn's shoulder. ~I wish that I could call upon my Patron by name as I employ the boon of my healing touch . . . well, hopefully one day, 'twill be so.~

Given the way that Mains had described it, Tegan thought it likely that Lady Shadesworn felt the healing as a cooling balm that was flowing throughout her ruined body, along with a great, calming sense of well-being.

---

OOC: Unless Lady Shadesworn rejects his ministrations, Tegan will lay on hands for 15 hit points of healing.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:11, Thu 03 Dec 2020.

OOC: Asuming that Lady Shadesworn has accepted Tegan's Lay on Hands healing, he will follow up with the casting of Cure Wounds spells.

"And now, Lady Shadesworn, I am going continue healing you by means of casting spells," Tegan said, still speaking quietly and calmly.

"I am empowered to cast thrice today, and I shall continue until my power is expended or you are fully healed, whichever first occurs."

So saying, Tegan shifted his hands so that his left rested atop Lady Shadesworn's shoulder, and with his right he traced the appropriate sigils in the air. "May these healing boons knit together flesh and bone, cool your o'erheated blood, and bring you relief from your pain," he intoned.

With the casting of each set of magicks, another burst of radiant white light (tinged with violet) erupted from underneath the gauntleted hand that rested atop Lady Shadesworn's shoulder.

---

OOC:

13:30, Today: Tegan rolled 8 using 1d8+3 with rolls of 5.  Cure Wounds: Casting #1.

13:31, Today: Tegan rolled 5 using 1d8+3 with rolls of 2.  Cure Wounds: Casting #2.

13:31, Today: Tegan rolled 5 using 1d8+3 with rolls of 2.  Cure Wounds: Casting #3.

Total Healing Available: 18.

Notes: The Dice Roller did me no favors (eh, mayhap Tegan's making his Dex save when the fireball erupted used up his Luck for the time being), so I believe that all three of his Cure Wounds spells will be needed.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Thu 03 Dec 2020.

Tegan: Lady Shadesworn’s condition does not seem to improve and you immediately fear the worst. She lapses into a light bout of tremors, her entire body wracked by them. Then falls ceases moving at all. Her eyes roll back and close.

Her breathing, however, continues. Still remaining sharp and pained, but steady. You’re quite certain she’s unconscious, or on the verge of losing consciousness, but she begins to stabilize as you pour wave after wave of healing energy into her. You’re confident she’ll survive. The severity of the wounds, however, is far more concerning than her condition overall. Both hands are gone. The majority of one entire arm is incinerated down to blackened bone. Her face is heavily singed and charred raw. Yet nothing about the damage appears life-threatening. This could clearly have turned out worse...

---

Bartimaeus: The group pauses a moment as they near, now about a dozen concerned curators and three shelf imps. You’re not entirely certain your display had the intended effect, but it at least hasn’t caused any of them to speed their advance. Some even come to a stop where you tell them to. The imps, however, and a pair of elderly, robe-clad archivists continue forward.

The first of these men strides up before you. You see now he is a goliath of advanced age; likely nearing 80 if he’s not already beyond its borders. When he speaks it is in a deep, gravelly timbre, but his words are articulate and carefully chosen.
“Enough. Enough! Lower your voice, you pestilent little fool! You’ll cause a scene!” He stands a good foot-and-a-half taller than you; a single deep-crimson tattoo dividing his bald head in half down the center of his face. “Who are you and what’s happened? Speak plain before we toss you from the balcony and find out ourselves!”

The human woman behind him (of a similar age, but significantly shorter and frailer-looking) simply nods along in a “what he said” fashion. The imps cling to the sides of the goliath’s robe, bearing their teeth at you with a collective hiss.

Bartimaeus lowered his voice, narrowed his eyes, and addressed the Goliath, “I forgive you because of your ignorance, else you’d not spew idleness. Urgency is required: the Lady has been subject to an assassination attempt, and clings to life within. A courier delivered a book ensorcelled with contingent evocation. But a crowd must not enter: the reliquary defenses are laid open and the priceless artifacts vulnerable during such a distraction as this.”

He stood up to his full short height, knowing the likely consequences, and declared, “I am Brother-Scholar Bartimaeus Gianakos of the Oghmanic Monastery of Q’kwarm; I am here by the Lady’s grace and under her protection; and my actions are guided by the interests of your institution and your Lady’s life. Touch me at your peril.”

His voice became lower still. “Now: Get. A. Medic.”

Tegan felt defeated and deflated, like an empty wineskin. Based upon Mains' reaction to his healing magicks back in Saltspire, he had expected to see a significant improvement in Lady Shadesworn's condition, but he had witnessed no such thing. ~Have I done something wrong?~ he wondered. ~What could it be? Did I not get the sigils right?~

He had pushed the pain of his own burns into the background as he concentrated on Lady Shadesworn's hurts, but now they throbbed with a vengeance. And seemingly using so much magicked power in such a short period of time had severely drained him, for he now felt light-headed and wobbly on legs that threatened to collapse under him. Tegan steadied himself by putting a hand on the desk as he waited for his head to clear, at least a little.

The Half-Elf could hear raised voices outside the door to the room, but the words eluded him as he put his primary effort into not falling down.

"Sulthor . . ." he croaked in a weary voice that he scarce recognized as his own as he turned and glanced at the door to the room.

"Has Sulthor been called for?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:09, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 90):

Bartimaeus: The goliath squares up with you, now pushing himself about an inch from your space. Even in his old age, you can tell that the figure beneath the robe possesses an intimidating build. He glares down at you with teeth now bared in much the same way as the imps fortifying themselves behind his bulk. “You want to try giving me another order, little man? I’m familiar enough with your brotherhood to know that history dictates the only one we need be worried about lifting something from our reliquary is standing between us and it right now.”

You can see the others gathered here looking on in some concern now. They are clearly looking to the goliath for direction here and are likely to follow his example.
(Roll an intimidation check for your previous command.)

---

Tegan: In your moment of desperation you feel your faith begin to slip. For even the briefest moment, the sudden shock of the situation and the seeming ineffectiveness of your healing sends an unexpected wave of doubt through you. It is minor. Barely more than an afterthought of what you are focusing on. But it is there...

And it resonates.


As you pour the final bit of healing into Lady Shadesworn’s unconscious body, you become vaguely aware of a change. The final spell tugs at you in a way the others have not. Drawing from something you weren’t expecting. You feel a momentary lapse in your awareness, as though your body has skipped ahead several seconds without your mind in tow. The light emanating from your hands as the spell connects takes on a pale, light purple hue. And as you watch, some of the burn marks begin to recede.

 It isn’t much. Not yet, at least. But it is something. It is more than what was present before your moment of doubt. And you feel confident that, whatever it was, you can replicate it.

---

(From here on out, you can add the paladin class feature Enlightened Sutures to your character. With this feature, any time you heal a creature other than yourself, you can add your Wisdom modifier to the total amount healed, regardless of the source. The target of your enlightened healing is then also healed again for just your Wisdom modifier’s amount at the start of their next turn.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:07, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

00:10, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 10 using 1d20+2.  Intimidate.

---

"You don't like me standing in front of you?"

Bartimaeus steps to the side, holding his arms wide open, gesturing him to enter.

"Now, kindly, if you please, with a spoonful of sugar on top..." just as Bartimaeus was about to begin using colorful metaphors, he heard Tegan's croaking voice. "... somebody get Sulthor."

---

OOC:
00:25, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 22 using 1d20+2.  Perception (hear Tegan).
Nuts! Coulda used that Nat20 just a bit earlier!

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 93):

The goliath’s hands are on your shoulders before you even know what’s happened. Old, wiry, but still very much bound with muscle, you can feel the pressure grow as he grips you with both hands and attempts to lift you off your feet.

The mention of Sulthor’s name gives him pause for a moment. “What are yo... What purpose does that drunkard hold to you? Just tossing names about hoping we’ll be impressed now?” Whatever he was about to do, he seems to forget it and instead simply shoves his way passed you into the reliquary.

Spotting the scorched stones of the desk and its surrounding decor, he suddenly begins looking about for Lady Shadesworn; his view of her body blocked by the bulk of the desk itself.“What in the Nine Hells has happened? Where is she?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:21, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

Bartimaeus straightened out his robes as the Golaith began shouting. He looked at the frail woman and said, "I did say, 'ensorcelled contingent evocation assassination attempt', did I?"

"The Lady called for Sulthor herself."

Yshtar emerged from behind Bartimaeus after thinking long and hard of touching the sword in the back but ultimately deciding against it as they didn't need it at the moment and the crowd was too big. She wasn't some lowly thief either. Only curious. Then she turned to the goliath.

"So someone get that man and you, halt. We want to save the Lady and so do you."


She heard enough of the man to try to modulate her voice to at least try to make him shut up.

OOC:
11:46, Today: Yshtar rolled 18 using 1d20+7.  persuading.
21:08, Today: Yshtar rolled 27 using 1d20+7.  persuading with advantage
Cast Command on goliath with command of "Halt"/
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

Tegan shook his head, wondering if he had gone feeble-minded -- if the whole idea of his being someone's mighty paladin was all a smoke-dream. But no, the words that had popped into his mind were still there. He was unsure whether he had actually somehow heard them spoken, or whether they were just there. But there they were -- in his head, that is to say.

The Half-Elf did not understand the meaning of most of them. Well, that was not quite right -- the meaning of each individual word was clear enough . . . 'twas as if he were trying to read an incomplete message from a parchment, a message that had as many gaps as words. There was something about a "Forge", and Tegan did not think that Mains' forge back in Saltspire was being referenced -- and "Make Whole" was in there as well.

But in his present state of mind, when he was doubting both himself and his understanding of what he had experienced, dating back to that first visitation in his room back in Saltspire, he seized upon the first words of the message -- as if whoever sent the message could sense what was troubling him: "Doubt Not".

Those words, and the fact that the final set of magicks that he had cast had somehow felt different -- and indeed, had seemed more effective, if the effect on Lady Shadesworn's body was any indication -- gave him some hope that he had been somehow chosen by his Patron, and that this was a beneficial thing. Indeed, "Called" was another one of those mysterious words.

In spite of the fact that Tegan's burns still pained him, he felt some of his strength returning, and he no longer felt that he was going to collapse on the floor of the room. And he knew from his experiences in the Saltspire Militia that the ability to keep a cool head in times of crisis -- when others were losing theirs (literally and figuratively) was something that had served him well.

And so it was that he was calm of expression and voice when he turned to face the hulking figure who stood in the doorway of the room, loudly demanding answers to his questions.

"Lady Shadesworn was badly injured when a book that she opened exploded in her face. She will not die, but she needs more aid than I am able to provide. Before she passed out from her injuries, she requested that Sulthor be brought to her -- as my companion has just now told you, that request was from her own lips."

---

OOC: Given Yshtar's nice die-roll on her Persuasion Check, I doubt that she needs any help from Tegan. But to the extent that it matters, his words might be considered to support hers, to the extent that she might gain an Advantage re-roll, should she need it. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Fri 04 Dec 2020.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 96):

The goliath stops in his tracks as Yshtar’s words connect, clearly hitting in a way he wasn’t anticipating. He takes one final step into the reliquary and goes no further. You can see his teeth clench as her influence overtakes him, yet he says nothing concerning it. Instead, looking from her to Tegan, he simply raises his head a bit, gazing down at both with a defiant incline of his entire upper body. “The assassin. Where are they? The reliquary’s structure dampens magic usage in here. If they tried teleporting away, we would have heard them collide with a wall. If they tried becoming invisible, we would see them yet. So where are they? Who planted this book for her to find?”

Finally acknowledging Yshtar’s words, he turns his head (still unable to move his legs from the spot he stands in) toward the old woman behind him. “If it was the Lady’s own demand that the Lord of Fools be brought, call to him. Perhaps she suspects him of hiring this assassin. We would be wiser to confront him once he is here rather than back in his manor... and keep an eye on this one.” He points to Bartimaeus as the congregation encircles him just outside the reliquary’s doorway.

She nods begins casting what Bartimaeus would recognize to be a Sending spell. A moment later she looks back to the goliath and simply nods.

He turns back to Tegan and Yshtar just in time to hear Lady Shadesworn stir slightly from behind the stone desk.
She looks to Tegan and simply nods, you can sense a shred of gratefulness behind the charred visage of her face. She is conscious once more, if nothing else.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

Yshtar nodded at the goliath's reply.

"Perfect. Let the "lord of fools" in and none else. We will guard this place until the Lady says otherwise."

Helping and protecting a councilwoman probably meant acknowledgement to the least. Later this acknowledgement might turn into something more material. But for now they had to be adamant and show strength in front of the Lady and her servants.

Bartimaeus looked at Yshtar warmly, an admiring grin on his face, before he turned to his as-yet hands-off captors. “There now. Reason triumphs at last. But since your prejudices incline you to supervision of the innocent, I’ll make it easier for you.”

Airing his robes Bartimaeus sat down where he’d stood, closed his eyes, folded his hands before him, and began to pray a salutary to Oghma before lapsing slowly into silent stillness.

Tegan returned Lady Shadesworn's nod, although he was not certain that 'twas a good thing that she was awake. ~I do not believe that my healing magicks were all that effective. She must be feeling terrible pain from the horrible injuries that she suffered.~

"They are putting the word out for Sulthor, Lady Shadesworn," he informed her, since he was uncertain how much she could see or hear from her spot on the floor behind the desk.

Turning to face the hulking figure that he now recognized as a Goliath, Tegan pursed his lips thoughtfully. ~By all the good gods, this one reminds me of nothing so much as an enforcer or strong-arm bandit from one of the thieves' guilds. He does not strike me as the bookish sort -- nor as being especially learned.~

"I can answer some of your questions," he answered, squaring his shoulders and standing up to his full height. "I am the one who brought the book to Lady Shadesworn, but I am no assassin. I was standing close to her when she opened the tome and it exploded, and as you can see," he said gesturing at his charred and burned tabard, "I suffered some measure of hurt from the magicked flames, myself."

Tegan grunted. "I suppose that some could suspect that I am a crafty fellow who voluntarily stood in and took this damage so that I could deflect suspicion away from myself, but I assure you that that is not the case."

"In point of fact, I delivered the book at the request of Ixvill Hangvor, whom I met at the branch Library on Town Square. He told me that he was leaving town and was unable to make the delivery himself -- to hear him tell it, he was on his way to Scarborough-at-the-Crossroads to visit some friends -- although it now seems unlikely that he will be found there, if you were to send a squad of Guards to search for him."

It now occurred to Tegan that if Hangvor had in fact disappeared, there would be no one to confirm his version of what had occurred. ~That does not bode well for me, not in this tight-arsed city.~

~Hells, if nothing else, they will arrest me for failing to have a Writ of Permission to Deliver an Exploding Book to the City Archives.~
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

Her voice is weak and distant, her tone distracted; dreamlike almost. Yet she speaks as best she can, nonetheless. “That’s... nice, dear... I never... did... ask where... you were... from... Such a cu...curious trio...”

Even as you watch, more and more of the burns are healing over. It’s not pretty and it’s not quick, but it is progressing. You suspect she may have a modicum of healing magic herself, though its potency is clearly nothing to write home about.

The goliath sneers at you, clearly about to say something concerning how you being charred by the explosion means nothing and that you easily could have just put yourself in the way of it to divert suspicion... but you end up beating him to the punch by a matter of seconds. It isn’t until Hangvor’s name comes up that he finally cuts you off; cursing as he twists around to shout to another pair from the congregation outside the door. “Loque, Mesq. Gather some of Messus’ outriders! That drow bastard can’t have gotten far.”

He turns back to Tegan and Yshtar, still locked too far from the desk to actually see Lady Shadesworn. Now that he has heard her speak, however, his mood seems to have eased the slightest bit. “You three are still prime suspects. Going to be staying here while we get this whole mess sorted out.”

In reply to GM (msg # 102):

Over the course of the next... several hours, you’re unsure exactly how many, the three of you are questioned at length the goliath and his colleagues. You learn that he is called Rememberer Flogsong, and is in charge of categorizing the archives in its entirety. The whole of current cataloging system used here was his design and his word is second only to Lady Shadesworn herself in the archives.

While you are kept within the magic-dampening safe, Lady Shadesworn is removed from the reliquary and placed on something of a makeshift stretcher a safe distance away from the three of you. A trio of novices tend to her wounds, but much of the damage is beyond repair. Despite the worst of the burns being mitigated, her hands and much of her face are too far gone to save.

You are questioned and inspected, but little is found to truly incriminate you in any way beyond the

Eventually, a quartet of strangely-adorned guards are ushered into the archives. Dressed in black plate armor trimmed with a fine cyan metal, tall full-face helms that conceal every aspect of the head beneath them, and billowing great cloaks that drags on the ground behind and around them, the 7ft tall enforcers strike an intimidating figure. However, they carry no weapons with them. With them comes a half-elven man in his mid to late 30s. He wears the sort of an ostentatious traveling outfit one might associate with a roving bard or the displaced head of a theatre troupe. Rememberer Flogsong speaks with him a few moments, then motions for the three of you to come forward. The easy smile on the man’s face vanishes in an instant as the Rememberer explains the situation to him, and before you know it he is bounding around the goliath and over to Lady Shadesworn.

The two of them speak a moment, quietly. From your spot nearby the door, you can see them conversing, but would be hard pressed to make out their words. Finally, the half-elf nods to her and his four retainers gently lift her stretcher from the ground. He passes a few words to the Rememberer, locks eyes with the three of you, then says something else to him.

The goliath ventures over to you three; a look of utter disgust upon his grizzled old face. “Much as I am loath to do so, Lord van Ellsworth has demanded you three be turned over to him for questioning... Everything. EVERYTHING about this is highly unorthodox. So don’t go thinking anything that you’re seeing right now is normal operating procedure by any extent of the imagination... If you really are innocent of any involvement in this mess, then you have my sincerest sympathies. Because the sheer level of vile luck you lot must be living with isn’t something I’d wish on the lowliest of scum here.”

With that, he removes himself from your path. You are free to join the four massive guards and the Lord of Entertainment at the end of the hallway... or attempt to do something else as you see fit.

Bartimaeus stops a moment in front of Flogsong. "From your perspective it is incredibly unlikely we are innocent in the attack; that is an eminently reasonable surmise from your point of view. However, against the possibility that we are what we say we are..."

Bartimaeus pulls out a small folded scrap of paper.

"I had been meeting the Lady to obtain a reader's card for the archives, and reserve a carrel for my use during my sabbatical year. You have observed my bona fides yourself. I should not trouble you with this request, but that Sister Stormstand at reception indicated my institution's history would require, ah, the Lady's approval for my case."

He held out the paper.

"This is a list of materials (listed in order of priority if you impose limits on the quantity of study carrel reservations) I would have requested be set aside for me. Would you give your approval to your staff to gather these?" He paused. "To be accessed only after acquittal, of course."

Once Flogsong had given his answer  Bartimaeus walked over towards the guards.

---

The goliath chuckles at your forwardness. Taking the parchment, he nods to you. “Certainly more prepared than your predecessors, for what that’s worth. If we get the go-ahead from the good Lady, we’ll see to it your requests are met... but if she doesn’t make it back from all this, neither do you.” He gives you a quick smirk and turns his back on the proceedings; going off to more closely inspect the scorch marks in the reliquary.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:55, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

If Tegan was concerned by Rememberer Flogsong's pronouncements of the imminent doom that was about descend upon his head, his calm expression belied it. In the Half-Elf's own head, however, the wheels were turning.

~I wonder how those who control this city will react to such a thing?~ he found himself thinking. ~And I wonder further how much pressure will be brought to bear to decide upon a guilty party sooner rather than later, and to quickly mete out punishment?~

He thought back to situations when he was serving in the Saltspire Guards, when the call had gone out to round up the "usual suspects." He and his fellow-Guardsman had invaded the slums and had brought in a haul of ne'er-do-wells, one of whom would be singled out as being guilty of whatever the crime in question happened to be. And punishment followed soon after, much to the satisfaction of those who were not truly in the know.

Tegan oft-times had doubts about the guilt of the person who was flogged, lost a hand, or whatever -- but at the time he had quieted his conscience with the thought that even if the person in question might not be guilty of whatever they were being charged with, he had little doubt that over the course of time they had certainly guilty of something just as bad, if not worse.

~And here I am, a newcomer to this city, knowing no one and having absolutely no influence amongst the movers and shakers of this place. Hangvor chose his mark well, and I blundered right into his trap.~

Glancing around at the four armored-up individuals who had arrived with the one known as Lord van Ellsworth, Tegan asked mildly "Would one of you like to relieve me of my weapons?"

He expected no less -- certainly, he would have demanded it if the situation were reversed and he were taking a potentially dangerous person into custody.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:03, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 105):

One of the guards begins to reach out before the half-elf gentleman raises a hand, not bothering to look back at you or the the guard. “There’ll be no need for that. If you’re to be found guilty, you’re going to want those weapons on you. Wouldn’t be sporting otherwise, now would it?”

He brings a glass pyramid out of a bag on his belt, its size being about that of a human head. Setting it on the ground before all of you, he begins focusing on it with a great deal of concentration. You can feel a slight wind beginning to pick up from behind you, pulling in toward the trinket.

In reply to GM (msg # 106):

Tegan had his sword partway out of its scabbard in repsonse to one of the black armor-clad guards reaching out for it before Lord van Ellsworth dismissed the giving over of weapons with a hand-wave and an oddly worded (at least insofar as Tegan was concerned) statement that were he found guilty, it wouldn't be sporting for him to be without them.

Sliding his sword back into its scabbard, Tegan replied "As you wish, your Lordship."

The purported paladin watched with interest as the nobleman detached a glass pyramid from his person and placed it on the ground. ~Hmmm . . . I wonder what the purpose of that thing is going to be?~

Soon enough Tegan could feel the gentle push of what felt like a breeze -- or mayhap 'twas some magicked force -- that was building behind his back, as it seemed to be pulled towards the glass object . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Sat 05 Dec 2020.

Bartimaeus stood next to Tegan and listened to the exchange; it sparked a line of thought in him. "Intriguing... the administration of justice appointed to the Lord of Entertainment... Brachael Veregin wrote about the public nature of the provision of justice: for the governed to be satisfied, both the proceedings and the outcome need be publicized and scrutinized. Seems natural to combine justice with public spectacles, really... concessions and admittance fees could finance... it's not as if trial by combat need be a private matter."

He considered for a moment.

"But if so... why wait until after inquisitorial proceedings to determine judgement?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 108):

Still exerting a great deal of focus on the object in front of him, the half-elf turns his head just enough to get a glance of the two of you.
“You seem a learned man. I doubt I have to explain to you that an attempt on the life of an elected official of the Council brings with it its own special sort of punishments. Something to make a show of. To... deter such things in the future.”

A bit of electricity crackles through the pyramid. A moment later, it slowly begins to open. Splitting into three sections, two thirds of it begin spreading out to the left and right, respectively. The third, upper portion extends upward; reaching a height of about 9ft. Wavering lines of energy connect all three like a spider’s web, slowly filling in the space between them. They form an opaque pane of some silver, glass-likesubstance.

Bartimaeus screwed up his face in thought, working out the implications of the response.

~~Deterrence? No... no... that doesn’t get us there at all.~~

~~Consider the two potential cases: assassination by conspiracy and assassination by individual motive.~~

~~Deterrence requires the costs of offense be felt by the offending party, and assassins are themselves expendable: they will only ever find Ixvill Hangvor’s corpse. If Tegan, or all of us, are elements of widespread coordination between Saltspire and Q’kwarm, then the relevant object of deterrence are not here, but in Saltspire and Q’kwarm. A public spectacle of the expendable assassins offers no significant deterrent effect in the event of a conspiracy. This spectacle cannot be instrumental in employing domestic policy to service a foreign policy of continued independence.~~

~~But individual motive? Then who is the spectacle intended to deter? Others upset with the governance of the council? Hmmm. If so, making their attempt public may be counter-productive. Assuming the assassins were motivated to remove a vicious scourge represented by the Council, evidence of public cruelty aids the spread of the belief the Council is vicious, further motivating uncoordinated attack.~~

~~Furthermore, for the deterrent effect to attain, there must be no possibility of survival. Which makes the retention of weapons a sideshow justifying incrementally crueler methods of termination.~~

~~In either of those cases, public spectacle is useless at best, or counter-productive at worst.~~

~~Discard, for the purposes of analysis, assassination coming from outside of city or from within common population. Remaining potential source of assassination: from within Council. Plausible: most revolutions originate from power struggles within the ruling caste, and oligarchs possess sufficient influence to maintain and direct secretive operations within the city.~~

~~Two possibilities: the source of the assassination from within Council is known, or is merely suspected. If known, and assassins are willing participants, public execution is a slap on the wrist to offending Council member, possibly including subtle messages knowable only to that member. But publicity of execution is not required. Those who need to know would know. Private disappearance more likely, more effective, and of lower cost see references above.~~

~~If known, and assassins are unwilling or duped, public execution serves little purpose. If unknown and willing, rigorous torture reveals source. We have not been tortured, not yet, therefore they believe we are unwilling assassins. If unknown and unwilling… threat of execution provides leverage to force assassins to ferret information about suspected Council members at no cost to the Council's own trusted networks.~~

~~Our survival depends on them not knowing who of the Council ordered this assassination.~~

Satisfied with his line of reasoning, he said:

“Your attempts to Speak With Dead once you find the corpse of Hangvor will be blocked by some means. Not that they shouldn’t be attempted, of course. At that point we would prefer that you didn’t torture us before asking us to ferret out your traitor from within the Council. We will accept your offer. Or rather, your master's order when he makes it: I should be surprised if Councillors came themselves to fetch offenders, however imposing their bodyguards.”

---

OOC:
01:18, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Persuasion BIG MONEY NO WHAMMIES .
No whammies, but alas, median money, just off a threshold.
01:50, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 19 using 1d20+2.  With Advantage .
Woopwoop
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Sun 06 Dec 2020.

"Bartimaeus - now is not the time to speak. It is time to listen and observe. There will be more appropriate persons to talk to very soon."

Yshtar pat the man on his shoulders and stood where she was ordered. Unorthodox was her element. Unorthodox meant no torture, not a great deal of violence either. Some questioning perhaps yes - a mindscan of the group would reveal nothing, not even a hint that they were pawns of a malicious force. She quickly glanced at Tegan. Except perhaps for that one.

Tegan was mesmerized by the events going on in front of him as the pyramid split into three. He scarce noticed when Bartimaeus began speaking, until the cleric referred to the three of them being asked to ferret out the traitor from within the Council -- by that, Tegan supposed that he meant the governing Council of Tideswallow.

A look of surprise o'erspread the Half-Elf's face as he turned and stared at Bartimaeus. ~By all the good gods, either he knows a great deal more than I do about what is going on behind the scenes, or he has been doing some very heavy thinking and has not shied away from making certain assumptions.~

Yshtar was quick to hush the cleric, and Tegan turned his attention to Lord van Ellsworth, curious to see what the nobleman's reaction -- or, the body double for the Councilman, if Bartimaeus's supposition was correct -- would be.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:06, Sun 06 Dec 2020.

(OOC: This is an extremely daring move if you wish to commit to it. And one that may have some unexpected consequences depending on how convincing Bartimaeus is about it. For the purposes of this, and for my own knowledge, roll a persuasion or deception check depending on whether you believe your own assessment of the situation. This will determine how convincingly Bartimaeus conveys this... because this just went down a path I wasn’t expecting.)

The half-elf pauses a moment as your words reach his ears. There is a sudden silence in the room around you as everyone gathered there takes note of what was just said and what it implies. Yshtar’s warning falls upon you like a ton of bricks, yet a part of your mind can’t shake the conviction of your own assessment...

There’s a slight chuckle from the man who is supposedly Lord Sulthor van Ellsworth. A few of the nearby archivists who have clearly lived in the city long enough to have seen him around town and been privy to his election to Council in the first place offer their own somewhat half-hearted laughs as well. The four towering guards remain perfectly silent.

In a sarcastic tone, not quite mocking but certainly not serious by any extent of the imagination, he spreads his arms to the side and simply says, “Well it looks like you got me. Come. We’ll discuss my unconditional surrender to your superior intellect back at my manor while Lady Shadesworn’s getting patched up.”

With that, he takes a step forward and vanishes through the glassy silver portal in front of him. The two guards carrying Lady Shadesworn’s stretcher follow suit, while the other two motion for you three to do the same.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:51, Sun 06 Dec 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 113):

Tegan could not have picked Lord van Ellsworth out of a line-up, so he had no idea whether the fellow who first stepped through what Tegan supposed to be a magicked portal was the man himself, or someone masquerading as him. But the reactions of the others in the room to Bartimaeus' bold pronouncements was what truly interested him -- it seemed to Tegan that the effect upon most people who had heard the cleric's words was similar to the totally unexpected discovery of the notorious turd in the punch-bowl.

The man who wished to be a paladin shrugged his shoulders when the man who might be Lord van Ellsworth stepped through the portal and Tegan turned to Bartimaeus and Yshtar, smiling a little half-smile. By now Lady Shadesworn had been carried through the portal by her litter-bearers.

"Quite the interesting fellow you have turned out to be, Bartimaeus," Tegan chuckled. "I daresay that you have just now -- or will have shortly, as the word spreads in certain circles -- made various people in this city sit up and take notice."

"And the time for your advice to be heeded, Yshtar, has now passed. For good or ill, the cat is now out of the bag, as the old saying goes."

"Or, mayhap," he continued, glancing once more at Bartimaeus, "mayhap a clever cat has hoodwinked people into thinking that he is out and running free, whereas . . . well, who knows? Truly, these are deep waters, and I certes know not. Time will tell."

Tegan gestured towards the portal. "Shall we?" he murmured.

Then he stepped into the magicked area that looked like an opaque pane of silvery glass . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 19:28, Sun 06 Dec 2020.

Bartimaeus was honestly confused by everyone’s reaction to his statement.

“Bold? If you say so, Tegan; I was just stating the obvious.” He looked sheepishly at Yshtar. “Apologies: I’m sure you have the measure of me. Perpetually too free and open with insight.” A hint of a wink, then he looked at the portal.

“Fascinating,” he began as he walked through. “Subharmonic resonance between artrillum nodes in the aether penetrates the—” he cut off as he entered the field.

The portal has a heavy sort of weight to it. A pressure you weren’t quite expecting. Almost like walking through deep water rather than open air.

As you cross through, you emerge... elsewhere.

Bartimaeus, Tegan, and Shard-Tooth strolled down van Ellsworth's villa's hill down into the midday fog of the Office District, continuing their conversation started at its gates.

"Protection in numbers absolutely is my experience during my short time here: one would think we're involved in a sordid bard's tale for as often as we've been assaulted!" He starts to laugh when he remembers the manner in which the goblin arrived in the city, and cuts himself short. "Ah. Ahem. Yes. Well... your safety is partly our charge. We thought an alias would allow us to communicate in safety: how does the name Sharlene suit you? Maybe a Gnomish flourish as well?" He gesticulated with his free hand trying to think of a suitable Gnomish sounding surname. "Sharlene... Toth...wrench? Sharlene Tothwrench." He smiled hopefully.

The fog grew thicker.

"I need to acquire some materials for writing - I hope you don't mind. There was a likely shop, an incongruous cottage-looking building it was, I recall noticing two blocks up from the gate on the right side... I think it was this way?" He looked closely at the buildings around him, the hazy skyline of the main buildings appearing like ships looming in the sea, and cast his memory back to yesterday as he entered.
"Yes. I'm certain it was this way."

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 117):

Shard-Tooth nods along with your words. “That’s... actually not bad. At all. I’d just been using random words and letters in your language to come up with names back at the manor.”

Moving through the district, you once more find the little cottage-like building nestled at the very end of an alleyway between two more modern structures.

A small cobble-stone and thatch building squeezed into a space between some manner of law office and a gaudy clothing store. It looks wholly out of place as you walk by it in comparison to the richly decorated buildings nearby. The sign quietly swinging above the door is simple wood with words burned into it in common and strange glyphs underneath. “Fortune Teller” is what it says in common. The glyphs below it make up a lovely decorative pattern, but don’t appear at first glance to really serve any other purpose. A small parchment flier nailed to the doorframe itself simply reads “Please, one client at a time.”

A plain wooden door sits partially ajar, allowing just the slightest bit of light to cut in. The tiniest bit of mist or fog roils about within, concealing everything within a foot of the floor. Before the door is a small courtyard of cobblestones, high walls of the buildings around it, and a pair of benches for anyone who might be waiting outside.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:31, Sun 28 Feb 2021.

Tegan did not much like the thick fog -- perfect weather for footpads and other ne'er-do-wells who preferred skulking about in the shadows.

He mostly listened as Bartimaeus engaged in conversation with the newly-named Sharlene. The Half-Elf was not sure that he trusted her entirely -- in fact, he was pretty certain that he did not, not if her interests ever ran contrary to his own and Bartimaeus'. After all, Goblins were Goblins.

He peered, this way, lamenting that the fog was not just routine darkness -- in which case his Elven-gifted eyesight would have stood him in good stead. But he did the best he could to watch and listen as they walked along.

Tegan chuckled when Bartimaeus sounded a trifle unsure of the correct path to take. "Lead on, Master Scribe," he said, "for whate'er eye-dropper's measure of remembrance you may have regarding the correct route to our destination greatly outweighs my own absolute lack of knowledge."

The Half-Elf's eyebrows arched when they arrived outside the small cottage, and he read the sign over the door that swung to a slight breeze that was more hinted at than felt, on slightly-creaking chains. "A fortune-teller's?" he muttered to no one in particular.

"Is this your intended destination, Bartimaeus?" he asked the cleric. "Or have we taken some miss-steps somewhere along the way?"

---

OOC:
19:46, Today: Tegan rolled 8 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 5.  Perception Check: Anybody (or Anything) Out There in the Fog?

Notes: Well, *somebody* is clueless . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 01:14, Sun 28 Feb 2021.

Bartimaeus stood before the cottage and smirked at Tegan sideways. "An eyedropper's was sufficient.

"But was it my destination? Hmmm." He walked through the courtyard to the door. "I suppose we should find that out. Shouldn't be a moment."

---

OOC:
Walk on in to the fortune teller's.

After a moment or two, a small cat wanders out of the door, but not Bartimaeus. The door closes shortly after and Tegan, the cat, and the disguised goblin are left to wait in the little cobblestone courtyard.

Tegan watched the door to the little cottage close, and regarded in silently for a moment. After a short while he nodded his chin at the parchment that was nailed to the doorframe. "Only one inside at a time, it seems."

The Half-Elf turned and faced outwards into the fog. "Admittedly I do not know this city well, so I have no idea whether all is well and we are perfectly safe to gambol about in this fog with nary a care, or whether we need to stay alert and keep a wary eye."

"Until I learn better, I am going to chose to be wary. It might be well for you to do the same," he remarked, glancing down at the Goblin.

"I cannot see nearly as well in this murk as I can in clear moonlight or starlight."

---

OOC: 18:12, Today: Tegan rolled 23 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 20.  Perception Check: Staying Alert.

Notes: It's not like I (or Tegan) *want* to discern something mean and nasty lurking out in the fog. But I hate to waste a natural 20. :)

In reply to Tegan (msg # 122):

The fog continues to curl mull about through the streets and alleyways. Shard-Tooth looks up at you with a bit of a concerned expression. “I’ve seen even less of the city than you, I think. Mostly just the manor. Is it really that dangerous?

Almost if to punctuate the point, out of the corner of your eye you spot the movement of something slow and slinking along the ground behind her. Had she not been speaking at that exact moment, you likely never would have even noticed it. It makes no sound, but your eyes catch on its strange, undulating motion immediately. It inches forward, contracting its whole body into a middle point before pushing its flattened front section forward. Emerging from behind a barrel further back by the side of the cottage where its walls meet those of the surrounding buildings, you spot another of the shapes slinking forward. And a third behind that. Shard-Tooth seems not to notice them, as their lack of sound is giving off nothing for her to pick up on.

They move incredibly slow, but the first one leaves a silvery trail in its wake as it goes. The other two, traveling along that trail, begin to pick up speed significantly. They are on course to reach the two of you in a matter of seconds, but now that you have spotted them, they are unlikely to get the jump on either of you; any advantage their silent movements lent them now completely useless once they’ve been spotted.

---

Feel free to roll initiative whenever you like. I’ll roll for the goblin and these three.

OOC: 15:17, Today: Tegan rolled 7 using 1d20+1 with rolls of 6.  Initiative.

Notes: I was going to post a short IC post having Tegan hiss a quick warning to Shard-Tooth, but it occurred to me that since we are rolling Initiative, he probably shouldn't act until it is his turn in the Initiative Order. So, I just rolled his die-roll. :)

In reply to Tegan (msg # 124):

The creatures look to be some manner of gastropods. Looking now, you’d liken their shape to that of a slug or leech, but at a size of about two feet in length and nearly a foot in width/height, you doubt they’re any manner that would be considered “common” in most areas. Their skin appears to be jet black, but the slime coating it gives them a strangely shifting appearance; as if they are covered in an ever-dripping veil of liquid mirror. You can barely see them at times as the slink forward, reflecting the world around them with only the smallest hint of distrotion. Then a gap in their coating will appear and you’ll notice their dark flesh beneath the mucus once more.

The first slug reaches Shard-Tooth just as you motion a warning to her. She avoids what would have been a slow, wet-looking nudge from the creature’s front portion colliding with her leg. Leaping back a few feet, she now seems fully aware of the danger slowly sliding its way toward her. “I thought cities were supposed to be safe places?! No monsters, just people! Why would you let things like this in?!”

She pulls a dagger from somewhere amongst her possessions and hurls it at the first slug, but misses by an inch. The slug does not even seem to notice. The dagger clinks away on the cobbles as Shard-Tooth retreats further to your side. The next slug is making its way forward along the trail of the one before it...

---

Initiative as follows:
Slug 1 -  17
Shard-Tooth - 15
Slug 2 -  8
Tegan - 7
Slug 3 - natural 1 for a total of -1...

In reply to GM (msg # 125):

"Get inside," Tegan hissed to Shard-Tooth. "I'll cover you until you are in, and come in behind you."

With that thought in mind, he moved to engage the closest of the big Slugs, hoping to distract it long enough for the Goblin to make her escape. Drawing his sword as he moved, he slashed at the Slug with his blade, hoping that it would recoil upon meeting resistance.

---

OOC:

Free Action: Speak.

Move: Tegan will move to engage the closest of the Slugs.

Action: 22:20, Today: Tegan rolled 12 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 6.  Melee Attack v. Closest Slug.

22:21, Today: Tegan rolled 7 using 1d8+5 with rolls of 2.  Damage (If Applicable).

Notes: I used an incorrect Attack modifier (7 instead of 6) when I rolled. The Attack roll shown above has been corrected to show the correct modifier and Attack total.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 126):

The slug takes the full force of your attack with barely the slightest hint that it understands what’s happening. The sword cleaves deep into the fleshy mass of its body, but it keeps advancing despite the grievous-looking injury. A thick, silvery gel hangs upon the blade and spills from the wound on the slug, but it advances regardless.

The other two slugs approach again, moving along the first one’s trail. As the scent of the gel reaches them, however, you see them both freeze where they are. Their forms begin to writhe and shake violently as the first one rears up, half of its body lifting to attention until it forms a slimy L several paces behind the first. The top of its body divides slightly and a blob of silvery goop comes rocketing out of the orifice.

Shard-Tooth, meanwhile, makes a break for the cottage door. Only to find it locked tightly. She calls back to you, informing you of this and accidentally draws the attention of the third slug; though it is unable to do anything immediate.

---

Cottage
Goblin
—
—
————————————Slug 3
 ———Tegan—Slug 1————Slug 2



23:24, Today: GM, for the NPC Fog Slug, rolled 15 to hit using 1d20 ((15)).
Inflicts 3 acid damage if it hits.

In reply to GM (msg # 127):

"Well, shout and bang on the door," Tegan called out to Shard-Tooth when the Goblin made her predicament known to him. "Let them know that we are under attack -- see if Bartimaeus will come out, and you can slip inside as he does so."

Then the Half-Elf turned his attention the disgusting creatures that had tried to sneak up on the threesome. He slashed at the same one that he had injured before, and saw the blade sink deeply into the creature's slimy flesh.

---

OOC:

Free Action: Speak.

Action: 17:36, Today: Tegan rolled 16 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 10.  Melee Attack v. Fog Slug.

17:37, Today: Tegan rolled 12 using 1d8+6 with rolls of 6.  Damage (Longsword, Dueling Style).

Notes: I have given some thought as to whether Tegan would have equipped his shield as the threesome was walking through the fog, since I had not specified one way or the other. I decided that he would have, given the closeness of the clinging fog, and the possibility that there might be unseen threats lurking in the fog. Thus, his AC is 20 (plate mail and shield), and the Slug's acid Attack would not have hit him. DM, if you disagree with this analysis, his AC will be 18 (and the acid Attack still would not have hit).