The Town Square is a lively throughout all daylight hours; from the first fog-coated moments of dawn until the final pink-and-orange rays vanish over the horizon each evening. The beating heart of Tideswallow, the Square is home to numerous shops and attractions that keep the city thriving.

-A general store.
-The Adventurers’ Guild.
-Temples and small shrines to various deities,
-An infirmary.
-Several small offices.
-The lesser town bank.
-The stables.
-Shops and businesses of varying degrees of quality.
-The lesser town library.
-The town junk shop.
-A book store.
-A butcher.
-A few small dining facilities.
-Town Criers
-And stalls where all manner of trade goes on, often changing hands on a regular basis.

Plenty to see. Plenty to do. And oh so many people wandering about... From here, the entire town stretches out before you, with streets and alleyways leading off into every other district.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:55, Sun 13 Sept 2020.

The longboat carried its cargo of passengers to the docks from the Gilded Hart now sitting at anchor in the Tideswallow haven. Among them a merchant and his wife, a noble, and a haggard-looking priest of Oghma. The merchant talked of the riches to be made in the cultivation and transportation of soybeans, something he apparently felt would revolutionize agriculture. His wife encouraged his talk of avarice while she winked and smiled at the coxswain piloting the boat. The young nobleman looked on with disdain and impatience and the priest stared into the middle distance lost in his thoughts.

Once ashore the merchant strode off direct to the dockmaster his wife in tow, and the nobleman stepped gingerly into a cabriolet. The priest came back to his senses when the coxswain, having unloaded everyone else's luggage, nudged him. Offering his apologies and the blessings of the Lord of Knowledge, Bartimaeus shouldered his pack and took up his crosier and stepped onto the threshold of Tideswallow.

~~ Years searching for this town's name, and at last I am arrived, ~~ he thought. ~~ But where to start in this mass of humanity? Stories begin at the beginning... let us seek those who tell the stories, then. ~~

Once ashore Bartimaeus picked his way between the stevedores, whores, and manure, offering good will to those whose eyes he met. He had taken a crude map of the city out from the other rolled scrolls sticking out helter-skelter and was asking after Skallahafen Street, but was rewarded only with confused looks by the residents.

~~ No matter. Follow the sound of laughter... ~~ for so he thought would mark the Bardic College.

Hours later approaching dusk the priest found what he'd been looking for, but it was hardly what he thought he'd find. Rather than jovial motley and capering, the meeting hall of the Bardic College was abandoned, with broken windows and shutters swinging from one hinge. Bartimaeus looked around to make sure, but the plaques on the marble facade marked it for what it was. Not one to be dissuaded by neglected locations ~~ How often discoveries were made in such places! ~~ Bartimaeus strode to the door and knocked loudly with his crosier.

"I bid you open your doors to a seeker of knowledge! Please, the blessings of the Lord of Knowledge will be yours and your songs imbued with the Truth, if but you would offer me succor." He knocked again and stood there, waiting, as patient as he had been on the journey that led him here.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 2):

As day begins to slowly shift to night, the atmosphere of the Entertainment District takes on a notably festive air. Lamp lighters can be seen going about their duties on every corner, igniting the many street lamps of red and blue and green stained glass. Amidst the glow of these lovely sources, people from all across the city slowly begin to pour in; looking for somewhere to spend their coin and time now that the struggles of the day are nearly at their end. Commoners, wealthy folks, guards, and Imperial soldiers alike can be seen wandering the streets as a light fog rolls in off the waterfront.

You have found yourself before the grand marble structure that was once the town’s pride and joy: the Bard College meeting hall. In its current state, however, you’d be forgiven for mistaking it as some sort of fancy facade for a poor-house. The several of its windows lie in shattered ruins. The steps leading up to the main door are cracked, chipped, and in desperate need of a good cleaning. The siding has been left to weather the elements unattended, and you can see several hints of graffiti smeared here and there along its exterior walls, though none directly facing the street (you would need to go around the side of the building to get a good look at any of it). The front entrance, a large mahogany double door, appears completely untouched by the elements, however. It seems perfectly maintained and clean; as though no time has passed for it whatsoever.

As you knock and cry for entrance, you hear no response come from within. However, after several minutes of waiting, one of the doors simply creeks open; seemingly on its own. The interior is poorly lit, with only a dim cyan light lazily shining down from the ceiling of what appears to be one massive room inside. From the doorway, you can only make out a bit of this cavernous chamber’s actual design; with just bookshelves, a few chairs, and a pair of long wooden tables standing askew of the room’s center. Any more, you would need to step inside to see clearly...

(From here, feel free to post any more you do in this area in the Entertainment District thread. We’ll try to keep the organized based on what part of town they happen in and just go from there.)

Settled amongst several of the more gaudy, richly decorated buildings, sits a cozy little wooden structure resembling a cottage more than a shop. Nonetheless, the sign above the door indicates that it is some manner of pawn shop, owned by a man named Milo. Through the windows, you can already see piles upon piles of unsorted junk, baubles, and nicknacks stacked all about the interior. Shelves overflowing with items, books, and various pieces of flotsam and salvage. It looks small, claustrophobic, and like the combined dream and nightmare of the most over-zealous hoarder you’ve ever seen... and it’s door is wide open to you!

Standing outside the shop Bartimaeus stopped and leaned over to Yshtar. "Looks harmless enough, but keep your eyes open." he said quietly.

He paused a moment and asked Oghma for guidance in the coming trial.
  With knowledge of truth and falsehood
  And the wisdom to discern the two:
  Bless me, O Great Scholar.
  [Guidance]

The door was unlocked and Bartimaeus walked in, immediately having to pick his way through the stacks. ~~ This needs a guide. Or an archivist. Or... it's this way on purpose? ~~

"May the blessings of Knowledge and Insight rest perpetual on this storehouse of history." Bartimaeus announced to the otherwise empty store. "Whom may we ask for assistance here?"

Yshtar leisurely and silently followed the priest of Oghma enjoying the stroll in town. If this will be my new home then I better enjoy it. So why is this guy always rushing somewhere like he's on the clock?
"What are we looking for?"
She asked once they entered the junk shop. Yshtar looked around. A lot of junk. Might there be something valuable here? Slowly she walked around on creaking floorboards looking at a shelf here, a pile there. It has been a lucky day so far, why should my luck not continue?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:18, Fri 09 Oct 2020.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 5):

You enter with your greeting, startling an elderly gnome who has been dozing just behind a counter at the far end of the one-room shop. “A-OH Oh, yes! Please, please come in! Do, have a look around. If uh. If there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, just uh. Just let me know.”

Now that you are inside, you see that the view from the windows was only the beginning of it. The room is piled high with all manner of useless junk and damaged objects; stacked hap-hazardously into loose mountains, onto shelves, and resting on small tables throughout the little wooden cottage of a shop. There doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to it any of its placement and a good bit of it looks to have a thick layer of dust covering it.

In reply to GM (msg # 7):

Before they’d entered the shop Bartimaeus answered Yshtar: “We are looking for what lies beneath the facade of this building.”

...

When the gnome answered, he cheerfully responded, “Oh, indubitably, there are a things we’re looking for. But I am led to understand your establishment is meant to be experienced... holistically. Am I speaking to Milo? As the proprietor and of us the one most familiar with the stock, to what items would you first draw our interest? But let me give you some topics” and Bartimaeus tried to grab subjects at random. “... ah... music... hmmm... astronomy, and, um... Drow literature.”

He gave the gnome a broad smile when he finally saw him through the detritus. “I was advised to leave hours free to tour your wares. Lead on, Master Gnome!”

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 8):

He seems utterly bewildered by your enthusiasm, but you suspect much of this is due to him having been asleep right up until you walked in.
The old gnome seems almost unable to keep up with your train of thought, but does his best to answer where he can. “Oh er yes, yes I am Milo. A pleasure. A pleasure.”


He seems perplexed that anyone actually suggested coming here. “Quite strange. Quite strange. Most folks only ever stop in when they’ve nothing better to be doing. Not really something they set a course to do. But you’re welcome to browse all the same.”

He thinks hard as you begin your suggestions, never leaving his spot behind the little oval-shaped counter that makes up the middle of the shop. “Music... music... hmmm... you’ll maybe want that pile there, that shelf there, and those three tables over there!” He points to a massive junk pile, an overstuffed shelf with a busted lute balanced amongst the other objects, and three small coffee tables each overflowing with semi-working curiosities. Amongst those on the tables, you spot some manner of flute and what appears to be a drum amidst the rest of the mess.

It is only when you mention astrology that the Milo seems to truly take an interest in you. “Oh. Oh! A stargazer? Stargazers? You wish to look at the skies at night? They’re quite lovely this time of year! Quite the sight to see when it’s nice and clear!” Hopping over the edge of the counter, he heads over to one of the smaller shelves clearly built for (and probably by) a gnome. From amongst the various bits of flotsam he pulls out a long, rolled up piece of what appears to be sail canvas and a small, intricate-looking brass device you are unfamiliar with.

“Ha! You’ll want these! They’ll be most helpful! Very worth while. Very valuable... you have coin, yes?”

She was surprised how Bartimaeus was able to answer the question she wanted to ask after entering the shop but the man was apparently a good chronochlonger to be able to predict the question. So then the armored woman listened to the two people's conversation then stopped poking around the apparently useless piles of junk she didn't find anything in.

"Do you have anything on Tideswallow's council and how they got there?"

Who knows what the old gnome might have?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:37, Sun 11 Oct 2020.

Bartimaeus looked disappointedly at the piles of broken musical instruments, but brightened at the stargazing equipment. “Fascinating. Could... could you demonstrate its function?” Turning from left to right among the piles of junk he said, “Ahhhh... possibly there is an attic or basement with more room in which we could lay this canvas out more fully?”

“And yes: coin I have. But before we discuss price...” and he gestured at the device, smiling.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 10):

He distractedly waves off your question as he begins demonstrating how the little device is used. “No, no. Nothing like that. Certainly not.” Then, after a brief moment fidgeting with the apparatus, he suddenly seems to realize what you asked. “No, wait, the other thing. Yes! Yes we do! Over in that pi-NO that shelf! Right over there! Gray cover, green writing on the spine.”

He points over to a shelf full of dusty books that clearly haven’t moved in quite some time. Amongst them, you can see one matching his description. The title Saga of the Saltspire Seven is etched upon the spine in emerald. “Not all the council, mind you, but a few of them feature prominently in it.”

Turning back to the little contraption, he seems to be struggling to get it to function. Finally, after what seems an eternity of waiting, the little latch he had been trying to move at last comes free. The small brass tube that makes up the main bulk of the device suddenly extends, becoming about a foot in length. Several small attachments click out from the sides, becoming a tiny bipod on the bottom of the tube. Between them, a small brass band marked with various measurements connects the two legs of the bipod. From the top there comes a tiny metal sight; just big enough for one to peer through with a single eye. Apertures on the main tube itself open at either end; revealing thick lenses of violet glass. You can’t tell how many there are inside it, but you can see that several can be raised out of the tube to rest in front of the little sight, likely changing the magnification on both the main tube and the sight itself. “This is a... uh... well I don’t actually know if it has a name, but some stargazer years back sold it to me for ship fare out of the city. It lets you trace the constellations in the night sky, pinpoint specific stars, and make them appear much closer than they should be! And this...”

He unfurls the roll of sail canvas to reveal an intricate star map; one wholly unlike any you’ve seen before. The lines tracing the movement of planets, stars, and other celestial bodies seems accurate enough, but there still something so... wrong about it that you can’t quite put your finger on. As if the smallest, simplest details are out of place, while the more complicated portions are all exactly how they should. “This came from a ship captain out of Mesocross. Couldn’t find anyone else to sell it to, so he pawned it off here for rum money.”

The map was unfurled and Bartimaeus examined it. ~~ It’s wrong... but is it wrong as the mosaic was wrong? ~~ he thought.

“What a curiosity. I can see why the fellow was willing to part with this map... it’s all wrong, you see. Well, not all wrong, so much as it is wrong in the particular while being correct in the general. See this here?” He pointed at the moon of Haestrian. “It never intersects with Gracche as it does in the map.” Bartimaeus stood back to regard the map. “It does at least have the virtue of setting the mood. An aesthetic acquisition, perhaps.

“But this.” Bartimaeus said, regarding the contraption. “A kosmoculum. Or at least an attempt at one. This is interesting, indeed. If it weren’t so early in the day I’d ask for the use of your roof to assay it’s qualities. And I would insist on a protective case for a sensitive instrument as this may be.

He turned the kosmoculum over looking for a chalked price or tag. “I see no prices... surely you don’t operate your inventory finances from memory! Come. What would you ask for these?”

---

OOC:
Sorry Yshtar! Not trying to ignore you... just busy talking shop; will include you next post!
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Sun 11 Oct 2020.

The armored woman walked to the cobwebbed, dust covered bookshelf. She cleared some of the cobwebs away - not too much, she didn't want to harm the small creatures living within.

"And do tell how much you charge for The Saga of the Saltspire Seven as well!"

Yshtar added when her companion asked for prices. She was delighted to finally get something on the council. Her fellow travelers on the boat mentioned about the men and women ruling Tideswallow but nothing in particular so Yshtar was eager to learn something about them. I will be your peer eventually.

He nods along with your musings, clearly proud of the pieces you are inspecting so thoroughly. “I wouldn’t know one way or the other. Were sold to me without the slightest explanation of what they were. Only that they were expensive.”


“But of course! What other way is there when you’ve a mind as... as... hmmm.... Sharp! A mind as sharp as mine! Now then, let me see... For the map I would say I can’t possibly part with it for any less than.. 10 gold! As for the kos... kosum... for the star-looker-tube, as you have no doubt noticed it is of fine craftsmanship and particular design... and the lenses are difficult to make, particularly in that strange color... 300 gold!”

He looks over to Yshtar a moment and briefly adds. “25 gold!          No, wait... the other one... Silver! 25 silver!”

"Great! My friend here will buy it in addition to whatever he is getting, won't you Bartimaeus? Knowledge is power, isn't that one of your sayings?"

She beamed a friendly smile at the cleric of Oghma who appeared to be very occupied with the cosmological devices. Meanwhile she flipped the book open to probe what was in it.

In reply to GM (msg # 15):

“Knowledge is the only power, indeed! A trivial sum gladly paid, and the book is my gift to you. For the canvas... 10 gold for this display piece is not insensible, if perhaps an extravagance on my part. Agreed.” Bartimaeus rolled up the canvas and secured it with a leather thong.

“But the craftsmanship required for a precision kosmoculum will only ever be proved with a demonstration. I might be willing to pay 300; or willing to only pay 10 as a curio, like the canvas. Without a demonstration ... I think 100 gold is a reasonable sum. Or we could wait for a clear night? Would that Oghma gave us a sign!” [Druidcraft: weather prediction] “Either way, I’ll hold on to it, in anticipation of an agreed-upon sum.

“But let’s put that to the side for the moment. Is this storeroom the extent of your wares? I’d have thought basement after basement would hold mysteries such as these. Come, Yshtar, don’t you agree? Milo here was able to rapidly point out a book tailored for your purpose at a moment’s notice: do you doubt his mental stores contain greater depths than this one room? Be a mensch, and show us the wares you keep for your discriminating clientele.”

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 16):

The book appears to be a fairly standard collection of accounts concerning the exploits of an adventuring party, known as the Saltspire Seven. Dating back to around 40 year ago, the stories mainly focus around the 6 humanoid members (A warrior, 3 spell casters, a “spellsword,” and a ranger) and a large wolf who was apparently the ranger’s partner. Amongst the various tales of simple quests and little misadventures, it holds a few longer stories concerning several deeds of major significance. The one that particularly stands out is the party’s slaying of a strange dragon in the southern reaches of Veltria, just south of the massive forest outside of Tideswallow.

You don’t have enough time to get too many specifics, but while skimming through you definitely recognize a few of the names. Paula Shadesworn acted as the group’s primary medic. Vernum Cartwright was their strategist and the warrior of note. And Eddard Harper was the one noted as being a “spellsword,” some manner of battle mage often found in the Tenebrian Empire’s employ. While none of them appear to have held any direct loyalty to the Empire itself, all of the members apparat from Shadesworn were born in imperial lands and grew up under their rule.

The  tales within the book are numerous, but not all fo them seem particularly important. Given a few nights with the book, you could likely learn all it has to offer on the backgrounds of these three current council members.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 17):

“Not a chance! These pretty lenses are worth more than that just on their own! If I could just... pry... them... out!”He begins attempting to forcibly remove some fo the violet lenses from the device, likely damaging it beyond repair in the process. However, his old hands are far too weak to accomplish such a task unaided and he quickly abandons the prospect. (Make a persuasion check if you’re going attempt to further barter on the price.)

Through your connection with nature, you determine that tonight won’t be particularly cloudy. It seems to be a fairly mixed reading, with overcast skies part of the night and clear skies during the rest. Timing NG it right, you could easily find yourself a good four hours of clear skies for observing the cosmos.

“Basement? No, no basement here, I’m afraid... There’s the reverse-attic, but that’s where I live. Not a storage space.” He points over toward the ring-like counter in the middle of the room. You suspect that somewhere within its confines you would find a trap door leading down to the.... reverse-attic...

In reply to GM (msg # 19):

“Carefulcarefulcareful!” Bartimaeus exclaimed! “You’ll ruin it to worthless!”

Breathless, he calmed when Milo stopped.

“With tonight’s sky I should be able to conduct a trial. Be a bit more reasonable about the price of an apparatus you don’t yourself know how to use, and offer me a 48-hour money back guarantee, if returned in like condition.”

---

OOC:
11:55, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 20 using 1d20+2+1d4 ((17,1)).
That's Persuasion, btw.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

Bartimaeus' remark and question piqued her interest. The old gnome definitely knew what was on the shelf. And a special basement holding items of interest? She looked intently at Milo as the gnome worked on the trinket trying to discern whether he hides something. She didn't really see any lies in the eyes of the gnome but just for good measure she opened her spiritual third eye to see if there was anything amiss with either the shop, the gnome or even Bartimaeus. She shrugged at the priest's suggestion.

"This is just a pawn shop. I don't think Milo stores anything else downstairs than his hard earned income."

20:48, Today: Yshtar rolled 2 using 1d20.  insight.
 Activate Divine sense, uses left: 3/4
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 21):

“Hmmm... well... you        Do seem to know what you’re talking about. Or are at least very good at making up smart-sounding words. I’ll tell you what. Give me a moment.” He dashes over to one of the shelves toward the back of the store. Pulling a small sheet of vellum from under a towering pile of pots and pans which immediately collapse with a loud series of CLANGS around him, he begins mumbling to himself. A moment later, the vellum erupts with a sudden burst of light, ignites, and crumbles to dust in his hand. He then presents you with the looking-device. “There we are! Now you can have it all you want tonight, then come back tomorrow and pay. We’ll discuss price then. All you have to do is return it to me tomorrow in as good of condition as it is now and the curse won’t have any negative effect on you.”

He practically forces the device into your hands.

Bartimaeus looked in stunned silence at the kosmoculum, then at Milo, then at Yshtar, then back to Milo.

He grinned.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Bravo, Milo, bravo. That will teach me to haggle with a gnome." He fumbled in his purse for 12 gold and 5 silver, and handed it over. "For the canvas and Yshtar' book. You'll have to tell me what the curse was when it doesn't activate. Oh."

And he fumbled in his purse again.

"One last thing."

He drew out a bronze coin.

"I came upon this curious coin and have no idea as to its origin. It had a mate in gold though I don't have an example with me. Since you have cause to traffic in foreign objects, would you be able to tell me whence it came?"

---

//Later, when Yshtar and Bartimaeus had left the store.//

"Did that not strike you as singular?" Bartimaeus laughed. "How does that place generate revenue? Too much dust on everything to have any serious inventory turnover. No care taken for the goods. A gnome capable of enscorcelling from a scroll. There is certainly more there, though I'd put even money that Milo knows nothing of it."

He looked at Yshtar and the books she carried. "What is your interest in the ruling council? I intended to seek an audience with Lady Shadesworn; perhaps our purposes may be united there."

---

OOC:
So it seems the Market day event has proceeded to nighttime though Y and I came here 'in the morning'. I know we're playing fast and loose with time given the nature of this PBP, but B would be completely willing to spend most of the day with the canvas and the telescope... would Y want to spend the day with her book? We could then sally forth with whatever knowledge we gained looking for a tall building to look at the stars on?

Yshtar watched the haggling with slight amusement until an actual curse was cast. The vellum erupting with a sudden flame was indeed concerning. But she would have nudged the priest of Oghma anyway if he for some reason he forgot to return the item. As they walked out the woman looked back at the elder gnome suspecting some sort of foul play from his part. Once outside she faced Bartimaeus.

"You are entirely right. The shop was not what it seemed. I don't think there was any malicious intent though. You shouldn't worry about the curse. Knowing gnomes this might have been a harmless alchemical trick anyway. But who knows?"

They walked for a while when the priest asked another question.

"The ruling council? I want to understand how they got here and I will be a member eventually. And you? What's so pressing that you run across town to get these gadgets? What is your plan?"

Once they were a minute's walk from Milo's, Bartimaeus turned around to look at the building.
~~ No attic but a reverse-attic: did the architecture conform to Euclid? ~~
[Is it a one-story building from the outside?]

He responded to Yshtar. "Oghma laughes at plans; they rarely survive encounters with evidence. Sound methods, adaptable and which follow the evidence, on the other hand... if we knew what we wanted it wouldn't be called re-search, hmmm?" But Bartimaeus took the cue from his companion, and slowed his gait to a stroll. "Possibly an alchemical trick. But gnomes can be particular about payment; possibly that alchemical trick applied itself to my purse; I wouldn't be surprised if 24 hours saw my finances transmuted into slag.

"I did not go there for these gadgets. They are a happy coincidence, which we must be open to, mustn't we. I went there to see what was there, and it proved of interest. As for Lady Shadesworn, she holds the keys to the more complete archives in this city; her writ for an assigned private carrel would be valuable, indeed!"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 25):

From the outside, the building is very much the single-story cottage you saw originally. From inside, there definitely did not appear to be anything above the single large room.

"Keep your secrets then. I'm just the bodyguard anyway."

Directly contradicting herself she did ask another question.

"And what are you looking for in the archives? And if you don't plan to give a straight answer just pretend you didn't hear my question.

At least she doesn't need to explore the town on her own. Bartimaeus might be an odd fellow but so far didn't do anything particularly dangerous and this was still her first day here. She mind as well tagged along this strange man than to go to the Adventuring Guild to get a job to clean out the sewers or whatever they tend to give as "first missions" nowadays.

“All in good time, Yshtar, all in good time. I’ve been recently robbed, remember, and advised a loose tongue had something to do with it.”

They turn a corner and approach the Salty Seaman. “I thought we might take lunch and have a look at our recent acquisitions. I’m staying here, the proprietor’s taste in puns notwithstanding. If you insist upon a room of your own I’ll request and finance the adjoining one, but you’re more than welcome to stay in my own room. I shan’t be using the bed in any case.”

---

OOC:
Investigation rolls for the chart and the telescope? If so...

18:57, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 46 using 5d20 with rolls of 13,1,1,16,15.  5 d20 rolls for skill checks.
Each would have a +5 mod for Investigate (or Arcana)

Also, did Milo have anything to say about the brass coin?

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 28):

The gnome had brushed it off as a curiosity that he would gladly trade a silver piece for; being that they would be the same size. He reasoning not withstanding, it’s entirely up to you whether you made that trade before leaving or kept your coin.

Once up in your room at the Salty Seaman (either with or without Yshtar depending on her choice) you begin studying the two objects you claimed from the junk shop.
The star chart proves to be an odd piece. Much like the one on the ceiling of the room in the Bard College you studied, something about it is just the slightest bit off. However, unlike the ceiling, this one is very much a mundane work with no magic of any kind effecting it. It’s far easier for your eyes to trace the movement of stars from season to season here as opposed to how they appeared in the stone chart. It is only after hours of careful study that you finally realize what’s wrong with it. Beyond the obvious strangeness of how it is set up and what you determine to be purposeful contradictions with the real night sky, your eyes finally fall upon the needle in the haystack: there is a star present here that should not exist. That does not exist. In each version of the sky shown across all four seasons, there is a single star (marked with a tiny C-shaped rune on the map in each instance of its appearance) which stays in a perfectly fixed position while all the others have shifted. Which is when it suddenly strikes you what it is you are seeing. It isn’t staying in one place, but the scenery around it is ever shifting from season to season. This isn’t a star map displaying the movement of the cosmos, this is a chart of the movement of a single, unaccounted for star while all the other celestial bodies remain fixed. The shift in the stars around it simply represent how the sky appeared near where this star was spotted. And its movements were... erratic, to say the least. Nonsensical even...

As for the viewing device, there is likewise no magic to it that you can discern. Just a clever contraption used to gaze at the night sky. You are uncertain what the point of the light purple tint to the glass is, but beyond that there aren’t really any oddities to it beyond its overall intricacy.

Yshtar just shrugged at the secrecy of Bartimaeus. Then at the suggestion of sharing a room with a man he just met she politely replied.

"I would prefer to have my own room please. If it is next to you, you can just shout whenever that archlich pesters you again." Then she realized what the man just said. "If you are not staying in your bed where do you sleep?"

She fully expected him to say he's sleeping in the closet or something similarly weird based on what he's been up to since meeting him. She looked at the Salty Seaman while talking to the priest. Later in her room she examined the Saga of the Saltspire Seven in detail to see if there was anything interesting in it.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:58, Wed 14 Oct 2020.

Bartimaeus paid over two silver to the bartender for the nearest room to #9, and requested a luncheon be served for them both.

On the way up to their rooms, he replied jovially to Yshtar. "An appearance of the Archlich Vampire Aboleth will be announced with enthusiasm! Oh... my bed? Ah. Well, the brothers of my order employ a meditative trance not dissimilar to that of the elves - you're familiar? - which obviates the necessity of a bed. That's all."

---

Spoiler for Insight DC 18: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
That bit about the Oghmic brothers is not true.

---

"It's generally a difficult technique to master, but it is one of those which has come easily to me. Ha. Sometimes I miss the unconscious oblivion of deep slumbers!"

---

Spoiler for Insight DC 4: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
He desperately misses sleeping.

---

"In any case, do enjoy your reading! I should be pleased to hear what you learn about the Lady Shadesworn, if you're inclined to share." He laughed and smiled. "But I'll understand if my reluctance to offer information is rewarded by its equal measure!"

Once back in his room, Bartimaeus laid his equipment down, unfurled the star chart on the table and placed the kosmoculum in its case on the bed. He walked over to his familiar, petted it and inquired about its morning.


~~ // ~~

Hours later in the afternoon he emerged from his room with his mug for hot water in the hallway, muttering under his breath and looking into the middle distance.

"... uncharted star... course laid... other stars plot it... other stars in movement held movement still... require more time... time... season... during what season... erratic... epicycles within epicycles... reference material insufficient... Shadesworn archives."

He returned to his room for further study.

~~ // ~~

At dusk Bartimaeus emerged from his room and knocked on Yshtar's, visibly agitated with anticipation. "Good evening! I hope your day has been as enthrallingly uneventful as mine has been! Uninterrupted time is a jewel beyond measure! ... Nighttime is nearly upon us; shall we head out to find a perch for the night sky, and possibly make an inquiry not dissimilar from that at Milo's? I thought I spotted a place in the city's center in which bears scrutiny, and then there is... well... it is a place we might expect fewer lights to dim our eyes."

---

OOC:
Bartimaeus' route will take him past Vargarth's. If there is activity within, he'll knock. Otherwise, he'll continue to... the city's cemetery in the Roe, looking for a hill with few lights around.

Similar arrangement with Ailuros. Equipment will be has been updated re: what I have on me.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:19, Wed 14 Oct 2020.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 30):

The book details the various tales and exploits of an adventuring group known as the Saltspire Seven. Having all met in the northern metropolis of the same name, the group began traveling together out of necessity; having all taken a mission together to slay a dangerous manticore that had been menacing the city’s trade routes. Having succeeded, they decided to stick together as a group for the better part of three decades.

Their adventures brought them all across Veltria, bringing them into contact with virtually every civilization and culture therein. Many of their exploits became well-known folk tales in the regions where they settled. The three individuals you are particularly interested in have their background described in detail, though much of the information is from decades back. You suspect this was written when they retired from adventuring, while they were still a bit younger than they are today.

Vernum Cartwright was a cunning strategist and master of virtually every weapon he’d ever laid eyes on. A unparalleled warrior with a bombastic tone and a love of battle, he was often the leader of the group when it came to combat. Hailing from Saltspire’s military complex, he was the only member of the group who had actual formal military training. It would go on to be a great boon for the party when they later found themselves leading an assault against the keep of a drow necromancer toward the end of their adventures; heading up the charge with nearly 300 other soldiers under their command.

Paula Shadesworn was the only member of the group not originally from Saltspire; hailing from a small fishing town from the southern end of Veltria’s eastern coastline. A cleric of a mysterious celestial being known simply as the Watcher. A master of barriers and a peerless healer, she was very much the heart of the group in both her combat role as well as her overall personality. Calm, kind, welcoming to a fault, she was ever the source of positivity and charity amongst the otherwise pragmatic group. A collector of arcane knowledge and various esoteric texts, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume running a library or archive would be her ideal vision for retirement.

Eddard Harper was what the Tenebrians refer to as a “spellsword.” A capable frontline fighter with a strong grasp on magic, he was a powerful asset on the battlefield; specializing in fighting multiple opponents at once. Able to turn allies against one another with merely a word, he could shift the tide of entire battles without rest. Personality-wise, however, he was always the most distant of the group; never really wanting to maintain much of a connection to the others. Cold, calculating, and with an overall no-nonsense way about him, you suspect a govrerning position like Lord of Trade would suit him well enough.

"I have never heard of your practices but I do miss my bed. Let's meet in the evening. I might share what I've found in the book."

With this she happily -and perhaps a bit mischievously- bid farewell to the insomniac priest and went into her room. It was acceptable - nothing fancy but free. On the continent with her lifestyle not a lot of men offered their bed nor to rent Yshtar a room so she was quite pleased for now. It is my lucky day after all. She went on reading.
She doffed her armor marveling how clean it was - just like always. Later when lunchtime came she was pleasantly surprised by the food provided and while the young woman did catch a glimpse of Bartimaeus she decided not to bother him. In fact he looked like in a trance and Yshtar did not want to go anywhere near the suspicious steaming mug he was hugging. Returning her room she continued reading the book which was actually quite intriguing: The Saltspire Seven apparently had a much more interesting life she will ever have.
The agitated knocking in the evening surprised her somewhat but not entirely. She appeared in full gear when opening the door.

"Hello Bartimaeus. My day was not bad thank you. I hope the Veltrian crusader did not pester you this time?" She smiled. "So our goal is the cemetary? A very...poetic place to watch the stars. I would have thought there are quieter places around the city but you don't have to explain yourself. I assume the angle of the mound in the middle of the cemetary provides a measure that compensates for the alignment of the stars this evening so you can make optimal measurements?"

Shall we continue in the cemetery?
This message was last edited by the player at 11:16, Thu 15 Oct 2020.

Waterfront ---> Town Square - Adventurer's Guild

Vela came in with the Goliath woman Mitgira. Both looked like they had been in a good scuffle but neither of them showed much discomfort at that. The half-orc never entered the adventurer's guild before however, and she took the chance to look about..

Tegan had noted the clouds or fog bank that seemed to be situated over Tideswallow before he reached the city's wall, and briefly wondered whether that was some sort of an omen. After a moment's thought, he pushed that thought aside, reasoning that it was likely just some sea-fog that had rolled in off of the harbor. ~Could be worse,~ he thought to himself. ~I'll take a little fog over slogging through the rain any day.~

He thought back to the previous day's travel, when he marched along on a perfect fall day, under a cloudless sky of cerulean blue. He remembered that word specifically, having complimented a lady wearing a dress of that shade shortly before leaving Saltspire. "Begging your pardon, milady, but I could not help but notice how stunning you look in that shade of blue," he had said, sketching a bow.

"Cerulean," she clarified, flashing him a dazzling smile. "And it matches your eyes quite nicely also, good sir."

Not long after that he had bought a tabard to wear over his armor -- it did not match the shade of the lady's dress precisely, but 'twas close. Sadly, he did not see the woman again before leaving Saltspire, so he could not show off his new purchase and flatter her as being the inspiration for it.

As he neared the city gate on the road from Scarborough-at-the-Crossroads, Tegan noted that foot-traffic was passing freely into and out of the city, but that surprisingly enough -- to him, at least -- he did not see any City Guards posted there. ~Could be that the big Imperial encampment a short ways back up the road has something to do with Tideswallow's easy-breezy attitude about manning the gates,~ he thought to himself.

Once he passed through the gate, Tegan did see some Guards walking the ramparts on the wall above him, but they did not seem especially interested in the foot traffic down below them.

Perhaps ten or fifteen paces inside the gate, a young street urchin took his ease in the shade, leaning back against a large stack of wooden crates. The youngster looked Tegan up and down, then quickly pushed himself away from his resting-place and glided over to the Half-Elf.

"G'day to ye, sir. Can I int'rest ye in a brand-spankin' new map of our fine city? Guaranteed accurate, sir!"

Tegan smiled. "And how much coin will I need to part with in order to gain ownership of this wondrous map, hmmmm?"

"Why, only one thin Silver Dragon, sir! 'Tis a bargain at five times the price, truly! Only one left -- ye'd best act quickly, sir, lest ye be left wanderin' 'round in the fog, not knowin' yer bleedin' way."

The fact that the urchin was asking a silver piece for the map told Tegan that it was most likely worth about a copper -- if that -- and for a moment he considered bargaining the lad down, just to keep in practice. But he decided soon enough that a silver was worth a lot more to this youngster than it was to him. ~And so what if he thinks me an easy mark? Let him feel good about duping me.~

Seeing Tegan hesitate, the urchin quickly added "It was drawed by the master map-maker, ummm . . . Ink-Spot Drawsalot, sir. Ye won't find a map this good nowhere else in the city, believe you me!"

With a chuckle, Tegan pulled a silver piece out of his belt-pouch and flipped it to the urchin, who, showing surprising dexterity, grabbed it out of the air and took off running.

"Hoi!! My map!" shouted Tegan. It was one thing to overpay for the map, but 'twas something else again to receive naught at all for his coin. But by now the fleet-footed youngster was long gone, having disappeared around a corner after holding up a hand and flashing a rude gesture in the Half-Elf's direction.

Tegan couldn't help but chuckle again, this time at himself. ~Welcome to Tideswallow, rube. Anyone watching that would think me a right and proper hayseed, just in from the countryside.~

In all truth, Tegan did not really know where he should go, now that he had reached the city. Since before leaving Saltspire, he had been having various vague feelings,  dreams, and visions that had all been hinting that he should come to this place, and should seek someone out. But all of the various hints had always ended before the identity of that someone had been revealed to him.

Tegan turned in a circle and glanced at the nearby buildings, but did not glean any hints from having done so. ~Might as well head for the Town Square,~ he decided. ~If this place is anything like Saltspire, there should be some job boards there, with town criers wandering through, along and along. Mayhap I will find something there that will help me find whatever -- whoever -- I am supposed to be looking for.~

And soon enough, after asking directions three or four times and taking a few wrong turns, Tegan found himself in what the locals called the "Town Square District" . . .

---

OOC: Subject to the DM's approval, I will write Tegan's spoken words in blue, and his unspoken thoughts in gray and italics. His thoughts are bracketed by tildes (~) instead of the quotation marks that are used for his spoken words.

A quick glance around the square reveals a plethora life and a few locations of interest. While no criers appear to be present here, you do see a job board situated in front of a massive wooden building which appears to be built from the hulls of several beached ships.

 Not far from it you see a junk shop with its door wide open.

The remnants of some sort of market from the previous day appear to be being hauled away from the center of the square. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think one might be able to seek employment moving the remaining crates, stalls, and stage components.

Several temples stand tall amidst the otherwise stoutly-built buildings around them. The grandest you are instantly certain belongs to the congregation of Amaunator, but the others would require closer inspection to determine the theology of. A few small shrines are similarly located seemingly at random in alcove and alleyways around the square.

A few city guards patrol the various corners and you see a pair of fully outfitted Tenebrian guardsmen (though of what rank or regiment you can’t say as their uniforms appear to be devoid of any such markings) wandering off toward the docks.

---

Seems to be in order. Carry on as intended!

After arriving at the town square, Tegan moved to the center of it, and peered this way and that. From the looks of things, it seemed that there had been some sort of a happening held here within the last day or so -- plenty of trash still littered the ground, and here and there various leftover items (lumber, canvas, ropes, and crates containing who-knows-what) were still being hauled off by disinterested-looking laborers.

~Well, I see no criers loudly proclaiming 'Step right up! This way to your mystery man!' And if I were a betting man, I'd wager that none of the placards and advertisements tacked up  on that job board over there provide any sort of guidance, either. On the plus side of the ledger, there is no throng of street urchins clamoring to sell me things, only to flick me off and dash away once they have my coin in hand.~

His eyes attracted by the movement, Tegan absently gazed at the city guards who were seemingly making their rounds, and two Imperials whom the Half-Elf supposed were likely on Leave from their encampment, having ventured into the city looking for a little entertainment. ~No doubt they can find something here that interests them, although I suspect that they will have better luck finding what they seek once night sets in.~

But neither variety of men-at-arms paid him any mind, at least insofar as he could tell -- so he shrugged and turned his attention elsewhere, as well. ~A big man in full plate is not likely to be attempting to sneak about and do any cut-purse work or try for any five-fingered discounts, I suppose. And if I am not making trouble, then I am not worth their attention . . . probably just as well.~

For lack of anything better to do, Tegan began pacing around the square, stopping briefly at each holy shrine that he came to. His plan was to visit the small shrines first, and then to make his way over to the larger temples, hoping for . . . something . . . some sort of hint of guidance or inspiration.

~Eh, 'tis a plan, a way to begin,~ he thought to himself. ~Whether or not 'tis a good one remains to be seen.~
This message was last edited by the player at 17:09, Thu 29 Oct 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 37):

Looming over the rest of the square stands the massive stone cathedral that acts as the temple to the sun god Amaunator. Easily the most widely worshiped and recognizable of the various deities you see represented around the square, his temple currently seems to be under a bit of construction; with some scaffolding running up one of the five towering spires that mark the corners of the structure. After some quick study of the work going on upon it, you suspect it’s likely just a refurbishing project rather than anything majorly in the way of new construction.

Beyond this you spot a more humble, but still quite impressive, temple to Bahamut. The Platinum Dragon’s temple is built like a small citadel, with an outer wall, a portcullis which worshippers must pass under, and maze of stone structures within housing the various altars and prayer chambers. You spot a pair of plate-clad paladins standing vigil at the entrance beside the portcullis.

From there it’s easy to see the defunct structure that was once a house of worship for three gods of death: the Raven Queen, Kelemvor, and a symbol you’re unfamiliar, made of a simple empty hooded cloak with a sword pointing down amidst its folds. The building itself seems abandoned. Unattended by clergy and worshippers alike.

Finally, you see a temple to dedicated to the Seldarine, what you know to be the elven pantheon as a whole. You’re familiar enough, as most with elf blood in their veins are in Veltria, of the prominence that these gods once held. Now their worship is less a matter of direct connection and more one of simple tradition. A way of holding on to old teaching that might have otherwise been lost to time and diaspora as the elven clans spread further and further from one another. This temple seems fairly well visited, though it is currently not anywhere near as busy as the Platinum Dragon’s or Amaunator’s.

You spot the occasional shrine to lesser gods in the shadows as well as you go. A few of these you recognize. The Moonweaver. Iomedae. Serenrae. Torag. Pharasma. All gods long considered dead or departed in the Tenebrian Empire, but here they appear to still have their worshippers. Small though their congregation may be...
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:10, Fri 30 Oct 2020.

Tegan made his circuit around the perimeter of the town square, stopping for a moment in front of each shrine or temple. He hoped for some sort of a sign or signal from his Patron or their agent -- a flash of radiant light, a whisper in his ear (or his head), a scarce-felt touch when no one was visible nearby. But . . . nothing.

He was a little disappointed, but in truth, had not really expected it to be all that easy or simple. It was one of Mains' favorite sayings, to the effect that anything worth having must first be earned. ~Which leaves me wondering what I needs must do as the next step in my . . . my what? My proving? Mayhap . . .~

The Half-Elf took a deep breath and paced back to the center of the square. ~Well, 'twas a logical and reasonable effort, methinks. But, alas, I've nothing to show for it. Eh, mayhap logic and reason are not the keys needed to unlock this puzzle.~

Tegan glanced around the square and noticed what appeared to be a junk shop which had its doors propped invitingly wide open.

~Well, why not?~ he thought to himself. ~It has long been said that one man's trash is another man's treasure. And from what I have seen from the architecture, this place has deep roots . . . old roots. Who know what I might find in a place like that . . . mayhap something long since thought useless, but which in the right hands might useful many times over.~

With such thoughts in mind, Tegan turned towards the junk shop and began striding purposefully towards it . . .

In reply to Tegan (msg # 39):

From the outside the shop appears to be little more than a hexagonal, one-room cottage-like structure; rustic and simple in its design. Inside, however... it appears exactly the same, as far as how it’s built, but the interior is positively packed with all manner of useless or tossed aside junk one could ever hope to cram into such an unassuming hovel. Through the open door and the large windows out front, you can see piles of discarded items, broken trinkets, and unsorted oceans of forgotten goods; all surrounding an oval-shaped counter in the center of the room where a single elderly gnome is currently napping. Shelves stuffed with cascading avalanches of battered books, parchments, and knickknacks line almost every wall, aside from those where a window looks out toward eith the street or the U-shaped alleyway wrapping around and behind the building.

In reply to GM (msg # 40):

When Tegan entered the shop, he was a little surprised not to hear the tinkle of a small bell announcing the arrival of a potential customer. ~He certainly is a trusting sort,~ he thought to himself when he spied the elderly sleeping Gnome. ~Must not get too many sorts like that scamp who offered to sell me a city map coming in here.~

Not wishing to startle the Gnome -- but also not wishing to have the fellow suddenly wake up, only to find himself cheek by jowl with an unannounced newcomer wearing plate mail -- Tegan cleared his throat as many times as it took to get the sleeping shopkeeper's attention ...

In reply to Tegan (msg # 41):

The gnome awakes immediately with a start, whipping a crossbow almost as big as he is out form under the counter. “PUT IT BACK YOU LITTLE WI- oh. Oh hello there... you’re not a thief are you?” His voice is raspy, gritty, and still a little groggy... just generally old sounding.

In reply to GM (msg # 42):

Tegan raised both of his hands in a "I surrender" gesture. He knew a crossbow to be a powerful weapon, and reasoned that at this short range, a bolt would likely penetrate even his plate mail if it scored a solid hit.

He smiled in response to the Gnome's conclusion. "Nay, not a thief. Just a browser."

"You don't mind browsers, do you?"

In reply to Tegan (msg # 43):

“Oh... oh well that’s different then. Welcome! Please, browse to your heart’s content. Just be sure to put everything back EXACTLY where you found it when you’re done.” He gestures to the massive piles of junk with a very serious expression. You legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not and are becoming more and more certain that he isn’t.

In reply to GM (msg # 44):

Tegan very slowly lowered his hands, watching the Gnome quite closely to make certain that he did not have an issue with this. The little fellows request -- warning, whatever -- made it clear enough that the Half-Elf was safe in doing so, for how could one touch things and pick them up if he kept his hands raised up into the air.

Glancing around the interior of the store, Tegan muttered "Very impressive." He refrained from adding the rest of what he was thinking -- something along the lines of ~It's the most junk that I've ever seen in one place in my whole, entire life.~

"How long has it taken you assemble all this?" ~. . . this junk . . .~ the Half-Elf asked as he began to pace down one of the aisles. His plan was not to touch anything, so that he would not be under pressure to put it back EXACTLY as he had found it.

"I can see how things getting put back in the wrong place could be quite a problem," he said. "I'm sure that you have everything organized EXACTLY the way that it should be."

It was all that he could do not to shout "Chaos!" as he plunged his arm up to the elbow into a massive pile of junk on one of the shelves and sweep it all onto the floor.

But that would be destructive and mean, and would probably destroy the little fellow's sense of order and organization . . . plus, there was the matter of that crossbow.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 45):

“Oh this has been a life long pursuit. Built up this collection over years and years. Please, take your time. It’s all very well catalogued and... um... one of those other, similar words... organized, yes, that one!”

---

Go ahead and make an investigation check if you’re looking for anything in particular (doesnt have to be anything specific, just a general type of thing you want to search for). Otherwise, go ahead and just roll a d20.

Tegan nodded in a vaguely disinterested fashion at the dotty old Gnome's patter. The half-Elf wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he figured that he would know it if and when he saw it -- something in the nature of a hint, something that would give him some guidance on where to start looking for the person whom he was supposed to seek out here in Tideswallow.

As he moved down the aisles, the first thought that came to Tegan is that he should look for something that showed the bright-violet hue that the Messenger in his dreams sometimes seemed to favor. He suspected that whatever he found might be something that was incongruous or inconsequential to most everyone else, but the color that he remembered was a little unusual, so he reasoned that it would stand out to his eyes.

Nothing caught his eye in the first aisle that he perused. Then another thought occurred to him, and he turned to the Gnome. "Blood and honor -- does that mean anything to you? Do you have anything in here that has any sort of a connection to that phrase?"

---

OOC: 10:47, Today: Tegan rolled 3 using 1d20.  Investigation Check .

Notes: Well . . . about all one can say about a 3 is "Meh, at least it wasn't a 1." :)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 47):

The pile you begin with seems to hold little of consequence. The broken bits and pieces you pull out appear to be just what the shop advertises them to be: junk.

“Blood and Honor? Hmmm... nope. No. Nothing. Doesn’t ring any bells.... oh except for the brown scroll over under the pile of almanacs there.”

He points to a particularly overstuffed bookshelf where sits a small mountain of crumbling tomes and sheets of parchment. One particularly badly creased scroll of brown parchment paper is currently being crushed beneath the rest of the pile. As best you can guess, it likely hasn’t moved from its spot in years, if not decades.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:01, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 48):

Tegan's eyebrows shot up in an expression of surprise when the Gnome responded to his "Blood and Honor" inquiry by pointing out an age-browned parchment that was resting at the bottom of a stack of dusty tomes.

"That . . ." he began, clearing his throat in an off-hand manner, "it might be of interest to me," he replied.

"But I hesitate to touch any of your items. Plus, seeing as how the parchment rests at the bottom of a pile . . . stack . . . whatever -- of other volumes and parchments . . . well, if I moved anything out of the way, I might not get it back in the right order."

"Would you like to move the other items away from the parchment that you mentioned? That way everything can be put back, just the way you like it . . . errr, just as it should be."

In reply to Tegan (msg # 49):

“Oh no, don’t worry about the pile. All junk, the lot of it. Just stack it on the floor if you want the scroll. It’ll be 10 gold as I’m quite sure it’s one of a kind and very very old... probably.”

He seems to be thoroughly distracted with the crossbow, seemingly trying to remember where he picked it up from and how best to set it back down there. He’s not even looking at you as he speaks.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

The Gnome's comment had set Tegan to wondering how a scroll -- and seemingly quite an old one, if the shop-owner was correct -- could have some sort of a connection with the phrase that he had heard on that night.

He also took note of the oldster's about-face in telling him to have at the "junk" that covered the scroll, and to just stack it on the floor. The fact that the Gnome still had the crossbow in hand -- and was looking rather befuddled about what he should do with it -- was also a matter of no little concern.

Finally, the Half-Elf gently suggested "Under the counter, friend -- that's where that crossbow goes. Lean down and . . . (~Well, mayhap on second thought, someone of your stature need not lean down~) . . . if you look under the counter, and I'm sure that you'll see just the spot for it."

And so it was that Tegan began removing the items that covered the parchment and starting a new stack of junk down on the floor, turning and eyeing the old Gnome every now and again to make sure that the crossbow was not being aimed at him.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:16, Sun 01 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 51):

“Under the...? Oh the hook! Right, right. Of course. Yes. That’s more like it...” He continued attempting to fit the crossbow back into its hiding spot with varying degrees of success as you made your way over to the shelf.

Removing the tomes crushing down on the scroll, you find that many are barely even legible anymore; their pages long since turned to dust or so badly water damaged that the print is completely unreadable. The scroll you find beneath them, meanwhile, isn’t in particularly great shape itself. Tattered, beaten, and creased beyond smoothing, a good deal of the text written upon it is impossible to make out. The language it’s written in likewise doesn’t exactly fill you with much confidence. The long, spiraling letters (if that’s what they are) and jagged pictographs aren’t any written form you recognize.

In the dead center of the scroll is a complex arcane formula, something you’ve seen in various forms before but never had a much luck actually deciphering. More of a wizard’s sort of thing to work with. Some of the lines have faded with time and you suspect whatever spell or ritual was once printed on here has long since lost its potency, if it ever had any to begin with.

In reply to GM (msg # 52):

Tegan breathed a sigh of relief once the crossbow was somewhere under the counter, as opposed to being above the counter, where hands responding to the urgings of a failing mind could easily have aimed it at him. He found himself imagining hearing the Gnome mutter ~What does this little thingamajiggy right here do? Oh, my stars, that was a trigger, wasn't it? Oh dearie me, look what it did when I pulled the trigger! Who could have guessed that such a thing would happen? I'm so, so sorry . . .~

Once he was able to view the parchment, to say that Tegan was disappointed would be an understatement. ~Well, what did you expect, Tegan-me-lad?~ he chided himself. ~Did you think that all the answers to your questions would be just handed to you on a silver platter?~

Holding the parchment carefully, the Half-Elf turned to face the Gnome. "In all truth, I can make no sense of what is writ down here," he admitted.

"How is it that you know that these scribblings have anything to do with that phrase that I spoke a few moments ago -- 'Blood and Honor'?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:41, Sun 01 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 53):

“Oh I read it once upon a time. Back when uh... someone? Hmmm... Somebody? Yes that one. Back when somebody traded it for coin enough to leave this dingy old port on a ship northward. Said it was worth the weight of the coin, at least, so that’s what I gave her for it. The speech is called ‘Undercommon’ unless the name’s changed in recent years. Not all legible but what’s there is in that.” He slowly climbs down from the counter and totters over to you with some effort.

Looking up at the paper, possibly reading the back of the scroll, he begins reciting what he either remembers or sees; you’re not entirely sure. “Ressin. They’re here on official business. Just a lie. Not an exploratory team at all. They come from the main branch. From the Chorus. The grail’s in their possession, but only a small one. Gift for the town. To keep things strong.”

“Elleck. Even if that’s true, we must be keeping eyes upon them. I fear the Chorus has made a mistake this day. These people are not to be trusted. Keep tabs. Send word. Eyes up. Eyes bright.”

“Eyes up. All Night. Will send back what I find. Need to create a cipher still. Until then, no more talk of choruses and grails. I’ll see you when this is over, my love. Blood and Honor.“

“Watcher willing, Elleck. Light and Knowledge, my dear.”

He stops a moment, catching his breath a bit. “Afraid that’s all I could ever make out. Some sort of correspondence. The spell engraved on it I believe let these two send the paper back and further to one another. Teleport it across a great distance. But that magic’s been lost since the parchment’s suffered such abuse over the years. Might be more you could make out from it, but that’s all I could ever read.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:55, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 54):

Tegan listened intently as the old Gnome read from the parchment -- from the way he spoke, it even looked like he might be reciting it from memory, but the Half-Elf had trouble crediting that the old codger's recall was that sharp.

~"Blood and Honor" -- glory to the good gods, it's in there, right enough -- the old fellow got it right. And there's another catchphrase -- "Light and Knowledge" -- that might also mean something. And who's this Watcher, I wonder -- the one referred to in the "Watcher Willing" wording . . . that could be helpful to know.~

"That's . . . interesting," Tegan said after the Gnome had finished his telling, "but sadly, I have no clue as to what any of it means."

"Still and all, I'd like to be able to study the words from time to time, in the hopes that understanding will come to me at some point. And I have no chance of remembering all that. Do you some paper, ink, and a pen? I'll pay you for them."

"Then, I'll trouble you to read . . . recite . . . those words again -- slowly, if you please, so that I can write them all down. Or, if you think it better, you can write them down yourself. Either way, there's a little extra coin in it for you as a recompense for the writing supplies."

---

OOC: DM, what sort of a roll would Tegan need to make to see if he knows anything about "The Watcher", or the "Light and Knowledge" catchphrase? Thanks.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 55):

At the suggestion of more coin, the old man scrambles back toward one of the junk piles closer to the counter. “Ink and parchment, right enough! Easy to put together here. Let’s see...” He fishes about through the various mounds of bits and baubles, eventually producing a sizable vial of black ink and a somewhat shabby writing quill. “Here you are. I’m not much for.... um... what’s the word? Foundation? No... Dictation! Yes that one. But you can certainly write while I repeat it.”

He reiterates the back-and-forth message to you again while you take some time to jot down what’s being said, all the while pondering on the meaning of certain aspects of it. Casting your memory back as far as possible, you search for any inkling you might have of the meaning behind the words.

---

I would say for this, give it a History or Religion check; your choice which.

In reply to GM (msg # 56):

Tegan wrote down the words as the old Gnome spoke them, sometimes asking the oldster speak more slowly, sometimes asking him to repeat portions of what was writ on the old parchment.

As he wrote, he turned a portion of his mind towards trying to trying to grasp any bits of understanding of what was writ down so long ago. By the time the merchant had finished reading the words again, Tegan was shaking his head in silent exasperation. He felt certain that there were clues to be had here -- the Blood and Honor catchphrase seemed proof enough of that, at least to his way of thinking -- but he could not make sense of any of them.

"Thank you for your assistance, sir," he said to the Gnome when the oldster had finished.

"Now, then -- what is the final tally of what I owe you? And please add a scroll case to your amount. I need to protect this old parchment from further harm, methinks, and would like to purchase it from you."

---

OOC: 12:19, Today: Tegan rolled 2 using 1d20.  History Check re: Old Parchment.

Notes: Let's see . . . that's two die-rolls for Tegan, resulting in a 3 and a 2. Thanks to the good gods (and the DM's good judgment) that we did not roll for Attributes in this game. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 57):

Despite your best efforts, the words are no more familiar now than when you first heard them so long ago. Blood and Honor. You can’t get the phrase out of your mind... you can feel this has been a step in the right direction. And in quite quick order too. But still so far from a definitive answer.

“Erm, right. Good. Excellent. Now then, that is all well and done. I will be needing that coin now, if you please. 10 gold for the scroll, and another... we’ll say... 5 for the reciting and writing implements.”

In reply to GM (msg # 58):

Tegan nodded when the shopkeeper named his sum. The Half-Elf thought that he was probably overpaying if one went by market price alone, but he could not help but feeling that the old parchment and its words were worth quite a bit more to him personally than the market price would indicate.

"All, right, then -- here's your 15 Gold Dragons, as the buying-price, plus an extra Golder for that scroll-case that I mentioned," Tegan said, counting out the coins on top of the counter, in plain view of the Gnome.

After carefully placing the old parchment in the scroll case, Tegan shrugged the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders, set it down atop the counter, then opened the flap and packed everything away.

Then, slipping the straps of his backpack back on his shoulders, he nodded in parting to the old merchant. "Good day to you, sir. And many thanks for your very helpful assistance."

---

OOC: I shall deduct 16 GP from Tegan's available coins, and add to his Inventory: Old parchment, paper (one piece, containing translation), ink, quill, and scroll-case.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 59):

Without even looking, the gnome reaches over into one fo the nearby piles and pulls out a fairly well-made looking scroll case that appears as though it should fit your purchase nicely. He hands it to you and takes the gold; eager to see the deal completed.
“A pleasure doing business Mr...?”

In reply to GM (msg # 60):

Tegan had turned to lave the store when the Gnome spoke to him. Turning back to face the oldster, Tegan smiled and replied "Tegan. Tegan Adalondor, from Saltspire."

"And yourself, sir?"

In reply to Tegan (msg # 61):

“That’d be Milo. Milo of... uh... this town!”
You can tell the mental strains of this entire transaction has been quite taxing on the old gnome. Little more of worth seems like it’s going to come from him at this juncture. He bids you farewell and returns to his counter, looking for all the world like he is planning on going right back to sleep.

In reply to GM (msg # 62):

Tegan smiled a kindly smile. He was pretty sure that the recent transaction had favored both Milo and himself. "Well, then -- good day to you, Master Milo," he said as he turned to leave the shop.

Stepping out into the Town Square, the Half-Elf found himself wondering where he should go next. ~Mayhap I am going about this the wrong way~ he decided after a moment's thought. ~Mayhap I am pressing too hard in trying to force some sort of a resolution sooner rather than later.~

~Who knows the mind of an entity as powerful as my Patron, whomever he or she may be? Mayhap I just need to show a little patience, and await some guidance.~
This message was last edited by the player at 15:53, Wed 04 Nov 2020.

Tegan glanced around the Town Square. He felt like the ancient parchment that he had purchased in the junk shop would aid him in his quest, although in what measure he was as of yet uncertain.

~Where to next?~ he wondered.

---

OOC: GM, do any of the shops and market stalls other than the junk shop appear to be open for business? Thanks.

The businesses all around you appear to be open for business and accepting all visitors. As best you can tell, only one or two buildings are devoid of life of some form or another; boarded up and shuttered for who knows how long.

Around the square you see what you believe to be:
-A general store.
-The Adventurers’ Guild.
-Temples and small shrines to various deities,
-An infirmary.
-Several small offices.
-The lesser town bank.
-The stables.
-Shops and businesses of varying degrees of quality.
-The lesser town library.
-The town junk shop.
-A book store.
-A butcher.
-A few small dining facilities.
-Town Criers
-And stalls where all manner of trade goes on, often changing hands on a regular basis.

In reply to GM (msg # 65):

The fact that there was a library located on the Town Square caught Tegan's attention. ~Hmmm -- an interest in learning must be more common in this city than I had anticipated.~

~I never did much reading myself, but a place like that could be helpful to me in my present circumstances. Hopefully the librarian will be a person of substantial learning and academic knowledge. Only one way to find out, I suppose.~

With those thoughts in mind, Tegan made his way over to the library and stepped inside.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 66):

The building passing for a library in the Town Square betrays a bit of the city’s own lack of care for its populace’s education. A small warehouse of stone and wood, it has been dressed up over the years to at least resemble a place of learning from the outside. However, once within its interior, you find that much of the place has become a means of housing untold stacks of books, scrolls, and outdated paperwork. Some is certainly organized in the way you’d expect a library to be and is entirely browseable to any and all visitors. A great deal more, however, is locked away in unsorted piles behind a curtained-off portion of the warehouse.

A man of drow-heritage runs the front desk and greets you as you enter. “Welcome my friend. Please browse to your heart’s content. Just let me know if you need anything...”

He seems wholly bored with the job and is barely even paying attention as you enter; merely passing on the greeting as a pleasantry more than an actual heart-felt salutation.

In reply to GM (msg # 67):

Tegan smiled at the man behind the desk who had spoken to him. "Actually, I do have something that I could use some help with," he replied.

"I recently picked up a very old parchment that contains some wording that is supposedly writ in Undercommon. I couldn't say -- I do not speak nor read that tongue, myself."

"If you do, I would like to check the translation that I have been given against what you can read on the parchment. It is also possible that you might understand more of the original wording than the fellow who spoke the translation for me."

"So, then -- can you aid me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:07, Sat 07 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 68):

“Undercommon? Curious... I suppose I should be a bit insulted you’d just assume I know it, but quite honestly, I’ve not had an excuse to practice the tongue in quite some time... so certainly, I’ll give your document a look over.” Insulted or not, you catch no hint of actual offense in his voice or tone. It seems more likely he’s just trying to see if he can make you uncomfortable.

Taking the parchment, he glances over it a few times. You watch as his eyes travel across it over and over, occasionally betraying some semblence of difficulty before seeming understanding takes hold. “Fascinating... and you found this... where? Exactly? Because if it’s the least bit recent, which I’m quite hoping it’s not, you my friend may be in quite a bit of trouble. Seems you’ve intercepted some manner of missive between... spies, perhaps? Cultists? I’m not entirely sure.”
Over the next ten minutes or so, he slowly confirms the majority of what the gnome had recited from memory.

In reply to GM (msg # 69):

If Tegan was affected by the other man's reaction to the Hal-Elf's asking if he knew Undercommon, he did not show it. ~If that sort of thing offends you, you are way too thin-skinned,~ he thought to himself. He shrugged and said "I. myself am a Half-Elf. It does not offend me when people assume that I can read and write Elven -- which I can."

He listened as the man behind the desk by and large confirmed Milo's previous translation. In response to the questions asked by the man of Drow heritage, Tegan responded "I picked this up in the junk shop over on the other side of the Square. It was buried under a pile of old books and scrolls, and the proprietor of the shop told me that it is quite old."

"To my eye it does look old, but I suppose that there can be clever ways to fake that sort of thing. Although to go to that effort and then bury the parchment away in a nondescript junk shop makes little sense to me. So I am assuming that it is as ancient as it looks to be."

Tegan cocked his head to one side and regarded the other man in silence for a moment. "Now that you have had an opportunity to read it over, do you recognize any of the catchphrases -- 'Blood and Honor', 'Watcher Willing', and 'Light and Knowledge'? And what about the reference to the Chorus and Grails -- do these things ring any bells with you?"

"Is one of these phrases or references the reason that you suspect that Cultists may be involved? And if so, do you know anything of the cult, and who -- or what -- they serve?"

In reply to Tegan (msg # 70):

He nods along as you speak, clearly a little more interested now having seen the piece that’s held your interest for himself. “Milo’s? Oh well that would make sense then. Always does seem to have a way of attracting tourists with that old hovel of his... If that’s the case, I’d wager this is indeed an old, forgotten artifact rather than some clever bit of subterfuge. That old gnome’s mad as the day is long, but he’s got an eye for antiques.”

At your question of familiar phrases, he shrugs. “A few I’ve seen in passing here and there. ‘Blood and Honor’ is a surprising versatile one. Not really bound to any single organization I know of. More just a typical show of respect between warriors, I should think... though... the usage here does raise some questions, I must admit. Shame I’m not paid enough to look into such things really. I do love a good historical mystery... This mention of a ‘grail’ though is troubling. Town’s got a rough history itself going back a few hundred years. And in all that time, there’s been the very, VERY occasional mention of relics that might fit the description of a grail. Not a chalice or cup, precisely, but a vessel to be certain. Capable of terrible displays of power. Don’t know any details though. Just the sorts of folk tales that’ve faded into the background over generations.” 

It’s only when you bring up cult directly that he seems to clam up. “I uh... that was a slip of the tongue on my part. Best not to concern yourself with such things. Cults don’t really exist in this part of Veltria. Never get a chance to. No way to gain a foothold in towns like this. A few smaller religions might resemble them, but they’re harmless and basically isolated to the west coast. Not here. Tideswallow’s a pretty god-respecting place for the most part. Amaunator’s got a bit of a monopoly on the souls here, if ya ken.”

In reply to GM (msg # 71):

Tegan listened to the other man's comments, then responded with a "Thank you" when the other had finished.

He rolled up the scroll that he had acquired at Milo's shop, and was silent for a moment. Then he spoke again, addressing the man of Drow ancestry. "You mentioned the possibility of doing some . . . 'historical research', I believe you called it."

"I mean no offense, but what makes you qualified to conduct such an exercise? For example," he added, flashing a quick smile, "were I, myself, to attempt such an undertaking, I would not even know where to begin -- and I daresay that the result would be less than informative."

In reply to Tegan (msg # 72):

As you are speaking he appears to be only just barely paying attention. He has taken out a sheet of fine parchment and is jotting something down upon it. “Oh don’t misunderstand me. Even if I were paid enough to pursue this, which I’m not, just to reiterate, I’d not be going about it myself. But I would certainly sponsor an aspiring young mind to pursue it to their fullest ability... and to perhaps, fill me in on what they uncover when they do.”

With that, he sweeps the quill across the bottom of the parchment in a series of quick slashes and pours a bit of sealing wax beside it; pressing it down with a small wooden stamp on the desk before him. He then holds the parchment out for you to take. “You’re lucky, you know? Five more minutes and I’d have been out the door. Got some folks I’m visiting off in Scarborough-at-the-Crossroads. Won’t be back for a week, at least. So glad you volunteered to make the delivery for me...”

The parchment appears to be a writ of passage of some sort, allowing one access to the so-called “Office District.” It is signed by one Ixvil Hangvor, Seventh Chair of the Tideswallow Public Betterment Committee. Along with it, he passes you a nondescript looking tome from the desk beside him. “If anyone winds up getting skeptical of your business, just tell them you’re delivering a misplaces book to Lady Shadesworn in the City Archives. Should be enough to get you in the door, at the very least. Information like what you’re interested in isn’t the sort of thing that gets kept in the ordinary library, after all...”

With that, he dismisses you with a flick of the quill and begins packing things up. It looks as though you genuinely did catch him at the very, VERY end of his shift.

---

So much so, in fact, that if you’d stopped to visit literally anything else, you’d have missed this particular opportunity :)

In reply to GM (msg # 73):

As he watched the other man prepare the parchment, Tegan found frankly surprised at the other's willingness to go out of his way to aid a stranger.

After the part-Drow had completed his missive, Tegan turned it around on the desk so that he could read it. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then glanced over at the other, who had now seemingly turned his attention to preparing for his journey.

After rolling up the parchment, Tegan placed it and the book that he had been tasked with "delivering" in his haversack, where they could be easily retrieved. Then he secured the older parchment that he had bought at Milo's junk shop, in its scroll-case, and placed it in his backpack, the straps of which he eased onto his shoulders.

Now ready for his own journey -- albeit a somewhat shorter one than the one that the part-Drow was embarking upon, Tegan sketched a bow, and said "Many thanks for your assistance . . . Master Ixvill, is it?"

"I wish you a safe and enjoyable journey, and hope that I shall be able to return your kindness at some point in the future."

---

OOC: Re: the fortuitous timing of Tegan's visit -- as the old saying goes, "Timing is everything." Well, that and "Location, location, location!" :)

Bartimaeus and Yshtar enter the town square loaded as for travelling, early in the morning as it was. Reaching Milo's Junk Shop, Bartimaeus tried the handle and, finding it locked, rapped upon the door with his crosier.

"Perhaps the little fellow found himself buried in an avalanche of curios." he said aside to Yshtar.

"Maybe he was afraid to get the trinket back from you, knowing what is showed."

Yshtar -not affected by any curse- was patient enough for Milo to open shop. The new chain dangling on her hips and near her ankle were unsettling but the power they provided was real enough.

Bartimaeus smiled at Yshtar's not-quite-(yet)-paranoid insistence the world was hiding things from her. "It shows the stars, only closer."

But of course the world was hiding things from her.

"There's also this. Our associate was reluctant to give it up, but give it up he did, and did so with advice not to pursue its contents." He handed her a sheet of paper - not the scroll taken from the cultists - but a scrap of paper with Bartimaeus' transcription into Common.


"This is my translation, anyhow, for what it's worth. Of course I cannot testify to its complete accuracy, not without further study or more writing in the same language. Idiom is always difficult. But actionable, perhaps, should we choose to take action... if only for our defensive preparedness."

He tapped his foot as the door remained closed.

"They speak of seasons, so no doubt they're interested in a particular course through the heavens for a star. Rather than the moon, that is. She does something else in this story, I rather. That at least informs us of what sort of timeline they're on."

---

OOC:

22:14, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 25 using 1d20+1d4+5.  Arcana "zenith".

Is there a star or heavenly body approaching a zenith around the summer solstice? (Which we've just passed, right? Or are we further into autumn?)
This message was last edited by the player at 03:23, Tue 17 Nov 2020.

In reply to Tegan (msg # 74):

For Tegan: As he finishes packing up his final accessories from around the desk, a drow woman enters to quietly take his place at the desk. He gives her a nod before returning his attention to you on the way out the door.

“Master Hangvor, technically, but Ixvil will work just fine. I’m one of the volunteers of the Public Betterment Committee... we’re not particularly well funded or important, but the position does come with a few perks. Not the least of which being the occassional correspondence with Lady Shadesworn when the situation calls for it. Do give her my regards.”

With that, he steps out the door past you; no further instructions or explanation given.

---

For Bartimaeus/Yshtar: Not far away from the library, you two arrive at Milo’s junk shop and, after a few moments of pounding upon the door, hear the old gnome’s voice coming from within. “Yes, yes, I hear you! Just a moment. Gotta finish cleaning up this... uh... what is this... why are you here? You should be on that shelf there. Which would put you four over in that pile; unless... blast, what day is it? You only go on this table every other week.... hrrmmmm....”

There is the sound of shuffling papers, clinking ceramics, and clanging metals. A few loud BANGs and CLACKs. Then the door softly slides open. “We’re open, we’re open. Don’t go pounding a hole in my door with that thing! Now then... what do you want?”

He doesn’t appear to recognize you.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 05:57, Tue 17 Nov 2020.

"Good day, Milo." Bartimaeus held out the case for the kosmoculum. "You may recall yesterday having permitted a trial examination of this item overnight subject to magical compulsion upon failure to return or remit payment as security. I was satisfied by its performance and am in a better position to judge its value to me."

He tucked the case under his arm and made to move inside the shop. "I should like to be free of the conditional curse. Shall we conclude our transaction?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 79):

“Huh? Whats’at? No, I don’t remember yesterday! Who’s Milo?! Wait. Yes, alright, you’re the one with the fireball contingency star-gazing contraption. Alright then! Gold first, then I’ll remove the spell. Stand a bit away from the door while I count it, if you would. I’m very flammable. As is everything inside.”

Bartimaeus glanced smiling at Yshtar as the nature of the curse was revealed. "As am I. Isn't it an elegant solution, don't you think, to align our incentives: both your possessions and mine are subjected to any -- no doubt unlikely -- mishap." He looked around for a table to place things on, but finding none free of clutter said, "I will lay the coin and the item here at my feet; I may leave with either. Now... what price did you recall?"

In reply to GM (msg # 73):

Tegan nodded by way of reply when Ixvil had requested that the Half-Elf give his regards to Lady Shadesworn. For his part, Tegan did not plan to go out of his way to speak with her . . . as a matter of fact he did not know how to go about finding any useful information the the Archives, but he figured that he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Tegan nodded a greeting to the female Drow, and followed Ixvil out the door. Once outside, he puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled, and glanced around. It occurred to him that he did not know his way to the City Archives.

~I suppose that I could double back and ask Milo,~ he thought to himself.

~It might mean waking him up,~ he thought to himself with a chuckle, ~but hopefully it won't cause him to think ill of me.~

In reply to Tegan (msg # 82):

As you near Milo’s shop, you can make out a slight commotion taking place just within the door. The old gnome is on his feet once more, hurriedly gesturing for a pair of figures to move back from the interior. A small sextant-like device rests on the ground between them, as well as a bag of coin. You can make out the sounds of their conversation as you near without needing to draw too much attention to yourself.

“Let me see here. That was... urhhmmm... 290 gold? I think? 300 minus the 10 for taking that cursed star map off my hands. Yes that sounds right. 290 it is. Will you be taking it or should I add it back to the pile?“
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 18:50, Tue 17 Nov 2020.

Bartimaeus was about to pull the proper change out of the small sack on the floor when the gnome mentioned the cursed star map.

He paused.

He looked up.

He looked at Yshtar.

He looked at Milo.

Bartimaeus laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"Of course! Of course. Milo it's been a pleasure. The pleasure of having escaped alive from an encounter with a tiger, but a pleasure nonetheless."

He picked up the kosmoculum case, leaving 290gp.

"Shall we go, Yshtar? I believe this gentleman has business with our Milo here."

Yshtar watched the whole exchange with slight boredom until the exact moment Milo mentioned the star map. She raised her eyebrow and opened her third eye yet again to see whether Milo or any others inside are of interest. Afterwards she slowly turned away to leave.

"Hm? Yes let's go. Glad you were happy with your purchase."

She left with Bartimaeus just a corner then stopped in her tracks looking back at the shop.

"If he has stuff like this I wonder what else he is hiding in his shop. I think I've found the least interesting thing in there."

She reached back touching the protruding edge of the Saga of Saltspire Seven. I'll read more tonight.

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 85):

With that, you two depart from Milo’s, relatively no worse for the wear. On the way out, you encounter (or pass) the half-elf man who has heard the tail-end of this exchange.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:26, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

Chuckling still at the gnome, Bartimaeus smiles and nods at the armored man. "Good morrow. Mind the mess." The flash of his sunburst symbol catches his eye, but he says nothing.

"With that out of the way, Yshtar, I believe the city library was around the corner to the left. With luck, a chit to Shadesworn's Archives."

---

OOC:

Tegan, does a...

20:40, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 15 using 1d20+5.  Know: Religion.

tell me anything about your holy symbol?

Thoughtfully nodding Yshtar looked yet again at the store seeing the armored tall blonde half-elf approaching the shop. She nodded toward the man.

"Milo is very suspicious - similarly to many inhabitants of this city as it seems. Shouldn't we wait and see what he requests from the old gnome before departing?" She waited a few heartbeats then continued. "If we talk to so many we might talk to him as well to see what he knows. It looks like this so called "junk store" sees a lot more visitors than it should."

Tegan had been leaning against the door-frame, his arms crossed across his chest, as he waited for the two people who were ahead of him to finish their conversations with Milo. He did not wish to intrude, but neither did he want to be so far out of the way as to give the impression that he was skulking in the shadows like a sneak-thief.

~A cursed star map?~ Tegan wondered as he could not help but hear part of the conversation. ~That's not the sort of thing that you bump into every day. I wonder how the curse works -- does it trick you into moving in the wrong direction, if you are trying to make your way with the stars as your guide?~

Glancing down at the contraption on the floor of Milo's shop, Tegan quickly decided that he had no idea what it was, or how it worked. ~Stars above, it seems that Milo has all sorts of marvelous oddities squirreled away in here. Too bad that he has probably forgotten about a goodly number of them -- or even if he remembers that he has them on hand, it seems a good bet that he has forgotten where he has put them. I should probably count myself lucky that he remembered the parchment that I purchased, and whereabouts in the store it was buried away.~

As the twosome had been speaking to Milo completed their business and turned to leave, Tegan gave them an appraising glance. The male Human wore a tabard that marked him as a priest or cleric of some sort, and the female wore heavy armor and moved with the casual competence of a trained warrior. ~An interesting pair,~ Tegan thought to himself.

The Half-Elf moved out of the doorway to give the two room to exit the junk shop. The fact that the female was discussing speaking to him with her companion put a smile on Tegan's face. ~And mayhap the him shall decide to speak with you two first,~

He sketched a polite bow and said quietly, "Your pardon, but I will admit to hearing mention of the City Library and the Archives. I am interested in those very things myself. Can I trouble you for directions? Preferably simple ones, if you please, for I am a newcomer to this city."
To Tegan's way of thinking, it seemed the natural thing to do for the three of them to walk over to the Library together. But he did not know these two, and did not wish to intrude -- and, after all, he was a complete stranger to them.

---

OOC:

12:27, Today: Tegan rolled 13 using 1d20 with rolls of 13.  Religion Check: To Recognize Bartimaeus' Tabard.

Tegan's holy symbol is made of steel, and is polished to a gleaming shine. Depending upon the angle from which it is viewed, it most closely resembles a sun-burst, or mahap a radiant ball or sphere. Bartimaeus would probably glean that it is not an exact match for the traditional holy symbols of any of the Gods whom he can think of. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:16, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

"As are we. It's in the Office District, though that is the limit of my information. Head west, stop when you hit a 20' wall; that sort of thing. But I understand that the District is rather... less welcome of casual visitors than the rest of the city. We were on our way to the city library to inquire after a gate pass." Bartimaeus scrutinized the holy symbol a bit more.

"Pardon my curiosity, but I do not recognize the symbol you bear. It is not Pelovian, nor Appilonus; the rays are too many for Heironeon and too few for Helian; but nevertheless the aspect of divinity of the sun. Or..." He looked sideways at Yshtar with sudden suspicion, "Light."

Pausing, he asked warily, "...and at the Archives you seek ... Knowledge?"

---

OOC:
You recognize me as a member of a scholastic monastic order. Kinda like how someone could recognize that a man with a cassock and tonsure was a member of a Catholic mendicant order, but wouldn't be able to say if they're Dominican, Franciscan, or Benedictine.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 90):

Seeing as how Milo's two customers seemingly knew the way to the main Library and Archives, at least more so than Tegan did -- the Half-Elf would have not even known that his objective was located in the city's Office District, except for the  fact that his Writ of Passage had made that  clear -- he quickly decided that he would not need to bother the Gnome to ask directions.

And so it was that Tegan gave a cheery wave to Milo -- wondering as he did so whether the Gnome would remember the Half-Elf coming into his shop only a short while earlier. As he turned to leave Tegan called out, "Given what I have been seeing of your wares, Master Milo, I would suggest a change of name for your shop -- 'Treasures and Oddities', mayhap? 'Junk Shop' gives your potential customers the wrong impression, I fear."

Turning his attention to the male who had been staring at his holy symbol, Tegan smiled as the fellow named off all the deities whose symbol it was not. "Well, I am not in the habit of telling that tale to complete strangers," he said. His chuckle turning into an outright laugh, he added "I have found that bending the ear of disinterested parties with windy patter is somewhat similar to the old jest about trying to teach a pig to fly -- it accomplishes little, and it annoys the pig."

"Ah, the Archives," Tegan murmured, echoing the other man. "As for that, I do seek knowledge . . . something that might aid me in unraveling the mysteries of an old parchment that I picked up a short while ago in Milo's shop,  truth be told."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:23, Wed 18 Nov 2020.

"Ah, but you see I am not a disinterested party. I am a brother-scholar of the Oghmanic order. I am on sabbatical conducting field research. Reifaxonomy is not my primary discipline, but it's always nice to learn more. I am Brother Bartimaeus; my associate is Yshtar. Shall we walk? The library is not far, though we've no assurance of attaining a chit to enter the Office District. Still, that's the route we must take."

Bartimaeus paid great attention after the mention of a mysterious parchment. "Oh? Yshtar was just saying how curious many of Milo's wares are. May I be of service? Is it the language or the handwriting that perplexes you? On those I may help. If the trouble is obscure cultural idioms I would need other references, I'm afraid, but then, of course, that's just what the Archives are."

Only the slightest hint of a half-raised right eyebrow betrayed Yshtar's sudden contempt at the half-elf's reply to the question of Bartimaeus. Ugh, he is another of those people - all show and no tell. Let's hope he at least doesn't speak in riddles as Barty. A slight smile showed on her lips as the men continued to talk, a smile of how "Barty" would react to his new nickname she just came up with. The woman in plate mail nodded to both the introduction and the suggestion to start walking.

"Indeed." She offered focusing on the road and the people of the city instead on either man. "Bartimaeus is a veritable fountain of knowledge, if you care content with the answers you get. His answers are most ... intriguing."

Why does he show his stupid emblem if he is not about to talk about it? This town is a magnet for weird people.

11:33, Today: Yshtar rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  deception.

Tegan nodded to the newly-introduced twosome. "Mistress Yshtar, Brother Bartimaeus -- well met, I'm sure. I am Tegan -- Tegan Adalondar, recently arrived from Saltspire."

"A Scholar-Brother who follows Oghma, eh?" Tegan echoed Bartimaeus' introduction of himself. He found himself wondering what sort of an "associate" this Yshtar might be -- she did not much look to be the scholarly type, any more than Tegan himself did.

"Well, then," the Half-Elf continued, shrugging the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders and setting the pack down on the ground. "If the parchment interests you, let's let you have a look. It is supposedly writ in Undercommon, although I do not know the language and could not say yea or nay as to that."

Tegan opened the flap of the pack, reached in, and pulled out a scroll-case. Handing it to Bartimaeus, he said "The parchment is in here, along with what purports to be a translation. Old Milo -- of all people -- allowed as how he understands Undercommon, and I had him read it to me whilst I scribbled down the words."

"What led me to this particular item is the catchphrase 'Blood and Honor', which Milo remembered as having been mentioned in the parchment. I'm sure that you will see it once you start reading -- assuming that you are conversant in Undercommon, that is. If not, you are welcome to read my transcription . . . is that the right word?"

"I'll be curious to hear what you think of it."

As they walked to the library, the priest prayed. "Lord of Knowledge, lend thy aid and insight."

Bartimaeus examined the parchment, though he did not read Undercommon without magical assistance. He wondered how old it was, and whether the words were written in the same ink at the same time by the same hand.

Having seen the original, he also looked at the translation.

• “Ressin. They’re here on official business. Just a lie. Not an exploratory team at all. They come from the main branch. From the Chorus. The grail’s in their possession, but only a small one. Gift for the town. To keep things strong.”
• “Elleck. Even if that’s true, we must be keeping eyes upon them. I fear the Chorus has made a mistake this day. These people are not to be trusted. Keep tabs. Send word. Eyes up. Eyes bright.”
• “Eyes up. All Night. Will send back what I find. Need to create a cipher still. Until then, no more talk of choruses and grails. I’ll see you when this is over, my love. Blood and Honor."
• “Watcher willing, Elleck. Light and Knowledge, my dear.”

~~ LIGHT AND KNOWLEDGE. ~~

~~ The Cult of the Violet Watcher. ~~

~~ ... but which one? ... ~~

He looked up at Tegan. "I should very much like to spend more time with this. Ah, the library is just ahead and a carrel should serve well enough. Ah... May I ask why the phrase 'Blood and Honor' stuck out to you?"

---

OOC:
We're going to the library to get a pass into the Office District.
Because you need a pass to do that.
Which Yshtar and I don't have.
Hem hem.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 95):

Looking at the parchment, you don’t truly notice anything substantial in the words as Undercommon is not a language you’ve put much time into studying. However, the handwriting gives the clear indication that the words are a conversation written back and forth between two very separate people. A correspondence of sorts, all upon the same single sheet of parchment. A damaged arcane spell circle rests in the middle of the parchment, with the words written in bending rings around it. Time appears to have taken its toll upon the parchment and the ink used in the circle, but not that of the words themselves; which remain pristine and fully legible to anyone who speaks the tongue.

~That's as I remember it~ Tegan thought to himself as he listened to Bartimaeus study both the original parchment and the separate piece that held the translation. The Half-Elf had been curious as to whether one who was a scholar could glean any additional meaning that Milo had overlooked, but apparently not.

"Well, as to that, you are going to need to hear my tale, if you are pronouncing yourself to be an interested party -- and interested in learning if pigs can fly," Tegan said in response to the other man's inquiry about "Blood and Honor."

He held out his hand for the two pieces of parchment. "I'll just hold onto those until we reach a place where you can study the original in more detail. It's not that I don't trust you, it's more that I don't know you well enough to know whether I should trust you or not. No offence meant -- I'm just being cautious."

Clearing his throat, he said "Now, as to that link with 'Blood and Honor' that I promised you . . ."

Tegan paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then began.

"'Twas soon after I had left the Saltshire Guards, having served out my term of enlistment. My father -- may the good gods bless him -- had been nattering at me, pestering as to what I meant to do with myself, now that my steady pay had dried up. And me -- I had not a clue at that point. After giving it some more thought and coming to no conclusions, I had taken myself to bed that eve."

"I was asleep in my bed, when suddenly -- and I am still uncertain as to whether I had a very vivid dream, or whether all that came next truly occurred in the room where I slumbered . . ."

"Any way, I was awakened by a bright light shining upon my eyelids. Upon opening my eyes and sitting up in bed, I glimpsed a blindingly brilliant, radiant white light that lit up the whole room, inducing me to shade my eyes with the flat of my hand. The source was over by the window, as I recall, and was a round sphere, about the size of a Human's head -- and 'twas situated about the height of a Human's head above the floor. 'Twas just hovering there."

"I remember thinking to myself that I should be terrified, but instead I recall feeling an o'erwhelming sense of warmth and calmness -- along with undercurrent of great, massive power. Soon enough I heard the words -- and to this day I am uncertain as to whether they were spoken aloud, or I somehow heard them in my head -- 'Your Spirit has been judged upon the Scales of Reckoning, and has been found worthy -- prepare yourself.'

"I stammered out questions, wondering aloud how I should prepare myself, and to what purpose. After a short pause, I heard 'All will become clear, in good time. Remember, evermore, 'Blood and Honor.'"

"And then, suddenly, I was sitting alone in the dark. I distinctly remember that after feeling warmth during the presence of the entity whom I have come to think of as the Light, I could feel cold chills running down my spine."

Tegan paused for a moment. "On the day after my visitation, as I have come to think of it, I found that I could suddenly do things . . . wondrous things, that had theretofore only been the stuff of imaginings. For example, when my father, Mains, burned his hand at the forge fire, I discovered that I could heal his hurts with a touch. Since then, I have discovered that I have been . . . empowered . . . in other ways."

The Half-Elf smiled. "But I shall not test your patience with such details." Turning to Yshtar, he sketched a bow and said "Bartimaeus, here, has pronounced himself interested my 'Blood and Honor' tale. My apologies if you were not, and you had to suffer  through all that in disinterested silence."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:40, Fri 20 Nov 2020.

"A truly interesting tale Tegan." Yshtar nodded. "I was surprised you got into the "habit of telling it to complete strangers.""

The smile on her lips could have been flirty, friendly or outright sarcastic. She was certainly in a mood for at least some argument however found the initiation of Tegan fascinating.

"However I envy you somewhat for seeing otherworldly creatures who were friendly that way. Those I've met almost always tried to kill me. Or take my sanity. " She shrugged. "Or both. "

This is the way of monster hunters. She just wished less thing wanted to kill her and more would give out boons.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Fri 20 Nov 2020.

Bartimaeus handed Tegan his papers upon request, but looked forward to more time with the original: Undercommon would not long be a bar to his inquiry, and the nature of the parchment and ink -- a conversation between interlocutors taking place on a single sheet suggested the existence of a second sheet somewhere. A sheet whose possessor could be contacted, potentially.

During Tegan's conversion story he glanced at Yshtar, and wondered if in response to this frank and extensive outpouring of personal history to strangers she would pigeonhole Tegan as a closed-mouthed untrusting introvert. Such was her treatment of Bartimaeus so far, so it wouldn't be surprising.

Tegan's story offered several points of interest.

• His time horizon was short; who isn't aware of the end of his enlistment? But he had no plans; not even apprenticing with his father. No thought for the future. Nothing special for most young men, I suppose.
  
• The man didn't know who this benefactor of The Light was. He'd be operating out of pure intuition, vice intellect.
  
• Healing abilities suggest divine origin, but not exclusive.
  
• "Blood and Honor": in combination commonly associated with the ritualized shedding of blood through a) self-sacrifice, or b) slaying. His former profession as a guard suggested the latter martial application.
  
• Blood and Honor link him to Light and Knowledge which links him to the Watcher cult, legitimate or otherwise.
  
• He did not react to my pairing of Light with Knowledge when we met; suggests he attaches no significance to them. Lack of dogma borne of lack of training. If so, and because of the difference of presentation in the vision, it's unlikely this Light is an aspect of the Violet Watcher.
  
• This is the path Verse recommended against following. It is the obvious path that presents itself.
  
• The holy symbol will be of his own design and commission? Next point of inquiry here.

When the story was finished Bartimaeus was pleasantly surprised at Yshtar's positive reaction. ~~ Exceeds expectations, ~~ he thought.

"Thank you, Tegan Adalondar. It is truly a humbling experience to come into such close contact with the divine -- I congratulate you -- but particularly so when one has not prepared for the communion. You seem to have responded with virtue and vigor, no doubt to the frustration of your father? I hope that gulf has not become unbridgeable, but sacrifices in pursuit of the Good are necessary, don't you think?

"But this conversation started with the symbol around your neck. A bespoke design of your fashioning? Attained in some other manner?" Bartimaeus stopped walking and looked up the broad steps of the building in front of them. "Ah, here we are. Just a moment; librarians are often quite eager to pass you off to some other functionary. I'll give the docent a question he can't answer and wonder aloud if the resources might be available elsewhere in the city. "

Tegan smiled at Yshtar's comment about being surprised that he had told his tale to "complete strangers." "Well, I resisted at first, but Bartimaeus wished to know why I was interested in the 'Blood and Honor' catchphrase. And I saw no harm in the telling. I have nothing to hide."

"And as to that original visitation being an 'otherworldly creature' . . . I have always felt that 'twas my Patron, but in truth it could have been a messenger -- and I have no idea as to their point of origin."

~So, Yshtar has had dealings with hostile "otherwordly creatures"? Methinks that is a tale -- or mayhap a series of them -- that is worth hearing, when time allows.~

Turning his attention to Bartimaeus when the scholar voiced his reaction to the Half-Elf's tale, Tegan saw no point in exploring Mains' response when his son announced his intention of leaving Saltspire and striking out for Tideswallow.

He shrugged his shoulders in response to Bartimaeus' assertion that "Sacrifices in the pursuit of Good are necessary". "Mayhap," Tegan replied, "although as of yet nothing especially onerous has been asked of me. Time will tell, I suppose."

Fingering his holy symbol, Tegan replied to Bartimaeus' inquiry about it by saying "I can see why it puzzled you. I had my father, Mains -- who is a blacksmith of no little skill back in Saltspire, one who can work wonders with metal -- fashion it out of the purest steel, to my specifications. I based its shape on the ball of Light -- the Orb -- that I saw on the night of my original visitation, when I was told that I had been deemed worthy."

Now that the threesome had reached the library and Bartimaeus began discussing his immediate plans, Tegan spoke up. "As to all that, I have a Writ of Passage to get me inside the Office District, where I understand the Archives to be located. Unfortunately, 'tis writ to justify entry into the District by one, I do believe. I am to deliver a tome to one Lady Shadesworn, as a courtesy -- an errand for someone who was leaving town forthwith."

The Half-Elf thought for a moment. "I can try to convince the gate-guard, or whomever we are dealing with, that the 'one' refers to all three of us, since we are all together. If the guard is bored, disinterested, or something of a lack-wit, that might work."

"However, if he or she is inquisitive,  the question might arise as to why it takes three of us to deliver one volume -- at which point one of you might need to pipe up with a plausible reason, for I am hard-pressed to think of one off the top of my head."

"But I am willing to give it a try, if you two are so inclined. Or, you can follow through with your original plan to gain a Writ for you and Yshtar if you prefer, Bartimaeus."

In reply to Tegan (msg # 100):

Looking back over the writ, you note that while it doesn’t specifically specify a number of individuals who may utilize it, it does say in several places “agent of the library” in singular. You suspect that, with a descent enough bit of deception in the matter, you would be able to talk your way through with a pair of companions in tow. The more believable the story of who those two are and why they are accompanying you, the easier it would likely be...

In reply to GM (msg # 101):

After a short pause, Tegan pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head. "You know," he said to Yshtar and Bartimaeus, "I have just now thought of a reason why my idea -- the 'three for one' gambit -- will not work."

"It so happens that I have recently sworn a series of vows, one of which is Honesty. And while I do not believe that my plan involves an outright lie, it is nonetheless an active attempt to deceive one who is, insofar as we know, not an evil person -- that is to say, the gate-guard."

"I know not whether my Patron would find fault with such actions, but after having sworn my Oath, I do not wish to shave the Truth so closely. Bartimaeus, I do believe that puts us back to your procuring a separate Writ for yourself and Yshtar."

"Or . . ." After another short pause, Tegan spoke again. "If that proves to be not possible, I suppose that I could entrust the Writ and the errand to you, Bartimaeus. I will freely admit that I am no scholar, and if only one of us can gain entry to the Archives in order to conduct research, methinks that it should be you."

"In return, I ask only that you share your findings with me, be they good or ill."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Sat 21 Nov 2020.

"Hahaha! You are surely not a scholar!" Bartimaeus said with surprise and wonder. "No scholar ever had scruples enough to allow someone else to take the credit for making a discovery. It shouldn't be too much trouble; just a moment, please."

Bartimaeus briefly blessed himself and walked into the library to present himself at the front desk.

"Good morning. 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. I am led to understand that the city archives are located in the Office District, that access to the district is restricted, but that a writ of passage from the city library would grant conditional access to those archives. Would you please issue me and my assistant such a writ?"

He took from his pack a letter of introduction. "Here are my bona fides, if they are required."

---

OOC:
12:34, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 17 using 1d20+1d4+2.  Persuasion, Librarian.
Cloistered Scholar Background Feature: Library Access

Yshtar, if you want to come along to present yourself that's cool too; I didn't want to god-mode your presence.

Yshtar patiently waited as Bartimaeus and Tegan talked. When Tegan offered his writ of passage to the priest of Oghma she was honestly taken back how good hearted and how naive the half-elf was. Unless of course he was an agent of whomever was angry at Bartimaeus. But the guy could just be the most trusting soul in the world. Which was fine of course except if he met Barty's friends and decided to smite them disregarding his own survival. This is a bridge we'll cross if we get there.
She didn't join the priest but instead turned toward the Tegan once Bartimaeus went to the front office, waving the believer of Oghma off to do the thing he was good at.

"This is quite noble of you Tegan. To give up a writ of passage for two people you just met. What would you do if Bartimaeus just ran off with your knowledge or didn't share what he learnt?"

In reply to Yshtar (msg # 104):

"I'm glad that you stayed outside," Tegan responded to Yshtar. "It was a long walk from Saltshire, and most of the time I had only myself for company. 'Tis pleasant to have someone else to talk to."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of the Half-Elf's mouth as he added "And I'm sure that I have more in common with you -- another warrior -- than I do with Brother Bartimaeus. Whate'er I may turn out to be, I feel fairly certain that I shall ne'er be much of a scholar."

Getting around to answering Yshtar's inquiry, Tegan frowned and asked "As to Bartimaeus' double-crossing me, how fast can he run? Could I chase him down and kill him?" For a moment he was able to maintain his stern expression, then he started laughing.

"Hells, I don't know," he said after a moment. "I only arrived in town a little earlier this morning, and I haven't gotten very far in my inquiries. And it's not like I could really put my Writ to good use, if left to my own devices."

"I would give myself myself mayhap half an hour of wandering through the Archives with a dull look on my face before boredom and tedium o'erwhelm me and I run screaming from the building."

"So, what am I really risking? Not much, in my estimation."

Within the warehouse-like building that passes for the public library, you find a tall drow woman with a stern expression manning the front desk. She eyes you with a dismissive sort of contempt. “Curious. The acolytes of Ogham have not made their presence known in our city for some time now. Am I to take it that this is a sign of things to come?

She reviews the letter a moment and nods. Retrieving a small scrap of parchment from the drawer on her side of the desk, she scribbles out a quick, barely legible writ of passage that will allow one strictly limited access to the Office District. It specifies your presence will be expected at the Archives and that if you are spotted deviating from the path you are to be apprehended. “Don’t make the mistakes your brotherly predecessors did. If you find something in the Archives that interests you, you ASK someone for it. You don’t go stuffing it into a satchel and try bullrushing your way out the door with it...”

She sends you off with a wave of one hand, barely even looking your way as she does it.

---

Thanks to your background, the difficulty of the roll for Persuasion needed in this case is significantly reduced.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:37, Sat 21 Nov 2020.

"Certainly Madame. If it is any consolation, the penance paid by Brother-Cleric Restim for that indiscretion remains a cautionary tale passed between novices hardly needing embellishment. Good morning." As he walked away he scanned the scrawl to check that Yshtar is included in its allowance.

Bartimaeus walked out to Yshtar and Tegan, writ in hand. "Good news for the honest man of Saltshire: compliance with local ordinance won't inordinately inhibit us. This will grant us access, but narrowly: they will be expecting us at the Archives; failure to appear will trigger the issue of a warrant for arrest.

"Shall we go? Four blocks to the north-west I believe."

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 107):

"That is good news," Tegan replied to Bartimaeus' tidings.

"I see no practical problem with our trek being limited to the Archives. That is where I was headed, in any event."

"However, I do find it a bit unusual to have my comings and goings so tightly constrained. I wonder what it is that the leaders of this city fear, that they must keep the inhabitants and visitors on such a short leash?"

"Strange opening hours they have." Yshtar raised an eyebrow. "Open now but if we don't go they arrest us? Is this your way of joking?"

She definitely wasn't sure whether the priest of Oghma was joking or not. At any rate the plated woman started walking towards the Archives.

"My apologies, I was unclear.

"It seems the rulers of the city don't care so much about leashes unless the dogs get in their backyard, as a manner of speaking. Nor is it the opening hours: while they recognize the prudence of providing commoners some means of entry, they will tightly monitor those they do allow within. The Archives will be open all day, but our presence in the district is conditional on our destination being the Archives. Otherwise we'll be nicked, as they say, for false pretenses."

---

OOC:
Shall we jump threads, DM?

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 110):

By all means. Office District General thread should work fine for this.

Beyond the walls, in the farmlands outside the city, a portal suddenly ripped open a hole in mid-air and a feminine figure stumbled through. She staggered forward a few paces, struggling to catch her footing, turning back just in time to see the portal snap closed. She was a lithe and graceful-looking woman, an elf if the cast of her features and pointed ears could be believed, and she wore traveling clothes and leather armor of an unremarkable but well-made cut. A rapier graced her left hip, a dagger hung on her right, and a shortbow hung off her shoulder next to a bulging pack. "Well that's... unfortunate," she said out-loud to herself, her lips pursing in annoyance at her bad luck for accidently wandering into an unknown gateway. She looked around to get her bearings, taking in the rolling farmlands and the city walls off in the distance. "Good a place as any to find out where the Nine Hells I am," she shrugged, thankful that at least she'd arrived with all her things. Adjusting her pack higher on her shoulders, she set off at leisurely walk toward the unknown city...

When she entered the city -- Tideswallow if the sign was to be believed -- the first thing she noticed was the smell. "Oh gods!" She exclaimed, pulling up her scarf to cover her nose as saw what seemed to be a cemetery and refuse pit on her right. She quickened her pace as she entertained the thought they should maybe rename the place, "Don'tSwallow". By the time she'd reached what seemed to be the 'Town-Square' the air had cleared enough so that the lingering stench was tolerable enough to lower her scarf. Glancing around at the shops and stalls lining the square, she secured her belongings as well as she could against the undoubtedly-present sticky-fingered types and starting perusing the wares... keeping her eyes and ears open for important details about the going-ons and happenings of this new place she found herself...

In reply to Angel (msg # 112):

No more than a few steps into the Square you become acutely aware of a trio of children following close behind you. Far closer than most of the citizens tend to walk here, as best you can tell. A boy with pale skin and a mess of blonde hair leads another boy and what you presume to be a girl, though the hood of its stiff burlap cloak conceals most of its features. All look to be no more than 8 or 9 years of age.

Noting your eyes catching them, they immediately turn off toward easier, less perceptive prey.

All around you, the city seems to be coming to life even as you enter it. Carts drawn by horses or bored looking oxen meander through the streets. Crowds of people from all walks of life, many looking just as lost and out of place as you this morning, wander the various avenues and boulevards between the tall walls that separate the more affluent districts from the common. Numerous shops and business are open throughout the square and a street you spot to the north appeasers to lead into a more decoratively-focused portion of the city; with numerous bars, taverns, inns, and brothels lining its twisting lamp-strung paths.

Directly around you, you pass a few beggars looking for a handout. A town crier calling out a long list of novelties going on throughout the town today. A lone black cat hurdling its way up and along the stacks of crates near some of the buildings heading north; making its way into the Entertainment District along the edges of the rooftops. A nobleman surrounded by a large crowd of farmers is making his way toward the gates of the Office District, clearly doing his best to calm the growing mob around him. A bespectacled bard is playing a bewitching tune to a group of captivated individuals on a street corner. And a tall woman in black, metallic-looking robes is leading a small band of recruits toward the Adventurer’s Guild in the Town Square.

All of this unfolds around you in a matter of seconds as your sharp eyes latch on to every last bit of movement...

Without being too obvious about it, the elf woman watched the children — whom she’d marked as some of those sticky-fingered types — until she lost them in the crowd. Soon thereafter she saw the beggars and an idea came to mind. Making her way over to one of the stalls that sold food, the she-elf bought a loaf of bread and a couple pieces of fruit. She returned to where she’d seen the beggars, and picking one of the older-looking beggars at random, she approached and sat beside them. She held out one of the pieces of fruit for them to take. ”Will you share my bread, grand[mother/father]?”

In reply to Angel (msg # 114):

The old woman looks up at you with a look of thanks and utter confusion, nodding in as deep a bow as she can muster to you. She shuffles away from the main streets of the square and into an alleyway with her prize. You can see other shapes in the alley with her; most nearly as hunched and ragged looking as she was. One, makes his way over to you, a gnarled cane tapping the ground in front of him as he hobbles up. He peers at you with eyes tied tight behind a set of bandages.

His voice is hollow and gravelly, his accent thick with the salt of the southern shorelines. A sailor at one point, you suspect. Though not for quite some time now. The hump on his back, concealed by all manner of belts and rags and tattered fabrics, you suddenly realize is something more akin to a tortoise’s shell than a human deformity. His skin is a mottled brownish green; nearly completely obscured by the numerous wrappings covering nearly inch of him. The hard, beak-like snout beneath his eye-wraps and the long-clawed digits that suffice as fingers are the only immediate indications you can see that mark him as something besides one of the other human-looking beggars gathered there. “She will indeed, child. Though she’s not got the tongue left to thank you properly. Nor the ears to listen. Even if she had, most of the sense left her mind long enough ago it wouldn’t matter... but mayhaps I and mine could make up the slack. Where do ya hail from, girl? To where are ya wandering?”

"Here, there and yon," the elf woman answered cryptically, not caring to reveal that she came through a magical portal and possibly from another world. "But nevertheless I'm new to this place here -- Tideswallow is it? -- and it seems I might be here for a while yet. I'd like to pay my respects..." she added, bowing her head slightly as she held out the other piece of fruit for the turtle-man to take. "... to the aged and learned, and ask the wise if there might be a place where I can earn my keep during my stay."

In reply to Angel (msg # 116):

The tortle takes your offering and bows his head in kind. “Your keep ya can earn here, there, and yon. ‘Round these parts, though, it’s a court your wantin’ to be wary of. The law-master’s court is fair to those with the means to buy fairness. The court the Council keeps is full of yes-men and leeches. The Court of Eyes ya want nothing to do with; best not even speak the name... But the court ya might find below ground. Now that one might fancy one like yourself. The resourceful type. The Silhouette’s always got her eyes out for new feelers. Talent, if ya ken. You’ll be wantin’ The Roe, the real one. Down below the streets. Not the rundown district that stands above it.”

He points back toward where you passed the cemetery. The pit. The unwelcoming scents.

A few of the other beggars nod in unison with his words as he splits the food up amongst them. “She’s an intimidating presence, the Lady of the Sunless. They call her Silhouette for more reasons than one. Best make sure you’ve your wits about ya, should ya pay her a visit down in the Sunless Solarium. Don’t want to make a poor first impression. Good coin in it for those she accepts...”

He goes to settle back amongst the others, clearly feeling he’s given enough for what he’s received.

The elf woman moved to crouch down in front of the turtle-man, reaching out to set three gold coins on the ground before him. ”Thank you grandfather for sharing bread with me. I answer to Angel, and I would be glad to share bread with you another time, should the Fates see our paths cross again. One more question, if you please, if you were to visit Lady Silhouette, what gift would you bring her to avoid a poor impression?”

In reply to Angel (msg # 118):

“A pleasure, young miss. Call me Iso, if the urge should take ya. Always happy to cross paths with the charitable sort.”  He thinks on your question a moment, seeming to weigh the words before he speaks them. “Information. The Lady of the Sunless has a great deal of resources at her beck and call... within the city. If ya bring her tidings from the world outside her little bottle here on the coast, she’s likely to be far more welcoming. Not any warmer, mind ya, but welcoming. If you been travelin’ a while, she’d likely wanna know just about anything of interest ya came across on the way. Who knows? Any little hook might wind up catching if ya drag it along the bottom long enough.”

"Thanks for tip, Iso," Angel repeated, favoring the turtle-man with an impish smile as she reached out to take his clawed hand. "Charity's for those with hearts bigger than mine," she replied, probably one of the most revealing things she'd said about herself in a long time. "But I help those who help me, and now in my book that includes you and your beggars." She stood again, adjusting the satchel she wore across her shoulders. "Provided my meeting with Lady Silhouette goes well, I'm sure we'll have the chance to share bread again."

After listening to Iso's reply (if any), Angel turned and exited the alleyway, heading back toward the cemetery and the stench-filled pit to look for a way to access Silhouette's domain...

OOC: switch to another thread, DM?

In reply to Angel (msg # 120):

The way is crowded and narrow as you near the cemetery. Passing between a pair of delapidated structures that may once have been some manner of temples, you enter the city’s expansive graveyard and make your way toward the open cobblestone square of the Roe beyond.

-From here, feel free to continue on to the General district thread for The Roe.-