THere had been a lot of rumbling. The storage space was cramped and poorly suited for action, even with sufficient illumination. In addition, blood and a sticky black substance still covered large sections of the floor, providing treacherous footwork. Swords and words were thrown carelessly into approximate directions, often resulting in a waste of precious materials as jugs and bags were pierced or tossed to the ground. Meanwhile, the shouts of alarm coming from the upper floor progressively vanished as the center of the attention deftly escaped the compound - probably.

Having forced the protesting clerk into the room, Winnk underestimated the slipperiness of fresh blood, and both of them landed on the ground. While the two managed to stand up - not without much complaining -, the darkness vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. Kraelix realized he had been swinging his magical cudgel at a bag of coal, and Sabah was busy removing her axe from one of the ceiling's supporting beams.

"Um... parley?" whimpered the clerk in a feeble voice.

Winnk wiped his hands on the clerk’s shirt.

“Don’t lie to me boy! Did you know there was another way out of here? You said they were at a dead end. Swear the truth or I swear to you, we’ll make your death look like an accident. None of us saw what was going on, it was dark. We accidentally maimed yer head off.

“Who are you working for???? Is the EITC in on the plot against the empire????”

Winnk pushed the fellow further from the door each time he asked a question. Closer and closer to Sabah.

"Jus' sayin', I could off you and go after the cat 'fore your idiot comes back."

The massive orc sighs and shrugs.

"Stupid job. Shoulda put my axe in those boys myself before things got this sour. Damn my empty wallet being able to seduce me to do shit I don't wanna..."

A sigh and a shrug.

"So, what, let you arrest me, rot away in a cell or lose my head?"

The clerk's day hadn't begun well. His porridge had gone bad, some kind of event at the market forced his usual grocer to close shop for the day, the crowd in his usual tavern delayed him by almost an hour, which angered his supervisor. And now, he had to deal with a break-in, a fight, broken merchandise - which would have to be painstakingly catalogued later - and a very angry, slightly delusional adventurer.

"Look, Sir," he said, clasping his hands together, "the lift is used for wares only, and it's really dangerous, nobody in their right mind would use that to access the room! Plus it's locked secure on the upper level when it's not in use. How could I have known? Also I don't know of a plot against the Empire, Sir. Methinks the East Imperial Trading company is the last one to try and hurt the Empire."

His speech was fast and slightly panicked, and he looked upon Winnk with eyes that were close to tears.

“You’ve already proven what an idiot you are, Clark. So when you say things that seem true to you, all I hear is lies. But don’t worry. I ain’t gonna let you outta my sight. You’re working with us now.”

He could use someone to act as a liaison. He needed a message courier, amongst other things, but he hasn’t found the time to even write the letter yet. Clark seemed like he’d be able to write things down while Winnk was busy doing the thinking.

“Sound good? Join us.”

It wasn’t clear if he was talking to Sabah or Clark.

"Yyy...yes, Sir, Mister, Officer, of course. I'm here to assist any way I can. And my name's Cornelius, by the way. If that's fine for you, ooooo-of course."

The clerk started scribbling frantically on his papers, more out of habit than anything. It was at this moment that Nagorok, the Orsimer chief of security, entered the room. His eyes wandered from the clerk to the investigators and to Sabah, judging the situation with a lift of the eyebrow.

"Ugh. It's you again, girl. Told you to stay out of trouble. What kind of situation did you put yourself in this time?"

"Put good muscle on bad ideas. 'fraid I'm making a bad habit, haha!"

By this point the orc's posture returns to a more casual one. People keep showing up, there's no swinging her way out of this one.

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face. Sure doesn't get you out of trying to stab me, though..."

The orc sighs softly and shakes her head, lost in thought for just a moment.

Winnk stroked his beard in deep thought, remembering his conversation with the head of security just a few minutes ago. "Ah Nagarok. You said you put watchmen at all the exits. We flushed out your thief. Please tell me you caught the khajit? And if not, may I remind you that we came to speak to (insert most important person's name here) about this morning's events."

"Damn cat sprang over the wall like it was nothing," the veteran rowled, obviously displeased at the turn of events. "My boys apparently couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a javelin. Reckon there will be more training involved for this lot. But anyway, we got one of them, it seems."

The Orsimer walked over to Sabah and mustered her from head to toe, giving off a 'tsk' of disapproval.
"So, lass, told you not to get on the wrong side of the law, didn't I? Well, now might be a good time to get chatty. What in the world were you doing down there?"

"What I was doing? Watching two of the most incompetent people I've ever seen in my life try and make a score, that's what I was doin'. Didn't know you could mess up every step so badly that your own crew cuts your throat..."

A slow shake of her head.

" 's more exciting to be where the action is, in truth. Guard duty, pft. Waste of muscle."

“a waste indeed. we have to go to the fighter’s guild. why dont you join us?”

seems there was no further info to gain here. this was the second time Winnk asked to be taken to the man in charge and the second time he was quite certain absolutely no one had any brains to even show him where the toilet was.

"If you can tell us where we might find the kajit, that might help smooth things over with the guild."

Careful not top step into any more sticky and/or slippery liquid, the security chief walked slowly over to the bodies of Sabah's unfortunate companions, squatting down to observe their wounds. A faint whistle passed his lips.

"That one's Horatio Consallin, I reckon. Small-time con artist. From the looks of it, an iron throat would've done him more good than a silver tongue. And the other..." There was a groan as he flipped the second burglar's corpse over with one hand, examining its features. "No face I know. Can't have been in town for long. Well, that Khajit of yours knows how to handle a blade, that's for sure. Clear cuts, no hesitation, highly precise... Professional work. Dunno about you lot, but I won't sleep very sound knowing such a killer's at large in my town."

While speaking, the Orsimer frisked the corpses, finding nothing but lint, a few coins, and the footpad's tools of the trade. His gaze fell upon Horatio's wrist.
"Huh. Hey, Investigator-types, come look at this."

Holding the unfortunate's hand up, he revealed a small braided bracelet with a fingernail-sized medallion carved from bone, depicting a stylized canine head.
"You lot recognize this, by any chance? Looks religious to me, only I reckon Horatio being a church-hater through and through."

Religion checks, please :)

winnk lit a new cigar, he didnt get his fix from the first one-that leisure had been cut short. He did not even bother to look at the wrist, “give it a rest chief, we already got rnjesus.”

PUFF PUFF.

“now, one last fuckin’ time ill ask and if you ignore me i will arrest you for ignoring my investigation: take me to (person in charge).”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:17, Tue 18 May 2021.

Kraelix took a look at the symbol.

13:42, Today: Kraelix rolled 10 using 1d20+2.  Religion.

"Kid's name is Saemus. Good at breakin' in to shit without breakin' it. 'n Horatio coulda learnt to shut the fuck up, probably woulda help his odds in livin'."



23:38, Today: Sabah rolled 7 using 1d20.  Religion.

Blinking slowly, the Orsimer looked up at Winnk with an incredulous look on his face.

"You... got conked on the head, or something? I'm in charge, and I directed you to the ongoing break-in, remember? And here we are, right at the heart of the matter. I mean, you wanna talk the the Intendant, that's fine, but he'll send you right back to me anyway. Right. So no clus as to this medallion? Me neither. Just take it and show it to someone at the Mage's Guild, one of them smart heads is bound to know."

Nagorok stood up slowly, his armor clanking. He looked down at the two corpses and sighed.
"Shame about the kids, but that's Mud Row life for you. The bigwigs aren't very forgiving. So, you guys wanna arrest the nice lady? Or d'you reckon she could be useful to you?"

Things weren't adding up. This was the east imperial trading company. An orc as head of security made sense, but to put him in charge? Ludacris.

"Right, I'm sorry Nagorok, it's been a long day already. I'm used to people lying to me so I ask them the same question in different ways. You check out." (Like hell he checked out.) But Winnk was satisfied to take the bracelet. "The priestess will know all about this bracelet I'm sure. We'll check back in and then head to the fighter's guild. What about you, Sabah? You gon' play nice with us? We could use your help."

Kraelix took the symbol and tucked it away. "For now, we'll take her with us back to the Mage's Guild to have her give a report on what she knows, see what they know about this symbol, and let them decide whether she's to be detained or not."

After a few more minutes of pointless search around the warehouse's mayhem and chatting up clueless clerks, the adventurers made their way back to the Mage's Guild. Headmistress Marelle  was out on business, and everyone else save for Merard was pretty busy. The bookish Breton beckoned the bedazzled band towards the library.

"New recruit, eh?" he asked, observing Sabah from head to toe. "Looks like she'll fit right in. I'm Merard, by the way. Merard Renault. A mere apprentice. My mum used to be kinda important around here. Not that it particularly matters now. So anyway, you found a strange symbol? Let me see that..."

The young wizard took a long look at the medallion. His eyes widened as he darted for a nearby bookshelf, where he frantically scrolled through a few volumes. After a few minutes, he came back, holding open a tome and pointing at an illustration of hunched figures performing some sort of ritual sacrifice in front of a weirdly shaped altar. The strange symbol adorned the cultist's robes.

"Look, I knew that thing seemed familiar. This chronicle was one of my favorite readings as a kid. It dates back to the times of Galerion the Mystic himself," Merard explained with awe and excitement. "Apparently he and the other founders of the Mage's Guild spent quite some time rooting out various witch covens between the Khajit lands of Pelletine and the western edge of Black Marsh. Many of them were in league with Daedras. This particular picture is supposed to depict some kind of summoning ritual. The text doesn't mention which Daedra, though."

The apprentice scratched his head and shrugged. "You wouldn't happen to have an idea, Kraelix? I thought this subject would be right up your alley."
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:49, Wed 26 May 2021.

Without prompting, Winnk suddenly goes into a trance. He begins removing all his weapons and armor, just tossing them onto the ground. Finally he is left only wearing his traditional red guard gray clothes. Then he pulls a ring off his finger, revealing a second ring on his finger, neither of these were visible until this moment. He tosses the first into the nearest fire and gazes at it long until it seems he has returned to his senses.

“Well done Merard. Your mother would be proud. Ahem. Gentlemen. Seems that dog we were chasing this morning took me along much farther. While you lot have been working on tracking down those involved in this morning’s incident I was in a battle of the mind against none other than Sheogorath. I wish I had fruit from my labor, but suffice it to say, at least I am in my right mind again.”

Winnk bows ceremoniously to Kraelix and Sabah.

“Now. Let us tie up loose ends before the sun has set.”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Fri 28 May 2021.

Kraelix shares all of the knowledge that he has on the subject with the others from the group.

"Uh, Winnk...you seem quite different. Are you feeling well?"

Winnk puts a dirty hand on Kraelix, "Never better. I saw the future." You get a look at that ring on his finger, it is black purple and has a small pearl in the center.

"Now, Kraelix, do you know anything about the daedra??? Just so happens I believe I can speak Daedric. What luck."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:05, Thu 03 June 2021.

"I do not speak the language. I do know a few things, however...."

Rich with their new information, the unlikely pair left the Mage's Guild in the last rays of the sunset. All around them, citizens and guards were lighting torches and lanterns to fend off the creeping darkness, and in the back alleys of Mudbank and everywhere else, cutpurses, burglars and other scum were sharpening their knives and sorting their lockpicks. Fortunately, the City Watch kept both its vigilant eyes open, protecting the wealthy inhabitants of Blueside, and if they had nothing better to do, the simple folks of Greenside as well. The coppers rarely set foot in Mudbank.

In the twilight's near empty streets, Kraelix and Winnk made their way to the Fighter's Guild, an imposing, massive three-storey mansion of grey stone flying the banners of Leyawiin as well as a standard depicting a red sword and shield on a white background. A pair of youngsters clad from head to toe in shiny steel armor crossed their halberds to bar the double oak doors as they approached, but a few words and a flashing of the recommendation letter made them give way again. One of the guards escorted the two investigators through a spartan entrance hall, a simple, undecorated square room serving as the focal point of a handful of corridors and stone stairways, and let them to the left towards a dining hall. The comfortable room sported a variety of ornamental weapons and tapestries on its cold stone walls, and dozens of candles lit every nook and cranny. Two dozens of men and women of nearly every age and origin were enjoying a hearty meal of meats, fish, soup, shells and braised roots, drinking thick red wine and chatting merrily. The guard pointed them to a square-jawed man in his early thirties, his blond hair and beard kept short and neat, dressed in a fashionable surcoat bearing the arms of the Arvenius family.

"Envoys from His Highness the Duke, and the Mage's Guild?" he called over and gestured to a pair of empty chairs nearby. "We are honoured to receive such admirable guests. Please, have a seat, a plate and a cup. My name is Gerbrandt Arvenius, rank of Warder. How can I be of help?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:54, Fri 18 June 2021.