Stalking up the stairs, you find yourself in a well lit corridor, strong, high quality wooden walls, floors, and doors stretching down to a T junction with another corridor at the end. About half way down, however, you spot the tail of the same cloak the person you are following enter a door and see the door close behind them. The door is some 60 feet away from the top of the stairs, where you are now.

Vharza took a moment to orientate himself, head swiveling back and forth to check the corridor. Subtlety wasn't his greatest strength, but he could be quiet enough when needed. Truth be told, this still could be all innocent, someone offended by the casual blasphemy being thrown around in claiming the gods favour. But assuming that wouldn't keep their guests safe... and besides, Vharza's blood was singing.

There was a thrill to a game of cat and mouse when you weren't sure which role you were playing.

For now, he still moved as casually as he was able, towards the door the cloaked stranger had vanished into. But mostly, he just listened as he approached, one hand close to the hilt of his blade.

As you stride purposefully down the corridor, the hushed ambiance intensifies, shrouding the unoccupied rooms in a late evening stillness. The majority of patrons have yet to retreat to their chambers, preferring the allure of the common rooms below. However, your keen senses detect a lone voice, its resonance betraying a clandestine presence just steps from the door.

The words uttered by the unseen interlocutor permeate the silence, a confessional dialogue with no immediate response from any other voice. "Yes, I know the danger. But we need someone on that ship. They already suspect the involvement of the gods... No, I doubt very much they have had any direct contact... I know I can manage it, I left before any of them spotted me... No, they will notice that. But I can be invisible, and hide amongst the cargo..."

Interesting. Very interesting. The crowfolk took a moment to consider his options. Killing the would-be spy was an option, but it was messy and did nothing to forestall another attempt- just made any follow-up more dangerous. Just letting this spy play out their role was an another. Knowing how he intended to remain hidden aboard the ship meant they could leave port and then take as much time as was needed to flush the interloper out when he had nowhere to run. But that ran the risk of this would-be interloper completing whatever task he'd been set before he was caught, and that could be quite destructive. A ship with no rudder couldn't sail, after all, and a hole below the waterline was more than just dangerous.

Internally, he sighed, realising that there would likely be others anyway, and that sweep would be needed regardless.

No, he wanted to corner this spy and have a talk with him, at least. Once he'd broken whatever contact he had with his master. But he had to assume that both the agent and master were dangerous- one did not normally speak of gods as a rival, or a measurable threat. First, he made note of which room this was, in case he had to ask the innkeeper who had rented it. If he timed this right, he'd be able to trap the spy while his handlers thought nothing was wrong.

Let's hear the rest of what he has to say, then move to strike.

"...Then that's the plan. I will make my way to the ship tonight, while they waste time here in the inn... I will check in when I am able... Believe me, I know what is at stake. I will not fail."

You can hear the sound of an object that is probably metal and glass being stowed in a pack, and the faint shuffle of a person in a heavy cloak rising from a position on the floor. You probably only have a few seconds before they exit the door.

Three, two, one... Vharza counted, drawing the hooked-bladed falcata at his hip as he did so. He dared not risk a spell, that would alert the spy without a doubt. Instead, he positioned himself behind the door, waiting. And when it opened, he struck- seeking not to kill, but to restrain and threaten. It was hard to act with a blade at one's throat, after all.

"So, friend. How about you tell me what's at stake." The words were almost liquid, like blood dripping on weathered stone. Not at all like Vharza's usual slightly formal speech. "Aside from your neck, of course. Be a pity to stain the carpets."

The bald person freezes, and their hands raise slowly.

"OK, let's keep calm. Vharza, right? My name is Mivae. Would you like to step into my room? I don't think either of us wants what's coming next to be done in public."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 18:52, Wed 31 Jan.

The blade increased its pressure, forcing the bald man to tilt his chin up. "Ah-ah, careful there, friend. I'm not the reasonable sort. I get a hint of you trying to twist things in your favour and I just... might... slip." Vharza clacked his beak and chuckled darkly- before pushing him towards the door.

The spy wasn't wrong, after all. Vharza just couldn't afford to let him think he could take control of the situation.

"Move. And no surprises."

The spy keeps their hands up, and follows directions. Beads of perspiration blossom on their temples. Inside, you can see that either this person travels light, or they keep their belongings in magical storage; the room is spotless, and does not look like anything has been touched or used.

Mivae keeps their hands up, and does not try anything as you close the door gently with a clawed foot. Only once the latch closes do they speak. "Ok, we are in the room. We can take it easy now. I'm not here to hurt you at all. I'm just supposed to watch and report."

"Here's the problem, friend- what you say you're here for doesn't matter. You're not the one calling the shots, now are you?" He tapped the blade against the spy's cheek before withdrawing enough to let them breath. "So lets start simple. You tell me who you're working for, and what their stake in this is. Stay honest and this'll stay friendly. Lie to me..." He let that hang in the air, an unspoken promise.

Vharza was more than capable of coming up with horrific punishments that would leave no mark, but he had no taste for that sort of violence. Whoever this particular rat worked for, where there was one, there would be more. He was going to need to keep an eye out, and have a quick way to divert or disable them. Else the hold would end up full of them... and more dangerous things.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Thu 01 Feb.

"Straight to the point." Mivae's throat bobs as she gulps a deep breath. "I get it. I was sent by the council. Your mission is too vital, so they sent me to watch more directly. They can't scry every hour, so they wanted someone close to you who could let them know when to be paying attention. That's all. I can show you my badge if you like."

She moves to reach within her cloak, and after a tightening that shows you are still watching closely for any funny business, but allowing her to extract the item she claims, she indeed pulls out a Council Badge, just like the ones you all carry. You know that they are enchanted to harm anyone who is not working under the council's orders, so her holding it is plenty of proof that she is who she claims to be.

Vharza did not immediately respond to the claim, taking a moment to choke down the spike of rage that shot through his mind. This? This was the exact sort of thing about the Council that made him loathe them. Once again, without fail, they had managed to set up a situation where their own agents were working cross-purposes- to the detriment of both groups.

Hissing out a sharped-edged spell, the crowfolk glared at the symbol in his prisoner's hand. The complex flow of energies matched his own badge, at least closely enough to make it unlikely to be a forgery- and enough to do serious damage to someone ignorant of the baleful curses woven to protect their integrity.

The low hiss of suppressed fury that the crowfolk let loose was enough to chill the blood.

Vharza withdrew his blade from the spy's neck, paused for a moment, then sheathed it. "Which idiot put you up to this?" Gone was the low, almost intimate, liquid voice. Instead Vharza's voice had returned to its usual gravelly rumble, mixed in with the sharp clacks of his beak. "This is how you run out of spies fast and put our guests at risk at the same time."

Mivae reached up reflexively to her throat as she put the badge away again. Once freed from Vharza's grasp, she slowly stepped away and turned around. "Councilwoman Yelxidor is the council spymaster. She is in charge of all activities like this one. We are not to interfere, though. Just observe and report back. You are in no danger."

"Wonderful, there's more of you." Vharza remarked dryly. "Gods knows how many faces nosing around, trying not to be spotted. Looking no different to the actual threats. Your 'observation' is a fucking disaster waiting to happen." A talon poked Mivae in the collar bone, near where his blade had been resting. "Even tonight, I was debating whether a dead spy was the right message to send to whoever was stalking us. Tell your boss to either call you and your peers off, or bring us in the loop. Otherwise we're one bad day away from a pile of bodies."

Mivae nods slowly. "I understand, and I will convey both your message and the urgency of that message to my superiors."

As she finishes her statement, you spot a slight movement of her right hand and catch sight of a tan thread on her right index finger as she breaks it with her thumbnail, and vanishes with a slight pop as the air fills the space she recently occupied. You know this to be a short range teleport for sticky situations like this, so you know she can't be far, but it is likely large enough range to be out of the building, and could be anywhere.

"Don't just convey, convince." Vharza managed to snap before the spy vanished. He hissed, irritated by the whole affair, before pacing towards the window. He didn't know where the spy had vanished to, but given the circumstances, he wanted to do a sweep anyway. As he opened the window, his form began to flow like liquid, and it was one of the oversized northern owls that launched out of the inn.

It's night, so the thermal updrafts that would normally help you rise easily are gone. But pushing muscles your normal body doesn't use in quite the same way you climb your way up. Your eyes are sharp in the night, but your search turns up no sign of the council spy as you circle the above the roofs of a sleepy Selinus. At least, not the one you were talking to. You spot 3 other cloaked people trying to move through shadows, all away from the inn, and tending to the north. They meet up at a street corner, presumably coordinated in advance, and they mount waiting horses and ride off at high speed. You follow for a bit, until it is clear they are on their way out of town.

Alighting on the eaves of a townhouse, Vharza watched the riders gallop away. If they were a concern, they weren't an immediate one- time would bring clarity, there. Taking a moment to recover- flying was far more strenuous than walking- he instead set his eyes on the port and the twin-hulled ship docked there.

He should have been more ready for the level of threat the ship faced even in a 'friendly' port. It'd been too long since he'd spent any real time in a city- Too many interests, too many people simply being nosy. Well, now he intended to correct his laxity. Once again he took flight, headed for the port.

The ship is quiet this late, but you note that the crew has set up guards and are watching both the dock and the waters, to try and keep intruders away. Other than that, all seems normal. After a quick flyover you turn and head out towards a nearby park. While not ideal, it is closer to nature than a bed in the inn, and you make yourself comfortable for the night, after taking time to fill Reeds belly. Soon the little caiman is asleep in your bag and snoring away.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:39, Wed 28 Feb.