Rising up in Risentide IC

[Amnestic]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/Amnestic/Market_place_by_gregmks.jpg?t=1305222327

The explosion erupts in a huge column of flaming inferno. Fire launches itself upwards and everything inside the column is burnt to ash and cinder in moments. It dissipates at a spoken word, leaving nothing but a huge charred mark on the already pockmarked ground. "Very good, Seth, your studies are progressing admirably." It is the voice of one of the highest ranking mages in all of Risentide speaking. A spellcaster of no small power, Jace Covin sits in his large chair as he watches his student perform for him. A number of papers sit atop his desk in a messy arrangement, a leftover from when he had fallen asleep on top of them. The paper on top of the pile has a single name blazened upon the top: Ophelia Mendelev. He'd been heading the chase, coordinating the hunters and cordoning off areas. It was frustrating work, tedious for a mage of his talent and ability. The delays in making her permanently disappear and the recovery of the lost tome were weakening his position and even now his rivals on the Council sought to use his failures for their own gain. Tapping his quill into his ink well, he vowed that this would not be the end of him. His ambition had carried him too far to let one single woman stop him.

Miles away, far from Jace Covin's tower, sits the same Ophelia. The past few weeks have not been kind to her either in mind or body. She is the very picture of exhaustion. Still, she soldiers on, it is just a brief rest she grants herself in the middle of a hot summer's day beneath the beating sun. Around her are the throngs of a market; sizzling meats, smelly fish, calling voice from every stall advertising their wares and people – oh so many people – moving about every which way.

How could Sarcella resist? The pickings were oh-so-ripe. Pockets left unguarded, bags unattended, coin purses delicately lightened. People might notice soon, they might notice later, but they never noticed her, and that was what was important. Oh yes, her personal collection would find itself suitably increased after today's pickings.

Two things were primarily true for the market around them: Lots of items, and lots of people. The first, no doubt, was what lead Qkon there. Many odd things can find their way into the possessions of commoners over the years and markets had proven a fertile ground for finding trinkets which may or may not prove useful to his further study and advancement of the shadow powers he so despised.

The latter, on the other had, was what drew Lodwjiq. Crowds were easy to lose oneself in and the more people the better. Markets attracted all sorts of all shapes and all sizes, and it was here that Lodwjiq hoped to find some reprieve from the mages on his tail. Whether it would grant him his desires would be up to Fate.

This...is a clumsy opening, I admit. I have struggled to find a convincing, non-cliché, non-stupid way to pull you guys together and this (or rather, what will occur in the near future) is what I have to offer. I promise it'll get better.

[PollyOliver]

With her purse noticeably heavier after her first pass through the crowd, Sarcella smiles to herself, keeping her right arm by her side to keep her purse blocked from anyone who might have similar intentions to her own. She's wearing a cloak despite the heat--albeit a light one--but otherwise dressed for the scalding weather in light, loose garments. To anyone looking down, she's just another halfling. And to anyone not looking down...well, her eyes are just about purse height on an adult human.

She fans herself with one hand and tosses a stolen coin to a human street child so young that they're of a height, disappearing back into the mass of the crowd before anyone else can ask for one. Then she fishes her list from her sleeve. A new length of copper tubing to replace the leaky connection on the still, a new cleaver for the cook, and some apples for her latest experiment (well, two of her latest experiments, in truth). And some cinnamon, if she can get it for a reasonable rate. For the less deadly--and more appetizing--of the two.

As she walks toward the spicers' stands, blending with the crowd, she keeps her eyes peeled for anything interesting, be it a particularly inattentive shopper, a guard or a mage, or anything else that catches her eye.

Spot check if you want it, otherwise ignore: [roll0]

[Kantolin]

Intruiging!

He'd never been to the capital city itself, and Zagan Qkon was very impressed by the sheer volume of things he was seeing. Most astonishing was the meat - tons and tons of it, cooked various ways. Or, well, it seemed like it was tons to him - the Zagan, after all, were not doing terribly well lately.

His eyes met the eyes of another, causing the other to turn away. Good; here, at least, he could feel like he was as tough as he used to be.

Grr. 'Used to be'. He recalled the spell component pouch hidden on his person, and what it entailed.

Still, that was a reminder. He poked his head into less interesting stands - staring at this trinket or that instead of...

...instead of...

He just stared for a moment, at that meat stand. His orcish nose drank in the scent amidst everything else there, and it just... well, sizzled.

He couldn't help but smile. Sure, he was there for additional reasons, but it wouldn't hurt to enjoy his time here, and he had some coin. Summarily, he meandered over - he could already, mentally, taste the meat. For a short time, at least, he wasn't looking at shadows, even though his moved just slightly abnormally as he walked.

[Kurai]

People. Everywhere people. She could feel her exhaustion deepen just by thinking about the streets filled with commoners that could bump and push into her.
The blazing sun did the rest, beating down on her mantle and the cowl she had dragged deep into her face, but she was wary to place it down despite the heat. She had been foolish to not take another robe with her, as this one, without the mantle, was cut in the typical style to present parts of her tattoos to the world. Did these people here know about the mages tattoos? Did they know what hers stood for?

Ophelia was bright and knowledgeable. She could identify all of the fruits the vendor near her offered, could name half the foreign metals of the smith, even tell the tanner if the leather was stitched well or not.
But how people would react to her, how it worked if you wanted to buy anything, if things were overpriced or not... no one had taught her that. No books had shown her how to simply interact with normal people like this.
Well, nevermind. There is no sense in standing around like a frightened fowl.
Straightening her back and whispering a calming word to the mare that stood between her and the masses, she strode forward as sure as ever and stopped at the fruit vendor. Pointing at his wares, she demanded in a cool voice:
"Vendor. I want two green apples."
He looked at her strangely, but complied anyway, handing them to her and exchanging the money.
With a satisfied nod, she fed one of the fruits to the loyal horse that had carried her a long while without complaining, before she bit into her own tersely and let her gaze sweep across the market place.

But she could feel herself drift again, finding solace in the recess of her mind. Ophelia cursed softly to herself, aware that only her intimate knowledge of the mages' strategies had kept her alive this long. But if they were to find her... she was nearly helpless in this foreign outside world.
I need help. There is no other way. But money should do the trick.

[Andre]

Mingling up in the crowded marketplace, Lodwjiq felt considerably more at ease than he had been in the last days on the road - too much open space, and too little cover. Granted, he was perplexed by what he was seeing here as well, and it was not so much about the fact that he had never seen so many people in his life.
Such pansies?, he thought. They were walking around, defenseless and with their pouches well visible and mostly unguarded. Several of them had not dared to cross his path and left him pass first, averting their eyes in the process. No brawls to be seen, no fistfights. Da', you'd become rich in an afternoon here. At the thought of his family, and home, he repressed yet another deep fit of anger.
Assuming a relaxed stance, but with a wary eye, Lodwjiq looks around. There's got to be cutpurses around here.

If I need a spot or search check, feel free to roll for me if it speeds the process up.

[Kurai]

Feeding the apple core as well to her horse, she kept the mare's head between herself and the crowd, pressing herself against the animal in a try to prevent contact with people as much as possible. Thankfully, the men and women were smart enough not to walk frontally into a horse and kept making a wide enough bend around the woman and her animal.
Out of pure paranoia, Ophelia clutched her traveling bag close to her. If the book got into the wrong people's hands... then her quest would be over before the mages had an inkling about her whereabouts.
No, it wouldn't do. She could only run so far on her own and she hadn't had enough time to really study the truenaming yet. The bits and pieces she knew wouldn't save her life in a fight against several spell thieves and other mage hunters.
Stopping near the side of the wide street, she let her sharp gaze glide over the commoners, watching with concentration who was passing her.
Then a hooded, armed figure stood near to the side and she took a step closer, believing that someone who hid his face had more experience in dealing with her problem than the other, normal people mingling about.
"You, man," she shouted in his direction in a business-like manner, "can you wield that weapon well? Are you for hire as a protector?"
If Ophelia had spent any time on human interaction, she might've realized how rude it was to offer such a proposal to a random stranger, but if there was any formal approach to this, it went over the mage daughter's head.

[Andre]

Looking at the moltitude around her, it seemed quite odd to Lodwjiq that a likewise hooded figure would shout at him like that. Well, not entirely likewise... for starters, it was definitely a female's voice, belonging to a person who apparently seemed not to know better than to draw attention like that, or to cover her face like she had something to hide.
Besides, what kind of protection could anyone ever needed in the most harmless place Lodwjiq had ever seen?
He cautiously moves a step towards the figure. "Were you addressing me?"

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella drifted past the fruit stands on the way back from the spicers', taking note as she did of a haggard woman clutching a bag to her chest as if it contained all the gold in the world. She rode an eddy of the crowd closer, considering the mark, until the woman shouted to a man armed to the teeth. He turned, and Sarcella got in line to try a few apples for the vats. She had more important things to do than run the whole length of the city to shake a maniac with a flail, fun as that might be.

Still, there was something very...off about the pair, the woman especially. Sarcella couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she kept an eye on them as she crunched away at a polished red apple and shook her head. The owner of the stall handed her a green one, which was much better, and she handed him Master Alben's note without speaking. Someone for the inn would be around for a bushel full later.

She hopped up on the back of a bench not far from the strange pair and ate the rest of the apple slowly. Sitting that way, she was just high enough to see over patches of the crowd, and she watched the woman with the bag out of the corner of her eye while keeping her face pointed toward a pair of jugglers and her free arm resting across her purse.

Hiring a protector. And obviously not from around the city--or else worse at people than even Sella was--and clutching that bag tight. Sarcella's fingertips were practically itching, but she stayed still. She had to learn more first.

[Kurai]

"Yes, I was," Ophelia replied and her words had a note to them as if they should have been spoken sternly, but... they weren't. It was more of a dispassionate, lackluster speech, overpronouncing words and vowels as if they were read from a page. While the deep, smooth voice was pleasant in itself, the preciseness added a harsh coldness.

Ophelia stopped short for a moment before she went on. What to tell? How much was too much? With a sudden thought she realized that she carried the worst of both worlds: The education, signs and manners of the mage caste, which would make her an unwanted visitor among the commoners, but her hate for and actions against the mageocracy had made her an welcome target for lethal spells there as well.

"I'm willing to pay you thirty gold pieces if you protect me for three days, no questions asked. I'll pay for your food and lodgings as well."

She needed sleep, badly. Guarded sleep. A night without having to hide in a bawdy tavern room, belongings clutched to her in a desperate way and eyes on the door as if her pursuers would burst in any second. Maybe if she could think straight again without exhaustion pulling her down, she might get an idea where to go, what to do...

Gazing at the scar on his obviously human face, she began thinking again. Would one man be enough? He looked like he could swing the flail instead of wearing it for show, but... would it scare away the mage hunters? Would he buy her enough time? Ophelia's line of vision traveled to the side while she waited for the man's answer, back out on the street. There had to be another possible hireling, someone imposing, someone that would make anyone stop and think twice for a second.

[PollyOliver]

Sella came to the reluctant conclusion that, no matter what was in that bag, it probably wasn't worth the risk of getting her brains beaten out her ears. She kept watching, though, and as she did it began to bother her more and more. The woman was dressed like a mage, but she looked weary and scared as if whatever was in that bag was not just expensive but also something she wasn't supposed to have. Sella was not fond of the mages, not at all, but there was still something off about this one, something that made her feel almost sympathetic. Sooner or later another thief--one less fond than Sella of keeping his brains inside his head where they belonged--was going to decide it was worth a try. Most likely than not, he'd succeed, and then Sella would feel...well, not bad, or at least she told herself so. Annoyed, perhaps, that she hadn't tried for it herself.

Sella stood quickly, moving deliberately so that her shyness wouldn't stop her. A quick warning, that was all, and then she'd take her purchases back to the inn and be done with people for the day. Maybe the week. She took one last bite of her apple and absently fed the core to a shaggy little goat being led by a tall human woman. She threw her cloak back as she walked to display the two knives at her belt, not to seem intimidating but rather to make sure no one could think she was trying to hide them. Not that a human would be intimidated by a knife that would, in her hands, be sized for peeling vegetables. Then, she walked up to the woman and her would-be bodyguard as guilelessly as she could, still wondering why she was doing this.

"Excuse me?" she asked, but she didn't wait for a reply even though they were obviously already talking to each other. If she stopped, she wouldn't be able to start talking again. "This is probably forward of me, but you shouldn't hold that bag like that. There's a...convention. A certain amount of attention that should be paid to keeping your belongings safe. An arm across your purse, absently, like it's just habit. Too little attention, and you're a target, but too much and you're a really, really big target. A bag clutched that close draws thieves like iron to a lodestone. And believe me, there are a lot of thieves out in all this."

She said this very quickly, afraid to let herself pause, and then stopped, unsure of what to do next. What were you supposed to say to people when you were done talking to them? Maybe just run? Well, if the one with the flail made any funny moves, that was exactly what she was going to do. Why in the world was she doing this, again?

[Kurai]

Interrupted before the stranger could answer, another unknown woman, a halfling, spoke to them.

Sella can see a long-fingered, pale hand push back the hood slightly. Equally pale, intense green eyes and a pretty, if expressionless face study her.

"Wait, halfling," Ophelia begins, as even she could see that the suddenly appearing woman was ready to bolt again, "do you know this city? Would you be willing to elaborate about this? If you know ways to hide and vanish, I would offer you some coin in return for teaching me about them."

Almost relucantly, Ophelia releases the death grip on her satchel. Slowly, the bag sinks down to her side, the other hand not holding her heavy cowl resting carefully on it.

[Andre]

As Lodwjiq is interrupted by an unknown kid... nope, an halfling apparently, before he can respond to a similarly unknown woman, his first reaction is of annoyance. He looks around to asset the surroundings while listening, and surprisingly enough finds himself nodding approvingly at the professional knack of the small person. "So true."

He gazes quizzically at the strange couple before him, pondering the matter. Again, the voice of his father seems to ring inside him. Listen, kid. It's simple. They pay for our protection in this quarter so that none get hurt. No one touches them, their families, or their possessions. If someone harms them, we rough them up. If they do that twice, we kill them. Understood?
It's just three days, after all. "You have yourself a deal, lady - worry not, it ain't my first time. And, I can extend the protection to both of you for twice the sum."

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella paused, still tensed to bolt. Pale green eyes peered out from under the hood--pretty, but a little older than she'd expected. The man was still staring at her. This was more than she’d spoken in the last three days combined. At least the woman had stopped clutching the bag. Her arm rested across it naturally now; that was something.

“Protection?” she asked finally, still surprised. “Not for myself.” Sella held up the cinnamon sample she’d gotten from the spicer. “I’m a brewer,” she said, then turned back to the hooded woman.

“In a place this big, the easiest way to hide is to look like you belong. No one notices just another tradesman. There are other ways…dark holes to hide in. But that’s mostly street children and would-be rebels. The latter tend to be found anyway and forgive me, but you look to old to blend in among the former. If you are intent on passing undetected…well, I would find some less fine clothes, to start. Everyone looks at a mage, even if no one likes them.”

Sella almost flinched when she heard that pass her lips. “Begging your pardon,” she tacked on awkwardly. The muscles in her legs tensed to run of their own accord. This was why she didn't talk to people.

“And unless someone in this market is like to recognize you on sight, I’d take down the hood. On a hot day like this, it draws attention. If someone is…well, I’d get out of the market.”

Sella nodded to herself. This, at least, was something she was good at. Seeming just a common tradesman was what she’d been working at for the last five years, and if the woman wanted to blend in…well, Sella could understand that all too well. It was making her feel dangerously sympathetic. She didn't think the woman herself meant any harm, but the people who were obviously looking for her? And the man with the weapons? Those might be a problem. Still, as good as she was at attracting trouble, she had an even keener knack for leaving just as it arrived.

“If you’re staying, find an inn for now. Not too shabby, not too grand. I can give you directions to a few. And you don't need to pay me. Coin come across that straightforwardly is no fun at all.”

She couldn't help but grin at that.

[Kurai]

"I am not a mage," Ophelia threw in almost scathingly, her voice taking on an almost cutting, dangerous edge. But when the halfling hastily backpedaled, she forced herself to relax her stiff shoulders.

Letting the foreign woman end her explanation, Ophelia touched the edges of her cloak. "I am just... marked." Dragging her mantle aside just a bit, the two next to her could see a hint of the dark-grey tattoos on her neck and collarbones. "People will not look kindly at someone bearing this."

Deciding to leave the hood up for now, if not as deeply drawn down as before, Ophelia nodded curtly at the scarred man, before looking back at the smaller woman. "I would like directions to an inn. Though, no offense to you," another look at her new-found protector, "but I want one more shield standing between me and..." She stopped short, not ending the sentence as her eyes seemed distracted, as if she was looking inward. Soon after, she shook her head, coming back into the world. Once again she searched the masses shuffling past.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella managed to keep herself from groaning audibly, but only just. This was why she didn’t talk to people. People were complicated. And people with those tattoos, who insisted they were not mages…well, she was now very sure that she wanted to keep her hands off whatever was in that bag. She should have just finished her apple and gone home.

But she hadn't, so what to do? The easiest thing, of course, would be to vanish. The man beside her certainly seemed like he would be an effective guard. She could be back at the Cask and Flagon within a few minutes, even taking a circuitous route to make sure she wasn’t followed. And all they knew was that she was a brewer. The first place they’d check, if they even bothered, would be Brewer’s Lane, and while they’d find plenty of halflings, they wouldn’t find her. And if they did track down the inn…well, she knew plenty of deep, dark holes to hide in. Not impervious to the mage-catchers, not by a long shot, but certainly better against these two.

Still, the woman was in deep trouble. That was even more apparent now. And it was the same trouble that Sella herself had been in a few times before, albeit ten times deeper. Maybe a hundred. Sella sighed.

“I’m not much of a shield,” she said, holding her hand flat and palm down at head height and then moving it forward to show that the top of her head came only just to the human woman’s waist. “And unlike your new friend, I'm certainly not the type to intimidate anyone into thinking it. I stay out of trouble’s way by leaving just before it arrives. I can stay with you for now, and see if I can help you stay out of its way too, but I won’t make any guarantees beyond that. I don’t fancy my chances going toe-to-toe with an armed man with these,” she said, putting one hand on the hilt of a knife. She shuddered slightly. “Much less whatever else is out there.”

[Kantolin]

Qkon had to admit, as he walked and chewed, that this was a good example of the advantages of living in a city as opposed to out in the wildlands. He'd had cooked food before, of course, but the effort put into the spices and the like made this meat particularly tasty. He put more of it into his mouth and chewed.

Okay. Now it was time to focus a bit more.

Summarily, he stopped by a small stand with a few alchemy products. The half-orc ignored the stares, content to look, as he recalled the information he'd been studying beforehand - alchemist's fire. And a bag of tanglefooting. Neither was terribly interesting to him. Well, more accurately, neither was terribly interesting to him and also, less relatedly, neither was useful for what he was looking for.

He looked around, leaving the stand - ugh, he saw stands with books in them from here. More books.

As he turned, however, he slammed into someone who apparantly hadn't expected him to move that way, knocking the trio of scroll cases the youth was holding out of his hands. The youth happened to run into Qkon's shoulder, and thus was sent sprawling while the half-orc was relatively nonmoving.

For a moment, the two stared at each other - Qkon's unflinching gaze matching the slightly more worried one of the youth. Finally, Qkon knelt slightly, picking up the two cases nearest him and held them towards the youth. Muttering a thanks, the child snatched them and took off running back into the crowd.

Hm. Qkon tensed, and untensed one fist, then returned to walking - maybe those books would have something for him to utilize.

Absently, he watched people's shadows. They shifted with the light, many of them merging essentially one blob. His own shadow seemed to expand a bit at this, as if enjoying being the superior shad....

...he had forgotten that his shadow moved on its own.

He focused for a bit, bringing the stupid thing back in line so it was behaving more normally. It was doing that more often recently. Maybe this was him improving?

If so, that was... a good thing... sort of.

...sort of...

He continued through the crowd, aiming towards the books.

[Kurai]

"Knowledge is more powerful than any sword," Ophelia answered almost absently to the smaller woman, the hand on her bag twitching for a second. The right knowledge can bring down an empire.

There was a short commotion nearby and Ophelia felt her gaze being drawn to it. What she saw made her raise an eyebrow very slightly, in an almost interested way.

"This one," she said softly and pointed a pale hand at the half-orc nearby, across the street. "This one is the last one I'm searching for. If he comes with us, please show us a to an Inn."

With that and using her horse as a means to keep the people at bay, the mage daughter found her way across the cobblestones and tried the reach the imposing looking humanoid. He would be able to see her coming close to him, as she drew closer from the front, not the back.

"Wait, orc-blooded one," she called to him when she was close enough to capture his attention. "Would you be willing to work for money? As a protector? 30 gold pieces for three days, no questions asked." Her chin pointed to the other side where her other freshly hired fighter stood. "Together with him. Food and lodgings included." She hoped he spoke her language well enough, she hadn't been able to dabble in Orcish yet, her main concern being the old, ancient languages.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq looked in the direction of the pointed finger, and twisted his nose in disapproval. An halfling, a paranoid, and an half-orc. In a couple of minutes, the unpleasant turn of events had lead his latest deal to shift from the easiest 30 gold he'd ever come across to something more similar to a itinerant circus.
Breaking deals' bad to future business. It was just three days after all, he repeated to himself. It can't get much more dangerous than staying on my own.

[Kantolin]

Qkon really couldn't have missed the horse. What bothered him more than that was that he noticed it with his eyes, and more specifically noticed its shadow. He, like most Zagan and in fact most orcs, was used to sporting much better hearing than eyesight.

And there was definitely a lot of focus on shadows, far moreso than recently. His shaman had been right - coming to the city was definitely a good idea, as his abilities hadn't acted up nearly this frequently in the wildlands. If he kept focusing, he'd -

- and he was called to. Clearly to him, as there wasn't another part-orc anywhere nearby.

He turned, and stared at her through her questions - more important to him than them was her. And upon staring at her, he wasn't impressed - visibly not very strong nor sturdy. A product of the society she clearly came from.
He followed her gaze to the hooded man. He was being watched back, and this time with the poise of someone who knew what he was doing. There was no response, no flinching from his gaze. Much better.

Thus, he shifted to the questions themselves. It was fairly usual, attempting to bypass the weaknesses of living a sheltered life by asking someone stronger to defend them...

...stronger like... him. Huh.

His face shifted to a grin; he had been about to refuse that, but now that he thought about it, this was a compliment. She was, in fact, complimenting his might. That and some coin was worth three days of what probably amounted to babysitting, which would mean he's being /paid/ to watch the city.

"Me can do dat." Qkon nodded. He shifted his ears a bit, looking at the other. "Lead da way, den."

[Kurai]

Nodding curtly, Ophelia turns around and gestures to the two others standing on the other side of the street.

She didn't know if it had been a good idea to get the two first persons running past her. But she had no experience in judging characters and knew so, whether she attracted the wrong people sooner or later was irrelevant. Either it would work and keep the mages at the bay, or it wouldn't, and in the later case, who cared if it were mages or thugs who ruined her quest? And most of all, she was not known for hesitating. Time was too valuable.

"Please lend us your knowledge of the area to find a proper inn," Ophelia calmy requests from the halfling once they are back in a group. She even takes a moment to rub her eyes, her pallor sickly from bone-deep exhaustion. "I prefer to be away from prying eyes as soon as possible."

[Amnestic]

At the foot of the group of four sits a small black cat with a large tuft of white fur at its throat. Around its neck hangs a small red collar topped off with a dangling golden bell. It meows and paws at Sarcella's legs, trying to attract her attentions. Looking down, the group will see a small piece of parchment tucked inside its collar, which the cat is fidgeting with. From where you're stood, you can see that the parchment appears to have some writing upon it. Reading the note reveals the following:

The mages are closing on the market. You should leave quickly if you wish to escape unscathed.

There is nothing else on the parchment and the cat who had been carrying it has disappeared into the market, long gone.

True enough, there does appear to be a few magehunters arriving at the entrances into the market place. They're still thin on the ground and appear to be making a point of not trying to stand out - rather hard considering they're forced to wear the uniforms which mark them as mages. The pride of their upper class nature seems to override any possible tactical advantages that could be gained from operating in disguises.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella stared silently at the woman’s next recruit. Tall, broad shouldered, and green. He would almost have to be. Sella wondered darkly what, precisely, she had done to earn the job of keeping this absurd group from attracting notice. A halfling, two humans—one scarred and one dressed as a mage and insisting on using her horse to batter people out of the way, of course—and now green. And though she’d been uncharacteristically talkative, she realized belatedly that she hadn’t caught anyone’s name. She thought back, and realized no names had been offered. For some reason, that made this seem even more ominous.

Something batted at her leg. She looked down, prepared to shake off a particularly brazen rodent, to find a cat. She bent down absently to scratch its ears, and tucked into its collar was a note.

Sella read it, stomach sinking, a small part of her mind wondering who their nameless benefactor was while the rest sought a way out. She read it again to be sure, and then passed it wordlessly to the human woman, eyes darting around for the nearest way through the crowd that wasn't marked by the tell-tale mages' cloaks.

Cloaks, she thought. Of course. The human woman was wearing the standard open-necked cloak herself, with only a mantle to cover it.

Sella spun for the nearest clothier's stand, quickly scanning the racks until she found a light, nondescript cloak, cut with a hood and fully covered shoulders. It looked like it might fit the tall woman. She caught the owner's eye, pointed, and flipped a coin her way. When she got the cloak, she held it out to nameless woman.

"Put this on," she said. "Quickly. Then follow me."

[Andre]

The halfling acting hurriedly out of the blue alarms Lodwjiq. "What's going on?" Ever vigilant, he scrutinizes the surroundings again.

[Kurai]

If possible, Ophelia's face grows even more non-descript. Only a slight curl of her mouth indicates how a sudden coldness settles low in her stomach.

"They shouldn't be here yet," she says softly enough that only the three surrounding her can hear it. "Look to the far side of the street," she directs at Lodwjiq, then follows the halfling's advice by swinging the cloth around her shoulders.

With the added layer, the heat is even more unbearable, but at the same time the cloth feels like another barrier against the world, against touch, conveying a feeling of safety.

[PollyOliver]

The human woman threw on the cloak quickly, instantly looking much less suspicious. Sarcella smiled, attempting to ease the tension of the situation, but it probably just looked mad. She felt mad, getting involved in this.

"All right," she said. "Let's go. And try not to use that horse like a battering ram," she added. "We don't want to stir the crowd too much, or we might attract attention."

That done, Sarcella scanned the crowd once more, looking for the path out toward the working quarter with the fewest of the tell-tale cloaks in the way. Then she strode off through the market at what was fast clip for her but what she hoped would look like a normal pace for the taller members of the group. Sella was hardly an expert at this. Her preferred method of escape in a crowd was to stay low and run full-out; she was small enough that as long as she didn't jostle legs, no one would see her from above and far away. But with a group of tall folk behind her and only a few mage-catchers on the ground, the thing would to be avoid making a stir that would catch their eyes. Maybe the part-orc would even work to their favor in that--if they did catch any attention, hopefully he would draw any prying eyes and be dismissed, keeping attention off the woman in the hood.

As she walked, Sella made sure one of her capsules of stun gas was easily available, slipping it up her sleeve in case they needed a diversion quickly, also making sure she had a smoke stick handy at her belt, and glanced back to make sure the others were still with her.

[Amnestic]

The mages in general seem fairly disinterested in your group, almost like they're here for someone - or something - else. Still, two mages milling nearby look pointedly you and whisper to one another. One summons what can only be assumed to be his familiar and gives it a small message before sending it flying. Beyond that however, they take no more action and return their attentions for what you assume must be their actual target in the market.

Said targets do not keep themselves quiet for long; a flurry of movement behind you indicates that the mages have located their quarry. The quarry which, from your perspective near the exit to the markets, consists of a number of youths (12-18) all carrying large, heavy looking satchels who split and head in different directions in an effort to escape the mages. A young girl of around 15 with long brown hair and a determined face, dashes past you, clutching her satchel strap as if her very life depends on it. The mages give chase, and before long they are out of sight.

Almost immediately the market is abuzz with commoner gossip, wild theories as to who was being chased and why. Some peg it as a resistance movement, others as escaped mage children, yet more say that they were foreigners trying to undermine the empire somehow, a couple dismiss it as mere commoner children acting out for attention, and a few say that they were powerful demons who could crush you with a single thought masquerading in human form. It's unclear all around.

There are still a few magehunters hanging around, keeping an eye on people and using their presence to keep down any open dissent which may have been raised. Their numbers are fewer, but they are less distracted than before.

[Andre]

That’s them. Mage-hunters, the kin that ousted him from home. Duly noted that he is not the actual target of the mages, Lodwjiq maintains a calm façade despite his entire being screaming for bloody vengeance, attempting to conceal as much as possible his weapons – an effort more likely to fail, considering he is more of a walking armory compared to the commoners around. Several pieces of the puzzles fall together as he can’t help but notice the sudden appearance of the mages has caused a big distress in his newfound protégés. No questions, eh? Dun need to make any now.Matter-of-fact, he lowers his tone to little more than a whisper, feigning total ignorance. “Well, whatever. We’d better get out of here before they call in more of their friends and start picking on other people they don’t like randomly”

[Kantolin]

Humans, calling attention to themselves as they attempt to call attention to others. Curious.

Regardless, that much he'd also been told about. Not that he in particular had much to worry about, he was an orc - anyone who suspected him of magic was probably slightly insane. Or, admittedly, perhaps especially informed.

But this sent a child nearby into - oh. It was a halfling - boy was it hard to tell sometimes. From the way she was acting, it was probable that she was also a mage of some sort - why else would she be reacting like that?

So was he actually here babysitting /two/ mages? At least the other guy wasn't one.

Either way, he walked along with them as they moved. He wasn't making any particular effort to be hidden at this point - just a half-orc.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella watched the girl with the bag sprint by and nearly winced, but kept up her steady pace out of the market. She made a note, though, to stop by Brewer's Lane and see if any of the kids knew anything. It had been a couple weeks since she'd last returned to trade stolen trinkets and day-old bread from the Cask and Flagon's kitchens for information. They usually had a few interesting tidbits for Soot.

She wasn't sure what the mage-catcher had noticed about them. It could have been anything. She didn't think she was easily visible from his angle, not in a crowd this thick, but she could be wrong. Maybe it was the half-orc? But why would that warrant sending a message? Still, she felt fairly certain that if the hooded woman had been recognized, he wouldn't have stopped there.

As she walked, she ran through the working quarter's inns in her head. Nice enough that the woman's pale, fine features wouldn't stand out, but common enough for the other two to blend in as well. Close enough to the Cask and Flagon that she could go back and forth, but not so close that she would bump into anyone she knew. She didn’t want to drag her real life into this. Not that that would be hard, given how little she spoke to people. Still, it paid to be safe. She settled on the Eastwatch, and adjusted her path slightly to take them there while staying in the crowded streets between the market and the busier sections of the working quarter for as long as possible. She slipped the capsule of stun gas back into her belt as she went, hoping a diversion would no longer be needed. It would be ten minutes or so on the route she’d chosen.

Sella dropped back a little so she was even with the others.

"We'll go to the Eastwatch for now, unless any of you have different suggestions," she said. "It's reputable and clean, but nothing fancy. Once we're there, you can work out what you want to do, but I've got a few other things I need to attend to today--my job, for one. And I'd like to see if I can find out what that commotion was about."

[Kurai]

"I remember a map of this city and a few historical aspects," Ophelia replies absently, gaze turned forward. "But I know nothing of value for this place. Mere facts, not hand-on experience.

The sudden appearance of the mage hunters has shocked her and she doesn't like to feel that way. If her careful calculations were correct, they shouldn't be expecting her here for at least another three days... has she missed something? Why had they pointed in their direction, without being alarmed instantly? The fragility of the moment angers her slightly, she hated to be uninformed. Meeting this little woman had been a stroke of luck, maybe she would have more information soon due to her underground contacts.

Once again Ophelia is painfully reminded of the fact that she doesn't belong in this world. The normal world. Living shut off in a tower had done its best to ruin her chances of blending in with normal people in a normal way. By the nine gates, she doesn't even know the proper ways to lie. Hide first. Think about it later.

[Kantolin]

Qkon didn't alter his pace relevantly as he followed - Eastwatch was probably as good a place as any.

He focused a bit more with the pursuers - not chasing them visibly, but still worth watching. In particular, he was curious about their actions with their present quarry - splitting up seemed to be wisest, but he wondered how many of them had managed to escape, and why. And it was obvious the crowd was similarly unaware.

Summarily, he watched where those who had split up had gone, as the small group moved. Maybe he'd notice something.

Or, either way, he'd do his more immediate job of being imposing.

[Andre]

As he walked, Lodwjiq sized critically the half-orc. He apparently had some kind of dignity which was absent in the couple of cheap thugs he had seen back in his quarter, although he didn't seem as hardened at least on first glance - still, he seemed vigilant enough to warrant a momentary lapse of attention on his part. He started to casually approach Ms. Weird Lady, getting closer by each step.

Making body contact and leaning toward her ear to ensure she pays attention, he whispers. "I am no stupid, and there is one part of our contract that needs reconsidering. You owe me lotsa answers if we are to survive these three days."

[Kurai]

At the sudden contact to her body and the breath on her ear, Ophelia jerks away, her normally expressionless face livid.

"You will get your answers in the tavern. If your not up to the job, feel free to take your leave, as the money is still in my pocket. And don't touch me!" she spats, then turns back to the road decidedly.

[Andre]

"At the tavern, of course." His surprise at her behaviour isn't that great. Upper classes and their sense of superiority. Quite sarcastically, he adds. "Calm down, lady, I bathed just yesterday."

[Amnestic]

True to Sarcella's expectations, the tavern of Eastwatch is indeed just a few scant minutes away. There's a few people at a table by the door playing cards, enjoying the cold drinks an such a hot day. The stone building's insides offer a far cooler environment. There are a few heatless light sources dotted around the place - minor magics that tend to crop up here and there. While the mages weren't fond of them, they provided no real power, and clamping down on them proved a fool's errand, so it was with grudging acceptance that they were allowed.

The tavern is mostly empty, with a few people here and there. There's a serving girl sat by the bar, without much work to do and behind the bar is an unusually tall, slender elf. His long blonde hair is tied in a ponytail behind his bronzed back, and his golden eyes are the very picture of welcoming.

"Ash'eth Toril!" He exclaims as you approach. "What can I do for you fine folk today? We have a number of rooms, a wide selection of drinks and I make a mighty fine meal if I say so myself." The serving girl looks at him and giggles as she says "Yeah, but you're the only one who says that," to which he shushes her with a laugh and a smile. "Pay no heed to Mia, she knocks my food now but when it comes to dinner time she's the first at the table."

For those with Elvish/Elven as a language:
"Ash'eth Toril" is a fairly old Elvish greeting/goodbye which loosely translates out to 'Toril's favour, (friend)'. Toril was an Elven leader in ages past who at times of trouble lead his people to greatness and security. While they don't revere him as a deity or anything close to that, invoking his name is seen to bring good luck to people. The 'younger' Elves don't use it so much these days making it a somewhat unusual phrase to hear, but the older ones still use it. It can be assumed that when learning Elvish, you would also learn this minor amount of history behind the phrase.

[Kurai]

"Ash'eth Toril," Ophelia replies and the words roll fluently off her tongue. Only the circles beneath her eyes show how tired she really is when she gazes across the tavern room.

She has been silent since lashing out at the scarred man and it's hard to tell if it's because she is still riled up or because she forgot about it mere seconds after it happened. Right now, it's once again hard to tell what's on her mind with her facial features carefully under control and empty.

"A room with three or four beds for me and my companions, if available. A double room would do fine as well. And food, as well as access to a washroom or hot water would be wonderful."

Even a bucket full of it would be heaven, giving her the chance the wash off days of grime and dust from the road. Despite her bodies need for sleep and rest, she would spare those few precious moments if possible. She glances down at the halfling for a longer while and one could get the impression that the pale eyed woman was waiting for something - a comment, a question, it was hard to tell.

[Amnestic]

"Of course, my lady! We have a fine room that should be perfect for you. A single one of your finest gold pieces for the night. In addition, I can cook up a meal for you and your companions shortly. Three silver pieces per person." He tugs a small ledger from beneath the bar and scans it. "Room one is free at the moment. Up the stairs, first on the left. Retrieve Mia when you want to utilise the wash services, she could do with earning her keep around here. I shall set to work on cooking your meal and have it sent to your room presently. Venison stew with potato dumplings and fresh bread from the baker's down the road. Very hearty and filling!" The charming smile never left his face for a moment. He was a salesman, but he also had a distinct air of sincerity, pride in his work and gave off the distinct impression that he simply enjoyed his life. Almost as an afterthought he notes, "Ah, and I am Soran, your humble servant and owner of Eastwatch. At your service."

[Kurai]

Fishing the wanted money out of her purse, Ophelia sets it on the table in a business-like manner. She eyes the woman named Mia up and down, then blinks once. "I would like to use your washing facilities as soon as possible." Then she turns back to the elf, nodding her thanks.

With a glance to her companions, she points to the stairs. "Let's take a look at our rooms. I would like to wash and eat first before answering your questions."

[Amnestic]

Mia got to her feet nodding, her demeanour calm and relaxed. She almost seemed glad to have something to do; evidently days such as these were quite boring for her. Leading the group to the stairs she opens the door to Room 1 and steps inside. Your room is decently sized; possibly the largest guest room in the building.

Along one wall are two single beds while the opposite wall has one double. In the centre is a small-ish wooden table with four matching chairs set around it. By each bedside is a small cupboard used for storing things. The lights are provided by the same heatless torches displayed in the bar below which Mia explains can be de/activated by speaking the command word ("Svetlo").

With that done, Mia guides Ophelia to the washroom at the far end of the building. A small affair, it's darker than the rest of the building - apparently the patrons preferred it that way - and contains a steady supply of warm water, from a magically refilling bucket, for use in the large metal tub provided as a bath. There are a few soaps dotted nearby along with scrubbing brushes, drying apparatus, etc. A single small window high up on the wall in the room is the sole source of light. Standing at the door, Mia inquires "Would you like my assistance with washing or would you prefer to do it on your own?" She holds in her hands a fairly large metal key, likely the partner to the fairly large metal lock on the door to the washroom.

[PollyOliver]

The strange woman headed to the baths, and Sarcella stretched idly, looking around the room. It was much finer than she had expected in truth, and many times larger than her room up under the eaves in the Cask and Flagon. Still, she was sure her other room had more hiding holes--and more interesting ways out. She glanced around, checking for additional exits.

Then she frowned. Master Alben would probably be expecting her--not that he would mind, probably. She was never precisely where and when she was supposed to be. Still, she should get word to him about the apples before the market started closing down. She hefted the cinnamon sample in her palm briefly before deciding against it. It hadn't been that good a price.

"I have to get word to my patron about his apples," she said to the two tall men, not actually looking to see if they responded. She hated craning her neck upward. "I'll be right back."

Sella headed back downstairs and onto the doorstep, fishing a silver coin out of her belt and looking for a likely child to serve as messenger.

[Kurai]

"I am fine by myself, thank you," the mage daughter replies a bit stiffly, waiting rigidly until the key is in her temporary possession and she is alone in the washing room.

It's here in the darker quiet that she finally allows her shoulders to relax after causing the door's lock to click shut with the key. For a second she worries about having brought her satchel into a moist, warm room, but all of the things made from parchment are meticulousy wrapped or hidden away in oil cloth, keeping them safe from all harm.

Alone. She is used to that. But strangely enough the soleness doesn't feel as comforting as it did half a year ago. Instead it had turned oppressive, heavy, rich with possibilities one darker after the other. Turning to the basin, she carefully empties her mind and thoughts with the act of careful cleaning, both her body and clothes cared for with calm attentiveness. She doesn't linger too long, knowing that her companions demanded answers she wasn't sure she wanted to give, but also because it wasn't in her nature to indulge herself in comfort.

One eye always on her priced satchel and the important secrets within, she dries her red locks as best as possible, strokes her robe free of wrinkles and gathers everything she left on the floor to join the others back in the room.

[Amnestic]

There are small pockets of children loitering around the street; all freely accessible. Evidently this street often has need of urchin messenger services. Their services would be cheap, unlikely to be more than a single silver at the very most.

And...I think that's all really. :P

[PollyOliver]

Sella looked around until she found a likely-looking child, a young boy with dirt on his face and a twig in his hair, and motioned to him. She quickly changed the silver for half that in copper, figuring he could get the same out of Master Alben at the other end of the job. She palmed the coins and held her hand so he could see them.

"You," she said, brusquely but not unkindly. "Can you carry a message?" She waited for him to come closer. "This is for Alben at the Cask and Flagon. Tell him Mazer's Apples, the green ones. And..." Sella trailed off. She felt like a coded warning would be a good idea, something in case she got herself into trouble, but didn't really know what to say. She planned to run anyway, if things got that bad. Finally she shrugged.

"Tell him, three days, then worry. And turn the barrels by the stairs next week." She thought about it for a moment and nodded. "Repeat that back."

He did.

"Good." She held out the coins and paused. "Tell him I promised you the same at his end. You might be able to get a full silver from him, but I wouldn't try for much higher." Then she dropped them into his small, dirty hand, and headed back upstairs to find the others.

Yeah, sorry, I probably didn't need you to post anything for that. I just didn't want Sella to completely run off and abandon her job. Even flighty as she is, it's a good job, and she likes Alben.

[Kantolin]

Qkon perked up at the statement of washing. The following word was the first truly unfamiliar common word he'd heard that day, but he could piece together what it probably meant from context. 'Facilities'.

The woman then wished to wash and eat, and only then talk. It seemed a little silly not to at least combine the last two, but humans did silly things. He shrugged, and followed to step into the room.

"Svetlo." Qkon habitually muttered, getting a feel for the odd word as it rolled off his tongue. Still - beds. He was very unused to the idea of beds, as this would be his first time ever actually using one that was built, and not a pile of furs at best. That stated, however, he wouldn't care particularly if he didn't get one.

He only hazily noticed Sarcella leave, as he dropped his backpack on the floor, which he then sat on. He glanced at the torches, and with a couple command words, turned the light on and off. "Svelto" still felt a little odd rolling off his tongue.

That wasn't the same, though. He could cause and stop darkness, he was hoping it'd feel the same as causing and stopping light. That meant this was magic, and thus not what he did. No help there.

He turned the rest of his attention to the human, sizing him up again for a moment before speaking. "Zagan Qkon." He stated, pointing to himself.

"Dat way, if we gotta shout somethin' at each odder, y'can say 'Qkon!' and not 'Hey orc!' so I know you's talkin' at me. What's yer tr.... name?"

This was one of the few times he was glad he'd spent so much time reading in the past few years - he'd learned that humans didn't really /have/ tribes and focused on families instead. Which was itself a little bizzare to him, but hey - it seemed to work well enough for them.

[Andre]

Paying scarce attention to any of them aside for an occasional glance to the serving girl, Lodwjiq enters the room and picks the chair around the table which gives its back to the wall. As soon as there are no longer prying eyes around, he takes out his flail and starts polishing it almost with tenderness.
Sighing, he raises his gaze when the half-orc speaks. "Quon? Sounds fair to me. I am Lodwjiq." he simply replies.

[Kantolin]

The half-orc blinked. Was... was 'kwan' even a name?

But that was interesting information. It confirmed that apparantly the irritation he had speaking common around his tusks was similarly mirrored in others speaking orcish without them.

This caused a grin. And either way, he'd recognize that he was being spoken to, so he didn't particularly care.

"Lodwijq." He repeated. That wasn't that bad to wrap your mouth around.

He watched the human polish his weapon for a bit. A flail itself was odd, but the action reminded him of the first time he'd... well, stolen a weapon far before he should've - technically, something young orcs shouldn't do, but it was rare to see the youth who hadn't picked up a weapon long before he should've. It was good to know that there were normal people to run into.

Memories. It was like he'd been gone for months, even though it wasn't anywhere near that long. Ugh.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella went back upstairs and back to their room. The man with the scars was polishing that flail, and the part-orc was...well, she didn't know, really. He looked almost introspective. Sarcella frowned. He was probably much smarter than he seemed.

Sella crossed to the table where the human was sitting and climbed up into a chair. She could barely see over the table, so she climbed up and sat on the tabletop instead, legs dangling. She looked from the human to the part-orc and back again.

"I don't think I caught anyone's name earlier," she said. "You can call me Sella. Or Soot. Either way."

[Andre]

"The name's Lodwjiq" the Hexblade replied almost mechanically while resting his flail on the table. Dad liked halflings, always found them both amusing and competent in his line of work, and had a long array of jokes about their size and thieving skills. Now's not the time. Opening to someone you met less than an hour ago is not an option.

[Kantolin]

Qkon jerked back to reality as the halfling hopped back into the room, and shrugged.

"Sss."

He stopped for a moment as his tongue was cut slightly by his tusks. Terrific - he hated sounds like that. He'd try that again later.

"Zagan Qkon." He again pointed to himself. He eyed her - another one-word name. Thus, someone else either without a tribe - family, without a family - or hiding. Odd.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella sat quietly for a moment, still idly swinging her feet back and forth over the edge of the table.

"You can call me Ella," she said to the one called Qkon after a moment, "if that's easier." No one had ever called her that before, but his mouth didn't seem to be shaped for the sound.

Not knowing what else to say, she palmed a coin from her purse and flipped it into the air, catching it and then walking it across her knuckles. She spun it back and forth across her hand a few times while she was thinking. She wanted very much to know more about the strange men, but didn't know how to ask without offending, and didn't know if she should even then. People were certainly entitled to their secrets.

Finally, she settled for the most generic question she could, not looking at either man as she asked it.

"So," she said, still spinning the coin, "what brings you to the city?"

[Andre]

What brings you to the city? - that was exactly the question he didn't want to answer nor to hear, and that ignited his hatred again. Moving uncomfortably on the chair "Bloody bastards" he couldn't help but hiss as he recalled his escape from home for the hundredth time. This actually gave him a suggestion and "Bloody bastards bring me here." he added in a fairly natural tone.

[Kurai]

I forgot the horse >.< Let's... just pretend she left it at the Inn's stables before we went inside.

In that moment, the door opened and Ophelia slipped back inside, curly hair still damp on her shoulders. If she felt that the atmosphere in the room was strained, she didn't acknowledge it.
"I suspect our meals will be here in short order. If anyone would like to use the bathing facilities, you will find them down the hall."

After placing her satchel down on one of the single beds, she took a look inside. For a long moment, her hand rested on something wrapped in thick oil leather, as if to keep it from all harm. Her onfocused eyes seemed to either stare at it or at a long-gone scene from the past.

[Amnestic]

Almost on cue, a sharp rap was heard on the door before it opened to reveal Soran carrying a rather sizeable steaming pot which wafted a calming, warm smell of the aforementioned stew across the room. Behind him was Mia carrying bowls, plates, some bread and assorted cutlery. "Sorry to intrude; thought you'd want your food. Hah! Rhyme." Mia noticeably rolls her eyes at this and though Soran probably does notice, he doesn't react to it. "Eat as much or as little as you want, it shan't go to waste. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call! Quel'apsa." With the pot placed in the centre of the table, the assorted table crockery laid out, Soran and Mia take their leave and allow the party their privacy once more.

That old horse is probably feeling neglected. Did you even give it a name? :p

Elvish Speakers:
"Quel'apsa": Literally 'good food'. Generally translated as 'enjoy your/this meal'.

And yes, I am enjoying making up Elvish phrases. :smallamused:

[Kantolin]

"Ella."

Okay, that was easier. Still, he was a little annoyed at himself for having that much trouble with the name Sella. He worked it in his head for a moment as Lodwjiq replied.

Huh. So was it revenge? Or maybe hunting someone - or a group, as he meant more than one person. Or was he just mad at someone - Qkon certainly had felt that way before, for a time.

The human woman returned - he'd probably vanish off to bathe in a moment. Moments afterwards, Soran entered - Qkon grabbed a piece of bread, as it came through, nodding at him.

When he left, Qkon shrugged. "I's 'ere for m'tribe. Gettin' 'way from da Wildlands's a good idea for someone like me, once in 'while. Know some stuff."

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella nodded at Qkon's explanation, ignoring the scarred human's outburst so she wouldn't have to come up with a reply.

Seeing Qkon take a piece of bread, Sella grabbed one for herself and took a bite. She looked around the room briefly, but no one moved. She spared the stew another glance, but, not sure if there was something she was missing or some sort of protocol she didn't know, just took another bite of bread and kept spinning the coin in her right hand, eyes on the human woman whose name she didn't know.

Sella took a third bite, finished it off, and let the coin drop into her palm.

"We were introducing ourselves," she said. "I'm Sella. What do I call you?"

[Kurai]

Ophelia looks at Sella, completely bewildered for a moment, though it only is seen mildly on her blank face. Then she realizes she forgot something important the whole time, not used to pronouncing her name out loud.
"Oh. I forgot. Pardon me."

Her hand wanders to the stylized paradise bird on her arm, the tattoo showing her family's crest, normally all a fellow mage needed to know. Mendelev. First born. With the hints of the tattoo on her breastbone telling them the rest they needed to complete her rank. Magistra.

Mages didn't introduce themselves. It was considered impolite, as it showed your lack of knowledge concerning those around you and was also the reason for the cut of their robes. And who wanted to be known for his lack of knowledge? No one, of course, not in an order dedicated to this very thing.

"My name is Magistra Ophelia Mendelev." With that, she joins them at the table, taking her share of the stew and bread, while glancing at the two men. She couldn't entirely disagree with the mage tradition of showing their names on their skin... introductions were such tedious things.

[Andre]

Upon hearing the door rumbling, Lodwjiq picked up the flail from the table, but then proceeded to merely fasten it to its belt noticing it was merely the innkeeper wielding a meal.

He spits on one hand and wipes off any traces of dust and sweat from both hands and face on the internal side of his cape. Nodding to the other three patrons, he then picks up a sizeable chunk of meat and a small loaf of bread which he starts chewing upon after having suspiciously smelled them for a swift while.

[PollyOliver]

Magistra, Sarcella thought. And yet insisting she's not a mage. Strange. But it probably told her most of what she needed to know.

She put the coin away, quickly finished off the piece of bread, and ladled herself a small serving of stew. Sella picked up a spoon awkwardly, the utensil nearly as a big in her hands as the ladle in a human's, looked around again, and then took a bite.

[Kantolin]

"Zagan Qkon." Qkon said reflexively, mildly amused that this was the third time he'd said that.

But upon looking at the other two, they both seemed to have abruptly fallen silent once she said that. Huh.

He swallowed the bread - he hardly chewed, as most orcs didn't. Just bite, swallow, and relish in the sizeable lumps that make their way down. Orcs didn't really have molars.

"Magistra Offf-"

He cringed for a moment. Daggonit. Dimming his eyes a bit, he tried again.

"Magistra Ophelia Mendelev."

There. Although he was pretty sure he couldn't spit that out reliably around his tusks. He paused for a moment afterwards - humans had the most awful names sometimes. He grabbed a touch more food, and gulping it down, asked, "So. Whacha need protector'n for?"

[Kurai]

"Calling me Magistra should be enough," the redhead added once she heard how the half-orc pronounced her full name. Hearing it with such an accent was a first, she had to admit. I haven't studied Orcish yet. 'Too primitive', my father told me. 'It is too young to make your study worthwhile.' Yet maybe... She cleared her head of thoughts, it was a topic for a different time.

Not replying to Zagan until she had scraped her bowl clean, Ophelia pushed the plate away with a gesture that meant business. But she still took a few seconds more, trying to find the right words for her problem.

"I came into the... possession of an old tome. Very old. In it resides very important, dangerous knowledge." A pause. Ophelia seemed to grasp once again for words... or maybe she was unsure how much she could tell.
Finally, with a deep breath, she went on."This tome could mean the end of the mage hierarchy, if applied correctly. Naturally, that makes me one of the highest enemies of the state and my life would be forfeit if I got caught."

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella put her food down very carefully. About a dozen different comments came to mind, none of them particularly helpful.

This is why I don't talk to people, was the first, and it would probably not be the last time she thought it, but she just took her coin back out and started toying with it again, sorting through what she knew until she thought of something more useful to say.

"So," she said finally, "what is it that happens in three days? And how likely is it to get my head separated from its shoulders?"

[Andre]

Considering that his mouth was full of food while the mage revealed her secret, it is actually suprising that Lodwjiq could avoid choking on it.

He stares at Ophelia blankly with a raised brow, realizing she was already three times - to say the least - more in danger than he was, and now he with her. Still, now there is also respect for her in his eyes, as exacting revenge on the mage chaste is a fascinating thought to dwell upon...

[Kurai]

Ophelia sniffed, having anticipated that reaction. Which included wide-eyed staring, incredulous looks and a bit of an 'are-you-crazy-woman'-glaze, coupled with a certain amount of wariness.
"Three days is the amount I believe I'll need to commit everything written in that book to my memory. That way, even if the book might be destroyed or left behind, the knowledge is inside my mind."

She pulled two small purses from her belt, throwing them on the table near her arm. Then she raised her hand, three fingers raised up, thumb and little finger pressed against her palm.

"You have three choices from here. Number one." She lowered her ringfinger. "You walk away from this now and pretend you never met me. I doubt any of the mages are interested in common folk.

"Number two." Her middle finger went down. "You go the mages, then spill your guts about me and my mission in the hopes of getting something out of it, even just a little protection to wash your hands of this. Be assured they will maim and kill you just for the distinct knowledge that there is a book capable of bringing down their powers." The lackluster, flat way in which she spoke about this painted an even bleaker picture than possible.

"Number three. You take the money, protect me for three days and not only get some financial aid to keep the mages off your back, but also a small hope that there will be a chance to stop the terror they visit upon the normal people every single day." Her lips became pale with a tint of rage as she lowered the last finger, forming a fist. "And maybe even revenge for what they already did so far."

The magistra's hand finally grasped the purses, while cool pale eyes surveyed the ones seated at the table. "So. Which choice will it be?"

[Kantolin]

Qkon chuckled, just a little.

"Nice'n up front. Me likes dat."

A tome with forbidden knowledge, however, sounded a lot like it could be shadow-magic - information that is outside of what was normal. Had she found a book that could help him? So quickly after he arrived?

He'd have to wait a bit to learn more about it, but that was fine by him. He nodded.

Of course, she hadn't mentioned the more-orcish option of simply taking the money forcefully, but that wasn't something usually thought of by those away from the wildlands, he had to remind himself.

Then there was the idea of stopping the mages, which actually seemed somewhat laughable. But it was possible that there was more to that as well, and that was also intruiging. And more statements on 'revenge' - had Lodwijq also been talking about the mages? But these weren't from the wildlands...

"Yer willin' for stand 'gainst all dat? Pretty d'termined, Magistra. I can 'elp guard ya."

[Andre]

An heroic effort is made by the man to swallow the huge morsel of stew in one single gulp.

Unable to restrain himself any further, he gets up abruptly and reaches for one of the purses, tearing it away from her pale hand. On second thought, it appears clear that claiming to possess a book whose knowledge could tear down an entire empire is about as stupid an idea as would be attempting to breed the Orc with the Halfling, but it matters not. I've had enough of running. I'll do anything to spill blood from their veins.

"Anyone that crosses our path shall encounter misfortune, miss." smirking, chilly.
Reverting to the usual tone of voice, Lodwjiq adds "Three days. You'd better leave in charge of our survival someone more wordly than you are, and concentrate on your magical thingamajig if you wish to respect the schedule."

[Kurai]

Knowing when her education falls short and her borders are clear, Ophelia nods curtly. "Matters outside the mage towers are past my experience. I am not even sure talking to you in this way is the correct decision, but I'm getting desperate. Especially concerning my sleep." As if reminded of her fatigue, she rubs at her eyes. "But I thank you both for joining me in this."

Then, in an offhand motion, she throws the half-orc the other full purse. Afterwards she turns to the halfling seated next to her, throwing her what might be considered a slight gentle look if one squinted a little.

"I know not of you, hal... Sella." She catches herself, then moves on. "If it is your desire to free yourself of this, it should be best considered if you left now before I enlarge upon this topic. You already helped me a lot and for that you have my gratitude." Pale eyes await her answer, giving her the opening if she chose to leave right now.

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella almost got up and left without another word. It was the safe thing to do. But....

A chance to stop the terror, Ophelia had said. Sella saw again the drifting fog, pouring its flickering green light into the narrow streets. She heard screams turn rapidly to choking and coughing and then silence. And Sella, perched high above, watching it all and not able to do anything except feel strangely fascinated. She remembered every narrow escape, the shudder that went down her spine each time she saw a mage-catcher's cloak in the market.

She took a slow, deep breath. It was stupid. It was very, very stupid. But somehow she knew that she was going to do it anyway.

Sella looked down at the floor.

"I'll stay," was all she said, and then fell silent.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq opens the purse, performing a quick count of the coins. Seems in order. Looking up... and down... he gives both the women a gentler look while he points the beds. "I'll take care of things now."

Rumaging through his belt, he produces a dagger and proceeds to conceal it up one of his sleeves.

take 20 on a dexterity check to hide a weapon, if possible

[Kantolin]

Qkon grabbed the pouch, and stared at it for a moment before pocketing it.

"Guess dat's dat, den." He nodded, thumbing one of his tusks for a moment. "So... was dat what dose guys was lookin' for in da market? Dey couldn't've not seen us."

[PollyOliver]

"If they'd known, we'd be dead now," Sella said. Well, they'd be dead. She'd be hiding. But she didn't say that. She considered elaborating, but was still thinking it through in her own head.

If they'd truly known, they would have done far more than send a message. Or at least, Sella couldn't fathom anything else. But was trying to avoid the mage-catchers really enough to warrant sending a message? Everyone tried to avoid them.

And who had sent the cat? Was someone looking out for the woman? Or had the cat been part of the whole thing, a familiar to another mage, and a test? She'd taken the bait, if true. She set her food aside and dropped her head into her hands, still thinking, turning everything over in her mind while she waited for the human woman to continue her story.

[Kurai]

Ophelia holds up a hand in Lodwjiq's direction, signaling somehow that she would be going to bed soon, but not now, and then nodding thankfully in Sella's direction.

Then she furrows her brows just a bit, just enough to produce the hint of a slight crease between them. "Not every mage or mage-hunter knows me on sight. Maybe they received orders to look for something resembling me, but were unsure how to proceed as they didn't expect me to be with company. There are a thousand explanations."

Standing up and walking over to her satchel, Ophelia frees the book from its containment, holding it gently against her torso before sitting back down.

"I can not estimate how much you all know about magic itself. So I try to tread lightly." The redhead lays a hand on the binding, palm flat against the old, brown leather. There are flaked, golden letters beneath her spread fingers. "This is a book about the art called Truenaming, a form of... magic created by speaking words and sentences. The reason it is so valuable is because everyone with enough intelligence and talent for speech is able to learn it. Not just mages, not just the ones born with magic in their veins. Everyone."

Her cool eyes implore the last word on all three of them and her voice hints at the strength of steel lying behind her vocal cords. Sitting on her chair straight and erect, she glances down at the tome. "I am the living proof for that, as I was born without even the slightest trace of magic."

[Andre]

Lodwjiq raises a brow, again, and looks unimpressed.
"How is that different from other forms of magic? Anyone could learn it if they could be arsed to spend whole days sitting on their ass and reading books upon books. Ain't it so?"

[PollyOliver]

"No. Some things you are simply born to," Sella said quietly, almost absently, still thinking about the encounter in the market. Could the tall woman be right? She shook her head and dismissed the thought.

"Some still require study, after the fact. But the fact of being born to them remains. How else would there be a whole caste? They take common children, sometimes, but often enough the spark breeds true once there."

She considered her own abilities, never really requiring study and minor enough that they'd never tried more than idly to come after her. That fact bothered her more than almost anything else. That they'd not been trying so hard, and yet still she was forced to run like a rabbit every time. What would it be like if they were really trying? Would running even be an option anymore? Sella bit her lip and glanced at the window, sorely tempted, but stayed where she was and went back to thinking about the mysterious message.

[Kantolin]

"<And some things you trip into no matter how little you want them.>" Muttered Qkon under his breath, speaking in orcish for the first time since he arrived.

Then, louder and in common, "Easy-magic, den. So easy y'can master it in three days? If so, dat's some pretty tough stuff."

[Kurai]

Ophelia sniffs disdainfully at the scarred man's offhanded remark about studying books, but doesn't comment on it.

"Sella is correct. One is born to magic, you need the slightest trace of it to wring forth a spell." Her brow furrows, then she shakes her head. "No, that is not right. Not all forms of magic need magic blood. Some you acquire through ancient lore, by calling forth spirits and old beings, but they don't come for just anyone. This kind of magic is connected closely to blood as well, but in the form of inheritance. But the mages made sure to either extinct these bloodlines or keeping them under tight control."

Craddling the book close again, she looks up thoughtfully. "But Truenaming is different. You can always find magic, in whatever form it may appear. While the mage hunters have not been my field of expertise during my studies, I know they have means to find traces of it wherever they wander. It is how they find even most well-hidden wild magics." Wetting her lips, her gaze travels down to the book.

"But you can't find traces of Truenaming. It is much more than magic, it is... basic. True. You speak and the universe changes, just like that. No source of power, no grand gestures, not even reagents, all it takes are words and you can shape the world without anyone being any wiser. It is not magic, it is the very reality itself. You can suspect how a proud magical caste would want something like that erased."

Shaking her head clear, she glances at the half-orc. "Not master. I can learn the words, but Truenaming is the most complicated thing I have ever encountered in all my life. Just knowing the words doesn't make one able to Truespeak as you please."

[Andre]

Lodwjiq paused for a moment, analyzing the words of the woman, as if spelling them in his own mind. One thing was particularly disturbing - he had always believed it was the spreading rumours who had given him out, but apparently the mage hunters could detect even the slightest forms of magic.
About that thing... truenaming... he didn't really understand in the least how it worked, except on a way more pratical point of view.

He waves his fist. "This is not good enough! If your art is so difficult to master, and that book you are clinging to is the sole copy, how do you intend spreading that knowledge straight to the commons? That book is about as dangerous as a five years old kid to the Empire."

The man pauses again, and blinks, struck by an idea. "Unless, of course, you plan on creating multiple copies of it and distributing them eventually..."
With no small profit to us, son, if handled correctly. Blood and money at the same time.

[Kurai]

Huh, I could swear I had posted this. Looks like I didn't. *scratches head in confusion*

"For something to take hold, one has to master it first. Of course, I will distribute the book in due time, as I can't teach all of them personally myself. But I will memorize the tome first, so I have no fear of leaving it behind during my flight if I have to."

She raises her chin in slight defiance. "And it may be difficult to master, but not in a way that takes years. There is more I need to succeed than bright students. But I am willing to run and hide and fight as long as it takes to get to that point."

Standing up and returning the book to its place in her satchel, Ophelia folds her arms and looks into the direction of the window, her stance rigid.
"I spent my entire life in the mage towers and universities and until a few weeks ago I never traveled so far away from home that I had to sleep in an unfamiliar bed. I have been on the run since six weeks straight with as little sleep as I could muster, away from my home, my comfort zone and everything I've ever known by my own accord, hunted down by my enemies and surrounded by common people that only see the hateful mage in me. Willing to give up my own life to change conditions in this land."

Her voice is dangerously low and cold as she goes on. "You don't expect me to have a handy, well thought-out future plan just like that under these circumstances, do you? There is a reason I sought out help."

[Andre]

As the mage goes into details of her craft, Lodwjiq's attention soon drifts off.
Seemingly more interested in evaluating her looks for the time being, a grin starts to take a hold of his face and all he hears of her explanations are muffled and indistinctive sounds.

Her last sentence however, pronounced in eerily chilly tone, prompt his return to reality.
"No, I expect that to be more like my job here." he snaps back at her. "Get to sleep already, I'll watch over. Should I get tired, I'll awake the orc... er, I mean, Quon."

[Kurai]

Ophelia lowers her eyes, but then decides to rub them instead, sitting down on the covers. "Yes. You are right. I really need a couple hours of sleep. Should something come up, wake me."

Dragging her robe close around her ankles and pulling her hair up in a messy bun, she slips her legs beneath the covers. Craddling her satchel close out of pure habit, she drabs an arm around it, finding herself drifting off the moment her head hits the pillow.

They could kill her.
They could rob her or maim her or do things she had heard the younger mages talk about in their gossip during lunch. But Ophelia was no stranger to cruelty and right now she was weary down to the very bottom of her soul. Despite her promise to do anything, anything to protect this knowledge and use it to crush the established government, there was only so far one human being could go. Truthfully, she simply didn't care if anything happened tonight.

She fell into a bottomless, troubled sleep.

[Kantolin]

"Well den! Heh."

Qkon stood, and dusted himself off. "I'ma go bath. Won't take long, 'n I don't need much sleep anyway."

Two things came to his mind as he closed his mouth. First was that the second part of the statement wasn't actually true anymore - along with his ability to drink all night, he'd lost the ability to stay awake for several nights in a row. Hopefully that wouldn't come up.

Secondly, the word 'bath' sounded a little funny, like it wasn't the right word there. But he knew he didn't need to say 'use the bathing facilities', so he was hopefully closer.

Shaking his head of thoughts, he proceeded to the washroom to do just that - he could hit the sack when he returned.

[PollyOliver]

With the orc gone and the human woman sleeping, Sella found herself staring silently at the human man with the scars. Lodwjiq, she corrected herself, not sure if she could say it correctly if she tried to speak it aloud.

She ladled herself another small helping of what was left of the stew, eating quietly as she thought about what she'd just gotten herself into, and eying the man and his flail as she thought. In truth, the stare was probably impolite, but Sell didn't much hold for propriety--or, rather, she recognized it too rarely for it too matter. She bit her lip and took another bite of stew. Finally, too curious to stay silent, she spoke again, just two words.

"Bloody bastards," she said, referring to his reason for being in the city, with just enough upward inflection in her voice that it could be a question if the man wanted it to be. And if not...well, there were enough bloody bastards in the world that he could ignore the query if he wanted to.

[Andre]

Upon hearing Sella mention things which would be best left undisclosed, Lodwjiq is frankly quite annoyed but does not make a show of it. Taking a deep breath, he spends a moment adjusting his right sleeve before sitting down again.
Meeting the gaze of the halfling, he says, "What of it?"

[PollyOliver]

At the guarded tone of the human's voice, Sella simply shrugged.

"Whatever you want to make of it, I suppose," she said, and fished around in her bowl of stew for another piece of meat. "If that is nothing, then..." She shrugged again and popped the morsel in her mouth.

[Andre]

"I don't like stalling. If you want to know who they are, out with it. Ask, and you might receive an answer."

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella met the tall man's eyes, more than a little annoyed, her own ice blue eyes blazing like cold fire. This was why she didn't like people. People were not supposed to be affronted by the act of giving them an out in an uncertain conversation. She managed not to grit her teeth, but didn't conceal the hard edge to her voice.

"Fine," she said. "If bluntness is what you want, who were they, then?"

[Andre]

Lodwjiq does not interrupt eye contact, but seems to be looking into the void instead for a moment. Exactly.

Without even looking at it, he reaches for her hand and grasps it firmly but with measured strength so as not to hurt her. Forcing her index finger to point in his direction, he talks. (in halfling)
"You are poking an open wound. A gentle touch only prolongs the pain."

It takes a lingering moment before Lodwjiq lets go, as he first wipes out the few remaining greasy traces left by the stew on her finger and returns to speaking common.
"Just like when you are pierced by an arrow. Pull it out, that's what you gotta do." a small pause. "It's the mages the bloody bastards after me. Not for long - from today I'll be after them as well."

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella nods.

"They've been after me as well, before. Though...I don't know that they were ever trying all that hard." She turns and looks out the window briefly, at the slowly darkening sky. "I'm going down to the baths, before it gets too late." She hops off the table, offers what she hopes is a friendly smile, and slips out of the room, backpack in hand, silent as shadow.

[Amnestic]

Lodwjiq and Sarcella:

You can hear a noticeable, but soft, sound at the door. Sarcella will notice that the sound is coming from lower down on the actual door than one might normally expect. Opening it reveals no one except for a small cat; a cat which looks remarkably similar to the one who carried the message of flight and safety in the marketplace. His entry to the room acquired, the cat pads in and hops onto the end of one of the single beds. Another note appears to be stuffed into his collar. In the same handwriting as the first, the script reads:
"Tomorrow night. Docks. Follow Dextera, he will lead the way."

Almost on cue as you finish reading this, the cat meows almost to indicate the name is referring to him.

*********************

Ophelia:
As you sleep, you dream. You dream of the glistening mage towers, of the dusty smell of forgotten tomes, of candlewax, incense and all manner of spell component. It is in this dream that you find yourself standing in a well furnished study. The carpets are a deep burgundy, walls and furniture of dark oak, bookshelves piled high to the ceiling and a crackling fireplace which casts its dancing lights across the room.

You are alone, save one other person. A young man, yet with an air about him that speaks of experience and history beyond his physical appearance. Dressed smartly, soft skinned and with a neat haircut he is the vision of what many would call the perfect young mage. "I was wondering when you would arrive. I have been waiting for you, Ophelia Mendelev, for a long time." His voice is polite and educated, though he did notably leave off her title. "Risentide is changing, its time as leader of the world is coming to a close, whether the mages realise it or not." He gazes into Ophelia's eyes as he says this, the deep purple irises holding an almost hypnotic quality about them. "Before you stands a task not completed by any for as long as history has been recorded. I can guide you, but I cannot intervene directly. You must have questions: Speak, and I shall answer them as best I can."


And as a wonderful sidenote, it is hard to think of non-explosive ways to advance the plot when one of you is taking a bath and the other is asleep. It did lead me to create an all new plot idea though, so all is well. *maniacal laughter*

I do seriously take plot balance as a concern though, I don't want it to seem like I'm focusing more on one character than another, even though I sometimes have to.

Also I don't want to interrupt a half-orc during their bathtime. :smalleek:

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella fishes a small piece of meat out of the stew and offers it to the cat, crouching down beside it.

"Who sent you?" she muses quietly to herself, mostly wondering instead how the sender found them so quickly. If he could, so could the mages. Unless he was one. The cat seemed to support that.

She sighs and reaches out slowly to scratch the animal's ears.

I'm assuming the cat is staying. If not...well, I guess it can ignore me and leave.

[Kurai]

Confusion is the first thing that comes to Ophelia's mind as she holds up a hand and touches her forehead in wonder. Was this a dream? Was it real? Both?
Staring at the figure across from her, she squares her shoulders and stands up straighter. There is a note of discontent and underlaying annoyance in her voice as she speaks.

"What game is this? Explain yourself, whoever you may be." She takes a moment to lower her eyes, just slightly, then replays the foreign man's words in her mind. Is he even human? she wonders, gaze connecting with the violet in his own.

While listening, the magistra takes a step to the side. Her fingertips grace the books and wood in quiet, hidden awe at the knowledge hidden inside these pages and she finds no harm in expressing her curiosity to someone dressing and acting like a mage and who in turn can clearly see her sporting the obvious marks of mage upbringing herself. Him knowing her name disturbs her, as her good memory can't connect the stranger to a name or rank. Unsure if his knowledge of her name or the omission of her title unsettles her more, she keeps her gaze carefully blank when turning back to the man.

[Amnestic]

The cat - that is, Dextera - happily munches on the offered meat before rolling onto its back and leaning its belly outwards, indicating that he desires a belly rub and purring happily at the ear scratch. He appears to be making himself quite at home, though with cats you never can be sure. The small bell on its collar tinkles happily as it moves about.

"Excuse me." A voice sounds from the door, signalling that Mia has entered. "I am sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you were done with your dinner? Soran doesn't like to keep rooms dirty with pots and plates."

************************

"Game?" He gives a light chuckle at this, finding the concept almost quaint. My dear girl, this is no game. You of all people should recognise the seriousness of your goal. As I said, I am here to help you, as much as I am able." He hasn't moved from where he stands beside the fireplace since he began speaking, though he does occasionally shake his head whenever a strand of hair falls into his eyesight. Everytime he does so, a pleasant and yet almost intagible smell fills the room, one of memories and happier times long ago.

"Cujo's beliefs about the coming fall was correct, and though they would not admit it, some mages agree. Their plans are fast falling into place and if you wish to truly bring down the mages then time is of the essence. A new line of next-generation golems are nearing completion and with them, the mages hope to pacify any and all commoner revolts. You must stop them, and instead take control of their new golems to fight back against the mages. You must, or they will destroy you."

[Kurai]

The woman pales at the mention of Cujo and she has to bite back the urge to ask childishly, hopefully You knew my father? She has always done so well with repression, but it seems no amount of inner back-turning at the memories of her father can ease the pain that comes with his name. It's the same, every time. His gentle face and smile one second, the next it is his helpless screams of torment and the horrible crackling of fire.

Pressing against the side of her nose with two fingers for a second, she goes on. "I know this whole situation is not a game. But tell me you would not be suspicious if someone looking like a member of all that you hate appears in your dreams and tells you to believe the government's power is waning." Ophelia purses her lips, thoughtful. "It is awfully convenient, is it not, stranger? Almost like a dream come true."

Folding her hands in front of her stomach in a typical scholary fashion, the magistra tilts her head at the stranger. "But let's say I trust you. Where will I find these golems? What will I do with them? I have sufficient help for the next three days, then I might be on my own. And even if they stayed, do you expect just the four of us to sneak into a place that is assuredly protected by a adequate force? Go ahead, tell me how I will be able to create a wonder in such a short time."


Sorry for the bitchiness, but the combination of memories, what she suspects is a mage entering her dreams and an obvious undoable task (at least with the current information) has her slightly pissed off :smalltongue:
Not me though. I love it. *is giddy*

[PollyOliver]

Sella looks up.

"I think so," she says. "Thank you." Then she rubs the cat's belly.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq studied the cat when it entered, definitely interested at how obviously well trained it was. "We should have had cats like this one." he commented "Is it magical?"

His line of thought about the message the feline carries is however severed by the entrance of the waitress.
Lodwjiq turns to look at her, and accompanying his words with an ample gesture of his left hand he echoes Sella. "Sure, help yourself".

[Amnestic]

At the word 'magical', Dextera meows in what sounds like an affirmative, even to an untrained ear. He even perked up and rolled to his feet, almost sitting at attention, clearly quite fond that he was the centre of the room at this moment. He even seemed to scowl a bit as Mia bustled about with her the dinner items, lest she detract from people paying attention to him.

************************

"What, you just expect me to hand you everything? Oh, now, that's no fun at all!" He gives a little smile and a shake of his head. "The new golem project is being headed by a Tetri Venacé. Find her, find the golems; find the golems, find the method of controlling them. Since you're such a pretty little thing I will offer you a second piece of advice: Find the children from the market today. What they stole may prove useful to you." He pauses and fixes his gaze on hers once more, his tone becoming noticeably less playful. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Ophelia. Try not to disappoint me." And with that he, and the rest of the dream, vanish into the ether, with not a single word given as to his trustworthiness, or commenting on her suspicions.

[PollyOliver]

Sella, still rubbing Dextera's belly with one hand, fishes the ball of twine out of her pack with the other. She untucks the free end with her fingers and then holds it out to the cat questioningly, loose end dangling.

I'm having way too much fun here, I know. :smallredface:

[Kantolin]

Qkon had bathed, and a bit later he returned. Being refreshed felt good; the specified 'bathing facilities', however, were a bit odd. Was this what it was generally like within these lands? Much different than just finding a low spot int he river.

Then again, with all these people, finding low spots might get rough. Guess it made sense. Although similarly granted, from Lodwjiq's comments, humans didn't bathe nearly as often as orcs. Weird.

Returning, however, showed him a cat. He dimmed his eyes a bit; never liked the things. Messed with his nose something fierce even before his incident; now it was much worse.

He stepped around the waitress for a moment, looking at the cat, then up to the other two. He raised an eyebrow, but shrugged as he noticed that Ophelia was presently asleep. Whatever it was could wait that much longer.

Summarily, he sat down again, waiting.

[Kurai]

When the sun was just finding its way back over the horizon, Ophelia woke with a start. Not with shock or because something had disturbed her, no, it was simply her way of leaving sleep. While other people would wake up bleary eyed or lounge in bed for a few more minutes, tracing the last wisps of half-sleep, she would be up and about mentally in mere seconds. It had its advantages, but only if you had a proper amount of rest.

Her first insinct was to grab for the book she hadn't let out of her reach within the last few weeks. Finding it safely beside her, the redhead pushed herself into a sitting position, dragging a hand through sleep-mussed curls and taking a look at her surroundings.

She felt rested for the first time since... that day. Despite the fact that the memory of her curious dreams had her eyes frosted over with heavy thoughts. Rearranging the robe around her calfs, Ophelia swung her legs out of the single bed, ready to greet whoever seemed awake.

[PollyOliver]

Sella, curled up next to the cat, woke with a start when she heard movement, hand diving under her shirt for a knife before she realized it was only Ophelia.

"Oh," she said. She pointed at the cat. "We got a message."

[Kurai]

Seeing the cat and remembering it from the day before, Ophelia blinks once. "Oh. Well, good morning. What does the message consist of?"

Had they found them already? Was this... being in her dreams playing with them?... He had told her to find the children and it seemed the cat and the kids might be connected somehow. Reigning in her musings, she waited for Sella to relay what had happened, so she could then tell about her own strange experience. Maybe they had a good opinion whether to trust this mysterious messenger or not.

[Andre]

Still fairly comfortably sitting in the same chair granting peripheral vision is Lodwjiq. He hasn't slept, but didn't exactly stood guard all night long either; rather, he has rested with one eye open, alternatively keeping under control the sleepers and the room's door, ever ready to react quickly to danger like an actual cat would have.

For a moment, he opens both eyes, turns to face the women and interiects. "Morning"

Resuming his previous relaxed stance, he closes both eyes, but doesn't cease to listen attentively.

[PollyOliver]

Sella scratches the Dextera's ears. "Whoever sent the note wants to meet us at midnight at the docks. We're to follow the cat."

[Kantolin]

Qkon raised an eyebrow, mostly a little surprised. "Huh. So dey found us dis quick-like 'n want us t'cooperate?"

But shrugged. " 'Course, if dey know where we is, 'n it were da mages, dey could be lots more forceful, eh? Izzis 'ow da mages in charge usually act?"

In addition... so they sent a cat? That seemed like a message system particularly prone to being ignored or missed, but if that was how things usually worked...

Qkon eyes reflexively followed the cat's shadow, just watching the way the shadow moved. His own shadow seemed like it was pondering, just slightly, while remaining in a mostly similar pose to the half-orc's, as he waited for responses.

[Kurai]

Ophelia rubbed her brow with two fingers, contemplating. "No, Zagan Qkon, it is not how the mage hunters work, " she answers distractedly, her lips and tongue easily forming the unknown name of orcish origin. Once you spoke a few languages, emulating foreign sounds became much, much easier - not that she knew how to speak it just by perfectly echoing a sentence of a language she didn't know, but Truespeaking consisted of such abstract sounds, everything else started to pale in comparison. Do you even call them by their full name? Is Zagan enough? Or Qkon? Dear Gods, why can't they just write their proper names on their skin?...

"I... might have to add something to that. I had a strange dream, but please let me speak before you roll your eyes. I am quite positive it was real and not a figment of my imagination or a sign of incoming madness."

The magistra longed for a glass of water, a decent breakfast and a morning wash, but time was of the essence and such luxuries had to be pushed aside for the imminent problems. So she began to tell of her 'dream' encounter, reciting it in her usual dispassionate voice and full with short, descriptive sentences that would have made bards writhe on the floor in agony. Ending with the strangers lack of proof for his trustworthiness, she folded her hands in her lap and waited for their comments.

[Andre]

The chair Lodwjiq is sitting on starts rocking back and forth slowly as he balances himself with a foot against the table - his eyes are still shut, though.

"Mmpfh. Coward. Can't get your hands dirty?" he says, an obvious reference to the man in the dreams.
"Sounds like someone wants to sit on top of the ruins if the building collapses. Why sending a cat and a dream anyway?"

[PollyOliver]

The chair Lodwjiq is sitting on starts rocking back and forth slowly as he balances himself with a foot against the table - his eyes are still shut, though.

"Mmpfh. Coward. Can't get your hands dirty?" he says, an obvious reference to the man in the dreams.
"Sounds like someone wants to sit on top of the ruins if the building collapses. Why sending a cat and a dream anyway?"

"He probably doesn't want us to know where we're going in advance," Sarcella says. "Makes it harder to tip people off, or go prepared. And he probably is using the cat to keep an eye on us." She scratches its ears again nonetheless. "As for the dream, I don't know. To show he could? Or to make sure Ophelia took him seriously?" She shrugs, takes out the ball of twine again, and goes back to playing with Dextera.

[Kantolin]

"Huh."

Qkon shrugged, again. "Well... den we either follow da cat 'cause some guy in a dream said so, or try'n 'ole up 'ere for three more days. Dis guy knows where y'are and what y'want, so if he wanted t'do somethin' he could, right? May as well follow his cat 'n see what he wants."

He massaged his nose, slightly. Why couldn't the mysterious dream wizard have sent a lizard or something?

[Kurai]

"If I compare the facts, it really doesn't seem as if he is trying to lure us outright into a trap," Ophelia starts to say, mentally calling up a 'pro-contra' chart.
If he were with the mages, he would only have to tip of the hunters and we would be surrounded within minutes - unless he is sick enough to take pleasure from letting us run into our doom. Second, he seems to know about these kids and also where they are hiding. Assuming the mages are looking for them too, it gives him credibility that he is against them, as the kids would have been caught already if the mages knew their hiding place. While he may be following his own agenda, it would be benificial for us if our interests crossed each other. She doesn't trust the whole situation yet... her natural suspicion rearing its head. But she was already grasping at straws and if the stranger was honest? Well, an army of golems sounded like a bleak concept if unattended.

Pushing herself up from the bed, she smooths her robe, then turns to the group. "Unless you have a valid objection against it, I suspect we know where we are going tonight."

With no further comment, Ophelia leaves for the bathing facilities. After a short morning wash, she returns to the room and beelines to her book, opening the heavy tome and reading it word for word from the point she stopped last. Sometimes you can hear her whisper strange, foreign words, sometimes she repeats a weird-sounding syllable several times until she has the right feeling for it, all the time heavily concentrated on the writings.

[PollyOliver]

"Well," Sella said. "We know what we're doing at midnight. What are we doing till then?"

[Andre]

As soon as the important part of the conversation seems to be over, the rocking movement of Lodwjiq's chair stops. Within a minute or less, you think you can hear him slightly snoring...

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella fixes the snoring big man with a glare. Then she turns to Dextera.

"Humans are always so dull," Sella says to the cat.

[Kantolin]

Qkon chuckled at that response. "Orcish way o'sleepin', dough - go from 'wake t'sleep real quick-like."

He shrugged. "Guess it's jus' stay in dis room, den. Closed space, watch door'n windows for arrows. Read book 'till night."

Assuming that was about it, the half-orc took a seat in a corner of the room, and remained there watching the room idly for a time, ears shifting towards sounds the way orcish ears tended to. He watched the other three intently, trusting his ears - a feature he idly realized was probably harder for him nowadays.

He sighed for a moment before returning to trusting them anyway.

[Amnestic]

Stuff seems to have slowed~ down~ and no one seems to have any issues they wish to take care of for the rest of the day so lets do the time warp again~ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_7u3nhANa4). If people want to continue stuff now, well, TOO BAD KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKE

or just include stuff in spoilers as we move on to more exciting things.

Setting out from Eastwatch (with a cheerful goodbye from Soran carrying on the wind as the door closes), the party follows Dextera's swishing tail and padded footsteps down to the docks. People seem to give you a wide berth, the appearance of the four of you (plus cat) - a ragtag group if there ever was one - seemingly steering those who might accost you far away; Q'kon's heritage likely helps of course. Before long, you reach the dock area. Tall warehouses and the stench of fish assail the senses. Dirt and grime are built up all around and you can see the occasional magical glimmer and flicker as old devices, long worn out from use, still cling to life. It's darker here, darker than any place in the city. Unpacking goods during the night is reserved for smugglers (a group tolerated by the mages if only because of the exotic goods they could procure) and slavers. No one of any real repute is seen down the docks at this hour, and only the occasional watch-imp shine any light to the area.

Dextera leads you to a smallish shack built in the shadows between two warehouses. It's ramshackle to say the least, with the wood haphazardly nailed together. Whoever made it was certainly not aiming for good craftsmanship. A light is shining from inside, a light which seeps through the cracks and ebbs out into the dark night around you. For whatever reason, the watch-imps don't seem to have taken note of this otherwise unusual light and ignore it. As Dextera (and the party) approach, the door swings open and out steps a figure made of light and bandages. He appears to have some of the trappings of a robe - including the hood - and some bracers, all coloured in a similar dark maroon to reflect the inner light that fizzles and cracks within his entrapped form. Dextera lays down at the side of the bandaged light which stands before you.

"Ah, you have arrived." The figure - male, if the voice is any indication - speaks with a slight reverberation and a tone that speaks of both refinement and politeness. "I do apologise for the round about way in which this meeting must occur. You are not unknown quantities and my business would suffer should any mages happen to learn of our conversing. I am here to offer you a trade of services. You do something for me, and I shall in turn provide you with items both magical and mystical; items normally under the control of the mages which hunt you - for a price, of course." The light flickers, and though he lacks any facial expressions - or any face at all for that matter - you could swear that he just smirked.

"I do not have all evening to hang about; there are some customers that desire some of my unique decks of cards, so I shall keep this short. A sorceress by the name of Tetri Venacé is working on a new breed of golems as mages are want to do. Unfortunately, for her at least, the Fourth Nexus Conglomerate has decided they wish to take this technology for themselves and hold a monopoly of it. Our job offer is simple: Collect information regarding to the golem construction, 'confiscate' any materials that you can carry and destroy the rest so that no one can recreate them. Tetri Venacé is a paranoid mage if there ever was one. The size of the construction team is five strong including her. It is not out of the question that she has the production method memorised."

"Questions?"

[PollyOliver]

"Yes," Sella says with characteristic bluntness. "If you could find us so fast, what's to stopping them from doing it? And if, as you say, we are not unknown quantities, why would we want to do something to make them even more keen to take us--and possibly leave behind traces to make it easier?" She smirks right back at him, ice blue eyes cold and still. "Or rather, what is it precisely that you are offering in exchange for this risk?"

[Amnestic]

"To cut a long story short, what's stopping them is their sense of superiority and underestimating you. Right now you're not seen as top Ω Priority targets, not even our young magic-less mage over here." He says, gesturing off handedly towards Ophelia. "That's why they only have one Councilmember assigned to her capture. Our Conglomerate however has put a few more resources into finding those who may prove useful. We do have some experience in that area after all. We have found that it is good business to do so."

"As for the risk, it is well worth it. We will of course compensate you admirably for your services all on their own, but without us as your benefactors, you may find yourself unable to continue your fight. The mages have more artifacts at their command than you could imagine, but not nearly as many as we do."

This is not a railroad. Trust me on this.

[Kurai]

"Which Councilmember has been assigned to me?" asks in a calm, distracted way, mulling over the information the stranger has just given them. It is kind of a relief to hear she wasn't number one priority, but even just one of the higher mages had incredible resources at his disposal... she had been given some breathing room, but not much.

"If we are to do this, we need more facts. Where is this Tetri Venacé I suspect you want gone? How strong are the golems protected next to five you mentioned? Information seem to be one of your more valuable goods if I judge correctly." It was debatable if they weren't giving those golem plans from one evil to the other. Was a caste of 'merchants' really more trustworthy than a group of mages? When it comes down to it, they can be very similar. Greedy, ruthless, well-connected... how good is their reputation?

[Amnestic]

"And yet, you ask it expecting it to be free of charge." He replies, leaning forward with a smug air to his voice. "Still, I asked for questions so I suppose it is only fair that I at least provide this for free. Consider it a deal sweetener."

Jace Covin; young, more than a touch reckless but skilled and ambitious. He disdains his assignment as it offers little prestige but lots of opportunity for failure. He currently entertains only one apprentice, but as a Councilmember has a fairly significant staff at his disposal; and obviously commands his own group of hunters for the purpose of tracking you, though they're clearly not as skilled as he would believe."

"As for Miss Venacé, she can be found most often at either her tower or in the governmental buildings. Travelling outside the mage area is almost unheard of. Considering the size of the team working on the golems, we have been unable to ascertain any solid information regarding the golem defenses."

Spout that exposition! Spout it like you've never spouted before!

[Andre]

Lodwjiq relaxes his shoulders a bit, after ruling that an ambush from the mages at this stage is not as likely as he thought it was. Besides, he is kind of enjoying the salty air of the docks at night as opposed to the suffocating heat of the day; the conversation with the weird creature is also clearly entertaining him, although he doesn't show any particular emotion.
Ahhh. Work. And straight into my area of expertise.

He moves a step ahead of the group, facing the creature with a distorted grin and a raised brow."Sounds like the classic example of dislodging the watchdogs and the letting the wolves enter."
"No offense intended, but I've seen hirelings being treated much better than this. You know, we sort of assumed that they need to be equipped well beforehand to strengthen their chances of success. Your proposal... does not quite consider that."

With emphasis on the two words in italics. :smalltongue:

[Amnestic]

At the implications of Lodwjiq's words, the Ethereal's energy visibly flares slightly before turning to its previous levels. The tone of his words indicates that his patience is starting to wear. "I offer you services, I offer you payment, I even gave free information - and yet still you demand more. I am not entirely sure you have considered your position here." He pauses and takes a moment to calm himself before continuing in a matter-of-fact-oft-rehearsed tone. "I am not empowered to facilitate or approve any transactions, trades or exchanges of tangible items, goods (including but not limited to weapons, armour, alchemical materials, slaves, animals and plants), enchantments or magical empowerments that have not been not pre-approved at this time. Name what you want; I will take it to my superiors and colleagues and we will deliberate."

[Kantolin]

Why couldn't he just say, 'Go smash up some golems'.

Then again, he wasn't completely sure he knew what golems were. He knew the vague basics that he'd heard - or more accurately read - but nothing he'd actually bank on.

And he hadn't, at all, thought of most of the things they'd mentioned. He had thought of 'what stops them from finding us too', but not the idea of making themselves more of a target, nor to try to get more information about who exactly was tracking them, or about this new person. And then their potential would-be-benefactor was irritated for reasons that seemed exceptionally petty.

Thus! Qkon crossed his arms, but remained silent so as not to put his foot in his mouth. Although at this point, he was thinking: What would this guy do if they refused? He had to come to them for a reason, right?

Still.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq's left eye twitches, but his grin grows wider - and somewhat more disturbing. "No, but you did not ascertain it fully either. While the young lady here may appreciate knowing what's exactly tailing her, the option of payment to be delivered afterwards is not entincing at all."

Despite the arrogant behaviour, the man couldn't actually help but feeling uneasy - he just couldn't suppress the nagging feeling that working for such people was a bad, bad idea. Then again... Might as well be a corpse already in three days time.

And Lodwjiq wasn't considered a guy who bothered pondering on long-term consequences generally.

[Kurai]

"While I thank you for giving me the free piece of information, you have to admit my comrade here is not quite wrong. Equipping us with something useful is a certain investment on your part to make sure our job will go over smoothly." Then she tilts her head a bit, as if thinking about her logic words and adds as if almost speaking to herself:
"Of course, on the other hand, if we die during it, not only the items will be lost, but the golem plans as well. A well considered risk."


Sorry, there 'is' a reason she has -2 diplomacy X_x

[Andre]

It takes a longer struggle than one could expect, but in the end Lodwjiq's desire of delivering the Mages the fate they so deserve wins over both his istinctive distaste and mistrust of the outwordly being and any long-term concern over his own life. He leans further, talking in a very low voice.

"I wish Hexbands."

[Kantolin]

Hex... bands?

Either way, this was the second time in a very short period of time that Qkon found himself uncertain of what to say. Did he ask for an item of shadow magicing? What would that even be? Could he use scrolls? Last time he tried to use a scroll he couldn't make heads or tails of it, but he wasn't sure if that was becuase it was too hard for him, or because he couldn't, or what. The shaman had tried to explain scrolls, but it hadn't made any sense - he didn't know what a trigger was or... or anything, really.

He knew the word 'hex' - so were hexbands something you used to curse people? Should he ask for shadowbands? Or would that just make him seem even more foolish.

Once again, thus, he remained silent. It shouldn't be long now.

[Amnestic]

"I'll take your requests to my associates, though whether they grant your request is a whole other matter entirely. Getting started on your task may make them more inclined to freely give the items that you desire. For now, this meeting is at an end. Dextera will stay with you as an intermediary. Simply tell him when you wish access to my services and he will bring you to me." With that, and a flick of his wrist, a small portal appears behind the Ethereal, swirling with a myriad of colours and energies flickiering and coalescing. He doesn't wait for any sort of response as he turns and walks through, the portal closing behind him. Dextera sits in the wake of the portal, looking up at you expectantly.

And he's gone! What now? :P

[PollyOliver]

Sella stares at the air where the portal used to be and looks around at the rest of the group.

"Well?" she asks, and then walks over to the cat and scratches its ears.

[Kurai]

"I think we should gather our information and try to form a plan," Ophelia comments matter-of-factly. She folds her arms loosly in front of her stomach. "We will work against Tetri Venacé and four other mages, with her mostly in her tower or the government buildings. I would say the later ones are... unfortunate for an encounter with her."

Then she blinks, starting to drift off slightly, lost in thought.


Knowledge Local [roll0] about Tetri or whatever stuff might come to her mind.
Knowledge Geography [roll1] on the tower and the government buildings in general.

[Andre]

"There he goes." Lodwjiq drops the face and lets out a small growl, not pleased with the outcome of the encounter.

"And I had yet to ask where to find this forsaken tower, or just what chances do we stand of succeeding at striking right at the enemy's heart." Restlessly twisting his cloak, he pauses for a moment, then remembers Ophelia's encounter the night prior. "Say you, was this thing anything like the one you saw in your dream?"

[Kantolin]

"Izzit 'ard t'find their towers?"

Qkon glanced at where the strange creature had been, not completely convinced that he was gone. "I wouldn't think dey'd be hidin' them from much. I'd stick out somethin' fierce askin' 'round, though, but I should probably stay with our target 'ere." He thumbed at Ophelia.

"Well, 'less we all go lookin'. But I's not from 'round 'ere - izzit dat 'ard t'find their towers?"

[Amnestic]

Ophelia

Local:
Tetri Venacé is a Council Wizard with almost unparalleled ambition, ruthlessness and cunning, even amongst the mages she associates with. She sees others merely as tools to advance her own goals, to be used up and thrown away when no longer useful. Apprentices are either fiercely loyal to her out of their own ambition or of fear of what will happen to them if they should fail her.

Skeletal thin, gaunt of cheek and white of hair, Tetri Venacé almost looks like she should not be amongst the living and her lack of emotional ties to anything seem to echo this. More than a few rumours of her being inhuman - something monstrous - exist but any attempts to discern any truth behind said rumours are met with stonewall after stonewall. If indeed she isn't human, she has more than enough protections against being discovered.

In time, she aims to become the most powerful mage of Risentide and indeed the world. It is all too possible that once her new golem army has put down the commoners revolts, she will turn it upon her fellow mages to seize power. This is, however, supposition.

Geography:
The mages towers of Glintstone are some of the most beautiful spectacles to see in the entire world. Carved from all manner of material by the mage's magic and the architectural skills of the cosmos at their beck and call, the towers prick the sky in many places. Only the most powerful of mages are allowed to construct their own towers; generally Council members and a few others - older towers do exist though, for Council members who retired or died and had their families inherit the building. As it stands right now, there are 37 separate mage towers in total, each unique in appearance, design and style. Tetri Venacé's is a chill white and constantly wrapped in an icy shield. Unlike the majority of towers, it is a simple tall spire with a large viewing area adorning the tip; designed for practicality rather than aesthetic concerns.

Most mages are not lucky enough to have towers; the richer will have manors while the poorer and lower ranked will be stuck in houses or - for the truly incompetent - flats. The Hunters are lodged in barracks in the Government District and are not permitted their own lodgings until they are promoted or retire. There are three primary government buildings, situated in the very centre of the Mage District (as opposed to the Commoner District). One is devoted almost entirely to administration, one is devoted to judicial matters such as hearings and the like, and the third is for the Council Members, their staff and their extended work. All other business is conducted in smaller offices dotted around the district or in the aforementioned home.

[PollyOliver]

Sella looks around furtively.

"We're awful exposed out here," she says shortly. "Maybe we should get back to the inn and plan there?"

[Andre]

"Absolutely."

Lodwjiq, approving of the cold-blooded common sense displayed by the hafling, nods and gives her a curt smile.

[Kurai]

On the way back, Ophelia keeps her thoughts to herself, mulling over what she knew and what she didn't. She was by no means a tactician of any kind, and no matter how she turned the information in her head this or that way, other than realizing that it wasn't the brightest idea to cross Tetri Venacé, she couldn't come up with anything decent.

Maybe someone who actually had fighting experience could extract something useful from it. Once back at the tavern, after a short stop at the stables to check up on her horse, Ophelia takes a seat at the table and crosses her legs.

"Here's what I know about Tetri Venacé and the surrounding area. Maybe it will be useful to us." With that, she rattles down the information not unlike someone reading a book in their inner mind in short, clipped sentences.


Meaning, she gives you the gist of what's in the spoilers, but in a very dry, yawn-enducing way. Imagine her reading the phone book to you, just with other information :smalltongue:

[Andre]

"That's suicidal! Entering their towers can't possibly be as easy as mugging an idiot in a crowded street, even if it's possible to barge in at all!" argues the Hexblade in an heated tone.

"Dad told me all about it. When I was young, there still were fools trying to enter his vault, and it was damn well filled with traps and tricks. Mind you, none in our family wielded magic back then." he interrupts his speech, and bites his tongue, as if he had suddenly made a mistake he wishes to fix as fast possible. "Mind you, none in our family has ever wielded magic. I'm not sure what could we find there, but certainly nothing short of deadly stuff."

"We need to... start somewhere else. Drag her out of her comfort zone".

[Kurai]

"Three goals. One, kill Tetri Venacé. Two, steal the golem plans. Three, make everything else useful about the golems disappear." Ophelia tilts her head slightly to the side, thoughtful. "No easy accomplishment. If we kill Tetri, it will rouse suspicion and maybe make the way to the plans impossible. But if we steal the plans, it might close off our way to Tetri... a riddle with too many variables." The idea of not solving this seemed to not sit well with the mage daughter.

"Comfort zone? Tetri Venacé is a Council member, so a working room in the government buildings should be assigned to her. Maybe we could surprise her on her way to the building or back. Maybe we can find her notes in the building." She clicks her tongue, unsatisfied. "Too many maybes. Even just entering the mage district is a highly lethal risk for each of us. Perhaps a false trail?"

[PollyOliver]

Sella listens to the plan-making in silence, flexing her fingers. Stealing is one thing she's good at--besides beer, and hiding, at least. But the idea of bringing attention to herself by stealing from someone that high-up feels unnatural. Delightfully challenging, but unnatural just the same. She hardly hears Ophelia's recitation, the tone reminding her too much of lessons as a child, but finally speaks again after she replies to the scarred man.

"False trail?" she prompts. "You mean to draw her out, with the plans? Or to draw her away from the plans? Or something else?"

[Kantolin]

Qkon made a mental note about Ophelia explaining... anything, it seemed, as that response caused him to cringe.

He then was going to promptly respond when he heard Lodwjiq's statement, and paused. Back then? He watched the human for a short time, before shaking his head and returning to the conversation.

"Heh, gettin' da plans'd put her pretty far out of 'er comfort zone. I'm bettin' she'll freak if we do."

He placed one hand on his chin. "Where're da resources for da golems comin' from? If dey's comin' from outside 'er tower, dat's a place she'll 'ave to go too. Or 'least get more information 'bout what she's doin'. Unless she can just magic up whatever she needs." He added, as an annoying afterthought. "Hrm."

[Andre]

Lodwjiq fiddles with his scar, pensive. He turns to Ophelia.

"Say, you didn't answer my other question. Was that creature similar to the one you saw in your dreams?"

[Kurai]

"No, Lodwjiq, he wasn't. The man I saw was human... but not quite." Ophelia flicks a bit of street dust from her robe's knee with the tips of her fingers.

"It's a gamble. If we steal the plans, Tetri might come at us with the government force. Or her pride comes before her caution... making her keep the whole theft a secret. Then she might try to clean up the mess herself... or she sends her underlings." There were too many variables. Too many facts unsure. It simply was impossible to imagine the best outcome...

"One question. Who comes first? Tetri or the plans? Will we find the plans without Tetri? Will we get Tetri without the plans?" The woman's cold gaze travels along the room.

[Andre]

"I ain't seeing any solution there. I really don't."

"Alternatively... we could start with locating those escaped kids. Y' know, the ones from the marketplace."

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods emphatically at this suggestion.

"Yes," she says. Then she pauses, thinking. "I've got...well, I've still got some connections with the street kids. Maybe. But I'm not..." She pauses, trying to think of a good way to say it, and gives up. "I'm not good at people. They'd trust me a little, maybe, but beyond that, I don't know what I could do."

[Kurai]

"Try it, Sella. It is better than wondering what we could have done. There is no real time limit for us other than the completion date of the golems, but right now our chances of failing are too high."

Placing both feet on the ground, Ophelia stands up fluidly and walks briskly over to her satchel on the bed. She takes a seat once again, taking out her important book. It seemed she was once again using her time for what she had come here: Memorizing the Truenames. As soon as the page is open, the topic is closed from her side and she is lost once again in the world of letters and quiet mumbling.

[Andre]

(Where's the cat?)

[Andre]

The Hexblade pats absently on his trusted flail, face twisting to resemble something of a mix between smile and sneer.

"In need, I'm okay at making people talk." he says casually. I'm also good at making sure they won't talk afterwards - he thinks, but makes no mention of that.

[PollyOliver]

"All right," Sella says. "We'll start there, then. Some of the kids near Brewer's Lane still remember me. But in the morning. I like the dark, but they'll probably be more trusting when it's light out and there are more of them around."

Edit: I think the cat came with us.

[Amnestic]

Goodnight Everyone. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exdJpYxnHpw)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun rises lazily over the city, almost like it too is tired and wishes that it could head back to its slumber. Roosters and town criers are oddly quiet this morning too, almost like they are anticipating something large happening today and are apprehensive to make themselves known. Such occurences had been known to happen; in a city of mages, "something large" was at risk of occuring every minute of every day.

Obviously you don't need to start out at dawn should you think that midday may be a more opportune time to grab the kids. Feel free to do your own little timeskip.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq arises from half-slumber on his beloved chair at early dawn, lazily stretching and flexing muscles. For a moment, he looks at the sleeping trio with a wary eye.

Day 2...
Day 2... current task - locating mistery kids.
Chance of being discovered - High. Mages are after them, too...

[Kurai]

Ophelia, obviously still deep asleep if her deep breathing gives any indication, lies quietly beneath the covers of her bed, fingertips resting on her tome. Sometimes her hand or her eyebrow twitches, but despite the morning light on her face she doesn't wake up. Sleep seems to make her much younger, now that her face lacks the normal stoicism.

[PollyOliver]

As soon as Lodwijq moves--or rather, as soon as he makes a sound--Sella bolts upright, producing a knife from somewhere and dropping into a crouch beside the bed.

"Oh." she says quietly when she sees him. The knife flashes up her sleeve and she straightens, then goes to another of the chairs to wait for the others. After a few moments she fishes another coin out of her purse and starts spinning it.

[Kantolin]

Qkon awoke in time to see the very end of Sella's reaction.

That again brought questions. It seemed that these humans just got more and more curious the more he happened to witness.

He opened his mouth wide with a yawn, and massaged his tusks. His ears told him that Ophelia was still asleep, but he had to remind himself that his ears had been lying to him lately, and confirmed this with his eyes as well.

That done, he remained silent for now, thinking and waiting.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq raises an eyebrow at Sella. "Looks like we won't need to wake anybody else up."

[PollyOliver]

Sella flips the coin over the backs of her fingers again and shrugs at Lodwjiq. She waves to Qkon so as not to wake Ophelia and settles deeper into her chair.

By the way, just realized that you can see the "lost" post if you hit reply and scroll down a little.

[Kurai]

Blinking her eyes open, Ophelia quickly moves up in her bed, sleep-tousled hair falling across one shoulder. Looking left and right as if wondering why she was here and not somewhere else, her confusion only stops when her eyes catch the group lounging around on chairs.

"Is it morning already? I was... dreaming of the stranger again." There is a small pause. "He offered me his books to read. I... actually doubt he might be an enemy. But I do not trust him yet." Resettling her robe, she leaves the bed and stands up straight. "If you want to start searching for the children, it might be best if you do so without me. Showing my face in broad daylight is not wise.. and I would not be of much help anyway."

Having said that, the tall woman leaves the room to order their breakfast.

[Andre]

Not entirely convinced by her words, Lodwjiq shrugs, and taps his left temple a few times with his index finger.

He seeks to establish eye contact with the halfling, and only then talks.
"That ought to be a job best suited for sneakier folk anyway. Qkon can stand guard here... while we locate your kids."

So, are we breaking rule #1 of D&D? Don't split the party. :smalltongue:

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods and slides out of the chair and onto her feet.

"All right. We can start at Brewer's Lane. Some of them might still recognize me. But...maybe you should talk?" She says this somewhat hopefully.

[Andre]

"No problem. Let's get to it."

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods, picks up her backpack, and leads the way out into the sunlight and toward the streets she grew up on.

[Amnestic]

The early morning sun bakes the city streets leaving the majority of people clamouring for whatever shade they can get to escape the heat. Soran is, of course, quite happy at this. More heat means more customers asking for cold drinks. Of course, he's quite happy with damp weather too; rain means people getting inside and buying drinks. Indeed, calm and moderateweather seem to be the bane of his (inn's) existence; quite the opposite of most people.

He gleefully rattles off a short list of what they have for breakfast to Ophelia; hot meat, cold meat, bread, eggs, basic things most every place has. Of course with the lofty way he describes them, one might think he stole the food from the plates of the High Council himself. The room main room itself is moderately full; a combination of people enjoying sanctuary from the sun and other residents eating breakfast. No one pays any attention to Ophelia (with the exception of Soran and Mia of course), and all in all it seems like quite a quiet, relaxed start to the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Until one steps outside that is. It's hard to call the outside of the tavern 'relaxed'. More 'fatigued' than anything else. An odd combination of people rushing desperately to get to places fast and people taking everything slowly so as not to exert themselves gives a weird flow to the traffic of people on the road. The path to Brewer's Lane is much the same as the road outside Eastwatch; packed full with people moving at all manner of speed. The smells filling the air are potent enough to easily become tastes in the back of your mouths. It's not long until you spot a small group of children sat around on some crates doing not very much at all.

Upon spotting the pair approaching, one of the children at the ground floor yells up to the one at the very top of the pile who had been lying on his back looking up at the sky. "Oi, Dar, i's Sel 'n' some other guy." Dar (short for 'Darion') sits up at this and looks down at the two of you. He's around twelve from his face, but tall and muscular for his age, with more than a few scars across his face and uncovered arms. He's dressed in raggedy, dirty clothing, which says that he's been on the streets for more than a few months; likely more than a few years.

"Well well," Darion says, his voice is crackly in places; alternating between deep and high-pitched. "What brings you down to Brewer's Lane then? Need something nicked? Sally over here," He beckons to one of the girls (about ten) sat on one of the crates, "She nicked something good and proper from the mages. Could sell it to you, if the price is right."

At this, Sally stands up with a fuming look on her face, "They can't have it! It's mine! I got it and its mine!" She yells, tiny fists clenched tight. Darion waves her down with a smile and a laugh. "Hah, guess you're out of luck after all. Anything else we can do for ya?"

[PollyOliver]

Sella doesn't really want to talk, not even to the kids, but she speaks anyway.

"Who from?" she asks Sally, hoping she'll be willing to boast about it a little.

[Amnestic]

"Wha's it matter? All mages'r the same! Think they're so great..." Sally trails off, before taking a deep breath., "Was a woman. Thought she was Queen o' the whole gnuphin city. Wasn't so high and mighty when 'er magics did middly squat."

[PollyOliver]

"White hair?" Sella asks, a suspicion growing in her gut. "Looks like a walking skeleton?"

[Amnestic]

Sally clutched at her 'dress' (which was really more of just a large piece of cloth with holes in it) with her little hands, tears welling up in her eyes as she seems to grasp a realisation. "You can't have it! It's MINE!" She screams, her piercing voice turning some heads from passers by.

Without a moments thought, Darion hops down to her level and wraps an arm around her shoulder, murmuring soft words to her as he gives small caresses to her dirty brown hair, before looking back to Sella. "You best make it clear you don't want what she's got, or you can leave. Now."

[PollyOliver]

"I don't want it," Sella says honestly. "I want information on the woman." She looks helplessly up at Lodwjiq, as if to say this is why I don't talk to people.

[Amnestic]

Darion eyes Sella up for a moment before turning back to the sniffling Sally. "There there, come on, it's okay. They're not after what you took. It's okay, shhh." When it becomes clear that Sally isn't interested in speaking to Sella anymore, Darion takes up the topic. "Yeah, it was a woman, white hair, bony as the fish from MacGruger's. What's it to ya?"

Good job Polly, you made a ten year old girl cry, are you happy now? :P

[Kantolin]

Qkon nodded at Lodwjiq's suggestion that he remain put.

That did get him thinking, however. Mostly on the statement 'sneakier folk' - his focus on his annoying style of magic may make him more useful there than he realized, if he ever actually tried.

Bah. Sneaking around like a coward?

After a little thought, however, he followed Ophelia as she asked for breakfast - he was a guard at the moment, after all. He opted to watch from a bit away rather than crowd her, as he simply looked about the area, watching quietly.

[Andre]

Growing impatience, and then sudden irritation at the high pitched noises the girl make. We were trying not to draw attention here. Insolent urchins...
Lodwjiq watches around, trying to determine how exposed they are and how much attention would they draw from the passerbies if he were to beat some sense into the kid.

Frustrated by the lack of advancement in the conversation, he moves a step forward, his relatively imposing figure towering over Sella and the kids arguing, and his expression overcast by the hood.
"Enough." he says in an icy cold voice, almost an hiss, before assuming a tone more suave and understandable by a kid.

"What's it to us? It's more like what's it to you all. But... perhaps this isn't something for her ears." Lodwjiq points at the excitable girl. "Do you understand?"

[Amnestic]

Darion, to his credit, stands (or rather sits) his ground. "Oh I understand plenty. Big adult man thinks he can boss around some kids just 'cos we're not as old as you are; keep it up, bigman. Mess with us and your coinpurse will never be the same."

"We got no secrets. Anything you gotta say to me can be said with Sally and the rest of us listening."

[PollyOliver]

Sella, much to her exasperation, finds herself speaking again.

"Really, Darion?" she asks. "You think I'm trying to boss you 'kids' around? Look at me down here." Even with him sitting, she's the shorter. "We're just trying to get some information, and it's kind of hard to do that if everyone in the street has turned to watch her crying. We're not interested in her stuff. We're interested in the person she took it from, for the same reason she was. But if you don't want to talk, we'll leave."

[Amnestic]

"No adult cares two shakes about a crying homeless kid. You know who she is or you wouldn'ta looked so shocked when you guessed right. What else do you wanna know?"

[PollyOliver]

"Information about her. If she got it off the woman herself, or from her tower, or her office. What it was like inside if it was the second two--traps, wards, guards, locks. Anything she knows about her schedule. That sort of thing."

[Amnestic]

"Grabbed it off 'er off the street. She was comin' out of the ol' Daenilero tower; tha' one tha's being rebuilt, and Sally nabbed it right off her. Ya should talk to the Blue Winds, they hit the tower couple of days ago, maybe a week. Might know something."

Sella:
The Blue Winds are a small street gang primarily made up of teens. There's not much else that you know about them at this point.

[Kurai]

Ophelia realizes too late it might not have been the brightest idea to go into the common room, without donning her hood. But she was so unused to hiding herself in a place she didn't know, a place completely foreign to her. At least she had the common sense to make sure her markings were hidden.

Ordering some light, warm food for the beginning of the day and not making much note of Soran's praise, she catches sight of Qkon on her way back to the stairs. Stopping for a second while looking at him, she then brushes past the imposing half-orc with the words "Breakfast will come soon" before making her way upstairs.

Her mind is occupied, as it is always, but only now almost back in her room she realizes that it would be a good idea to ask the foreigner about his life in the wilds and the clans while eating. At least they wouldn't sit idly around that way.

[Kantolin]

Qkon followed her back to her room, and sat.

It was a bit after that he contemplated. "Did."

He paused, trying to gather his words before saying them. Realistically, he wasn't sure if he was going to get much of a response.

"Did yer.... uh." He paused again, mentally swearing - in orcish there was a single word which encapsulated this concept. "Y'said y'don't find traces of truenamin'. Doezzat mean it came t'you? Like y'were doin' stuff y'wanted t'do and den suddenly got 'it with all dis shad..."

He paused again, having gotten a bit carried away. "...hit with all dis truenaming stuff?" He ended, more than a little annoyed. Why couldn't he just say <Did you search for it or was it thrust upon you> the word?

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods in reply and tries to smile. It probably doesn't go well, but she judges it close enough.

"Thank you. Any idea where I'd start looking for them?""

[Kurai]

After sitting down gracefully, Ophelia hesitates while arranging her robe, when the half-orcs question interrupts her thoughts. Straightening herself, she watches him calmly while he talks, then doesn't answer for a few moments.

"The art of Truenaming cannot be thrust upon one unwillingly. Its power is not fed by any magical plane or the Weave. Its power is touching and forming the very Universe itself by calling the true names of the things, given to them at the time of Creation." She hesitates a second, then tentatively goes on. "One man believes that Truespeak calls to the souls of things, but, in all respect, I believe this is supersticious rubbish."

Pale green eyes study Qkon intensely, uncomfortably so. Ophelia's stare has something of a hawkish quality to it, especially due to the fact that her gaze betrays nothing. "Why do you ask? I suppose it has little to do with your interest in my personal affairs." Shad? Maybe an orcish word. She really had to invest some time into learning this language, once the tome was memorized.

[Amnestic]

"If they ain't pulling a heist, they should be holed up by the old arena. Hear they hang out there most of the time, betting on fights or making their own trouble."

The Old Arena, replaced by the New Arena (also just called 'The Arena' ;p), is about the size of the Collosseum in Rome. More than a little rundown now and abandoned, its inner area is a shantytown of otherwise homeless people. Until the mages need the land for some other purpose, they seem to have unspoken approval to use the area to keep the homeless 'housed'.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq looks down upon the kid, his hands itching due to his reckless behaviour and despite the solid clues that seem to be accruing. Whilst there seems to be a new trail to follow, he did not forget about the mystery man who mentioned "what the kids stole may be of use to you" or something similar. Almost halving in two, he leans over Sella's shoulder and whispers something in halfling in her ear.

"We need what the kids stole as well... and he said no passerby cares himself."

[PollyOliver]

Sella turns and murmurs back, also in halfling.

"Need, or need to know?"

[Andre]

Void. Blank space. Lodwjiq trades an uncomfortable gaze with Sella, momentarily at a loss.

(in halfling)
"I don't remember."

[PollyOliver]

Sella fixes him with a glare, then turns back to the kids.

"Thanks for the help," she says. Then she turns to the girl and tries to keep her voice on the kind side of neutral. She's not sure she's very good at it. "Sally, please don't take this the wrong way. We are not going to take whatever it is you have. If you want to keep it, you can. But it might be helpful to us to at least know what it is, and if you are willing to part with it, we might want to buy it from you later. If you want to keep it, it would still help us to know what it is."

[Amnestic]

Very slowly, and with a few encouragements from Darion, Sally reaches a hand into the 'top' of her dress and pulls out a piece of string tied around her neck. Looped into the string is a golden ring with a number of blue gems inlaid in it. She gives Sella (but not Lodwjiq) a short look at it before clasping it tightly in her hand. Blue light begins to spread out from the gaps between her fingers and she gently lifts off from the crates, gently hovering in the air. Sally's face lights up as she does so, the tears gone and replaced with the joy of the experience. "It lets me fly." She says with a little giggle.

Probably the last Pale Green you're gonna see :P

[PollyOliver]

"Well, that explains that," Sella says, more to herself than to Lodwjiq. Then, a little louder, so Sally can hear better--"I don't suppose you would be willing to sell it, then?" she asks.

[Amnestic]

"No!" She even punctuates this by flying backwards a little away from Sella, though still remains hovering. "It's mine, I'm never selling it."

Not exactly sure you guys could afford a ring which offers permanent perfect flight :P Not yet anyway.

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods. "All right. Thanks for the information. And if you ever are willing to sell, you know how to find me." Her fingers have that familiar itch, but she's not stealing from one of the kids--she might as well go rob herself a few years back. She fishes a few coins from her purse and sets them in two piles for Dar and Sally, then spares Lodwjiq a short glance before heading off, wondering if they should head for the Old Arena or back to the inn to tell the others first.

Edit: didn't realize it was permanent; figured it was use activated, a few rounds at a time, or something like that.

[Kantolin]

Qkon bit his lip, at the stare.

He remained put for a time, just staring, as he realized he was afraid to explain.

Why was this? He was a Zagan, Zagan weren't afraid of anything! Was he afraid of getting caught? These were people who were already, apparantly, agreeing to be away from the humans who cared about spellcasting.

Why was he afraid?

And despite this, he wasn't... wasn't explaining. Wasn't talking! He didn't mind talking! What was this?

"I got... got 'it with some shadow stuff."

He paused. That wasn't an explanation - was he still afraid? "Er. I got cursed. I can do dis shadow stuff, but it's not magic. I was 'oping it might be da same's dat.... truenamin', but I sure as 'ells didn't ask for dis crap, so I guess not."

There. It was out. And he hadn't even realized how much he'd been hiding it; he was actually more than a little annoyed with himself.

[Kurai]

"Shadow curse?" Ophelia asks with a sudden shift of interest, body slightly leaning forward in wonder. Her mind now found itself occupied with the extensive research of finding out everything she had read or heard about this kind of... what could it be? Magic? A subform? Maybe an inherent trait, like some of the mage hunters portrayed.

"I might know something about this, possibly. But you have to be more...," a vague hand gesture, ", specific. If you got 'hit' with it, it certainly is no form of Truenaming, especially if you have no immediate control over it." Maybe he had run into a magic trap and now portrayed faint residues of a powerful spell... right now, with the information she had, the possibilities were endless.

[Kantolin]

"It's..."

Sigh. Now this problem again - it'd taken his shaman a week to understand this. "It's like.... bah, 'ere den."

He took his whestone out of his belt pouch, and held onto it for a moment, trying to remember this one. He'd picked up on it with a lot of work from the shaman, so maybe it was a better example than the first one he'd done. He adopted a slightly angry-looking face for a moment, in momentary concentration, upon which the rock floated slightly into the air. Qkon did no additional gestures or the like, the stone simply moved across the room.

"Er. Look't 'im, not me." Qkon added, speaking and pointing amidst the effect occuring. He was pointing at his shadow, which was making a series of gestures and otherwise in no way behaving the way a shadow ought to.

The stone was softly rested in front of Ophelia, Qkon's shadow seemed to snicker, then it finally returned to behaving the way a normal shadow should.

"Like dat."

Fundamental used - Umbral hand. Using shadow cast so it Qkon doesn't have to do the components himself.

[Andre]

Contempt. Contempt and disgust now twist Lodwjiq's facial features. Thieving should be an art... it is an art, and should not be the plaything of dirty streetkids. He spits on the ground next to the small piles of coin Sella left behind, and turns deliberately slowly to follow the halfling.

[PollyOliver]

Sella reaches for something diplomatic to say but gives up. He likes blunt, does he?

"What the hell is your problem, anyway?" she asks, not bothering to look up.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq easily catches up on Sella in a few steps.

"None at all." he says in a surprisingly calm voice. "Let's get to that Arena."

[PollyOliver]

Sella nods tersely and head off through the crowd, hoping she remembers the way.

She does know how to get there, right?

[Amnestic]

The approach to the arena is quiet and subdued, different to the hustle and bustle of other streets. The carved rocks tower above Sella and Lodwjiq, their tan stones dirty; they likely hadn't been cleaned since the last game happened years ago. Inside you can see glimpses of wood, rock and cloth making up whatever ramshackle accomodations the 'homeless' had. Inside is everything one would expect from a slum; children running around, mud, people hunched over, tall plumes of boiling steam from whatever meager soup they could make. A few questions to the locals points you in the right direction, and before long you're stood before the Blue Winds outside one of the nicer looking shacks in the Arena (though it takes a keen eye to notice why; they all look about the same).

It's clear from the start that they're a different breed to Darion's group. True, they're dirty, but not nearly as much. Each has a small band of blue cloth tied to their left upper arm. Most of them only glance at you and go back to their conversation, but a few lock their eyes on you. One such is a girl with long brown hair and a determined look on her face, about fifteen years to her name. If you weren't mistaken, you were quite sure you'd seen her at the market fleeing the Hunters, a satchel clutched tightly in her arms. She says nothing though, and seems to want you to make the first move.

I knew I'd get to that payoff eventually. :P

[PollyOliver]

Sarcella evenly meets each gaze that bothers to drop to her as they walk through the old arena. She passes the rest of the Blue Winds and stops in front of the girl from the market. And then is promptly at a loss for words, as usual. She's certain she won't send this girl bawling like the last one, but the cost of angering her might well be higher than the cost of angering Dar. She glances up at the scarred human for help--not that he was exactly diplomatic the last chance he had.

[Andre]

Lodwjiq walks among the crowd, scarcely amused, and clutches his grip tighter on his flail. He looks around, this time determined not to leave empty-handed.

"Well, well, well, the infamous Blue Winds. I've heard so much about you."

Uh, how many of them?

[Amnestic]

The young lady with the brown hair and determined look stays seated on her podium of a broken down old rocking chair, resting her cheek on one hand as she looks up (and down, what with Sella's height) at the two of you. "Oh? And what is it that you've heard of us exactly?

About a dozen are in sight, most of them aren't paying attention to you. Two - a boy and a girl, twins, reaching the end of their teen years at a guess - have their eyes set on you, plus the young lady. There could be more inside, you couldn't say. There maybe more people inside, but whether they're Blue Winds or not, again, is unknown.

How's DarkSlateGray for a colour? Better? :P

[Andre]

Much better.
"A lot. But, for instance, several items go missing when you are around, even from places few would dare to venture close to."

Lodwjiq gives the girl a meaningful look as he speaks these words.

[Amnestic]

"Things go missing all the time, sometimes people...forget things, misplace them. If they happen to turn up elsewhere, well, that's just an unfortunate coincidence. Doesn't explain why you're stood on our doorstep."

[Andre]

"Doorstep?" Lodwjiq sneers "What doorstep?"

He charades, deliberately looking up and down. "My bad. This doorstep. And a mighty fine tower you live in, miss."

[Amnestic]

Sorry for the delay. I didn't get an e-mail prompt that a new post had occurred. Really weird.

"Is this how adults ask for things? With double-talk and insults?" She stands up and a few more of the Blue Winds take notice shifting their gaze while continuing the conversations. "This is Blue Wind territory. Either treat it with the base amount of respect offered to strangers or get out."

[Andre]

"We're even, then. You insult me each time you pretend not to know what we're talking about."

Lodwjiq lets a somewhat harder and matter-of-fact tone take place, and makes a little pause to better study her facial reactions.

"Why, we're talking about the heist you pulled at the expense of the Mage-Mistress not long ago."

[Amnestic]

"You consider it an insult that people you meet for the first time don't immediately admit to any and all crimes they may or may not have committed?" She breaks her solemn demeanour and outright laughs at you, holding her stomach slightly as she does so. A small chuckle from the Blue Winds around her rumbles up until she finally waves them to be quiet. "You're too damn stupid - and yes, that is an insult - to be a mage agent. What do you want to know about it?"

[Andre]

Lodwjiq's right hand twitches nervously, performing a similar motion to a throttling - it's fairly obvious that all the kids he met throughout the day have stomached him, although his face show no real emotion this time.

"What made the theft worthwhile? And more to the point, how could you even acquire it."

[Amnestic]

"Annoying the mages is enough reason to hit them. Rubbing their arrogant noses in their own stinking failure doesn't hurt either." She pauses for a moment, a look of visible, unhindered confusion passing over her face. "Acquire what? What do you think we have?"

[Andre]

Lodwjiq ponders the matter for a moment, prior to deciding to call in a bluff of sorts.

"You should know that, shouldn't you? Although you are more likely to have stolen valuables, rather than the truly hot stuff, stuff she cares about the most."

He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if closing the argument.

"Not important, then. Could you tell me how did you get to her, then?"

[Amnestic]

"Of course I know what we have. We took it. I was there." She smirked, clearly quite proud of their victory."As for getting to her, s'pretty simple. These mages love their dungeons and elaborate cellars. Probably for the theatrics. All that magical waste has to end up somewhere. It ain't pretty, but-" She was cut off when the male twin beside her interjected.
"Kitty! We just gonna blab this to anyone who comes askin'?" The brown-haired girl - 'Kitty', apparently - shoots him back a look of annoyance. It might be that he interrupted her, or that he was questioning her in general. Perhaps she simply didn't like him that much.
"What do we care? We got what we wanted. If they wanna break in and mess up that mage, more power to 'em." She turns back to Lodwjiq. "Headed in through the sewers, basically. We broke in through there, messed 'em up, took what we could and bolted out the front door. Dunno if they'd have patched the hole though, you might have to make another one. We could sell you some stuff to do so...if you're interested."

[Andre]

This time Lodwjiq can't help but break in a short laughter, and winks to the girl. "Typical."

"Very well, then, how much would that be?"