Curses and Conspiracies IC

[MrEdwardNigma]

Thursday, Morning (Day 1)
As the man talks, you can't manage to take your eyes off the stone face set into the cellar wall. El Bocca Del Inferno, he calls it,a family heirloom. Supposedly it will gnaw off your hand if you lie to it, so he made all five of you insert your hand as you pledged allegiance to him, Vittorio Sebastien, of the Sebastien family of Brindisi.

His family has recently set up business in this part of Italy, and he is their representative. Vittorio is a well-off man seeking to climb the social and the financial ladders fast. After setting up his basic operations he bought the five of you to help him with that.

"Two Spymasters to keep me informed, two scholars to advise me and an enforcer to smite those who oppose me, those will be your jobs. As I climb the ladder, so will you. A mutually beneficient relationship, so to speak, and you will get a wage plus bonuses, even though I'm not obliged to offer you anything other than meals and a bed. I have every benefit in the world in my employees being satisfied"

He steps out of the murky cellar room, empty except for the grisly stone mouth.
"If you will follow me, I will give you a tour of the house, and explain out operation"
The entire cellar appears to brick and patches of moisture on the wall, and in no way matching the grand house upstairs. The moisture is soon explained, at the end of the hallway is a small stone dock at a subterranean waterflow. A dingy gondola lies tied to a moorpole.

"This is the dock. If we want to arrive or leave the house without being seen, we go through here. It is also where the goods arrive"

He walks back to the Mouth room, waving at two ancient cells as he passes.
"These will be the rooms for my two young spymasters. They have been outfitted with what equipment you'll need, though for now very little other comforts"

"Over there is the sleeping hall for my young enforcer, which he'll be sharing with two older servants of the family. They're out doing a job right now, so this seems the time to tell you they're not the brightest fellows. Which is why you'll be in charge of them, Smyth!"
The room's sparse furniture (a couple of hammocks and some chests) is arranged around the centre of the room, an open space with some dice and a whole lot of bottles of booze lying on the floor.

The last section of the cellar holds two rooms, the only onces in the cellar to be locked off with doors.
"The right door is the storeroom where we keep the goods we import that can't see daylight. The illegal stuff. The legal goods are kept upstairs, in the storefront or back. Most of our income is of course dependant on these less legal goods"

"The left door is where Archimedes lives, our resident Alchemist. He processes certain artifacts we get in to make them look new. We'd make more money off of them if they were old, of course, but then we'd also have to explain where we got them!"
He laughs, and then takes the five of you upstairs. You simply pass through the downstairs, which holds the storefront and back (operated by Lafayette, the jeweler) and the kitchen (where you can always go get some food from Lepidus, the cook) and head to Vittorio's office.

An extremely crude sketch of the cellar
http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb65/MrEdwardNigma/Cellar.jpg
1) Empty room with Bocca Del Inferno
2) Underground dock
3) Spymaster Lodging
4) Enforcer Lodging
5) Archimedes' Laboratory
6) Storeroom

An even cruder sketch of the downstairs
http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb65/MrEdwardNigma/Downstairs.jpg
1) Stairs down, hidden behind a wall carpet
2) Kitchens (Lepidus)
3) Storefront
4) Storeback (Lafayette)
5) Scholar Lodgings
6) Back Alley

He sits down behind his magnificent desk and starts about opening his mail with a decorative letteropener as he continues his explanation.
"On the wall you'll see a map of the known world, with five flags on it. It is in those regions we have digs going on, unearthing artifacts. The digs are illegal, as is the import of the artifacts, not even to mention the kind of fury heathen idols can bestow upon the church"

http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb65/MrEdwardNigma/Map.jpg

"We dissassemble a lot of the stuff for basic materials, such as gold and gems, which Lafayette turns into items we can sell. The art pieces we usually have Archimedes take care of, like a collection of greek urns we are currently processing. Then there's what we call "specialty items". Things we sell under the counter for very large amounts of money to buyers in the know. Keeping the nature of this operation a secret is one of your basic tasks, for all of you. Even Lepidus, the cook, is not aware fo the true nature of our business, that is how small my circle of trust is"

"We pay a man named Fernand de Castille, a member of the Jeweler's guild, to pretend he is the source of our jewels and gold. He then sells the real article on the black market for a profit"

"Upstairs here is the library, my personal rooms, and on the roof a shed with messenger pigeons, but it seems we do not have time for the rest of the tour"
He waves one of the letters he just opened.
"Since I may trust the five of you completely, you have full access to my mail, not only this letter, but all the ones on my desk. This one is, however, the most important one"
He passes it around.
"What I expect from the five of you is to give me advice on matters like this, do my dirty work, and help me climb in social rank and wealth. You may act at your own discretion. I will leave you to your own devices now, as I am seriously lacking sleep. When I am up, I expect some advice on whether to accept this invitation or not"

Dear Sebastien,

You are hereby cordially invited to attend my ball on Saturday at Lorien Manor. You are expected to come alone and dress your finest.

Looking forward to making your acquaintance,
Comtessa Lorien

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=222380)

[Thelonius]

Axle Smyth

Axle Smyth gently caressed his hand - the one that he put into the El Bocca Del Inferno. He half expected it to snap shut during his pledge of allegiance and barely controlled himself from bolting. Good thing he didn't. On the streets, you seldom got even one chance, never mind second one.
''What's it says?'' He asked, looking at the letter. The two spymasters and two scholars. He'd be doing the dirty work on the field, risking his neck based on their judgment. Somehow that thought didn't fill him with confidence.

Axle Smyth's first instinct was to visit the kitchen, but he put it off for checking his possession in the chest. He was planning to get a better lock, once those wages came in. Automatically he checked the bottles for any alcohol left on the bottom, but predictably found nothing.

In treating the household stuff he decided to adopt a quiet, menacing demeanor. His job was to crush Sebastien's enemies, and by his own experience, Smyth new, half of the enemies came from within. Better let them recognize he could be a threat, if they make him their enemy. He did ended up being more friendly to the cook Lepidus, then he intended. A steady meal was definitely a good perk of the job.

Axle planned to practice with a club and test the water for an opportunity to take a good swim, if no orders were forthcoming. After that take a stroll around the house and get to know the neighborhood. Get to know his new territory. He planned to check, if anybody living near Sebastian's house could potentially spot the illegal goods coming in.

[Obscurejones]

Alexander
Alexander glances at his cell as they walk by, tempted to dart inside and have a look about. Reluctantly he follows along without comment, nervously running a hand through his hair, the practiced motion checking his personal armaments. The dagger secreted in his vest slides comfortingly across his chest, the cool of the metal hilt soothing his worried mind.
I'll be fine. We'll be fine. He's... Well he's given us an opportunity and we won't let him down. Any of us. I'll see to it myself if I have to.
Quietly resolving to look into the pasts of his fellows, Alexander looks to either side, nodding quietly to his fellow spy, glancing dismissively over the thug, and curiously at the scholars.
Nothing wrong with roughing a fellow up to make a point, or even better, paying someone to do it, but having violence as a vocation seems positively crass. Books... Useful enough, but loving them for their own sake seems a bit daft. If nothing else they'll be useful if I need to find a few passages of law or religion to justify a killing or a purchase. Probably not a bad idea to keep an eye on them, maybe even try to make nice.
Passing through he ducks his head into the Alchemists lab looking for the tell tale flowers and potions that would indicate whether their Alchemist is also an Apothecary. If he was then their would be no need to ask the Gypsies for a local contact. Well, no need directly. It still wouldn't hurt to expand his contacts outside these walls.
For all I know, I might wind up needing to poison Archimedes. Can't exactly poison a man with his own vials. Wouldn't be civil.
Jogging up the stairs after his patron Alex comes up short at the kitchen, stopping just shy of walking or even looking into the large room. If there was a bottle there, he'd rather not know it. Simpler to have his meals delivered, or to eat out. Nothing like a fortuitous meeting in a cafe to cement a new friendship. Especially if the coincidence had been carefully arranged.

He does sneak a peek at the jeweler's admiring the gems and gold just long enough to get a feel for the quality of his master's business. If he was going to act on behalf of the man it certainly couldn't hurt to know just what level of refinement he could imply of his house without overtly overstepping the mark.

As the mail is unveiled it takes a subtly visible but definitely physical, effort on Alexander's part not to simply grab all of it at once. Full access to anyone's information would be a tantalizing treat, but for the moment one that should wait until the task at hand is accomplished. After a cursory glance at the letter in question, he nods to Signor Sebastien.

We will see what we can uncover, Don Vittorio. I am certain we can glean some insights by the time you awake.

Excusing himself from the assembled company, Alexander waits outside for the other spy. When they emerge he slips beside them and smiles warmly, if perhaps with a hint of predatory intent.
Pardon me Signor, but I was wondering which cell you would prefer? It's all the same to me which room I claim, but I'd hate to head downstairs and find I had routed you or invaded a space you'd seen fit to call your own.
That matter sorted he heads for his room. Once there he carefully replaces his dagger, making sure its blade is sharp and straight. He makes his plans, first to find the nearest Child of the Night, then to see what they've heard of this Comtessa Lorien.
The nobles always dote on fortune tellers. They're sure to have heard of her inclinations, and her standing.

[ELC]

Regina
"El Bocca Del Inferno--The Mouth of Hell . . . " Regina silently translated the name as her and her new associates were given the tour of their base of operations. "Quite a suitable inheritance for a man afflicted with avarice." Her hand reached for the cross around her neck as she closed her eyes and mumbled a prayer under her breath.

"Dear Lord, please encourage Don Sebastien to seek salvation from his sins. His soul may be tainted, but he has shown kindness and generosity by taking me into his household and giving me the means to spread your word."

As she opened her eyes, she saw one of the boys glancing over her. "One of Hesinde's own," she remembered, glaring in his direction. "Deception--a sin more heinous than violence or incontinence, yet often necessary as a means to an ambitious end." The recent memory of Alexander sticking his hand in El Bocca Del Inferno flashed in her mind. Sighing, she closed her eyes and grabbed her cross again.

"Dear Lord, please encourage my associates to also seek salvation from their own sins."

After the tour, Regina skimmed over the contents of the letter, noting the key details. "Comtessa Lorien . . . ball . . . alone and well dressed . . . alone." The word rang in her head as a spark sped through her nerves. "No doubt she is seeking some sort of companionship, but whether this would a lucrative venture or not depends on certain other factors."

"Perhaps I could find more about the Lorien family in the library," she thought as she ventured towards her destination.

[Thelonius]

Axle Smyth

''What's in the letter?'' again asked Smyth. He was growing annoyed, that nobody bothered to answer him, but didn't let it show in his voice, yet. The paper looked expensive and he could barely get a whiff of perfume from it, so the letter was probably from some rich lady. It didn't look like he'll be able to contribute in that area, but he still wanted to know. Smyth didn't like that dismissive glance from the circus-boy. Better make sure they know he won't allow himself to be ignored.

[Mordae]

Ricordilo padded along quietly behind the group, his slippered feet making little noise on the floor. His time on the little island across from the main city had taught him that the walls have ears, and those who carelessly allow their tongues to wag soon find them cut out. The Don was clearly a man of action and refinement, no doubt with access to resources beyond what he had revealed so far--and Rico was not about to test his resolve to keep his affairs secret. The young, dark-haired spymaster looked with interest upon the various letters on the Don's desk, but held back with the anticipation that more could be read once the master had lain down for rest.

In formulating his plan while walking, Rico nearly bumped into the waiting Alexander, and the former's hand instinctively reached for the knife slung low across his back, well-concealed, before he recalled that within this house he was among allies for now. Offering a pearl-white smile, he shrugged his shoulders and demured. "It is the same to me, one dark chamber from another. I am inured to the sound of water, having spent much time on Sant'Elena, so I will take the place closest to the dock if you desire the other." He gestured for Alexander to proceed and followed at arm's length, respecting the other man's as-yet-undemonstrated abilities in close quarters. Along the way, he offers a plan of attack. "It seems to me that the two of us will be charged with the gathering of information, as the others are either too dull or academic for the streets of Venice. I know not how our contacts overlap in this siestre, but there is also the matter of unread mail... perhaps you can inquire about Comtessa Lorien while I peruse her letter and the others in more detail--I am much interested in how the document arrived, for a lady of high stature must have servants, and those servants must talk when plied with much vino, si?"

[Obscurejones]

At the sight of Ricordilo's instinctive twitch Alexander smiles softly. As he speaks he taps his chest where his own dagger lies hidden.
An excellent idea, divide and conquer to make the most of our resources. Although I wouldn't discount our fellows just yet. There's always room for a measured blow and a good deal of information likes to hide itself away in text. I'd certainly rather a learned scholar dig it out then forcing me to get ink on hands. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if they dig out something useful in Lorien's past while we're out grinding cobble to dust beneath shoe leather. But that's neither here nor there. I'll away to my contacts while you hunt down the errand boy.

[Gorgondantess]

Poppy reads the letter, and shrugs, turning it over, unimpressed. She's a small, dark looking girl, with exotic eyes. Probably not more than 16, but her tone is aged and world-weary. She looks it, too: dark blotches under her eyes, and a lame leg, needing a cane to support herself. She gets right down to business. "Does anyone know anything about this Comtessa Lorien? The letter seems innocuous enough, but without knowledge of the sender I can't make much of a judgement."

[MrEdwardNigma]

I trust everyone here is mature enough not to read spoilers in other people's section, so I won't resort to PMing.

Furthermore I'd like to point out that while you need to plan ahead, I will only play out what happens until a junction where you may wish to do something. After that you need to react and reiterate your plans, or adjust them.

Enforcer Smyth
When you arrive in your future lodgings, two other men are already there. They look considerably older than you and battle-wearied. Oh yes, you know the look of these men, they're thugs like you, and good enough to have reached a respectable age.

The tallest one, an angular faced thug with a collection of scars upon his brow, meets you in the doorway and shakes your hand.
"You're the new boss, are you? Hope you're better than the old one"
He squeezes harder than is comfortable.
"My name's Malthus, him over there is Scabb. You can guess why they call him that. Don't mind if he doesn't get up to shake your hand, he might get it all covered in skin flakes"
Scabb was covered in a thick flaky allergy reaction or mutation. Whatever it was, it made him even uglier than his compatriot. He gives you a nod.
"Don't worry, I'm not like this all the time. Only when I got wet. Bad reaction to water. My mother used to bathe me endlessly to get the stuff off. Hm"
"He fell in the water when we was docking the boat. Cargo is fine though"

Spymaster Alexander
Archimedes' door was tightly shut when you passed it with the master, locked even, so peeking in there was not an option. The back of the store however was fully accessible, and while your knowledge of jewels and craftsmanship is limited, you do know something valuable when you see it most of the time. Lafayette sells the good stuff, but also of course lower price range items.

You exit the house through the storefront (please be specific if you want to use one of the other exits) and head to where you remember Hesinde's wagon last was. When you arrive there, however, it's moved. Hesinde moves frequently, but she'd only just arrived here,t his is different.

What's more, one of Hesinde's most trusted Children (and this one is actually one of her many children, not like you, an adopted orphan), Falco, is waiting for you. You can also tell that many more are watching from the shadows, as some of the lesser experienced Children of the Night give them away.

"So you're back, huh? And you want information? You're no longer part of the clan, but we'll give you this one for free. For old times' sake. Hesinde wants to see you though. For a private reading. She'll be waiting for you where the aquaduct and Duke's road meet at midnight. You had better be there. Or else"
Falco licks his knife in that matter he's prone to do when intimidating outsiders. You never thought you'd see the day he'd use it on you. Not that you and Falco were ever friends.

INFORMATION RECEIVED: Comtessa Lorien's ball has in some circles mockingly been dubbed "the peasant's ball", as she appears to be taking care to invite only lower ranking members of society. No nobles of any sort, not even the ones who would surely attend, only businessmen.

Spymaster Ricordilo
As agreed with your fellow spymaster, you pour over the letters. There are two kinds: those delivered in envelopes, and those delivered in small scrolls, at the feet of messenger pigeons.

INFORMATION RECEIVED:

Dear Vittorrio,

We hope you are getting set up well in Venice. Funding provided should be sufficient for a full staff and resources, expeditions should be paid with profits on the expedition. We really hope you'll be able to eke out a path for you there, and for the family of course.

Here in Brindisi everything is good. There was some trouble at the harbour the other day, but it has been taken care of. Let's just say a certain ship has had to change first mates. What else is new? We had to do some hard bargaining over storage prices, we're looking into some new smuggling opportunities and your sister Allegra is pregnant again. Your brother says hi.

Kisses,
Your Mother


Don Vittorrio,

Pending good weather delivery of urns should have arrived.
Expected as such, considering conditions.
If not, transport will be adjusted upon word from you.
Current shipment mostly specialty items.
No doubt there is a market.
Digs going well.
Currently excavating atrium.
Progress reports will continue as frequently as possible.

The Spartan.


Don Vittorrio,

I write to you from the deep of night here in this pit of spiders, with utmost sense for duty. The rest of the men have retired to their rooms after I advised them to lock their doors. I'm not sure I trust the innkeeper anymore, this morning I saw him talking to some guards. It might just be a coincidence, but it pays to be weary. We'll be looking for new quarters posthaste, though finding someone to trust... These foreigners, they are just not like you and I.

We have spent the entire night getting shipment loaded, with many interruptions due to frequent patrols at the harbour. We used the safest route I could think of: through the slums and then from there by dinghy to the ship. We picked a moonless night too, but around here that just means more patrols and more torches. You won't catch them with their pants down, these Arabians.

Anyways, I'm off to bed soon, been missing out on sleep for three days. The shipment will arrive soon, expect the same as usual. No increased quality items as you requested, as there is too much heat on us to manage such a thing, but I'll see what I can do for next time. There is something very nice in the catacombs I think you would like, and more importantly, be able to fetch a high price for.

Yours Sincerely,
Giovanni Pisano


Vittorrio Sebastien,

We have learnt you have purchased the old Bruni house a year ago and are now inhabiting it after serious modifications. As you are new to the neighbourhood you should be warned that people have been dissappearing in this district. It would serve you well not to go out alone at night and to adress the watch when you see something suspicious.

Yours Sincerely,
District Commander Rosso

Scholar Regina
You head to the library and spend some time on research.

INFORMATION RECEIVED:

The Lorien Family: Mostly included for completion's sake, the Lorien family is a negligible branch of Venetian nobles. More to the point, it is a name that is about to become extinct. The count has unfortunately passed away before he could sire a heir.

All that is left of the bloodline is the widow Comtessa Lorien, who could technically still beget a child, but such a bastard would surely place a dark shadow on the family.

The only relevancy the family still has is in their inherited estate at 45 Saint Catherine's Road. Their other assets are negligable, and without a strong man to lead them, so is their political influence.

Scholar Poppy
Unfortunately the others had already departed, or started work. No-one was left to answer her inquiries. It was a safe bet, however, that the answer would be no. Even Vittorrio Sebastien did not know this woman.

[ELC]

Regina
"This helps," the child admitted to herself as she copied the vital information onto a piece of parchment. "At least now we know where to find La Comtessa's assets, if any."

Putting the book back in its place, Regina, packed up her ink, pen, and parchment. "I suppose I should inform one of those little gypsies about this," she thought before heading down to the cellar. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door closest to the dock, slipped the parchment underneath the door, and departed upstairs.


Comtessa Lorien - Widow
Estate at 45 Saint Catherine's Road
Learn what assets lie within the estate.

[Obscurejones]

Returning from his meeting with the Children Alexander searches for his fellow spy. Finding his acquaintance pouring over scrolls he waits quietly by the door until he seems to have finished. When Ricordilo looks up, Alexander launches into a quick sharing of what he's managed to gather and his theories.
It looks as though I will have to go out again this evening so I thought it best to relay what I have learned. It seems our Comtessa's derived a reputation for inviting the wealthy and common to her little soirees. No nobles and certainly not the poor. Had I the time I'd suggest looking into her finances and family background for an explanation as to why she avoids her class and courts favor with the nouveau riche... Although I suppose some of her guests may be antiquated riche as well... Good businessmen who are poor at politics. In any case, her guests imply a method to her parties, one we'd do well to know and one likely spoken of in her past and present, a goal for her near future. I wish I could say more but I have been called out. Good luck, and if he wakes before I return, fondest regards to our master. I expect the honor our sort are known for, subtle though it is, will accurately convey my words and information if I can not?
When their parley is done, Alexander heads to his cell. Dressing in his best black suit, he makes sure his dagger is at his side, not hidden but covered in the shadows of his coat. Satisfied that he is prepared without being likely to offend, he slips out via the dock.

[Thelonius]

Smyth was quite pleased to see the two thugs, not a usual reaction people had at meeting them, especially since most of such meetings probably occurred in dark places and with them holding heavy and sharp objects. At least that was what Smyth suspected. But hey, he barely exchanged any words with other recruits and these two were his sort of people.

I wonder, who the old boss was and what happened to him, thought Smyth. I'd better ask them, after I get them in a good mood and pour enough wine down their throats.

It didn't look like any of his expertise would be needed tonight, so Smyth felt free to offer the two thugs an opportunity to have some good time. ''If those goods are safe in storage and you've got your wages, how about I show you the good stuff we have here in Venice. I know these streets like a back of my hand''. Smyth had a couple bottles of wine in his trunk he decided to share with the two fellow thugs during their exploration of Venice street life. He also considered picking a fight with somebody he knew he could knock the lights out with a single hit to show to his flunkies-to-be he wasn't just talk.

He left his sword in the trunk, but picked up a club.

[Mordae]

Ricordilo nodded quietly to his mate's assessment of the Comtessa. "It is a game the powerful play, to gather more wealth and power to themselves. Doubtless she sees some advantage in it, so we must prise open that secret so our master can play the situation to his own advantage." Rico paused for a moment before adding, "If you are going out, take care--the commander of the district guard thinks well enough of our master to warn him of many disappearances in this siestre, and it would be a pity were we to lose you so soon."

Once he's done reading and Alexander has left the building, Rico will seek out the servant who received the Comtessa's letter to inquire about the deliverer (name and physical appearance if possible), and will then head to Lorien Manor to make additional inquiries of the Comtessa's servants concerning the nature of the ball. Rico will take the time to dress well and conceal his dagger in its usual place at the small of his back... just in case.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Thursday, Evening (Day 1)

Enforcer Smyth
Memories swim through your head. You remember very clearly taking your the two thugs to a trendy sort of place in a cellar, at least, as trendy as would these let these fellows in. As trendy as would allow for scantily clad women on the tables and prices that don't burn a hole through your pocket. Not that you had money on you. You brought three bottles of the wine so kindly gifted by Don Sebastien. Good stuff, too good to waste on a bunch of enforcers, really.

Then a black hole. It must have been about when Malthus went over to one of the barmaids and pulled out his purse. Well filled for a thug, you remember thinking. Don Sebastien is no cheap skate. Then... only flashes, fragments, loose images.

The swirly streets of Venice. Scabb, whose rash was just clearing up, tumbling into the water. Rain. A graveyard. Huge scuttering bugs, the size of small dogs. A corpse, face wrung in torment, embraced by a skeleton. A scuffle in the streets. You punched someone good. Malthus and Scabb cheering in the background, their voices distorted by the booze. You remember a distinct cracking sound as your fist hit his jaw. Who did you hit again? Was there a reason?

Oh, there he was.
"Boss, you there?"
You hear yourself mumble something affirmative. The five city guards surrounding the bunch of you solidify. You think you're approaching sobriety somewhat.
"Is this them?" one of them ask the slack-jawed man. He nods eagerly, spitting an incomprehensible response.
"Sirs, I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you"

Oh, yeah, it also appears you promised someone Don Sebastien would hire them. Go figure.

Enforcer Buile
Okay, so this was a strange night. You decide to leave your gang after your best friend gets killed in jail and no-one will even tell you how it happened. Street gangs are death, you always knew that, but it had never been this personal. You end up trying to drink yourself unconscious in some cellar with floozies and cheap booze, and just when you run out of coin and are mouthing off to the bartender bad enough to get thrown out, these guys come to the rescue. Suspicious looking fellows, but willing to front the bill, and quite possibly more violent than you.

You think you lost track of what was happening after the job offer. The youngest of the guys, their leader apparently, said he could use help. He said there was an opening for sure. He'd said his boss paid well. He'd offered something that a streetgang couldn't: a future.

After that it's all a blur. You remember pulling one of them out of the water and him suddenly having a monstrous face. You'd attribute it to the booze, but you're sobering up and the face looks like it's there to stay. You remember the fight. It was over in a flash, the leader of the pack taking out the guy in a second flat. He was back though, and he'd brought the law.

Ending up in jail didn't really seem like a good idea now that you'd just gotten a job offer.

Spymaster Alexander
You make sure you're at the meeting point at midnight. A good amount of the older Children are waiting for you by Hesinde's wagon. It is parked in the shadow of the aquaduct, invisible to those who do not know it's there. Falco bears his teeth as you pass and enter the wagon. You notice Hesinde has some new decorations on the wagon, a moon and a sun entwined. The black cat that all children of Hesinde (including you) have tattooed somewhere is of course also still on the wagon.

Inside the wagon Hesinde sits, lit by a single candle. There are three cards on the table. Death. The Wheel. The Tower.
"You are early, but I have already drawn your cards"
She smiles softly. You are not fooled.
"There is great change for you, great opportunity, but also great danger. These are troublesome times for you, and I believe you would do well to seek protection with me"
She picks up a small cage with a pigeon in it. It doesn't look like Don Sebastien's well-bred messenger pigeons, just like one of the feathered vermin in the streets.
"Now, now, you didn't think you were out, did you? You have Hesinde's mark, boy, you'll never be out, no exchange of money can change that. The cards say House Sebastien will play a central part in things to come, and I want an insider. I want you to keep me informed of everything that goes on in that house. You agree, of course?"

((You now have the choice whether to inform for Hesinde or not, though she doesn't really consider it a choice. If you comply you get to take the bird with you, as well as one of the cards on the table. Either way, afterwards you get to return home, so post your actions for after too))

Spymaster Ricordilo
Unfortunately for you the house has a mailbox, and while Lafayette did see someone dropping off a letter, he has no idea who they were or where to find them. The note from Regina offers you a whole other option though: you head straight to Lorien Manor.

Once there you have no trouble cornering a somewhat stupid looking servant and drilling him for information. As it turns out he's the one who delivered the letter to your home, as well as to a bunch of other homes. He's confused when you question him about the attendance of the lowly to the Comtessa's balls.

INFORMATION GAINED: "Balls? You mean, like, plural? This is the first time ever this has happened. I mean, the misstress has organised more balls, every year she does, but other years... well, nobles would attend. Not a lot, as most of them don't come here anymore since the death of the count..."
He pauzes.
"He was a good man, the count, but so is the Comtessa. Some nobles still loyaly attended her ball, but this year it's as if she hasn't even bothered inviting them. We all think it's very strange, but maybe she was embarrassed about everyone important seeing there weren't much other important people at the party? I don't know, but she doesn't have anything special planned. The only thing different from other years is that we've had to prepare the study for guests as well"

Scholar Regina
As you're doing some reading in the house's marvellously elaborate library, Vittorio Sebastien barges in.
"Ah! I have been looking for you all over, child! It appears you are the only one still in attendance. The others have gone out, hopefully to get some work done. I suppose you have remained behind to inform me of discoveries so far and changes in the state of affairs as I slept? Well, come on, girl, out with it! Have any deliveries arrived? What is your opinion on those letters I received? Is there a resolution to the Lorien matter? Where is everybody?"

[the_l_z]

Enforcer Buile
"Never drinking again" Buile says mumbling to himself "The constable, great...."
Buile takes off in a dead sprint zig zagging through the streets and alleys. After getting a sizable distance he has to stop to catch his breath. "God my head hurts" he thinks to himself "Now were am I suppose to go again...." he says to himself trying to remember exactly where the job location was at "Got it!" he says with enthusiasm. He quickly starts off towards the job site.

[Obscurejones]

It hurts that the assumption among my fellows here seems to be that I would ever want to abandon my family here. You have given me much, Madre. I doubt I could repay you in a thousand lifetimes. But I will do what I can in the one that you have made for me.
He gingerly lifts the cage, pulling the pigeon close to examine it in the faint candlelight. Reaching in with a finger to soothingly pet the disheveled messenger.
A beautiful gift. I'll be glad to keep it close.
With his free hand he reaches out and turns the tower card letting it sit for a moment reversed before palming it and slipping it into the pocket of his vest.
My fortunes may rise with Don Sebastien's and I can think of no reason that this tide should not carry your vessels as well. Of course it is always easier to chart a path when one's fortunes are made clear, no?
Smiling he gives a little bow and makes his way to the door, confident that to one as practiced as Hesinde both his acceptance and his terms are made clear.
Arriving back at the manor, Alexander first goes to his cell, depositing his bird. He checks his dagger and clothing and then goes looking for the remaining scholar.

[Thelonius]

Axle Smyth

Bewildered and confused, Smyth uttered the first thing, that came into his head, at the sight of the bolting, what's his name. ''Hey, my purse! Damn thief! I've got ten zecchinos in it!'' He remembered to put a torn expression on his face and moved as if he was ready to bolt after the supposed thief, but stopped by the presence of the guards. Why was he accusing that, what's his name again. Smyth's headache receded for a second, so he managed to address the guards without wobbling ''With what nonsense is this lick-spittle toad wasting your time?'' Was that a right insult? He gave the slack-jawed man his most menacing ''I'm going to kill you'' glare, while trying to remember, who he was. ''My purse is getting away!'' He added with righteous indignation, again appearing ready to bolt after the escaping, what's his name.

To GM

When Smyth gets time to remember the events of the night, he'll try to remember, if he managed to pump any information from his two followers about their previous boss. Since he doesn't have alcoholic flaw, he should have managed to do it, before getting too drunk.

My current plan in this situation is to try to convince the guards, that the man accusing us (of brawl and hitting him?) is as guilty as we are and if we'd be getting arrested, he should be arrested as well. (That is, if the arrest will be a short term affair, I need to get a bit more information to plan & plot).

[Mordae]

Spymaster Ricordilo
Rico frowns at the sad tale. "My good man, it seems Fortune has turned away from your household. I truly pray that your situation will mend in due time. So the other invitees, they are also men of business as my employer? If so, I am certain he would be eager to know whether his evening will be filled with collaborators or competitors..." He leans in conspiratorially. "After all, they say that money can be more dangerous than politics in Venice. And what could the study be needed for, if not for the boiling cauldron of negotiation?"

[MrEdwardNigma]

Thursday, Night (Day 1)

Enforcer Buile
It was probably the element of surprise that had aided you most in your escape. No-one would run from the guard, not when they had you surrounded at least, but sheer audacity sometimes tipped the scales of lady fate in your favour.

Before the guards had even recovered from the shock you'd bolted around six different corners and slid down a drainpipe. The pounding head-ache from a night of drinking (and trying to forget) was seriously impairing your thinking, but luckily you knew your way around these streets. The house "Smyth" had referred to was not hard to find, and that it houses a jewelery store helped. A sign dangles from the facade, but no guild registration plates.

The store is closed, of course, at this hour of the night. Next to the building is an alley and across from the store sits a beggar, faintly shaking his hand at you for an alms. Not that you have any money on you, of course. Except for the beggar the street seems desert.

Enforcer Smyth
"We don't care about your purse, sir. You accosted this respectable citizen, something which you and your friends are clearly not"
"Excuse me?"
"You know well enough what we are talking about. We're not paid to help the likes of you. Merely to lock you up in the deepest dungeon we can find, or to put you down like the dogs you are if you resist arrest"
"Resistin' is starting to sound good"

Ah, yes, the Venice Constabulary. Not an official force per se. More of a privately funded bunch of do-gooders with the purpose of protecting the upper-crust, that is to say, those that fund them. If you were lucky, they took you to a courthouse, which were more official venues, if you weren't they just roughed you up a bit hoping you'd learn your lesson, or perhaps threw you in one of many shady dungeons for an indeterminate amount of time, or if you were really out of luck and these particular constables weren't "do-gooders", they'd decide the world would simply be a better place without you.

And that was the constabulary, some of the upper crust were rich enough to maintain their own private little militias, equalling the constabulary in legality, but usually far exceeding them in cruelty.

The slack-jawed man slips the leader of these constables a purse, and then backs away down an alley.
"Boss?"
"Please drop your clubs, sirs"

Oh yes, you remember now. Their previous boss is very dead. He was the corpse embraced by the skeleton, his face wrung into that terrible scream. The how and the why however elude you. Not being an alcoholic doesn't exactly make you immune to the effects of booze on your memory.

Spymaster Ricordilo
You continue to drill the servant for information, but he appears to need some convincing if he's to share the names of the others he's delivered an invitation to, and that list won't be exhaustive, considering he didn't by far deliver all the invites.

Spymaster Alexander
You run into Regina on the stairs. The poor girl is sobbing. Apparently Vittorrio has fired her for not being in the know of, well, anything. She tells you he asked about deliveries, and she could not answer. She tells you he asked about where everyone was, and she could not answer. In fact, all she had to account for her stay in the house so far was the adress of the Comtessa, which Vittorrio had felt was a thorough underachievement. He appeared to be in no mood to speak to.

[Mordae]

Spymaster Ricordilo

"Come now, my good man, you can't honestly expect any guests to attend based on so little information. If my master were but to know if any dealers of antiquities would be in attendance, he would put on his finest coat at once. Know you at least how many fine gentlemen and ladies have been invited? Is this an intimate soiree or a canvas of the finest bourgoise of Venice? Perhaps there is some way your silent tongue might be inspired to voice." Rico will try to imply some sort of repayment for the information while being vague as to the specifics. If he can get more information, great; either way, he will return to base to offer his assessment to the boss.

Things to pass to the Don:
(1) Comtessa di Lorien is a widow with waning economic and political influence.
(2) There are no nobles among the other attendees at her ball, so it can reasonably be inferred she has no suitors among the upper class.
(3) Her servants were vague regarding the exact spectrum of guests, but they did tell me that in addition to the ballroom the manor study has been prepared for the festivities. I conclude from this that the Comtessa is interested in an economic or political arrangement, rather than marriage.
(4) I am told the list of attendees is rather lengthy, though it is not clear whether all who are invited will attend--the due caution you apply is doubtless shared by your colleagues. But in any event, I believe the guest list represents a canvas of Venice bourgeoisie, rather than an attempt to target you specifically for either your wealth or particular business affairs.

[Thelonius]

Enforcer Smyth

Any future that involved constabulary was bound to be rather bleak so resisting arrest may have been a smart option. Alas, it wasn't one Smyth was capable of taking as a snap decision, without working up some courage beforehand. A memory of constables chasing him, when he was just a kid in his first gang treacherously flashed in his mind, sapping his inner resolve. Outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, Smyth's Fight of Flight instinct was unequivocally telling him ''Flight'', to which Smyth silently replied, ''where the hell were you a minute ago, you little bastard?'' His next move was to get his subordinates out of this. Not that he had any true feeling of responsibility for their well-being, rather the thought of what happened to his predecessor has convinced him, that making the two think of him as a better boss, might prove beneficial to long-term survival plans. And in short-term he could probably escape the constables, once they dropped their guard, but not if he had to look after the two thugs as well.

''Now I'm of course no fool to resist the Venice Constabulary, but my two acquaintances here have an appointment they need to keep. Since I was the one behind the affront, certainly you could let them go''. They didn't try to chase that, what's his name and got their purse already. Between the prospect of fighting three thugs and risking injury and getting the ringleader without hassle, they could chose the easier option. If that worked, perhaps he could whisper to Malthus to get a spymaster to help spring him free, unless they decided not to bother and just treat the new guy as Smyth's replacement. Where did he punch that guy? A ''respectable citizen'' didn't sound like somebody, who would be in any place, where he'd take Scabb and Malthus for their entertainment.

To GM

If possible, I'd like to use Intimidation to convince guards they'd better chose the option, where we are certain to chose not to resist.

[Obscurejones]

Spymaster Alexander is at first stunned by his former coworker's sobs. Then troubled by the news that Vittorio is currently not disposed to visitors. And then severely annoyed by her blubbering. He resolves to solve the promise nearest at hand and grabs firmly by the shoulder pulling her gaze to his and fixing eyes.
You acquired the Comtessa's address. Where did you find it? Are you sure that is all you learned of her? If there is anything that you left out? If you have so much as a theory or a footnote on her family, as long as it is sound and true I may take it to Vittorio. If he is in such a mood I cannot promise the return of your employment, but he may be convinced to ignore your oaths. I suspect the Bocca does not allow for one of us to merely lose their job.
He throws some weight behind his words, careful not to overtly threaten the girl. He needed information, not hysterics.
Everybody
Sorry about the delay. Writing a Heidigger paper and it's kicking my ass.
GM
Can I use my What's in a name ability to know anything about the Comtessa?

[MrEdwardNigma]

Enforcer Smyth
"I suppose that sounds fair. Men, let those two go, take in the leader"
"You sure about this, boss?" Scabb says, his malformed face uncomfortably close to yours. You whisper something about the spymasters. Scabb nods, but it must barely register as a twitch to the guards. Your cohorts retreat. You feel a sharp pain as something hits you in the back of the head. You are aware of hitting the dirt, and being dragged. Darkness.

You don't quite remember where you hit the man, but it was outside, in the streets. It's possible to run into any kind of person in the Venice streets, though it begs the question why someone of better breeding would be out in this part of town alone, at night.

Spymaster Ricordilo
Unfortunately the man's lips can't be loosened with merely the vague promise of rewards. He ends up leaving you with this morcel: if the people who have been invited all show up, it certainly won't be a poor party.

You end up going home and are accosted in the back alley by two large goons. You've never seen the men before, but it soon turns out they work for Vittorrio, more specifically for Smyth.
"You! You're one of the spymasters, ain't ya? Smyth told us about you!" the thing speaks. His face is a contorted mass of flakes and swellings, but here and there a feature pokes out. His nose erupts from the flaky crust like a mountaintop out of the clouds.
"Drunk at the time, of course, but still sharp. Smart one he is, that Smyth feller, and with a mean right hook. I can respect a guy like that, and that's why I'm gonna ask you what I wouldn't have asked for the last oaf they put in charge of us: can you find him?"
More of a volley of words than you'd expect from a man that looks like he's been given a lobotomy, but still not too erudite.
"Coppers got a hold of him. You got to make haste. No-one lasts long in holding. Hm"

Spymaster Alexander
She tells you she already told Vittorrio all she found out, but she is willing to share it with you as well. It turns out indeed to be not much of a snippet.
INFORMATION GAINED:

The Lorien Family: Mostly included for completion's sake, the Lorien family is a negligible branch of Venetian nobles. More to the point, it is a name that is about to become extinct. The count has unfortunately passed away before he could sire a heir.

All that is left of the bloodline is the widow Comtessa Lorien, who could technically still beget a child, but such a bastard would surely place a dark shadow on the family.

The only relevancy the family still has is in their inherited estate at 45 Saint Catherine's Road. Their other assets are negligable, and without a strong man to lead them, so is their political influence.
She tells you the oath is breakable, if Vittorrio is willing to let you break it. Of course, should he change his mind, she would be bound again. She read this in a book once, studying these sorts of oaths.

It's admirable she manages to remember this sort of stuff under duress, but then she breaks down crying again. You have to wrench her off you and almost physically send her down the stairs. Too weak for the pack, obviously.
By the way, you're what's in a name ability only means you have the blood, and the name, but there are no associated benefits like contacts or some-such.

Enforcer Buile
You spend quite some time doubting whether to enter, and how, but then, to your great surprise, the two goons accompanying Smyth return too. They have a none too friendly looking chat with someone in the alley next to the house, and then they all enter. Somewhat later, a crying girl exits through the front. In her hurry to leave, she bumps into you, dropping all of her items and books. One of the books is open on a page about demonology. The dark creature on it's pages seems to stare at you from behind the bookmark.

Enforcer Smyth, again, but later, and elsewhere
You awaken in a moist cell. A man is standing over you, perfectly silent, his blue eyes fixed on your hands. His form is that of almost a skeleton, clad only in some rags, and sporting a raggedy white beard of an inch or two and a bulgy bald head.
"A cloak, a mask, a touch" ,he mumbles, "Children cry, dogs howl, trees wither. A cloak, a mask, a touch"
You groan. Your head hurts from the blow, and they didn't even bother to properly place it on a pillow: you were resting with the back of your head against the cold and jagged cast iron of the bed. His eyes suddenly fix on you.
"He haunts you!" the man speaks. His eyes then, wander off. He withdraws back into the darkness of the cell, his eyes two points of light blue light in the pitch. From the other side, beyond the cruely twisted bars, the endless hallways of the sewer. Corpses float bloated in the water. In the distance the jingling of keys, a whistle. A guard is making his rounds. Welcome to holding.

[Obscurejones]

Alexander ponders this new snippet. One might even say he ruminates, taking Regina's vacant spot upon the stairs. As he thinks he taps his toe, muttering a child's rhyme in time with the beats.
Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there... There is always... The obvious conclusion...
With a grunt and a sigh he lurches to his feet and starts back up. As he runs a hand through his hair he takes care to think of how best to approach his master. Finally he settles on the subtle yet direct. Seeking out the room Sebastian is currently in he knocks quietly at the door, or if it is open at its frame, aiming to acquire the Don's attention for a moment.
I understand you already spoke with Regina?
With care he keeps the smirk that underlies his words form reaching his lips, or even his eyes. This not the time for levity, even if levity makes itself apparent.
I had been hoping to speak to you about a possible reason for the Comtessa's soiree. It appears she's invited only the wealthy and common to her gathering. That combined with the downturn of her family's finances might suggest that she is hunting for either a sponsor or possibly a husband. She does still hold a place as a noble and may be able to enhance your social standing, I can't speak to her current influence in that sphere, although her foresight to go outside the nobles for the solution to her troubles suggests she's clever and may be a useful ally for that reason alone. But she will be entirely unable to expand your finances.
He waits, in case Vittorio has either questions or condemnations. Once they are settled he returns to his cell, drafting a quick letter to Hesinde detailing how he advised his master and how Alexander suspects he will act. He releases the pigeon out into the canal.
That finished, he returns to his room to do a quick maintenance of his equipment before settling in for the evening's rest.
I hope that's enough of an indication of future actions for now. As I understand it, night has come to the manor.

[Thelonius]

Enforcer Smyth

It spoke much for how great a fear El Bocca Del Inferno inspired in Smyth, that his first thoughts were on how to explain his incarceration to Vittorio, rather than despair at his grim situation. His mind worked unusually sharp despite the recent blow, probably making up for all the stupidity it had dragged him through that night. He had a good excuse, that painted his actions in intelligent and resourceful manner, rather then drunken antics. Good. Now if he could just get out of here.

Smyth registered the man's look and nervously withdrawn his hands. Why was he looking at them? That made him really uneasy. ''Who are you?'' Smyth croaked, half-whispering. He didn't want to attract the attention of the guard. His body aching, he shifted around, trying to get more comfortable. Cloak, mask, touch? What did that mean? ''Haunts me?''

[Mordae]

Ricordilo's face goes flat at the mention of Smyth. The man was a rascal, to be sure, but to have gotten into such trouble within a day of employment was certainly cause to suspect his ability to remain employed. Still, Rico feels just a twinge of loyalty in the muscles of his right hand, and he steels himself for the test. "You know who has him locked up? Take me there," he commands the two hired thugs.

Rico will:

(1) Try and ascertain the location where Smyth is held based on the information from Messrs. Scabb and Malthus.
(2) If they are too inept to have followed their boss such that they can tell me where to go, I try to employ my street contacts to gather the necessary information.
(3) Make haste to the dungeon and do some scouting to determine whether a break-in is possible or if I'm going to need bribery money. Rico is too poor to do the bribing himself--if it comes to that, he's going to have to go back home to ask the Don whether it's worth paying for Smyth's extrication.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Enforcer Smyth
The cell is cold, and moist, and mostly empty. It holds a single cast-iron bed with a soggy mattress, probably meant to be shared by you and the shadowy figure. He's huddled up in the darkest corner, gently rocking.
"A cloak, a mask, a touch..."
You get on your feet and examine the cell further. It is hewn into the rock rather carelessly, water freely dripping down in some areas, most of them beset by large patches of moss and lichen. Some bits of wall though seem like part of a more careful construction, something more deliberate than the improvised cell. You presume these areas were originally part of the structure you are in, doubtlessly one of the many subterranean sewers in Venice, but the room was later expanded into a cell. The cast-iron bars taking up one wall, the one blocking you from the waterway, have clearly been added in later, and rather poorly. Still, you won't be able to break the bars with your bare hands. Escape seems implausible.
''Who are you?'' you ask the old man.
"I-Ignatius" he answers, briefly looking up at you, but then quickly away again.
"Stalks the streets, silent... A cloak, a mask, a touch"
Ignatius or some previous occupant has scrawled writing onto the rock walls, but you are unable to read what it says.
''Haunts me?''
"Children cry, dogs howl..."
It doesn't seem like you're getting much information out of "Ignatius", so you decide to go to sleep for now.

Spymaster Alexander
You enter the study, where Vittorrio Sebastien sits studying the map on the wall.
"Ah, one of my spymasters has returned" he says, without even turning around.
"I must say I've been sorely dissapointed in Regina. She has been sent walking, so to speak. Perhaps I acted rashly, but an example has been set now. No-one else will be made to leave the house for now, yet I wonder if she was truly the weak link, or if I have merely sett he bar too high for a bunch of ruffians I bought off the street. Surprise me, Alexander"
You enlighten Don Sebastien as to your findings concerning the Comtessa.
"Interesting, and I'll be sure to pass it on to the others. You have been less idle than her, surely, but how thorough have you been? For example, are you aware of any shipments arriving at the house? Are you in the know of my state of correspondence? Where are the other rugrats I have such high hopes for?"
You only have a bit of an answer to that last one. Regina you crossed on the stairs, and Ricordilo, well, he enters the room just as you are about to make excuses.

Spymaster Ricordilo
The oafs weren't much help. They couldn't even tell you where they were arrested, so you head off into the night to find out where the enforcer is being held by yourself.

You wander the streets for some time in the vicinity of where Hesinde's wagon last was (not so surprisingly, it's moved since you and Alexander were sold) and soon get the impression you're being watched. The Children of the Night, surely. You stop dead in your tracks and yell at them to come out.

Falco, one of Hesinde's most trusted Children (and this one is actually one of her many children, not like you, an adopted orphan) steps out from behind a corner. Him you hadn't heard. Falco is silent and deadly, but seems to be here to talk.

"Look who's come crawling back. I can guess, you're here for information, and we'll give it to you, for old times' sake, but Hesinde wants to see you. Tomorrow night. She is expecting you for a private reading. The wagon will be at Baker's Hollow at midnight. Be there"
Falco licks his knife in that matter he's prone to do when intimidating outsiders. You never thought you'd see the day he'd use it on you. Not that you and Falco were ever friends.

INFORMATION GAINED: Axle Smyth is in holding, a term generally used to refer to the many small prison units kept around Venice. This particular section of cells is in an old storm drain. The only entrance known of is the watchhouse at Zazzera street. Entry and prisoners can be bought, but don't come cheap.
You decide to head back to the manor for funds, and head to the study, where you find Don Sebastien and Spymaster Alexander.

The Spymasters
"Good, now I only have two more assistants to account for!" Vittorrio says. When Ricordilo shares the news about Smyth, his mood somewhat darkens.
"Getting caught by the guard is serious, but as I said before, I do not intend to lose any more of you tonight. What is more, Smyth actually seems to be doing a good job controlling those two thugs. That is more than I can say for the previous holder of his job. Smyth will need to be retrieved, and you will be in charge of that, Ricordilo. Alexander, I expect you to find Poppy. She has stayed away for a suspicious amount of time, and wether through her own choosing or circumstances, it is worrying. Find her, deal with it as you please"

He gets up from his chair and leans on the desk.
"This does not, of course, exempt you from your other duties. I expect you to be aware of the goings-on in this house and to advise me on all matters. You may believe yourself mere servants doing menial tasks, but I see you as much more. When I decided to hire the two of you, I saw potential. Don't prove me wrong, Spymasters"
He sits down again and takes out his letteropener.
"New mail has arrived, but for the two of you that can wait until morning. Right now the proper course of action seems sleep. You have had busy days. Goodnight"

Spymaster Alexander
You head to bed, but shortly after sneak off to send your pigeon from the docks. As you pass Ricordilo's room, you see him writhing and rolling in his bed, occasionally mumbling things. He is clearly not sleeping well.

You are soon twisting and turning yourself. You dream of a great plain, covered in long grass, through which you wander. But you are pursued. In the distance dark clouds gather, obscured titans walking beneath them. You hastily sprint through the grass, looking for shelter. There is thunder, all-deafening, but no lightning. Somewhere in the distance are caves. You run, the grass cutting into your legs and the exhaustion burning into your legs. The clouds are overhead, but you have made it. You crawl onto the rock, try to dig in, but something grabs you. Thunder. Crushing fingers. You hands slip, the tips bloody with exertion. You awake bathing in sweat.

Spymaster Ricordilo
You wander the hallways of the house that night, restlessly. It seems to you, for some reason, that there is a threat about. There are voices, upstairs. They shout and scream in tongues. You try to make your way to the dock, but a small boat is mooring. Several men get off. They have no faces. You scream at them, but they simply advance. You run. More faceless men pour down the stairs. You flee into your cell, the door slamming shut behind you. They linger there, in front of the door. The whole world seems to move. Your room tilts, things fall, a feeling of nausea overcomes you.

You wake up. It was all a dream but... you sprint for the docks and throw up in the water. You soon feel better after your stomach is voided. Hungry even.
Kneeling over the water next to you is Scabb, this time less gruesome looking.
"I see I'm not the only one who has had too much to drink last night. Good news, at least. The boss has agreed to give you the funds needed. He did say though, should you be able to come up with something else, he'd prefer to keep the money"

Friday, Noon (Day 2)
All daily powers have been reset. Those in the manor may begin the new day as they please.

Enforcer Smyth
Ignatius is standing over you again when you wake up, again staring at your hands. It seems he has awakened you by calm prodding. He looks straight at you now.
"Visitors" he says, "For you"
You are about to question him when he retreats back into his patch of darkness. You don't know where he got it, but it appears he's been working on a drawing on a clean section of wall with a knife. The drawing shows a cloaked figure, one hand extended, touching a skull with it's jaw agape.

You hear the jingling of the guard's keys again and face the bars. A guard appears together with a second man, rather too well-dressed for this sewer.
"Yes, Dottore, this is the one"
"Healthy, is he?"
"Oh yes, very. He broke a man's jaw with his fist just yesterday"
"How base. You there, approach the bars please"
The Dottore looks at you, evaluating.
"I am considering purchasing you, but you would have to promise me cooperation. Does this sound acceptable?"

[Thelonius]

Enforcer Smyth

The drawing sent chills through Smyth's spine. A madman, who saw something, knew something, that has driven him to this miserable existence in the this dunk cell. Why was he here anyway?

Smyth approached the bars, trying to look tough and intimidating, but not too bright. Heck, maybe he was not too bright, considering his current situation. He certainly wasn't going to change his true allegiances from Vittorio, considering the penalty that would lead to. But he could feign servitude to this man, if it could get him out of here. A starving, street dog, growling out of fear, yet wagging its tail in hopes of a meal. If he had any pride, he'd be unable to pretend such mask. ''If you can get me out of here, for you, I'll punch the devil himself'' bragged Smyth. He was already bound by a demon's contract, so he felt secure this boast wouldn't bring misfortune on him.

[Obscurejones]

With a cry Alexander rolls from his cot, his hand grasping his knife, slipping into a low flowing stance. After a few seconds he realizes that it is merely his dream that woke him. Slowly he draws himself back up to his full height, setting his dagger back at its place on the table. He steadies his breathing, taking time to pull his hair back off of his forehead, the sweat slicking it back and holding it in place.
Note to self. Apothecary. Sleeping draught. Before tomorrow night. I'll likely need the poisons too. But certainly a draught.
Resigning himself to the fact that sleep will lie beyond him for the rest of the evening he heads out and dips himself into the canal. Lets water sooth his worried soul, floating in a world free of sound, sight, or any real sensation. Rising he dries himself and goes to dress for the day. Leaving with the sun he goes to quickly find the local herbalist.
Goals

Find an Apothecary
Return and check Sebastian's mail
Find Poppy
Find more information about the Comtessa, possibly by checking in with the other Spymaster.