Crime and Punishment and Profit IC

[Wyntonian]

It is a good twenty minutes into the play, a newish drama by a second-rate playwright, and the bodycount has exceeded a dozen already. A man now leans against a table on stage, utterly despondent. "I left Marcelena, I left Mama, for a no-good whore! Now, she leaves me for a richer, younger man! How does one soul hold so much love and pain?" A knocking on the door is the goons of the romantic competitor's family, here to break kneecaps. Swords are drawn with shouts....

The theater is a decent-sized room, filled with comfortable seats in front of the stage against the east wall and small round tables towards the back. A busy bartender along the north wall is hustling to provide for all the thirsty young men lining it. A door to the kitchen swings in and out with practiced efficiency as well-trained waiters in black jackets race food out to the patrons. A Thorn in green and white, wearing a rose badge, stands near the entrance, and more are likely among the crowd in plainer clothes.

In front of the stage, a trio of young ladies in expensive-looking dresses ooh and aah at the drama on stage. An elderly man, his short-cropped beard entirely white, sits with his gloved hands on a white oak walking stick, smoking a pipe and watching the play contentedly.

A few couples sit at the small round tables, as well as a tall, bullish man in blue and red, and a man recognizable as a member of the city watch, apparently deep in negotiations. A couple other people, members of guilds, various crime families and university faculty, and one important-looking Elect sitting in front of the stage complete the picture.


Please tell me where your characters are and what they're up to. Bonus points if you get the reference in the monologue on stage.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle leans against a wall, cursing the drunken wager that lead to her getting a rose-and-thorns tattoo on her upper arm. It got her some respect from the other Thorns, but it made keeping her membership discreet... difficult. Most of her shirts were long-sleeved, now. The play was picking up, though, after a rocky beginning. She smiles and tries to forget her job for a bit and pay attention to the acting. After all, she isn't working at the moment. She can afford to relax.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Rhaeb pretends to take another mouthful of cheap beer, letting most of it spill down the ill-fitting, washed-out brown coat he has chosen as a disguise for the evening. He complements it with the face of a middle aged man with a drinking problem and the result is that no one except the waiters pay him much attention at his table close to the serving entrance.

Slamming down the mug he grins towards the other men at the table, like him they are, or are pretending to be, dock workers who are spending their hard earned cash on alcohol and drama instead on their families. It suits him, rough men are easy to hide amongst and can be useful as distracting pieces in a brawl.

Keeping half an eye on the play he quickly scans the crowd. Rumors on the street says that there might be a hit out on a young merchant soon, a quick riser, an up and comer. The ones already in place don't need up-and-comers. They want stay-downers, people who understand that riches are to stay where they are. Nothing would change if the old people could decide everything, and the old people often have the money and guts to employ Rhaeb. Staying ahead of the competition often meant to work without getting paid. Knowing who might become a target might be as important as knowing how to slit a throat.

The merchant in question, named Mandus, is sitting with a couple of friends close to the middle of the second row. Blonde, well dressed, left handed. Enjoys wine and has a bit of a lisp. Trades mostly in expensive curiosities and jewellery, but did a nice profit on some gambling on the spice market last year. Decent with the rapier, better with a bow. Has a fast horse and a faithful wife. These are some things that Rhaeb knows after two days of tailing, bribing and breaking and entering. And now he knows that Mandus isn't much for theatre, the man hasn't paid the play any attention at all despite his good seating, but he seems very interested in some of the ladies at the front. Potential leverage if it continues to evolve in the right directions.

Rhaeb takes another mouthful of beer, spits most of it back into the mug and smiles.

[Wyntonian]

The man on stage successfully fends of his assailants, driving them out of the room and killing one. A rather scared messenger comes in and gives him a letter, driving him to greater heights of emotional distress. "My Mama!" He cries, "Fallen terribly ill! I must go to her, in Marcelena!"

A young girl, perhaps twelve, weaves through the crowd and skips up to Annabelle. "Here you go, miss!" she chirps as she hands you a small folded letter with a rose seal. A little brass daisy pinned to her shirt marks her as a ward of the Arbor family, one of the orphans that the family takes in and sometimes uses as messengers and such.

Rhaeb
Word of God Sayeth Mandus is in the middle of the second row. Sorry to contradict you, but it's going to be important here in a little bit.

[Eldest]

Annabelle raises an eyebrow at the girl, nods, and takes the envelope. She pulls out a small dagger, cuts off the seal and pocketing it, and flips open the letter.
When I literally have one logical reaction, just putting the contents of the envelope in a spoiler in your first post would be a good idea. Speeds up posting.

[Wyntonian]

Eldest:

Annabelle,
A di Marciano tenement full of whores burned down, and someone left roses at the scene. We did not authorize anything. Watch any di Mariciano goons closely, and keep your guard up. We need to be prepared in case of aggression.

Elinora Arbor


OOC:Duly noted.

[Eldest]

Annabelle frowns, pockets the letter, and starts to glance around, noting any guardsmen and anybody wearing colors or a family symbol.

[Sallera]

Marco

"Sophia, my dear, the trick to enjoying amateur theatre is to focus not on the play, but on the players." Seated at one of the smaller tables with a young lady of perhaps twenty, Marco does not appear to be making any effort to blend into the crowd. Clad in a loose outfit of deep black with flowing, pure white sleeves, he sits with perfect posture, occasionally taking a small bite of the meal before him.

"The story is nothing special - you have heard it before, I'm sure, in various forms. What is interesting is how the cast chooses to treat it." Technically, he was accompanying the (unwed) young lady as a favour to her mother, a presence of notable influence in the spice trade, but if he let such trivialities stop him from sounding a girl's potential, he'd never have gotten anywhere. "Take the young man playing the thug who was just killed. He appears but twice before his death, yet he puts such devotion and fervour into the role that he can convince the audience of this playright's least inspired lines. Imagine him in a better work."

"And then, consider the lass playing the lead. Her voice is sound enough, but she cannot get over the role she has been given, and sees this whole production as beneath her. Even if she has the potential to outdo her brother, she appears well beneath him in talent, because she refuses to put in the effort required." Marco's eyes flicker almost imperceptibly to the bar for a moment. Dear me, that lad just picked another pocket. Is he in the Arbors' employ, I wonder?

"Have any of the players caught your eye? We often notice a great deal that we only attribute significance to some time after the fact."

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

Among the cheaper seats in the house is a young man, seated in a rather improper posture - slouched low and leaning to his right - at the irritation of the one sitting next to him. He is clad in simple clothing, plain white shirt underneath a twill wool vest, and has his cloak on, despite the behest of the Thorn at the entrance earlier to remove it; he had made up an excuse of feeling under the weather and that the cloak kept him warm, and assured the man he was not carrying any weapon of any sort by going through a thorough search.

One side of his lips curve up into a smile as the play progresses. He had heard this was a new drama, but for someone like him, rarely anything seemed new. It was merely a new take on old concepts, whether intended or not. People like to think they're original, but someone somewhere has thought of that particular idea way before them, he had said to himself. And for someone like him, this was a fact based on "experience". Regardless, he finds the take on it quite amusing for a small production, especially the body count. It was something he didn't quite expect, hence the smile.

While he is watching intently, his eyes dart from side to side, especially at both entrances. He knows the place is in the charge of the Arbors, but it is a habit of his that goes without thinking. And he could see quite a number of high profile people in the room, so security goes without saying. But caution never harmed one, even in excess, he thinks to himself.

And besides, those damn di Marcianos would likely do anything to catch me off guard, even inside Arbor territory.

"Boy, can you please sit properly? You are encroaching my personal space."

A stern voice from the old man beside him cuts off his thoughts. He had indeed leaned in too far into him, so he straightens up a bit, smiles and mouths a "sorry" before looking putting his attention back on the play, but not before taking notice of the young girl on the opposite side of the man, telling him to calm down. They are among the many couples that he had observed watching right now, and it reminds him of something.

Ahh, should have asked her out to watch this with me. But, I doubt she likes this sort of crap anyway. But, what if she does? Ahhhhrgh! Dammit.

[Wyntonian]

On stage, the female lead witnesses her mother's death from some plague or another. With a wail, she launches into a halfhearted aria. It is as if her director told her to act hard, rather than particularly well.

Annabelle glances around the room, noting the tall, powerfully-built man in the di Marciano colors at the table with the guard captain, as well a couple youngish men at the bar, and one of the three giggling girls near the front of the stage. None of them look particularly aggressive as such, but the hotheaded youngsters of the di Maricianos have a reputation for punching first and thinking later. There are no guardsmen aside from the official negotiating with the di Marciano man, as they are thoroughly paid off by the Arbor family to keep their official business elsewhere.

The young Sophia ponders for a long moment, as the singer reaches a note not really meant for human voices or ears. "Well, she clearly isn't putting the slightest effort into this. I suspect she's angry at someone, maybe the director, and is trying to make him look bad. The young man playing Julio, the lead? He overuses his body language, trying to make himself look bigger." She trails off as a tall, handsome young man in blue and red, wearing a velvet-lined cloak moves forward to your table, stalking like a tiger. He doffs a cap with a red-dyed swan feather in the band "Ah, Sophia! Fancy seeing you here! Always a pleasure, my dearest. I wonder, perhaps, if your grandfa - excuse me, your chaperone, would so kind as to allow you to visit the rose garden across the street with me? I'm sure that here, under the watchful eyes of the Thorns as well as my own strong arm, that nothing harmful could befall you. The roses are blooming, and the smell is utterly divine..."
She stifles an unladylike squeal of joy, and he smiles like a starving man at an unsuspecting lamb.

Vito, as one of few people actually watching the play, notices a slight commotion behind a red velvet curtain. There is a grunt and a thump, almost drowned out by the sound of a new male singer joining the woman's soprano with a table-rattling baritone.

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

Wow, now that is just sad, the young man comments at the ridiculous attempt of an aria mentally.

Why was she ever cast into this anyway? Doesn't seem like she's into this even from the beginning. He could only shake his head in reaction.

Attempting to have his focus elsewhere than the halfhearted singing, he looks around once again through the crowd, giving the di Marciano man a once over. He had noted his position, but nothing more. He is alone, and the young man is confident he could run away from, if not take on, one of the lowlifes. He then looks at the other audiences further back, sitting in their tables, chatting away while dining expensive-looking food.

Tsss, are they even paying attention? But then again, if I had money, I wouldn't be stuck sitting here alone.

Now more irritated by envy, he turns back his attention to the play. By then, there is another player that enters the stage, someone he is sure he had not seen before, singing in powerful baritone. Then, he sees a commotion happening in the corner of his eyes. Something seems to be happening behind the curtains, and he could swear he heard a grunt and a thump. His eyebrow raises and his attention is focused there, though he does not know what to make of it. Someone tripping backstage? A part of the play? He could only watch and guess.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle winces as the female lead tried for a note and misses badly, and them moves over to stand between the men at the bar and the negotiator. She couldn't cover the woman at the front, that would be the Thorn on the stage's job, but she could get the other two. She orders a beer from the man at the bar while there, and pretended to sip from it from time to time. While there, she takes another look at the di Marciano men, looking for any of them paying more attention that they should.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

One of the dock workers makes a crude impression of a hanged man as the terrible noise from the stages increases with the arrival of the male singer and Rhaeb grins widely along with the rest of the men around the table.
Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. My hearing better work as usual when I get out or someone will loose their tongue.
He thinks careful to conceal his irritation behind a mask of pretend laughter as the other man continues his charade.

Better get away from these guys for a while, get a new perspective.
Rising to his feet he turns his now empty mug of beer upside down and slams it back down onto the table.
"Time for another one!" He says, his voice rougher and deeper than usual. As the others nod their approval he turns and makes his way through the crowd, towards the bar. Remembering that he's supposedly a man who has already had several mugs of the local brew he makes sure to stumble into a few chairs on the way, always mumbling an apology and keeping his eyes low.

He stops at the corner of the bar, careful not to try to force his way past the youngsters who are straining to get the bartender to take their order first. He is in no hurry to get back to his table and he has a better view of the room from here.
After a quick eye on the stage, just to make sure what the two singers look like in case he needs to pay them a visit later tonight, he scans the room for what feels like the hundredth time, looking for anything or anyone that stands out, acting strange or out of place.

[Wyntonian]

Annabelle watches the di Marciano men at the bar, but they seem to be concerned with nothing more weighty than the beer in their hands or the curves of the waitress passing by. They are no more aggressive than they would normally be, even to the Dimico man sitting near them, with his blue and silver scarf around his neck. The negotiation is still going strong, the plates of food growing cold and untouched.

As Rhaeb scans the room, he recognizes a figure standing up in the front row as a middle-level trade official, one with ties to the Dimico family. He passes the merchant Rhaeb's been tailing and stumbles slightly as he does so.

Everyone:
There will be Big Action Times soon, but I want to see what Sallera says first. It'll be important.

Rhaeb: Mind rolling a Perception in the OOC?

[Wyntonian]

Over at Rhaeb's table, two of the burliest and hairiest dockworkers are standing, their voices rising to rival the wailing and roaring from the stage. They shout, fists clenched, until one man takes a swing at the other. The smack of fist on jaw is louder than the clinking of plates and forks, and half the establishment whirls around to watch. Before a second blow can land, though, the Thorn by the door darts forward, covering a crowded forty feet in mere seconds and seizes the offender by the wrist, pulling him into a hold that makes him rise to the tips of his toes.

His opponent, apparently not amused at the interruption, throws two more punches at the Thorn. The first hits his drinking partner, and the second earns him a strike across the wrist from a steel-cored oak cudgel. Both men are summarily hurled, literally, from the front door, and the Thorn stalks out after them, the short baton in one hand and a length of rope in the other

[Sallera]

Marco

Raising an eyebrow at the newcomer's interruption, Marco sits back slightly and slips his hands inside the wide sleeves of his jacket. If someone in this city had any reason to think ill of you, he'd found it often made them nervous if they couldn't see your hands - usually for good reason. "Ah? And who might this inelegant fellow be, my dear?" Come now, you just started thinking, don't stop for a feather's touch.

Still, if he lost the girl's confidence, he could end up chasing her down all night. With a wisp of a smile hovering around his lips, he shifts his gaze to Sophia. "Perhaps someone Nicola would not entirely approve of?"

Sense Motive on Master Feather: [roll0]

[Wyntonian]

Sophia blushes like a cherry. "This is my friend Julio, he's a poet. I'm sure mother would approve, she loves his work!"

The man bows without a hint of modesty. "I have published a few poor works, but I rely on radiant young ladies to inspire me..." He looks into her eyes, and she turns a deeper shade of crimson, rivaling the velvet curtains. He takes her hand, gently. "Well, if you don't object, we'll be just across the street." With that, she fairly leaps at him and they dart out the door, grinning and holding hands.

As far as you can tell, he seems like a cocky young man from a rich family. He doesn't give off any unusual malice, though, and it seems as if his manners are more than just a front. He wears a sword, but it is peace-bonded in accordance with Garden rules for everyone not of the Arbor family.

[Wyntonian]

After a disappointing beginning, the woman on stage finally hits her note, a high, sustained G that turns every head in the theater to watch. As the crowd watches, a figure cloaked in a deep blue steps from backstage and crosses to her in three long strides. He plants a boot in her back and firmly shoves her into the crowd, where the old man in the black cloak catches her.

He then casts back his cloak to reveal a red velvet lining, and, more importantly, a spanned crossbow of curious design. He brings it to his shoulder in a flash, aimed directly at the front row of the audience. Screams erupt, and more than one person struggles against the wire-wrapping that the Arbor family requires for all swords in the Garden district.

The man stands silently, in the red and blue of the di Marciano family. His face is moderately young, with a day or two's dark brown stubble, and his eyes are grimly determined.

Giving you a chance to respond, but please make any actions brief. You don't have a ton of time to act, but I'm not going to have you roll initiative or anything yet.

[Eldest]

Could I throw a "knife"?

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

di Marciano!

The young man is already up on his feet, already so since he saw the man kick off the female singer off the stage. Through the corners of his eyes he could notice the reactions of some of the members of the audience who brought arms, and the consequent result.

Good thing I don't need weapons.

He looks back towards the other di Marciano bastard, looking for his reaction, on whether they are working together. He then scans the area, looking for the clearest route towards the stage, and crouches low, ready to burst forward.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

As the men at his table starts to fight Rhaeb watches them getting thrown out.
Idiots.

His attention is quickly shifted back to Mandus and the Elect who stumbles past the mechant.
Interesting. Is he working with the Dimico, or for them? Strange that no one else has mentioned this. Perhaps this is something new.
He makes a mental note to follow up on this new bit of information just as the actress is kicked off stage.
Damn, what's this?!
At the same time training and instinct kicks in. Even though Rhaeb's conscious mind is still wondering what just happened, his body reacts, dropping down in cover behind the bar.

Crossbow, not aimed at me. Probably cross-family violence. Better stay down and let this sort itself out. The assassin thinks as he slowly draws a dagger from beneath his coat. His chain is wrapped in his cloak and draped around his body, it would take too long to get it out, and it's not a weapon a dock worker would have.

Dagger in hand, the blade pressed against his lower arm, keeping it out of sight, Rhaeb peeks out from behind the corner of the bar, trying to assess the situation.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Those idiots. They really think they will get away with a clean slate after this?
Annabelle moves forward along the wall, getting closer to the stage and the man with the crossbow. She reaches under her small cloak for her rapier, aware that the bravo probably had friends that she didn't know about.
Eh, forget the knife.

[Sallera]

Marco

Oh dear, what a foolish individual. I do hope it was wise letting Sophia leave. Smoothly rising to his feet, Marco claps his hands twice for silence, not that he expected anyone to listen. Ah, well, he hadn't lost a soldier's ability to project his voice, at least.

"Now, now, let's listen to what our impolite young guest has to say." Come on, look this way. Marco begins walking slowly and evenly toward the stage, his deliberately colourless outfit standing out in a crowd full of family sympathizers. You couldn't technically dodge a crossbow bolt, but it was much easier to simply be where it wasn't. "Have you aught to say for yourself, or have you appeared merely to spare us that aria?"

Will use Baffling Defense if attacked.

[Wyntonian]

The young man seems taken aback at Marco's advance and stutters slightly, before managing to choke out something like "Death to the Arbors!".

Nobody particularly cares what he said, exactly, as he reaches to his side with one hand, and throws a handful of something glittery and sharp in front of his crossbow before firing it into the crowd.

Rather than firing a bolt that any of you can see, the little blades are whipped into the crowd, as if they were caught by a stiff wind. They tear into the audience, save where the man in the black cloak leapt to cover the young ladies next to him. The Elect member collapses, his face and chest shredded, and most of the front row falls with him, including Rhaeb's merchant.

As far away as the tables, the steel silverware is thrown away from the shooter at blinding speeds, slashing at everyone in its path.

Rhaeb feels his knife and chain surge against him, but they do not escape his grasp. Annabelle's sheathed sword and chain shirt likewise jerk, forcing her a step back, but she is not thrown on her back like one unfortunate gentleman.

Screams erupt, and people rush to the aid of those injured, or sprint for the doors. The shooter hurries out of sight backstage, throwing the curtain aside, and leaving the carnage and terror behind.

It was pointed out when I was fleshing out this idea over lunch that this exact situation, someone shooting theatergoers, may be a somewhat sensitive topic. I sincerely apologize if anyone is offended. I sketched this out before the tragic events in Denver on July 21, and I'm sure all our thoughts go to their families and friends.

As they are within range, Vito and Marco are both effected by the fired blades.

Attack: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

On a more mechanical note, Sallera, would you mind directing me to Baffling Defense?

[Sallera]

Marco

Casually stepping behind a table and catching a flying knife with one long sleeve, Marco plucks the weapon out of the fabric and tosses it aside before climbing up onto the stage and chasing after the man. Definitely wise. Don't mind the screams, my dear, and enjoy the roses while you can. I am a soldier yet.

Clever weapon.

Baffling Defense is a second level Setting Sun maneuver; replaces your AC with a Sense Motive check for one attack. Unnecessary this time, as it turns out.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle curses and rushes forward, yelling out in a comanding air.Everyone, out of the building! Get out! While she is still in civilian cloths, it's obvious that she is a Thorn, from the rapier she pulls out to the way she flicks a few signs in the Arbor hand signals to anybody who is paying attention. Surround attacker. Protect patrons. She moves to a spot with a clear shot at the attacker and lets fly with what appears to be a strangely shaped knife, thrown directly at the attacker.
Move to a spot where I can charge him next turn, use eldrich bolt.
Attack: [roll0] vs touch AC.
Crit confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit damage: [roll3]

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

By the night! What was that?

As soon as the shooter turns and starts running Rhaeb is up and starts pushing his way through the crowd towards the stage and the escaping murderer.

Such power! What kind of magic or machine is capable of destruction like that?

Such a device would make him one of the most sought after killers in the cities, and with that idea running through his head Rhaeb pursues the man in di Marciano colors. Mandus and his Elect friend are both forgotten for the moment.

[Wyntonian]

You collectively rush past the moaning, screaming or eerily silent patrons, fighting past the stampede towards the exit.

The man in the black cloak has already leapt up on stage, his beard marred by a cut across his chin, his white cane in his hand. His cloak is cut in countless places, revealing a steel-mesh lining beneath. Annabelle's thrown knife whips past his head and puts a hole through the red velvet curtain that the attacker ran behind.

As you follow the man backstage, you note the limp body of the male lead behind the curtain, his throat neatly cut. The attacker races towards an exit, a back door leading into an alley possibly even darker than the pervasive shadows of backstage.

Vito
I'll assume you go with them? If not, please let me know. If you'd rather stay and help with first aid, or just run for your life and ignore the PLOT.

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"Get down!" he shouts as he pulls down the man next to him, who apparently had stood up as he did earlier. The attempt affords him a scrape from one of the fragmented projectiles on his shoulder, which tears his cloak and vest but just glances off after a clinking sound.

Good thing I wore my chainshirt, he muses as he looks at the hole on his wardrobe.

"Oh, you are going to pay for this. This is my best vest and shirt, you swine!" he grumbles under his breath as he summons a distinct memory to mind - one where he sees himself as a warrior in a battlefield, cutting down his foes left and right - while sprinting through the maze of upturned chairs and prone bodies up the stage and through the curtains towards the backstage.

Swift action Relive Memory of Strength (faint). [+2 to attack and damage rolls for 4 rounds]

As he brushes away the curtains, he gains sight of the attacker's silhouette heading for the back door. The young man continues his pursuit, weaving through the props and obstacles as fast as his legs allows him.

[Sallera]

Marco

Having fought in terrain as diverse as grasslands, mountainsides, and rooftops, Marco barely glances at the various props and instruments backstage, weaving through, around, and over them as swiftly as he would walk an open road. Do you seek escape, or merely support? Well, I shan't let you reach either, if you are as clumsy as you look.

Using the Step of the Wind stance to ignore the difficult terrain; that should let me gain on him somewhat, unless he can do the same. If I can get close enough for an AoO, I'll attempt to disarm his crossbow.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle rushes after the attacker, vaulting tables and sidestepping props, watching as several others followed. More Thorns? They don't seem the type... She glared at one particularly fast one, who seemed to glide through the backstage area, ignoring the various obstructions. Tiny Gods, was she jealous?

[Wyntonian]

The attacker slams the door open and races out into the nearby alleyway. Small piles of garbage line the walls, which are perhaps ten feet apart.

You emerge shortly afterwards, with Vito and Marco leading by ten feet. The assailant is approximately thirty feet ahead of them, and sprinting as quickly as he can, the crossbow-shaped weapon pumping in his hand and the blue and red cloak streaming out behind him. The elderly man runs with you, his cane apparently unneeded for movement.

It soon becomes evident that the man took a wrong turn, however, as the alleyway makes a turn and abruptly ends in a brick wall. You all round the corner to find the man with his back to the wall fifteen feet away, the crossbow leveled at you.

[Sallera]

Marco

With a huff of breath, Marco sprints after the man, hoping he wouldn't have to keep this up for very long. His long white sleeves stream out behind him as he effortlessly leaps over inconveniently placed obstacles or sidesteps broken stones, a pair of disembodied wings in the night. The black-clad body between them was already tiring, however, protesting the sudden exertion.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Cursing silently as he sees others joining in on the chase as well the assassin tries his best to outrun them, but finds himself hindered the surprisingly messy backstage. When he finally dashes through the door he is one of the last pursuers, but he prevails, the thought of the strange weapon still fresh in his mind.

Rounding a corner he nearly crashes into the man in the dark cloak who has suddenly stopped. Rhaeb soon realizes why, as the murderer is standing a few feet away, the deadly crossbow raised.

Still armed with only a dagger Rhaeb glances to the sides. There's at least one Thorn already there, perhaps more. They all seem capable of holding their own in a fight against a single opponent and so he shrinks back, close to the wall and waits...

[Sallera]

Marco

"Congratulations. You have managed to... annoy me." Rounding the corner, Marco doesn't exactly stop, but his slow, measured pace is at least going to give the man a few seconds to make a decision. "I am usually lenient with fools who think to attack me... but not with those who try a second time." Seemingly ignoring the weapon, although he is already judging its potential area of fire, he looks directly into the man's eyes. "Don't waste your last chance."

Intimidate: [roll0]

Switching to Stance of Clarity. If he delays an answer, Marco will walk up close enough to take an AoO to disarm if he attempts to fire, but won't push the matter further than that at first.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle extends the point of her sword towards the attacker but doesn't instantly attack. She wanted to see what the crossbow wielder would do in response to the thread.
She would have to make sure he didn't survive the night intact, though. You just don't do such things.
Ready to use Wall of Blades or Moment of Perfect Mind if he attacks and those counters would work, otherwise I'm delaying until the attacker does something.

[Wyntonian]

The man looks like a panicked deer, quivering and panting. "Get back! I mean it! I'll shoot!" He pokes the muzzle of the weapon in Marco's direction. "Not another step!" His hand reaches down to his hip and comes up with another small, clinking sack.


How many of you are within 20 feet? Also, does Marco get within ten feet?

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

The young man bursts out into the alleyway, not breaking a stride, especially when he learns those running with him are old men. Turning at the corner, he stops, but keeps in step with the old guy beside him.

"Oi, oi, nonno, you sure you're up to this? How 'bout letting the youngsters handle this, yeah?" he tells the old man in expensive-looking vestments with a smirk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You really wanna do that? You really wanna do that?" he looks at the cornered assailant with an eyebrow raised as the latter raised his crossbow towards them. He plants his left foot firmly on the ground, readying himself for a lunge. "You've managed to piss off five people who has you cornered and you still wanna do that?"

[Sallera]

Marco

Ignoring the man beside him - time enough for banter later - Marco stops, just for a moment. As soon as the pressure was released... well, that was when duelists made mistakes. "Very well. Not another step... you'll take." Leaping forward and to the side, Marco's hands emerge from his sleeves at a deceptive angle, ready to take the dangerous weapon for himself.

Yeah, given how long it would take him to make his threats and draw ammunition, Marco would easily be within 10ft, maybe closer.

Anyway, forcing the issue, since it doesn't seem like he's going to stand down. Initiative check to see who's faster?

[Wyntonian]

The man in black grips the brass head of his cane, and draws a sword from within. The heavy sheath he twirls in one hand, but remains silent.


{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_
1|#|#|/\|/\|#|#|#|
2|||A|B|#|#|#|
3|X||M||#|#|#|
4|||V||#|#|#|
5|#|#|R||#|#|#|
6|#|#|||#|#|#|
7|#|#|||#|#|#|
8|#|#|||#|#|#|
[/table]

#= A wall, part of a building.
X= The Bad Guy
M=Marco
A=Annabelle
V=Vito
R=Rhaeb
B=Guy in Black
/\=A potentially climbable wall.

ROLL THINE INITIATIVE!

[Eldest]

Annabelle senses the begining of hostilities and lunges forward, reaching to snatch the crossbow out of the attacker's hands. She'd deal with all the other watchers after the maniac was disarmed and helpless.
It's an opposed attack roll, I get a minus 4 for doing it unarmed, he gets a -4 for the target not being a melee weapon.
[roll0]

[Wyntonian]

The red-cloaked man jerks the stock of the weapon away from Annabelle's grasping hand, and brings the heavy bag of steel in his left hand down on her wrist. "I said get back! You don't know what you're dealing with"


{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_
1|#|#|/\|/\|#|#|#|
2||A||B|#|#|#|
3|X||M||#|#|#|
4|||V||#|#|#|
5|#|#|R||#|#|#|
6|#|#|||#|#|#|
7|#|#|||#|#|#|
8|#|#|||#|#|#|
[/table]

#= A wall, part of a building.
X= The Bad Guy
M=Marco
A=Annabelle
V=Vito
R=Rhaeb
B=Guy in Black
/\=A potentially climbable wall.


Marco's up!

[Sallera]

Only a step behind Annabelle, Marco ducks in beside the man, hooking the end of his sleeve around the weapon's arm and driving the heel of his palm into the back of the man's knuckles. "Is that so? Enlighten us, then."

Disarm attempt on the weapon. -4 for unarmed, +4 for Improved Disarm. Enemy gets -4 for ranged.
Opposed attack: [roll0]

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_
1|#|#|/\|/\|#|#|#|
2||A||B|#|#|#|
3|X|M|||#|#|#|
4|||V||#|#|#|
5|#|#|R||#|#|#|
6|#|#|||#|#|#|
7|#|#|||#|#|#|
8|#|#|||#|#|#|
[/table]

Marco successfully breaks the man's hold on his weapon and secures it for himself. The man staggers back slightly, snatching a long inwardly-curved knife from his belt. He grins, with a hint of suicidal insanity, and points up. "That."

Above you, arrayed along the rooftops, countless dark shapes stare down at you, utterly still. They watch, gleaming with menace, as the attacker giggles and shrinks down into a curled ball.

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

As soon as the old man in fancy clothes takes the attacker's mysterious weapon, the young man readies himself and looks for his opening. He does not bother looking to what the man is pointing to with his knife; he moves to his left and goes in, delivering a swift two-finger strike to the nape.

Move Action Move to A4.
Standard Action Give Memory, Memory of Fear. If attack hits, target becomes cowered for 4 rounds.

Melee Touch Attack: [roll0] (+1 Flowing Strike, +2 Memory of Strength)

[Wyntonian]

The attacker collapses further under Vito's attack, and drops his long knife. He curls up in the fetal position, alternately sobbing and giggling. One of the shapes above shifts in place and stretches out black wings, cawing softly.

The man in black throws his cloak back and drops his sheath, snatching a hand crossbow from his belt. He aims it up at the crows above, swearing under his breath.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Glancing around the corner, Rhaeb notices that the battle seems to be going in the favour of the pursuing group
Ah, perhaps there are allies to be gained here. Better not let them have all the fun.

Silently and efficient he slips around the corner, past the young man in front of him and stops besides the cowering attacker.

"It doesn't look like you are going anywhere my friend."
He says with a low voice, almost smiling. The thrill of a successful hunt, no matter how short, is exciting. "Give up now, tell us what you know and you'll be spared any pain. Otherwise we can be here all night..."

Readies an action: Attack the man if he attacks, or tries to run. Can maneuvers be used when attacking like that?

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_
1|#|#|/\|/\|#|#|#|
2||A||B|#|#|#|
3|X.|M.|||#|#|#|
4|R.|V.|||#|#|#|
5|#|#|||#|#|#|
6|#|#|||#|#|#|
7|#|#|||#|#|#|
8|#|#|||#|#|#|
[/table]


Rhaeb's reflexes are fine-tuned - as soon as the cornered man makes a move, he dies on the point of Rhaeb's knife. A moment, later, he realizes that the man's only motion was to drive his curved blade into his own heart.

As he splashes red on the bricks behind him, he chokes out a vaguely avian noise, which is echoed from the rooftops around you. In a roaring rush, the crows dive as one mass into your midst in a blinding, pecking swarm of beaks and feathers.

The spaces marked with periods contain part of the swarm.

Attack v. Marco. [roll0]
Attack v. Vito. [roll1]
Attack v. Rhaeb. [roll2]

Damage v. Marco [roll3]
Damage v. Vito [roll4]
Damage v. Rhaeb[roll5]

If you're hit, please roll a reflex save against a DC of 14 or be blinded.

When you start your turn, roll Fort against a DC of 12 or be nauseated.

Yeah. Murders of crows are a bitch.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

As the crows descend on the group below Rhaeb quickly raises an arm to shield his face from the swarm. While the sharp beaks and claws of the birds still pierce his clothes and skin, none of the creatures manage to get to his eyes. The smell and confusion is quite bad within the mass of creatures, but the assassin has experienced worse, and so he endures.

[Sallera]

Driven into a coughing fit by the collective dust stirred up by thousands of feathers, Marco closes his eyes, nigh-useless as they'd be anyway, and focuses on his memory of the scene before the birds descended. Right... here. Bending down, he snatches the bag of ammunition the suicidal attacker had dropped, then attempts to recall the exact motions the man had used to activate his weapon, struggling to control his breathing.

Move action to pick up the ammo, 5ft step to C3. Nauseated, so that's all he can do.

[Wyntonian]

The man in black fires his hand crossbow and punches a crow off of Annabelle's shoulder, while simultaneously hacking one out of the air. "All of you! Go!"

Annabelle's turn. Good luck on your move, Eldest! Have as much fun as it's actually possible to have!

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle backs off from the swarm of crows, suprised, and then wistles sharply and makes a few hand gestures towards the crows. All of the sudden, small fey start to appear out of the refuse of the alley and attack the crows, darting around the others.

Move to D5, summon a (refluffed) swarm of bats in all four sqares that the swarm of crows are in. Your move.

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"No!" the young man screams at the mysterious man who stabs the shooter, but as soon as he could react to this, the swarm of crows descend and he is stopped in his tracks, covering his face from the pecking pests.

When he tries to move again, he is surprised by another swarm, this time of bats. Not noticing that they are attacking the crows, he is forced to move back down the alley to free himself of the swarm.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

This is not good. Not at all. First ravens and now fae? Better get out of here.
The assassin leaves the fallen murderer behind and follows the advice of the man in black and runs back out in the alley, trying to get his cloak on and chain ready as he moves.

Moving back out into the alley, standard action perhaps to don cloak and draw weapon?

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_
1|#|#|/\|/\|#|#|#|
2|||B|A|#|#|#|
3|X,|M,|||#|#|#|
4|,|,|||#|#|#|
5|#|#|.|.|#|#|#|
6|#|#|R.|.|#|#|#|
7|#|#||V|#|#|#|
8|#|#|||#|#|#|
[/table]

Annabelle's called swarm of tiny, iridescent figures plunge into the heart of the storm of black feathers. The crows, caught between pain and unpleasantness on one side and escaping prey on the others, pursue Rhaeb and Vito as they flee down the alleyway. Even as they do so, some of their number fall to the ground and are swarmed by little figures with wings the color of oil slicks.

The man in black sheathes his cane sword and moves over to the fallen attacker and grabs his corpse by the collar, dropping it unceremoniously to lie flat. From there, he rips open the man's buttoned shirt, revealing an intricate tattoo of a crow rising above the remains of a battlefield that spans from stomach to collarbones.

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle frowns in concentration and continues to gesture at the glowing fey, directing them to follow the crows and continue to attack only the avians and not her possible allies.

[Sallera]

Expelling a rough breath as the flapping mob exits the area, Marco opens his eyes again, immediately focusing on the uncovered tattoo while his finger loosens the drawstring on the pouch. The bizarre... fey? ...that were suddenly intermingled with the birds would draw his attention more, but as long as they weren't an immediate threat...

"I see our deceased friend's associations with the corvids are quite numerous. Is that one you recognize?" While he speaks, his other hand is swiftly manipulating the strange weapon, replicating the motions he remembered and improvising any others that seemed necessary. Taking a step back, he aims down the alleyway.

"Down!" he barks; after giving the two fleeing men a second to comply, he scatters the pouch of ammunition in front of the weapon as the other had, activating the cruel device and sending a spray of shards into the pursuing flock.

5ft step to C3, give Vito and Rhaeb a chance to drop or flee, and do my best to fire this crazy weapon. I'll let you make any rolls necessary for this.

[Wyntonian]

Assuming Vito and Rhaeb actually get down...

Marco tosses up the loose bag of little metal shards and pulls the trigger. Again, as if each one was individually thrown, the blades tear through the swarm, leaving dead and dying crows across the ground, and sparking off the brick walls. The survivors flap off into the night, cawing loudly.

Vito feels one such blade catch him in the shoulder, leaving a small cut.

The man in black tugs a small amulet from the man's neck. "I do, in fact. Get those people back here, we need to talk about this." He stands up, leaning on his white oak cane, the sword sheathed within. His dancer's grace of a moment ago is replaced by a deep weariness of age. "I'm Aegeus Amodeos. Retired Blackcloak." He extends a slightly reddened hand to shake.

Vito takes one damage. I rolled your stuff for you, hope you don't mind.

[Sallera]

Letting the weapon fall to his side, although he keeps a firm grip on it, Marco steps back and takes the man's hand. "Marco Amarezzo. I have faced many oddities on the battlefield, but swarms of crows and faeries are a first. What do you know of this man's affiliations?"

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle lowers her hands and whispers a few words to the fey, who vanish off into the refuse as quickly as they came. Please, do tell me what you know about this man. I need to find his superiors and inform them of the Arbor families opinions towards doing such acts.
My name is Annabelle. I am, as you could guess, a Thorn.
Her voice is light and airy, a nice alto.

[Wyntonian]

Aegeus kneels back over the dead man, his chin still bleeding gently. "Well, these clothes are too big for him. See his sleeves? Now, why would a proud young man of the di Marcianos sully his image with poorly-fitted clothes?"

He holds up the little white amulet. "See this?" he hands it to Annabelle. "Tell me what you think it's made of." The amulet is a small steel circle, with an even smaller oblong shape of white material inlaid in the center, in the shape of a crow. "That's no animal bone, nor ivory."

As the two others rejoin the little council, he says to Vito "I presume you're a knowledgeable one. In the college, earning an education? What do you make of this man's chest?"

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"Ow," the young man groans and looks at the small cut on his shoulder from the weapon. He had barely heard the old man when he told them to get down, so he was lucky the scratch is all he has to worry about. The good news is it took care of all those pesky crows.

"That's it. I've had enough of that thing. Put it away or I swear I'll break it," he mumbles while approaching the others and looking at the infernal contraption.

"Retired? I thought all Blackcloaks were just old," he smirks. "And you presume too much, nonno. Do you think a straight-up university student has the balls to go around chasing murderers in dark alleys?" he mouths off as he kneels down and examines the chest of the man.

Hmm. Not sure what to roll here.

[Wyntonian]

Aegeus grins at Vito. "Watch it, boy. I might have to tell you to get off my lawn." He glances over at Rhaeb. "You there. You seem bright enough, if perhaps too fond of the shadows. How could this man get his hands on di Marciano clothing without pissing them off by stealing it?"

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

The young man stands back up and raises both his hands at his sides, doing a mock sign of surrender at the Blackcloak's retort. "Yeah, I've 'seen' a few other guys sporting this symbol before. All of them looked awfully similar to this one: lying dead on a back alley, full of fresh wounds."

"Sadly, I haven't quite traced down the connection between all of them as of yet. The Blackcloaks should have heard about this, yes? This had been happening since a while back."

[Wyntonian]

The old man taps his cane on the ground thoughtfully. "Let me guess. They all had fresh wounds, and has the symbol - just the crow, not the whole thing - carved into their body with a knife somewhere like a forehead or palm?" He raises an eyebrow, and continues as you assent. "Well. That explains much."

He turns to Annabelle. "You, my dear, can tell the Lady of the Garden that the di Marciano family did not initiate this attack. I doubt she'll believe you, because I suspect the Don wouldn't want to show weakness by letting people think he couldn't control his family. He'll have to claim this attack as deliberate, and find justification for it. Has there been any strife between the families lately?"

[Sallera]

"Sadly, there are many poorly-kept secrets in our fair city, and that there are those who refuse the Good God's faith even now is one of them." Leaning in for a closer look at the tattoo, Marco tilts his head in contemplation.

"There was once a god who took the crow as his symbol... now, what was the name again?"

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

He looks at the Black cloak and the other old man who called himself Marco. From what they are saying, he could only guess one thing.

"Ah, cultists. How could I miss that?" he exclaims as he hits his forehead with the palm of his right hand. "Ahh, it would have been better if it were just the di Marcianos that did this," he mumbles on.

"Anyway, the important questions have to be asked. Why did he pose as a di Marciano? Why attack the theater? What would they gain from that?" There are a lot more questions in his head, such as was it just a coincidence that a former Blackcloak happened to be at the scene? Or did he know this was going to happen? But he dared not voice it out just yet. Not directly anyway.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Slowly standing up from a street filled with dead birds and feathers Rhaeb dusts off his clothes and moves over to the rest of the group. At first he doesn't respond to the Blackcloak's inquiry, instead he simply kneels next to the body and looks at it for several seconds.
"There are several ways. Bribe one of the flower girls perhaps, or one of their tailors. If he had the time he could have established himself in the household, but this has the feel of bad planning." He looks up, at the blackcloak and the rest.
"My guess, from what I could tell of the man and how he acted; Someone gave him these clothes, and the weapon. This was an amateur."
Pausing, the assassin touches the fabric and takes a closer looks at the seams. It might have been the enemies of di Marciano, or even the Mariciano's themselves. The intrigues of the families are sometimes so complex that they end up having several parts of it struggling against the other.
He stands back again, folding his cloak around him, hiding his hands and weapons.
"I wouldn't know anything about any cult or such though. I stay away from the gods as long as they leave me alone."

[Wyntonian]

Aegeus leans more heavily on his cane, looking as old as the uniform whiteness of his beard would suggest.

"Oscuro. The name was Oscuro. He was a war god, patron of battles, bloodshed. The common folk had nothing to do with him, used their offerings to keep the Jester away instead, or keep Arcuttio satisfied. After the rise of the Good God, and the Madness before it, his following all but vanished. I led a team that wiped out a cell in Marcelena fifteen years ago, hiding out in the catacombs, but there's been no rumors of a resurgence since."

He nods agreement at Rhaeb's conclusions. "An amateur indeed. He called upon the crows, and tipped his hand to us that way. I doubt a Marciano could have done that."

He frowns and taps his cane on the bricks. "The one big question is why he would think the Marcianos would reasonably attack an Arbor family event in the sacred truce of the Garden District and kill an Elect, a Guildsman and a Dimico. Even the dumb young ones aren't that stupid. They'd need an excuse, something big." He raises an eyebrow at Annabelle. "Do they have one? Has the Arbor family taken a stab at them lately?"

[Sallera]

"Ah, yes, a god of war. That would fit, for this..." Turning over the crossbow-like weapon, attempting to discern the method by which it functions, Marco frowns. "...is most definitely a weapon of war. Not something that should be floating around back alleys. The smith that forged it has many questions of his own to answer."

Looking to Annabelle, he studies her reaction to Aegeus's question, watching for the subtleties of truth, lies, and supposition.

Sense Motive, should it be necessary: [roll0]

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle pauses for a molment and then frowns. Not that'd you believe me, but no, we haven't. There has been somebody who hit one of their business deals that made it look like it was us, though, so that might be it.
Oh, and should you start spreading that around town, I'd be angry. Keep it mum 'till it's all settled.
Bluff checks don't affect the truth. :smalltongue:

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"Ah, there you have it. Looks like somebody wants the two houses going at each other," the young one cuts in. "Well, I can think of a number off the top of my head who'd benefit from a war between the two. Heck, I've nothing against the Arbors, but something that puts the di Marcianos down a notch would definitely bring a smile to my face."

"Buuut, I guess the ones that should greatly benefit from this would be them, yeah?" he adds, more to himself than to the others.

[Sallera]

"War has long been considered an appropriate sacrifice, yes; Oscuro is not even the only one who would accept it." Raising the modified crossbow high, Marco speaks in a soft, measured voice, as if quoting someone. "'Follow me, and we'll go forth, let blood take water's place in this eternal stream, for though the water flows and flows, through blood alone will we see through the means to change its course.'"

Letting the weapon fall to his side, he shrugs. "'Tis interesting how much truth one finds in theatre."

And as the name would indicate, Sense Motive does not exist solely for opposing Bluff checks.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Backing away from the body, Rhaeb nods.
"Indeed, instigating war between two enemies is not uncommon. It can be an effective way to secure future victories. Divide and conquer, isn't that what the generals say?"
He shakes his head and looks back at the dead man.
"And some are too easily duped for their own good. I wonder what truth this one thought that he would find in death?"
Shrugging, he turns his gaze towards the now empty rooftops.
"Though I wonder what kind of power it takes to command creatures like that... And the weapon of course. Such things should not be held by the wrong hands."

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Speaking of which... Annabelle reaches out for the crossbow, silently asking for it to be handed over to her.

Yeah, but I don't think I should roll. Heck, I think you're not supposed to use social skills on other PCs. I don't have an issue with it, it's just a bit awkward where if Annabelle was a NPC the DM could just throw out a response.

[Sallera]

Marco makes no move to offer the weapon, tapping his chin as if considering the matter before shaking his head. "I see no need. As I said before, this is not a weapon to be used between the families, and I am disinclined to encourage its proliferation. However... if it is important to you, the possibility of cooperation exists. Do you speak for your family?" The tone of his last question implies that he rather doubts such is the case.

You shouldn't generally use social skills to influence other PCs (Diplomacy/Intimidate), but Sense Motive and Bluff are common enough in games I've played, especially when characters don't know each other very well, or if one is attempting to conceal information. Anyway, I wasn't asking you to roll Bluff this time, since you weren't attempting to, but in the case that it is relevant, it's easy enough to just narrate what the other character picks up from yours in terms of intent.

[Eldest]

Which is why I prefer it destroyed. If you would do the deed now, there is no doubt to your motive, and you have won some goodwill with me and by extension my family. And please be specific as to what you mean when asking if I speak for my family. Her tone implies first seriousness, then good humor, as she switches topics from the weapon to the minutia of speaking.

[DeusMortuusEst]

Rhaeb

Nodding in agreement with Anabelle, Rhaeb enters the discussion.
"What she says is true. This weapon, if it came into the wrong hands could seriously alter the balance of power among the houses." He pauses for a moment, and looks up, considering his next lines carefully.
"While this could possibly turn out to be a good thing, creating a society more stable and peaceful than the one we are currently living in, it is far more likely that it merely would cause unneeded bloodshed as the families who does not possess the new technology are wiped out by the ones who manage to get their hands on it."

And in the long run war is bad for business. But oh, how I would love to possess such a thing myself. He silently muses before continuing.
"May I therefore suggest that we destroy this weapon now, and then whoever is interested might continue in tracking down its origins. I know that I'd like to know exactly who's behind this. Blaming it on strange cults with nothing but some loose guesses doesn't feel right to me."

[Sallera]

"Well, I cannot very well negotiate with someone who lacks weight behind their words, think you not? But if destruction is all you ask..." Marco considers the weapon a moment longer before nodding. "The range is too short to be used effectively in a pitched battle, and armour stops it effectively. A goliath wouldn't even notice it. I doubt the military could particularly benefit from its use."

Raising the weapon above his head, Marco studies its structure once more, putting together everything he has discerned of its making. After a brief pause, he strikes out almost too fast to see, a splintering crack resounding from the weapon as its primary mechanism detaches from the frame, sending pieces of wood flying as the twisted and bent metal falls neatly into his hand. With a smile, he tucks it into a pocket. "That should do; I will see that this is rendered unidentifiable later. In return, should you find the identity of its maker before I do, please pass on the information. Breaking this one is only a temporary solution."

I'll use Insightful Strike to dismantle it; that ought to be sufficient.

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"Yeah, not that the weapon itself in itself but the notion that someone is able to make it is what poses the real problem. They could very well make lots of that, or worse, make stronger versions."

He turns towards the Blackcloak. "So, what now? You got any leads on this?"

[Eldest]

Annabelle

Annabelle pauses for a moment at Marco's words, then grins at some unseen cleverness. But you see, you need to be specific. I obviously cannot speak for the family in all things. For example, saying that I enjoy pie should not be taken as speaking for the family. However, ask a specific question about something in particular that I have said, and I will answer. She then thinks for a moment more, and then adds in a quieter, more irritated tone. And I find it rude that you assume my voice carries no weight, either on these streets or within the Arbor family. Just because I wanted a specific question does not mean that I have no influence.

[Sallera]

Marco shrugs, a neutral smile on his face. "Influence is not authority. You introduced yourself as a Thorn, yes? Prickly, perhaps one to be wary of, but ultimately bound to the will of stem and root. However, the matter is unimportant, as I would have required specific promises as to your family's conduct only if you had wished the weapon relinquished to your keeping."

[Wyntonian]

Aegeus stares, blank-faced as Marco destroys the weapon. After a pregnant moment, he closes his eyes and bows his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Perhaps you are new to the process of investigation. I understand this. But in any play about the pursuits of the police and Blackcloaks, is destroying evidence everportrayed as a good idea?"

He sighs wearily. "No matter. I understand that you collectively represent several factions within the city, many of whom will soon have a personal stake in this issue. The Arbors were supposed to be driven to open war with the di Marcianos over this, and a member of the Elect, as well as a Guildsman I recognized are currently laying in a pool of blood next to a captain of a Dimico shipping vessel.

"It has been forty years since the Families went to war in Marregio. Few people remember the terror, the rioting, the chaos it caused. But this time, it can be stopped. I doubt that any of you wish to see this city go up in flames, and we are the only ones who know the truth. Will you help me in this?"

[Eldest]

Aye. Riots and war would be bad for business.

[Sallera]

Marco spreads his hands, unperturbed. "'Twas rendered unusable, not rendered to dust. How often have you seen an important piece of evidence stolen back by those from whom it was taken? If there is anything to be gained from its materials or marks that I have not already seen, what I did will not lose it."

"As to your other question, yes, I will help. In addition to your other reasons, I would know who is behind all this."

[GuyFawkes]

Vito

"Yeah. I would've continued this without you saying that. But I suppose having help would be nice once in a while. You two look like you've been around long enough, I'm sure that'll help," he smirks at Marco and the Blackcloak.