[3.5] War Stories - IC

[Cardea]

Player
Character
Race
Class


Chambers
Saya d'Cannith (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=960086)
Human
Swordsage 7//Ardent 5/Thrallherd 2


Schism
Melisande (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=958953)
Changeling
Warlock 5/Prodigal Explorer 2//Psychic Rogue 7


Lateral
Adastreia (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=962182)
Gray Elf
Desert Warblade 7//Shaper 5/Constructor 2


3SecondCultist
Galad ir'Tanal (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=979016)
Shifter
Healer 7//Druid 7


rypt
Eoli (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=971572)
Gray Elf
Beguiler 6/Swiftblade 1//Heroic Rogue 7


Tansia
Talia d'Medani (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=972586)
Half-elf
Healer 7//Paladin 7


Zarthrax
Lucas d'Cannith (http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=13439)
Human
Artificer 7//Magitech Templar 7


OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?366241-3-5-War-Stories-OOC).

War Stories
Chapter One: Tell Me If You've Heard This One Before

Its always raining in Sharn. You know its not true; you remember the sunlight gracing the levels of the City of Towers, you know it has seen blistering Summers. But this rain, this heavy rain, taints that memory. It deadens sound, hides footsteps. Makes a man jumpy. When was the last time you had a calm night in Sharn? When did you have a night in this city where you didn't worry about something over your shoulder, or something in the alleyway ahead of you? A good sense of paranoia does a body good, rest assured, but you, especially you, watch in all directions. A life of hard work, work that others should shy at, or die over, has kept you working and filled with adrenaline, years after the Last War. You've done the odd job here and there, but without the War Effort? Life is more one of paranoia: how long will this peace last? The Last War covered you all in oil. Who is going to throw the Alchemist Fire that sets it all ablaze?

But these odd jobs are what did it, you're certain. You found a letter (http://i939.photobucket.com/albums/ad232/CardeaAfton/WarStoriesLetter_zps89cc2379.png) for you. Perhaps it was on your lap on the Lightning Rail, suddenly there, like a familiar weight. Perhaps you found it underneath the plate the waiter took. Maybe it was on your pillow. But you found it, the envelope listing only your name, and the parchment inside was thin and one-sided. Dubious. Employers should see you directly. Or send a personal messenger. Not this. This was a calling card. But for who? But the payment dulled the edge of that question, made it lost its sharp teeth. 8,000 gold is a lot of money. That was retirement money.

You make your ways through the streets of Sharn, weaving your way to the Sovereign Towers. The stone here is smooth, reworked daily, repaired like it was a dying wish. You find what you're looking for. 48109 is the address, and the tower seems like any other. Odd dimensions, strange geometry, impossibly tall. You enter, and find yourself in what appears to be in an Inn of sorts. Its high scale. Classy. The kind people go to to dance. Marble floors and deep red rugs. Stairs made of newly stained and wood, a fireplace kept in an iron lattice cage in the middle of the foyer. The denizens of this place might notice you, but most don't, keeping to their talks and their food and their drink. A Dwarf stands behind a counter of polished granite, not twenty feet from you. She smiles at you warmly when you, individually, arrive, and you tell her you're to see someone, telling her the address from the letter. She nods, knowingly, and asks you to warm yourself by the fire, and to feel free to order what you like: it is already covered, love. Maybe you arrived here first. Maybe you arrived here last. But something doesn't seem right. Something seems askew.

You swear you recognize some of the faces in this room.

[Chambers]

Saya d'Cannith

"What scheme is the House planning now?" Saya asked out loud to no one in particular when she reads the letter. The street urchin who delivered it gave no answer as he was already gone, disappeared back into the crowd. She looked up and realized the boy had gone, then read the letter again and crumpled it, letting it fall to the street to be sweeped away over the railing. "Humble! Who is the Shatterglass Init-" She said and stopped as she realized she's again talking to herself, her halfling companion gone in some other direction. "A new mark by his walk, I'm sure." She said with a smile and nod. She scanned the crowd again, this time looking for one dwarven face in particular. "So she hides. No matter, we'll find her in time. Till then..." Saya rolled her shoulders and leaped above the crowd, landing on a nearby wall for a split second before running along it's length to the next walkway. "Time to meet more family."

Saya wrinlked her nose once inside the tavern. "Smells like...something new." She sniffed again. "And money." She said as she approached the dwarf. "I am Saya." She says, then sighs and adds "...d'Cannith. I am to meet someone here..." She nods to the dwarf and follows her towards the fireplace, then pulls one of the chairs around so that she sits next to the fire where she can see all who approach. Large axes don't sit well between a back and a chair, so she pulls her greataxe from its sling and lays it across her lap as she reclines in the chair. "I am here." She says to the room and smiles as she taps her fingers on the edge of her axe.

Huzzah, the IC! Saya will be in Hunter's Stance (Scent).

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

The man in the forest green cloak stands and watches the traffic in and out of the tower on Houndshunt Way. He either doesn't mind the rain, or doesn't notice it at all. His heavy hood covers his features, but not perfectly. His right hand grasps a plain wooden staff, and his left hangs free at his side. Anybody watching him could see that he is scoping out the area for threats before moving in. And if they looked closer, they might see a glimmer of gold in the darkness around the man's eyes. Only then would they realize that he is no man at all.

Galad has returned to Sharn.

The interior of the inn does not fail to disappoint. Whoever backs this 'Shatterglass Initiative' is clearly well-off... but he already knows that. Anyone willing to shell out 8000 gold marks for a mysterious assignment like this is used to the taste of wealth. Galad reaches up to lower his hood, revealing rugged shifter features and alert eyes of hard gold. His snow-white hair tumbles down around his shoulders, which has the added effect of making him stand out even more. He doesn't care. If these unknown patrons can track him down in a remote camp outside the City of Towers, secrecy is a lost cause. Galad walks over to the dwarf behind the counter, taking a moment to think to himself about what he would like to order.

"Just tea, thank you." When he speaks, it evokes the soft tones of the Eldeen glades. He isn't picky about the exact type of tea he gets. It is merely an excuse to sip on something while he waits. However, he soon finds his attention quickly shifting to the female tribesman with the large axe, sitting by the fire. She seems to have noticed him, in any case. Once he has his cup of tea, Galad settles himself directly across from the stranger. There is something about her that is maddeningly familiar.

"Oh yes! I remember you. You were involved in that business with Baron Trelib, and Victor Saint-Demain. I'm sorry, what was your name again?" Galad sips his tea slowly. Despite the first stirrings of discomfort, there is nothing to be done but indulge in polite conversation for the time being.

[Cardea]

Saya
The Shifter has the smell of blood on him, but faint. Not recent. Wet fur. Old wood.

The tea smells like lemons and grapes.

[Tansia]

Talia D'Medani

Getting out of the rain is a very welcome relief for Talia, despite the protection of her heavy cloak she feels soaked to her bones. The walk to this place provided some opportunity to consider just why she was here. She had little need of the promised money, personally at least. The mission though could always use the extra resources. It's budget from from the church funds in Flamekeep had been cut. Again, you might even think it deliberate, why you might even think such august personages as their eminences were being petty. A slight snort escapes her at the cynical thought. Still the recent increases in size of the congregatiuon in here in Sharn had increased the Churchs coffers, most of the converts were not exacly iin the position to be giving charity, rather they needed it.

And so, I am contemplating being a mercenary, not exactly the usual way you fund such things. Still there is a first time for everthing.

Ordering a cup of tea from the Dwarf at the counter, Talia moves close to the fire blazing in the hearth while she waits for her drink, hoping to dry off. Holding her hands out to the fire she murmurs "Flame be praised, a fire." There is a slight hint of amusement in her voice, though her words for herself alone.

When the dwarf brings her Tea over she finally pulls back the hood of her cloak, takes the drink from the dwarf, offering profuse thanks and settles into a chair, watching the fire dance.

[Zarthrax]

Lukas pauses in the doorway, suddenly out of his depth.

"I hate this."

"WHY?"

"Because this involves people."

"UNDERSTOOD."

Lukas shifts awkwardly a moment, looking as out of place as he feels, clutching ARMOR's helmet under his arm, then spotting an empty chair by the fire, immediately weaves his way through the crowd to the chair. Sitting in the chair heavily, he lets out the breath he had been holding. When the waiter approaches, he nods and orders a dinner.

"Something Brelish, I think. Surprise me."

He sets the helmet on the table next to him, and looks around. Frowning, he recognizes more than a few people, although he has to think about it for a while. Finally panning around to the other chair by the fire, he smiles.

"Hello, Saya. Still terrorizing people?"

Quirking his eyebrow, he takes in the other two people now sitting in the vicinity.

"And Galad and Talia as well? This is unexpected."

[Lateral]

Adastreia

Adastreia doffs her oiled cloak as she steps into the tavern, and she makes a slightly strained smile as several people turn to gawk at her mechanical arms. She heads over to the bar, coin in hand, but quickly puts it away at the suggestion of a free drink.

"Brelish coffee, please. And a plate of wings, I'm feeling peckish."

Taking her food and drink over to the fireplace, she sits down on the floor, scanning the other patrons. Noticing that several of them seem to already be acquainted, she elects to avoid conversation, instead choosing to focus on her recently-acquired comestibles.

Make Galad's drink a Long Island iced tea. Come on, Triple Sec, you know you wanna. :smalltongue:

[Schism]

Melisande

To those not paying very keen attention, it would be impossible to say when exactly the changeling arrived. Maybe it was a few minutes before the others, maybe a few later. Maybe she was there for hours before finally making herself known. Regardless, the first signs of her presence start once the others have taken their places. It isn't anything entirely out of place, not in this city; a mug floating off a table seemingly of its own accord, a piece of this bread or that side dish lifting up and disappearing into thin air. Nothing being watched by their owners, and nothing more than a bit here and there. Still, it's enough that when the veil of invisibility breaks over the changeling to reveal her standing not five feet away from the rest of the gathered party, she has acquired an entire hodgepodge plate full of food - and is balancing not one, not two, but three separate mugs of various drinks on the lip of the plate and a crooked arm.

"You know," she says in a stage whisper clearly meant to carry to all the gathered ears, gesturing at something on her plate with her free hand. "This is really delicious. I wonder what it is." She looks around, giving a curious look to some, and sharing a small smile with others. "Galad! A pleasure as always, I'm sure. And Talia, too. What a coincidence. Still working for the Silver Flame I hear. That's a shame. At least your heart's still in the right place if rumor's good, which is more than I can say for a few of your, ah, associates that I've met recently."

Taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs, the changeling shoots another, more penetrating glance at each of the others she isn't already acquainted with. "You know, call me crazy, but I'd swear I know some of you, too. Stories have a way of getting to you when you travel as much as I do. Not quite sure about you, though," she says, staring openly at Adastreia. "What's with the arms?"

For reference, Melisande is assumed to have her invocations active at all times. Spiderwalk, Draconic Knowledge (+6 to knowledges, can make checks untrained), and Entropic Warding (leave no tracks, can't be tracked by scent). Walk Unseen too, but not for the immediate foreseeable future on that one.

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

As progressively more familiar faces arrive, Galad slowly puts his cup back in its saucer. He remembers them all now: the barbarian from Seren, the moderate from Flamekeep, and the favored son of House Cannith. They were all with him for the Trelib crisis. And what's more, they are soon joined by others, including a woman with strange metal arms. Hers was the only face he did not recognize. Her mechanical arms, at the very least, would have made an impression. Galad takes a moment to covertly examine each other person assembled, predator's eyes gliding over all. He makes a note to ask Talia about her 'associates' later. No matter her current stance, she is still affiliated with the Silver Flame, and the fact does not bode well with him.

"It's hardly coincidence - the universe we occupy is rarely that lazy. If I had to guess, I would say that you have all been contacted by the Shatterglass Initiative." He keeps his voice low, so that only those in immediate earshot might hear him. "What did they promise you? A substantial sum of money?" There is no judgment or contempt in his words. While the lure of wealth doesn't interest him all that much, he can understand the drive of those that might be more financially inclined. None of these individuals have much of a common identifier. He can only assume that the offer has to appeal to the lowest common denominator, otherwise it might not have worked as well as it did. His pose completely collected, Galad turns to the stranger with the metal arms.

"So unless you're from the Shatterglass Initiative, we're still waiting for their next message."

Galad wouldn't dare drink alcohol at a meeting like this! It's probably an herbal tea, a green tea or something. Also, I'll roll some Spot rolls in the dice roller thread.

[Lateral]

Adastreia

Adastreia chuckles. "Right to the point, are we? No, no, I'm here for the job offer, same as you are. Ada, is the name. The arms are prosthetic replacements, for a much more... lifelike pair I left behind on a battlefield in Cyre. As much as I like still being able to pick up a bow, these things tend to draw some serious attention, let me tell you." She takes another pull from her Brelish coffee, before turning to Melisande. "So, it sounds like most of you know each other. Big city, small world, eh? I'd like to hear the story, if you don't mind, since it looks like we'll be working together for a while."

grumble grumble Triple Sec not letting his PC drink any Triple Sec grumble grumble

[rypt]

Eoli

Eoli shoulders through the crowd of the Three Cups Inn to find Little Lorrik already waiting for him behind the bar. A glass of wormwood absinthe sits invitingly on the counter. Beside it lies a sealed envelope.

"What's this?" the Cyran asks, casting a skeptical eye towards the latter before raising the former and downing its contents it in a single swig.

The mountain of a half-orc shrugs. "Someone dropped it by this morning."

Breathing the fire in his throat through his teeth, Eoli picks up the envelope and looks it over, checking for any identifying marks. "Did you recognize this someone?"

Lorrik shakes his head. "Nope."

"Would you tell me even if you had?"

The barman smiles a crooked, toothy smile and Eoli rolls his eyes. Pulling a dagger seemingly from nowhere, the elf cuts opens one end of the envelope, removes the folded letter, and begins to read it. Just as quickly as the dagger appeared, so too does it disappear.

When Eoli's eyes grow still, Lorrik leans forward on the bartop . "So, what's it say?"

Eoli sighs. "It says it's time for another drink."


Eoli's first thought upon stepping foot inside the foyer is that he'd rather be back out in the rain than in a place like this. The former Cyran assassin does not mind the rain. He favors it, even. Rain keeps hoods up and heads down. It keeps people focused on where they're going rather than who they're passing along the way. Rain is heavy cloaks and high boots, uniformity and the opportunity to disappear.

In this cavernous room, stepping from polished marble to thick carpet, amidst evening gowns and ruffled coats, Eoli cannot help but feel...exposed.

Approaching the dwarf receptionist, he produces his letter of invitation and makes note of her offer of complimentary service. The opportunity to spend Cannith coin is not one he intends to waste, and as he makes his way toward the central lounge, he waves down a passing waitress.

"Kurveya. Bring the bottle."

There are as many familiar faces gathered around the fire as there are unfamiliar. Galad, Talia and Melisande, all of whom were passengers aboard the Golden Dragon, are joined by a Cannith boy who seems as though he might get lost in his own armor. The boy's very distant and purportedly very fast cousin and an elf woman who has all the makings of one of his pet projects are seated beside him.

"I'm sure you've heard it already," Eoli dryly interjects as he joins the group, clearly less than enthused by the prospect of Melisande's retelling. He glances briefly to the changeling, and then to each of others he recognizes, about as warm a greeting as they might have expected. "The Golden Dragon is all the Chronicle covered for nearly a week."

[Cardea]

A small... cabinet, approaches your gathering, with four stumpy legs and muscular arms. It pulls out a small a small scrip of paper, taking a glance at it with unseen eyes. It looks up to the group of you, and nods. The top of it pops open, revealing several platters. It takes out a cup of clay and lined silver, along with a small saucer that it rests on; three sugar cubes rest on it as well. It holds this to Talia. A covered plate is pulled out next, the lid taken off, and handed to Lucas, almost eagerly: a plate of beef boranel is served, an entire side of beef stuffed with bread and mushrooms. Two plates are given to Adastreia: one with a cup of orange pepper spiced coffee, served with a plate of hot-spiced chicken wings wrapped in panya leaves. Melisande is given a harsh 'look' by the modified Packmate, its hands on where its waist would or should be. It turns to Eoli lasts, and its shaking seems to indicate laughing. It takes out a bottle of Kurveya, a solid '13' inscribed on the glass, indicating the number of ounces it contains. It gives to him a impossibly smoothed out oak cup, images of trees and crystals dancing on its outer side. It hands it to Eoli, and then raises its fingers to him, asking if he'd like one, two, three, four, five, six more glasses? It pulls out a tray of these cups, and holds it aloft.

Saya
You are assaulted by the spices present in almost everything served. Breland cuisine is always thick of it, pungent with it.

The tea that the Silver Flame priest is served smells of bitter jungles.

The beef smells like undergrowth and flame.

The smell of peppermint arrives with the bottle of Kurveya.

[Chambers]

Saya

"As long as they leave their coin untended my friends will find a better place for it." Saya says with a shrug to Lukas. She wrinkles her nose at all the food and drink in the tavern. "Sea salt is the best spice - only spice you need." She says and then narrows her eyes. "I've smelled that before..." She says and stands up and takes a few paces then stops. "No...now it's over there." She walks in another direction and stops again. "I know you're here somewhere..." she says in a low growl, her greataxe held down at her side.

When Melisande appears she shouts and smiles. "Sande!" She says and strides over to clasp arms with the changeling. "I knew you were here." She says with a grin as she taps her nose. "Well, here somewhere."

She frowns at the tall elf. "What is the Golden Oracle?"

[Zarthrax]

Lukas grins at the food. he may not be a full blown epicure, but nights of downing whatever stew is in the kitchen while he's trying to work on things have him almost salivating at the thought of freshly prepared and spiced foods, much less made to order.

He shrugs at Saya's critique.

"Well, at least this way, we won't get our orders mixed together, will we? Besides, Breland has these hot peppers that really should be required eating with almost everything."

He starts tearing into the meal with gusto as the others start on their teas and whatever. He makes one more comment through a mouthful of mushrooms and beef.

"Besides, too much salt reminds me of that salted beef jerky we had on Wildnight." He frowns at the unpleasant reminder of Victor Saint-Demain and his madness.

Nodding at Galad's statement, he chokes down some bread quickly and answers.

"Yes to both statements. Enough where I won't have to worry about living expenses for a good long while. You received the same?"

[rypt]

Eoli

Eoli regards the quadruped construct and its offer of additional glasses with some amusement, exhaling something between a chuckle and scoff. He takes his glass in one hand, the bottle in the other and then turns in search of a comfortable seat.

He nearly chokes on his drink when Saya inquires about 'the Golden Oracle.' It is only after he looks to the others that he realizes that she is serious. As he clears his throat, he shakes his head slightly, wondering if the Seren's letter was written with pictures instead of words.

"It's an airship - a svant driikar1. A very large svant driikar. The Lyrandar built it for war, but the war ended. So they took the weapons off and now they parade it around as a symbol of peace. It is a vulgar thing, a floating monument to wealth and excess."

1 Svant driikar translated literally from draconic is sky boat.

[Lateral]

Adastreia

"Well, that was depressing, thank you. Yes, I do remember those articles, but I'll need a little more than that. The names were withheld from the article."

Seeing that her wings have arrived, she grabs one and begins to pick it clean, while turning towards the others. "And... you said your name was Saya? Arden mentioned something about a barbarian going by that name, making a big ruckus in House Cannith." She turns to Lukas. "Speaking of which, I don't think I caught your name."
Arden d'Cannith, a member of that troupe of comedian-adventurers.

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

As the cabinet approaches each other gathered adventurer with various pieces of food, Galad makes note of what everyone else is served. It seems as though they took his order seriously, as he is the only one not served from the tray. This is not lost on him, but he is curious to see whether or not anyone else notices the particularity.

As though floating down a strong current, his mind is suddenly back in the Eldeen Reaches. The night breeze through the ironwood pines. The light of the twelve moons on the horizon. The warm lights of the hamlet at the edge of the glade. Wolf's Paw. Home. All of his brothers and sisters present around the table, laden with food born from the mouth of the gods themselves.

In comparison, even this meal seems paltry. And of course, there is always the chance that it has been laced with something. Galad isn't one to distrust a warm meal, but he has seen his fair share of deception. He is anything but naive now. When Lukas turns to him, he nods sagely before replying.

"I have been compensated, yes. But the prospect of bits of metal does not intrigue me. I'm more interested in seeing what this Shatterglass Initiative wants with us. We hardly seem cut from the same cloth. In fact, there's a fair chance they chose us because we all seem different." He speaks within earshot of the cabinet and the dwarf behind the bar, hoping that his words will provoke some reaction. It's a slim chance, but Galad knows how to observe others. Maybe he will catch something.

[rypt]

Eoli

"A rare moment of editorial discretion," Eoli grumbles before taking a long drink. "The name's Eoli." Even in so few words, he speaks as though burdened by this basic introductory exchange.

[Tansia]

Talia

Talia reaches out carefully to retrieve her cup from the serving automitom, holding it up to her face and inhale it's scent as she centers herself ignoring . Sipping it slowly at first, then drinking faster until the cup is empty. When the cup is empty Talia puts it aside and slowly rises from the comfortable chair.

Turning around she recognises Galad, she wasn't surprised she was pretty sure she had heard him talking.

"Hello Galad, it has been a while since we last met. she says pleasantly before continuining "I am curious as what the meaning behind the name 'Shatterglass Initiative' is, do you have any ideas?"

[Cardea]

"That," says a voice, thick with leisure. Approaching you is a tall, covered man, garbed in a thick travelling robe and scarf, a hood covering all but his face. The man's beard is well kept and thick, and upon his face is a Dragonmark, crowning his brow and his cheekbones. He stands with one arm behind his back, and one arm tapping the modified Packmate on its lid. The Packmate waddles away. "Is a very good question. And one we would be happy to answer, in due time. Good evening. I hope the weather has not dampened your spirits, as much as it has your garb. I am Yommet d'Deneith . When you all are finished with your... sustenance," he says, eyeing the spiced food warily. He motions from where he came from, towards a hallway with doors on either side. There is a set of stairs just as you would enter said hallway. "You will find us up the stairwell on the right, third room down. We will wait for you, but please do not tarry long. All of us are busy this night." He pauses for a moment, before slowly turning around, and heading towards where he has gestured.

Spellcraft DC 20
Yommet's Dragonmark is a Lesser Mark of Sentinel.

[Zarthrax]

Lukas continues eating his food with gusto, but pauses when Adastreia asks him his name.

"Lukas d'Cannith. Don't worry if you haven't heard of me, I don't get out much."

Staying silent while the higher-ranked Deneith broaches the reason why they're all here, he looks at his plate with silent longing before sighing and pushing it aside. He grabs ARMOR's helmet, tucking it under his arm as he stands.

"I can wait to finish until after we find out what is going on. Worst case scenario, I can make another order and take it home with me."

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

Galad bows his head slowly at the Deneith emissary's request. He finishes his tea - faster than he is used to, and the herbal concoction is more potent when taken this quickly - and places it on a nearby end table. Then, wordlessly gathering his robes around him and using his staff for balance, he begins to make his way towards the stairwell. This would be the most direct way of understanding what the Shatterglass Initiative wanted with him.

As he walks, Galad tries to rack his brain for any memory of this group. As far as he can tell, he has never heard of them before. But then again, his knowledge of Khorvaire is fairly limited, and Sharn is an especially large place. There are no doubt countless dozens of other societies of which he has not heard. His place is not here, in any case. Nothing in this city is natural. He isn't exactly sure what it is that has possessed him to stay as long as he has already. Curiosity? Perhaps. But he has the nagging feeling that it is something else.

Galad takes less than five steps before he stops. He is supposed to be polite, courteous. At the very least, he should try not to appear rude. He turns back towards the room, waiting for the others to join him before going up by himself. He allows himself a warm smile, despite still being somewhat on edge. He cannot help but feel like a trapped animal in here.

"I think I will head up now, if that's alright. Would anyone like to join me?"

[Lateral]

Adastreia

Adastreia nods, sets aside her wings, and downs the rest of her drink in one swig. "Welp, that's all I needed. Ready whenever you are."

YOU CANNOT LEAVE SHARN

THE POWER OF PLOT COMPELS YOU GALAD

[Tansia]

Talia

Falling in step behind Galad, Talia murmurs "I will join you once more Galad. Let us find out why we are here."

[Chambers]

Saya

"Yammet d'Deneith, I am Saya." She says as she offers to clasp hands with the hooded one. She sniffs again and nods towards upstairs. "Let's go, I ate before."

She watches the packmate waddle away and frowns. "That is yours? Such strange little creatures. My cousins tell me they are really alive." She shrugs. "I made one bleed one time to make sure, but it wasn't normal blood. I don't think they're real."

[rypt]

Eoli

As the others get up to follow their host, Eoli frowns, raising his bottle of kurveya to take measure of its contents. The dark liquid has barely reached the top of the bottle's inscription. "And I was just getting comfortable," he says with a heavy sigh.

Only with some reluctance does he follow his fellow guests, taking a full glass with him.

[Cardea]

Yommet climbs up the stairs one at a time, with both feet, his pace slow and measured, hand on the railing. The hallway on the second floor is dimly lit, everburning candles lining the doors in wall sconces. Yommet makes his way down the hallway, guiding you all down to a room with XXIII carved into the wood of the door. He knocks on the door, and is let in by an elf, delicate mithril chains adorning her expensive-looking clothing. She smiles at Yommet, and seems surprised by the sight of the seven of you. Yommet puts a hand on her shoulder, and nods, and the door is swung open wide. Yommet gestures for you to enter.

Inside, the sound of rain dominates this room. The wall on the right as you enter is reinforced glass, droplets hitting it like a stick on drums, echoing in the room. A balcony is outside, and you see an airwagon outside, a small service vessel that functions while in Sharn. Outside you see two figures talking, umbrellas raised against the rain. But inside, where the sound of rain drowns out the conversation of those outside, you see two figures. One, is that of a warforged, dressed in finery befitting someone of influence. The second, is that of a hobgoblin, armor wrapped around muscles, befitting someone of power. In front of them, a desk, and in front of that desk, seven chairs in two rows: three in front, four in back. The warforged smiles, multiple plates attached to its face allowing it to form lips, and speaks. "I had hoped Yommet had not scared you off; he is not the friendliest of our group, but he was the last to arrive. I hope this doesn't bother you." The warforged pulls a lighter from a vest pocket, along with a cigar, already cut. The warforged lights it, inhales deeply, and speaks again. "Welcome. We are a few of the Shatterglass Initiative, and we have a job for people of your talents.

"For two weeks now, we have seen individuals climbing atop the Pavilion of the Host. On top of the structure, they have, with confirmations, found a House Cannith safe house, and stolen from it. Twice. House Cannith has not put out a bounty for these thieves, but instead, have hired an Inquisitive," he motions towards one of the two figures outside, silhouetted by the storm. "Who is deferring the job to others, after realizing the kind of firepower they're packing. Adamantine bolts, an armbow enchanted with explosives, a few nasty swords. They're not first timers. These people have training you don't find in a guild.

"We're hiring the lot of you what House Cannith offered one of our own. 56,000gp, split among the seven of you. Tempting, I know, but what's in it for you? Well, one, we'll inform our contact in House Cannith of your services. Put you a bit in their good books. Second? Money. Gold. Simplest reason for anything. Third? Because we have more work that we would see done, had we your talents and prowess, but sadly for us, and nicely for you, we can line your pockets for you to do it in our place. Any questions?"

[rypt]

Eoli

Something about the warforged's story seems off to Eoli. That someone would even attempt to rob the same Cannith storehouse twice in two weeks is one thing. That Cannith would allow them to succeed is another. Who are these thieves and what did they take - or not take - on their first visit that they thought to return again? How many of them were there? Did Cannith not expect them to return, or did the thieves simply get the better of the Makers' increased security?

These are all questions Eoli wants answered, but not yet.

"Yeah, I've got a question," he says, sitting up in his seat. "What is it exactly that you're asking us to do?

"When Cannith hires an inquisitive, it's because they want information. When Cannith offers that inquisitive the ridiculous sum of 56,000 galifars, it's because they need information.

"Your man's not up to the job? Fine," he shrugs, "you could have hired dozens of inquisitives in his place. But you didn't. Khyber's depths, for that kind of coin, you might even have convinced the child Keeper to ask her fireplace. You brought us here instead. Why?"

[Cardea]

"I was hoping to avoid the word, but Common tongue is still adverse to me. Cannith hires Inquisitives for more than just information. House Cannith, among other Houses, like to pay off Inquisitives to get blood. Ours happens to be thought of as one who can do such a thing, and we've deemed it too much for him and him alone." The warforged takes a quick draw of the cigar. The smoke is going... somewhere. "So we needed assistance. Which is why you seven are here. They are too mobile for us, too numerous for us, and too packed in with preparation for us to handle. So what do we need? We need people who can see them, people who can out-maneuver them, people who can catch them off-guard, people who can withstand whatever they can throw their way to a certain degree, people who can help recover what is thrown their way, and someone to bloody understand what they've taken. Things we can't do fast enough or well enough.

"Its not so simple that Cannith simply wants their goods back. They work on a buyer's market, and anything that threatens their profits needs to be gone: 56,000 gold is nothing for that goal. And I believe that's the sole reason they're after these thieves as much as I believe that all that as stolen was a few grand in wands, oils and runes. Something else that our Inquisitive was fed." The warforged draws in again, leaving little of the cigar left. It puts it in its mouth, and continues to talk. "But you find these people, recover their stolen prizes, and bring them back to us. We, both us and you seven, figure out exactly what they took, and why they took it. Our girl reports back to Cannith with the stolen paraphernalia, and you all are that much heavier with coin. Possibly more, should this go smoothly.

"Find. Detain or kill, we defer to you. And solve. That is why you are here."

[Chambers]

Saya d'Cannith

The barbarian's attention is fighting a battle between the exotic warforged talking to her and the airwagon hovering outside. The warforged is losing the fight until she notices that the smoke from his 'Her?' cigar doesn't come back out. She frowns as she tries to see where it goes. "You're thieves that chase other thieves." She says and squints at the warforgeds face. "Not guards. Guards don't watch people climb around tall buildings for two weeks without trying to stop them. They chase them."

She glances at the hobgoblin and nods in appreciation of his armor. "I'll steal from your thieves. It won't make my cousins like me anymore..." She says and grins. "But they will have to try harder to pretend that they do when I return their treasure."

[Lateral]

Adastreia shrugs. "If that is, in fact, the case, Saya, it bothers me no more than it seems to bother you. I am, however, far more curious as to how you found us all in the first place. I can't speak for the others, but I was certainly not expecting a personal commission so soon."

This is, of course, a leading question. She's trying to determine how much they actually know about her (without asking directly), and maybe see what they will tell her about the others.

[Cardea]

"Well... calling us thieves is a bit harsh, but here, I suppose, the shoe fits." The warforged says, turning his attention to Adastreia. "Certain means, befitting the individual. It is much harder to catch a drifting illusionist, than it is to catch a public performer, wouldn't you say? Or catching the attention of a man of the forest such as our dear Galad here, than garnering the time of a public healer of the cloth. While I don't believe it would suffice it to say, we knew who we wanted, and we knew how to get in touch."

[Zarthrax]

Lukas frowns as he listens to the others' questions, then after they ask and are answered, he asks his.

"What exactly is the Shatterglass Initiative? You have explained why you want to hire us, but not who your particular organization is composed of, nor why exactly us?"

[Cardea]

"The Shatterglass Initiative is... complicated. Moving parts. Gears shifting. We are a group who have been formed in direct opposition with another. A group that is acutely aware of when their names are mentioned, unless precautions are taken. No such precaution has been taken for this room, so we cannot say who directly. Indirectly... that would take more time. Time that we don't have a surplus of.

"I am Foundation. You have already met Yommet. This is Laeka of Aerenal," the warforged says, pointing to the elven woman. He points to the hobgoblin next, then the two figures outside. "This is Secho, of the Ghaal'dar. He is compliant with who we are. Outside is the Inquisitive Chatka Hranleurt, and my brother, Vanguard. I doubt you would have heard of what we do. We are not quite so... famous, as the rest of you. There are seven others, who are not present, who are not currently in Sharn.

"Regarding you, you can perform what we need accomplished. Yes, there are others with your talents, some of us, in fact, but not as many that we would be so keen to hire. Others would lack character, or reliability, or the relationships each of you would have with Cannith, or skill, or one of dozens of qualifiers. The point remains, there are things we need recovered on behalf of Cannith, we would like to pay you to do so. And, provided this is a fruitful partnership, I can more accurately tell you who we are precisely, as well as provide more and more work, each one profitable."

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

Galad sits and listens, as the one who introduces himself as Yommet speaks up, outlining the terms of their engagement. At first, Galad is unsure. But as soon as Vanguard mentions another group, he realizes exactly what was bothering him so much about the Shatterglass Initiative. He barely even registers the sound of his own name.

"Tell me, how long has it been since this group was founded?"

[Tansia]

Talia

Eoli's comment about Her Holiness' and her "fireplace" earns him a level glare that persists until after Foundation makes reference to the Shatterglass Initiatives founding.

Nodding herself in response to Galads question, which mirrors her own line of thought she follows it on with.

"I understand then you can not name this group, at least, not here and not now. But if you are formed, defined even, primarily by your opposition to them can you give us some idea of what it is they do that should make your own organisations existence needed? If you can not name it might not be safe to go into specific incidents, but a general overview would put me more at ease."

[Cardea]

"Originally? Around -45,000 YK. Ours in particular? 982 YK." Foundation says now, looking at Galad with care. His gaze turns to Tansia. He pulls out another cigar, and offers it up to the group. His gaze does not break from Tansia. "They harvest Khyber dragonshards. And we think they have ways of... forcing Aberrant Dragonmarks, both on those who would have had Dragonmarks by natural means, and those who would not have had Dragonmarks in the first place. And, in two cases, we think they have forced an Aberrant Dragonmark on a Changeling and a Kalashtar."

[Schism]

Melisande

Having been uncharacteristically silent as the others took the lead in the questions, Melisande abruptly perks up at the mention of dragonmarked changelings.

"How certain are you of this? What happened to the two of them? Aside from the obvious, I mean." She glances around the room, eyes lingering briefly on any openly shown dragonmark. "I know a few changelings who wouldn't think it such a horrible thing, being given the powers that others are born with. It's not as if it would be difficult to conceal."

[Cardea]

"Four. Four of them. Two Changelings. Two Kalashtar. Four Aberrant Marks." Foundation withdraws the cigar away from the seven of you, lights, and inhales. "They are fine, for the time being. Their condition is not worsening. They're in one of our safe houses. Normal Dragonmarks? Yes, those could probably be hidden easily enough. One of them was unfortunate to have it spawn on his face. He's learning to conceal it, but for the first two weeks, any guise he took had that same mark on him."

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

"I believe I've heard enough." Galad fold his arms carefully. There have been many things left unsaid at this meeting, but he is careful enough not to bring any of them up. The identities of opponents, for instance, are still unknown. This alone worries him. He is not one for mysteries, and people withholding information from him - no matter how justified - only exacerbates his discomfort. Foundation has already confirmed his suspicions about the scope of the Shatterglass Initiative, meaning that they are comfortable with keeping outright secrets from those they would do business with. They also seem quite focused on maintaining loyalty with gold, and the promise of future gold. None of these things appeal to Galad.

And yet, as he looks around, Galad knows that he will be the first to pledge his trust in this conclave. Despite the secrecy, despite the avarice, he will be the first. The words are out of his mouth before he can even ask himself why.

"You can count me in."

[Zarthrax]

Lukas nods.

"You've piqued my curiosity enough that I'll accept as well."

[rypt]

Eoli

Eoli casts a sidelong glance at Galad and Lukas, amused that among the first of them to commit to hunting down a group of heavily armed and professional thieves - almost certainly veterans of the Last War - are a shifter who has since sworn himself to peace and a human boy too young to have even fought in the first place.

"You spoke earlier of the thieves' weapons," he says to Foundation, clearly not yet ready to accept the Warforged's offer. "Are your descriptions based on witness accounts, or are you merely inferring from the wounds of the dead?"

[Lateral]

Adastreia nods. "Yeah, we're going to need more tactical information than what we've got so far. Believe me, I understand your need for secrecy, but going in blind is how friendlies turn into corpses. What kind of magical support do they have on their side? Air support? Any sort of tactical analysis you may have already come up with? At the very least, an estimated number of targets would be helpful."

Old habits die hard. Although this particular habit has probably saved her from dying hard at least a dozen times.

...must go watch Die Hard again

[Tansia]

Talia

"Harvesting Khyber dragonshards is hardly a crime, nor are the shards in and of themselves evil. But to force upon another, a mark, any mark... people are not things to be treated so.

[Cardea]

Secho pulls out a sheaf of papers from one of the desk drawers, handing them to Foundation. "Thank you, Secho. Both, actually." Foundation takes out three pieces of paper from the handful, and hands them out to Eoli. Two are photos, but the third is a written script. "One of them is a photo taken of outside the safe house. Another one is in. There were four people in that safe house, to keep an eye on things. Two were knocked out early on, but the other two were awake and gave a report."

The smooth face of Sharn architecture is broken in this photo. The outer most wall has a large gaping hole in it, and on the inside, you can see that the room has a second wall - non-standard - made of metal, lining it. This second wall is also with a hole in its side, with the edges of the hole facing inward. There are singe marks all around the edges of both holes. Inside, you can see shelves of books and raw magical ingredients, stored in jars and boxes. A good portion of them are missing, and you can see broken containers and glass on the floor. There is debris of both walls on the ground inside. You can see that this hole is looking into a laboratory inside this apartment, a non-standard attachment in most places. A raised metal platform can be seen on the floor, upon which sits the shelves.
The picture shows a large room that, intact, would have been well-supplied. In the farthest corner of the room, you can see a hole in the wall, tearing into the laboratory seen in the other photograph. That section is dominated by a raised platform, again, seen in the other photograph, which runs from one end of the room to the other, taking along the far wall from where this photograph was taken. You can see a few bunk-beds in the room, along with a small kitchen and a table. The shelves in the kitchen have broken doors, and the beds look disheveled.
Reaper Findley
Unit Findley says that the thieves appeared in the early morning, only an hour or so after midnight. The room was shaking, and a large hole was present in far most wall, accompanied by debris scattering into the room. Five individuals, identities obscured, entered. One has been identified as a warforged, and another as a shifter, but the other three had builds typical of a human, kalashtar, elf or anything of similar height. The warforged entered first, charging forward and holding Unit Urja down, choking her until incapacitated. The shifter moved forward, leaping on Unit Rilvayar during his allotted resting period, assailing her. Unit Findley then fired at the shifter, using specially designated silver bolts. The shifter used shifting at this point: it goes on record that the shifter was previously using a falchion, and then went on to using a pair of horns and a set of claws, identifying it as both a Gorebrute and Razorclaw typed shifter. Unit Hunmio fired a web into the entering thieves, only to be incapacitated by the warforged who broke free. Unit Findley was assaulted by the shifter, and then feigned unconsciousness after enough wounding. Unit Findley states that after the thieves left, he used safe-house healing wands [Cure Moderate Wounds, note cost]. He and Units Hunmio and Urja chased after the thieves, who had taken to travelling by a cargo barge, only to find themselves chasing a moving illusion when they attempted to board the barge. They identified the caster as a halfling, who cast Invisibility, and presumably fled.

Upon returning to the Safe House, they found Unit Rilvayar in critical condition, despite being healed before Units Findley, Hunmio and Urja left in pursuit. [Unit Rilvayar is still in intensive care.]

Magehand Hunmio
Unit Hunmio's report is identical to Unit Findley's, but reports the following:
Each thief wore armor with Shadow, Slick and Silent Moves; each one minor. In the case of the Warforged, it had adamantine plating with these enchantments.
The falchion used by the Shifter had the Wounding property.
Unit Hunmio noted that the warforged wore both a battlefist and an armbow. The warforged carried a holster of bolts at its waist radiating of evocation. Unit Hunmio suspects that the bolts in the holster were used to create the hole in the wall.
Unit Hunmio states that two of the thieves carried no weapons, and that these ones were busy with taking House Cannith property while the Shifter and Warforged attacked.
Unit Hunmio states that the last thief directed the other two thieves, telling them what to take. This thief had a Karrnath accent.
Unit Hunmio states the Powder Room was taken.

Edit:

Foundation turns to Adastreia after passing the papers. "Confirmed? They have someone capable of illusions, and possibly an artificer. Equipment like that isn't sold without some sort of paperwork. They have some means of flight, which is currently unknown to us. You will have full use of the Airwagon docked outside." He waves towards the windows, with this. "They're practiced. They didn't compete for targets. They took on a safe house while two guards were sleeping, which only happens a twice a day. We know there are at least six. We theorize a seventh, that either functions as their artificer, or their leader, who stayed in their base of operations. Their illusionist was last seen in Hareth's Folly, heading towards The Bazaar. I'd start asking questions there."

[Lateral]

Adastreia raises an eyebrow. "Well, at least that's a lead. We can't just start asking questions, though, we have no idea what kind of connections these people have."

"...And look at me already making search plans." Adastreia sighs. "Yeah, okay, I guess I'm in, too. 8,000 is 8,000."

[rypt]

Eoli

"These were taken after the first break-in?" Eoli asks as he examines the photographs. Metal-lined walls. A safeguard against divination. "Any ideas how they found the place?"

Once he's finished with the photos, he holds them out, offering them to any of the others who might want to have a look. He then begins to read through the written reports. Well trained and well-equipped indeed, but no casualties. Intentional?

He looks up a few moments later, one finger clearly marking a line towards the bottom of the page. "What exactly is the 'the Powder Room?'"

[Tansia]

Talia

Talia turns to Eoli and speaks slowly, her eyes closed as she does.

"If the lining is proof against divination then the most likely answer would be an informant on the inside of the safe house they attacked. That would fit with the timing to match the guards sleep schedule at least."

[Cardea]

"Indeed," Foundation says, attention returning to Eoli. "They suspect a mole. A traitor. And we have no current idea what 'The Powder Room' is, but it does lend credit to us thinking they have someone on the inside. They'd have to know where it was being kept, and they'd have to know that it was important, among other things. Talia is right on both accounts. The metal you see in the photographs is simply reinforcement. The entire apartment was purported to be both lead-lined, and metal-reinforced."

[3SecondCultist]

Galad ir'Tanal

He wouldn't say that he immediately regrets signing on so quickly, but Galad is more than a little apprehensive to hear that there is already the possibility of this being an inside job. These dealings aren't his specialty. He exhales slowly.

"So have you begun creating a list of suspects: anyone who might have known the contents of the room would be a good place to start." The shifter realizes he might be stating the obvious, but wisdom not imparted is of no value at all. There is the possibility that they haven't yet started investigating this particular avenue.